Inside HOKIE SPORTS | Vol. 9 No. 4 | March 2017

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10 Inside Hokie Sports
Coach Buzz Williams is different than
anyone I’ve ever met. I could not possibly
state that with more admiration. He is not a
saint, and he is not perfect. He would be the
first to tell you that. He is, however, the perfect
patriarch for the basketball family he has
tethered together in Blacksburg.
He describes his own mind as chaotic and
maniacally pursues improvement—in both
himself and those around him. Participation in
the pursuit is not a passive exercise, and the
buy-in demanded is all encompassing. Most
lack that will, and that’s the point. Life is, in
fact, intentionally difficult. The method to the
madness and the genius in the process isn’t
easily identified, but it is there.
The collective investment has led Tech to
its best regular season in seven years and into
postseason play for a second straight season.
I thought I’d take a crack at explaining what
makes the family function so fluidly.
Through this column, and I hope our
broadcasts, you will notice that I am
emotionally invested in this family. I make no
apologies for that, as Coach has allowed me
to narrate from the inside. I forever will be
grateful for the privilege.
“I sweat because I love my guys,” Williams
said.
Coach made that statement following a
tightly contested loss at Louisville. It struck
me as the best shorthand explanation of
the program’s success and his motivational
style. I’m in the business of catchy slogans,
but this wasn’t meant to be one. Coach is the
first to declare that nothing starts with him.
The stories of his guys are the story, but what
gets missed is that those stories have been
woven together by him—carefully curated,
the culmination bred in his blue-collar image.
Start with love of your family, work your butt
off, and never let either wane.
During the battle with the Cardinals, Coach
had perspired through his dress shirt in the
first half. He came back for the second half in
a t-shirt. In this moment, his apparel didn’t
register in his thought process. He was busy
digging—sweating for his guys. His team was
doing the same for him. That reciprocation is
absolute. It has to be.
Coach doesn’t have the basketball bloodlines
that most of his adversaries possess. Neither
do the people around him. That isn’t an
accident. He operates with a motivating chip
on his shoulder, firmly in place from years
of wedging his way into the picture, while
others insisted he didn’t belong. As a result, he
remains fiercely loyal to those who gave him
opportunities, and extremely selective as to
whom he gives opportunities. Those whom he
has are OKGs (Our Kind of Guys/Gals).
As Coach says, it starts with the kids. The
senior leaders are Zach LeDay and Seth Allen.
Each committed when “there was no evidence
to suggest they should do so.” They bought
in on faith. Cemented as stars, they remain
selfless enough to enter games as reserves, but
tough enough to carry the team on their backs
when the situation demands.
LeDay, the undersized big, gets
characterized as “a Ford F-150 with Cadillac
Escalade numbers.” That’s Coach-speak for
dependability without flash, swagger without
conventional style. Allen, a combustible spark
plug of a scorer whose magnetic personality
dominates the marquee, was deemed “the
best closer in college basketball” by ESPN’s
Anish Shroff and “a turnover machine” by
Coach—the latter playfully reminding the
player of the need for continued improvement.
Swingmen Ahmed Hill and Justin Bibbs
live together. The competition for the top
smile on the team goes through their dwelling.
They possess enough wattage to illuminate
a room, many times after their jump shot
has lit up an arena. Vastly different paths led
them to Blacksburg, but they toted a similar
foundation laid by parental influences. Hill
committed to Coach before Tech and stayed
true to the path despite a geographical detour
from the Midwest to the mountains. Bibbs, a
commitment to the previous regime, witnessed
the work and grabbed a shovel. Each possesses
an artistic soul and a personal flair. “Bibbs is
beautiful,” Coach says flatly, and “Med is the
hardest worker on the team.”
Ty Outlaw is a walking life lesson in
handling adversity. Waylaid on his journey to
the college basketball big-time with stops at
UNC Greensboro and junior college, he never
wavered. He finally arrived in basketball Oz
only to discover his heart wouldn’t allow him
to play, let alone sweat. He smiled and waited.
He recently exploited his opportunity, which
came in the least desirable fashion—a season-
ending injury to teammate Chris Clarke.
Clarke, the most athletically gifted player on
the roster, sincerely cheers for Outlaw. Clarke
knows he will be an irreplaceable part of the
puzzle in the next phase, and Outlaw is grateful
to fit perfectly into the adjusted picture.
Justin Robinson, nicknamed “Five” because
of his jersey number, has evolved into the
team’s floor general, as Coach imagined when
he made his first recruiting visit as the Head
Hokie. He possesses a disarming wit combined
with a lethal handle. Freshman Khadim Sy
with
Jon
Laaser
The Method
Leading to the Madness