Pride and the Passion

Temple Coach Chaney Loves the Game and His Players, But Volcanic Outbursts Threaten a Pioneering Career

PHILADELPHIA

At 5:30 a.m. on North Broad Street, it is dark and dead quiet. Occasionally, a car passes. A man pushes a grocery cart with his belongings up the middle of the street. At Temple University, in a building right off the sidewalk, down a flight of stairs and near the end of a narrow corridor, there is finally a sound, one basketball bouncing. In the stillness, it sounds like thunder.

In the virtually empty arena, it's almost time for one of John Chaney's pre-dawn practices, almost time for a new college basketball season. As 6 o'clock approaches, more players walk slowly onto the court bouncing basketballs.

Chaney arrives, fully awake as if it were mid-day. The 73-year-old coach is a wiry man with sad eyes and a perpetually weary look that belies an extraordinary energy. He seems invigorated because he believes his 2005-06 Owls might be a surprise and go deep into the NCAA tournament after a four-year absence. "This time, we have guards that I think can put the ball in the basket," he says, standing at the edge of the court. "So there's a big difference in our team now."

Earlier this year, people wondered if the big difference in Temple basketball would be the identity of its head coach. Chaney appeared to jeopardize his 24th season at the school with a fit of unadulterated rage during a game Feb. 22 against rival Saint Joseph's. Chaney ordered Nehemiah Ingram, a seldom-used reserve, into the game to foul the opponents hard, apparently in retaliation for what Chaney perceived as illegal moving screens used by the Hawks to free up their shooters. To make matters worse, the tactic was premeditated: The day before the game, Chaney had warned what he might do because he wasn't happy with the officiating when the teams had met earlier.

Like almost any decision made in anger, this one backfired on him -- badly. One of the hard fouls sent John Bryant, who was attempting a shot and in no position to defend himself, crashing to the floor, breaking his arm.

Chaney was suspended for five games, returning only to coach Temple in a season-ending loss at Virginia Tech in the NIT. Some in the media called for his ouster. While he had been embroiled periodically in controversies over the years, this incident found public opinion overwhelmingly against him. His ardent supporters suggested that his actions were out of character for a man who has prided himself on being a positive influence on his players, of taking underprivileged youngsters into his program and guiding them not just in basketball but toward productive lives. After he apologized to all concerned, calling his own behavior "reprehensible" and promising to "take inventory of myself," Temple officials said that their Hall of Fame coach would return for this season, which begins Tuesday against Army in the preseason NIT, a game that could well be Chaney's 500th victory at Temple. Beyond that, his future is unclear.

"Next year," David Adamany, Temple's president, said this week, "we will sit down and I would say mutually decide on whether he's going to continue."

Adamany said that Chaney had given "no sign yet" that he would want to retire, but that the coach was "very aware" that some recruiters from other schools were using his age against him in dealings with prospects.

With that backdrop of uncertainty, Cheney observes morning practice, presumably having taken his self-inventory, now taking inventory of his players, making corrections and shouting reminders in his raspy voice, liking much of what he sees. He wants a degree of success for this team that most observers don't consider possible, and that may be what it takes for him to keep his job. But if John Chaney has answered enough questions to put himself back on the court, other questions continue to follow him: Is this really his last shot, as rumors persist? Or might he have the talent -- led by senior guard and pro prospect Mardy Collins -- to help him to a comeback like 78-year-old football coach Joe Paterno's at Penn State?

Will the St. Joe's incident forever haunt him, or has he in some way awakened to new insights that will make him even more of an inspirational figure to many? Why is he like he is, teaching the right things -- compete hard but fairly, think before acting -- but then occasionally tripping over his own precepts and flying wildly over the edge?

Working-Class Hero

Without question, John Chaney is an emotional man. A familiar figure to television viewers, he paces the sideline during games, wearing his customary white dress shirt loosened at the collar and the knot of his tie often lowered to his chest. He'll shout. He'll try to stare down a game official. In the quiet aftermath, he imagines people thinking of him as "a grouchy old man . . . who seems to be always outraged and always fussing."