OPINION|
With Jay Spoonhour being announced as a new assistant basketball coach at Missouri State University and Jay’s son, Charlie, signing a letter of intent to play baseball at Missouri State, I flashed back to memories of their dad/grandfather, the late Charlie Spoonhour.
Those who weren’t living in the area — and those not even born yet — might wonder why people still reminisce about the Spoonhour Era more than 30 years later. It’s because of the performance on the court and personality off the court.
Performance focused on getting the most out of your talent
Coach Spoonhour (June 23, 1939–February 1, 2012) passed away after a two-year battle with lung disease. He coached at the high school level, at two community colleges, and assisted at Missouri State, Oklahoma, and Nebraska.
His first Division I head coaching job was at Missouri State, then Southwest Missouri State University. In the nine years between 1983-92, his teams were 197-81 (.709) and appeared in postseason play seven times — five times in the NCAA and twice in the NIT.
From 1992-99, his Saint Louis University teams were 122-90 (.575). And from 2001-04, his UNLV teams were 54-31 (.635).
His 19-year Division I record was 373-202 (.649) with 11 postseason appearances — eight NCAA and three NIT.
Coach Spoonhour was a disciple of legendary Coach Henry Iba (August 6, 1904–January 15, 1993), referred to as “Mr. Iba,” who coached 36 years at Oklahoma State University. The Iba Way included getting the most out of your talent; a deliberate offense; hard-nose, stingy defense; staying close; and seeing what happened at the end of the game.
After coaching, Coach Spoonhour had a successful second career as a college basketball television commentator.
Personality: ‘Spoon' couldn't help but be funny
I came to Springfield in 1986. No matter how bad my week had been or was about to be, I could count on one good hour — Coach Spoonhour’s weekly basketball luncheon. I didn’t go to the Wednesday luncheons just to hear about basketball. I went to hear “Charlie be Charlie.” At the luncheon — or about anywhere else — he was one of those guys who just couldn’t help but be funny. For example.....
- In the late 1980s, Coach Spoonhour, a fan of turtlenecks, was a speaker at a black-tie event. With his head cocked and in his best drawl he quipped: “Some of you have asked me if I’m comfortable dressed like this. Well, I guess I’m about as comfortable as you can be in rented clothes.”
- For the video produced about the Bears’ appearance in the 1988 NCAA West Regional in Los Angeles, our staff asked fans/students/coaches to appear on camera and say the line “I Love L.A.” These were set to Randy Newman’s song, “I love L.A.” When it was Coach Spoonhour’s turn, he said, “I love L.A. – Lowell, Arkansas.”
- After his Saint Louis University team’s practice before the 1994 NCAA Midwest Regional in Wichita, Kansas, his said, “These rims are harder than algebra.”
- When asked if he was nervous before a big game, Coach Spoonhour said, “I'm sleeping like a baby — I wake up every two hours and cry.”
- In a game with Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, on January 6, 1987, the Bears were behind 61-60 with 11 seconds left in overtime. As the Bears prepared to inbound the ball after a timeout, the referee took his whistle out of this mouth and with his mouth still covered, over his shoulder asked Coach Spoonhour, “Twenty-two takin’ the shot?” Charlie’s response: “I sure hope so.” Number 22 was Winston Garland, one of the best players in school history, an NBA player, and now known as Darius Garland’s father. Winston took and made the shot with 3 seconds left for the Bears’ 62-61 overtime win. It was a signature win in the first year the Bears qualified for NCAA March Madness.
Help from Mr. Iba
But for me, the most memorable and entertaining story came when Mr. Iba happened to be at one of the weekly luncheons in the late 1980s.
Each year, Mr. Iba would travel from Stillwater to Springfield for a day or two to visit Coach Spoonhour and watch the Bears practice. Mr. Iba’s medical evaluation of the Bears’ motion offense that year was: “It ain’t dead, but it’s pretty sick.”
Since his visit included a Wednesday that year, Mr. Iba came to the luncheon with Coach Spoonhour.
Toward the end of the luncheon, the questions stopped and there was a slight pause. Then Coach Spoonhour’s face started to turn red from the bottom up as he admitted, “I’ve never told anyone this story before....”
It was spring of 1983. Charlie was an assistant coach at the University of Nebraska under Coach Moe Iba, Henry’s son. Charlie was applying for the head coaching position at Missouri State (then SMSU), which had moved to Division I in 1982. Charlie wanted Mr. Iba to be a reference for him with athletics director Bill Rowe.
Charlie knew that Mrs. (Doyne Williams) Iba hadn’t been feeling well, and he didn’t want to disturb her, so he tried to call the Iba residence in Stillwater when he thought Mr. Iba would be there. (In fact, Mrs. Iba passed away in September 1983, only a few months after Charlie was hired and a couple of months before he coached his first game as the Bears head coach.)
Charlie’s plan didn’t work. When Charlie called, Mr. Iba was getting a haircut. Mrs. Iba answered the phone. Charlie apologized and offered to call back, but Mrs. Iba insisted that Charlie give her the information so she could pass it on to Mr. Iba. When Charlie was done, Mrs. Iba wanted to confirm the message.
“So, you’re applying for the head coaching position with the Bears.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you want Henry to call Bill Rowe and put in a good word for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Charlie, weren’t you an assistant coach there a few years ago?”
“Yes, ma’am, I was.”
“Well, hell, son, Henry can’t help you. They know you down there!”
