Jim Phelan isn't consumed by milestones.
Phelan, 63, can win his 700th game as Mount St. Mary's coach against Wagner tonight in Staten Island, N.Y. The significance of this coaching feat -- accomplished by only seven others, all Hall of Famers, in college basketball history -- is not lost on Phelan, a legend in his chosen small corner of the world.
But there's more to Phelan's story than just a number of victories. His career at Mount St. Mary's has been built on family, faith, friendships, integrity and loyalty.
Energetic again
After two uncommonly dreary seasons, Phelan is energized again. The "goose bumps and tingle" have returned, and he is alive on the sidelines, working the officials, prodding his players.
For the first time since the school joined the Northeast Conference in 1989, the Mount can take the league lead with a victory tonight. Phelan is seizing the day, enjoying work again after a stretch when he felt his team was too passive.
Magic No. 700 is on the back burner.
"He hasn't mentioned a word to us about it," said sophomore forward Michael Watson. "I don't think he wants the players to think much about it. Then, when it comes, we can all enjoy the moment."
The players wanted to win the 700th at Knott Arena, so the community, the fans and the students could share the jubilation. But they would have to lose two straight road games -- tonight and Saturday -- for that to happen.
"We don't want it to happen at home now," said senior guard Kevin Booth. "We wanted to give the local people who come a lot something to look forward to, but we can't think about that now. We're in a title race.
"Coach just prefers that it not be a big ordeal. He tries to make everything simple."
Assistant coach Bob Flynn said his boss is "more excited that we finally started playing good basketball.
"It would be great for his family and friends if it happened at home, but, from a selfish standpoint, we'd have more time to share it with the players on the road. Here, we'd be inundated."
Country life
Phelan's migration to the sleepy Frederick County town he has called home for 39 years has been well-documented.
He grew up in a tough South Philadelphia neighborhood, was raised by his mother alone and became one of the nation's premier defensive players at La Salle.
Phelan then served a hitch in the Marines and spent a year as an assistant to La Salle coach Ken Loeffler. In 1954, Loeffler told Phelan of an opening at a small Catholic college near Gettysburg, nestled in the foothills of the Catoctin Mountains.
Phelan was offered a long-term contract, but signed for only a year, because he wasn't sure he'd like the place. His wife, Dottie, grew up on Philadelphia's Main Line and, he said, "had never even seen a cow."
Within a year, they had fallen in love with Emmitsburg, and, as the program prospered and the family grew, Phelan began to resist offers from big-time schools and even one from the Baltimore Bullets.
"I was surprised he never left," said Jack Sullivan, cornerstone of Phelan's first Mount teams and still the school's all-time leading scorer.
"But, as the years went by, it got to a point where you couldn't have got him out of there with a bomb."
Dottie, as effervescent as Jim is low-key, said that she was homesick when he first accepted the job.
"We were going to be here a couple of years at the most," she said. "But then it got to the point where every time someone called Jim with a feeler for a job, I would just hold my breath. I didn't want to leave."
"My wife wanted to go home every weekend at first," Phelan said. "But then the next summer we had our first child [of five] and visits to Philadelphia got few and far between," Phelan said. "We were accepted here from the start. The people were great to us. "Neither of us had ever known a farmer," he said. "That first summer, I was helping to make hay, and, when I got finished, I've never been so exhausted in my life. I never realized how hard those people worked, how strong they were." "He just staggered down the lane that day," said Dottie. "The guy he was working with was going over to milk the cows. From that day on, he had total respect for the people here."
Family man
The Phelan home wasn't dominated by basketball. The Phelans have five children, but they never pushed them hard toward athletics. Only Lynne, now the Mount's assistant athletic director specializing in the women's program, excelled on the collegiate level.
And Phelan was never one to bring a game home. "One time, he came home from a double-overtime loss at home, which was so rare in those days," said Dottie. "The children were young and allhyped up. I told them not to bother their father. "He looked at me and said, 'Dottie, the kids aren't bothering me, but you are.' " Lynne Phelan said: "In the days before radio and videotape, he would call after every away game to let us know how they'd done. Mom could never tell if they'd won or lost until he told her." The happiness of the family was a major factor in Phelan's decision to spend almost his entire adult life in Emmitsburg, Lynne said. "That was the most important thing to him," she said. "He grew up in kind of a hard environment, and he was one of those guys who couldn't imagine the grass would ever be greener than it already was. don't think he ever seriously considered taking another job. He was very content, and he wouldn't think of uprooting us." Loyal players
The devotion of his former players is deeply ingrained. Phelan's contribution to pro basketball was Fred Carter, whom he found on a 1965 recruiting trip in Philadelphia almost by accident. While pursuing John Baum, who already was committed to Temple, Phelan turned to leave the playground game when Buddy Jeannette, then the Baltimore Bullets coach, talked him into returning for a chat with Carter. Phelan got his man, then drove him to campus. On the way, Phelan told him there weren't many blacks at Mount St. Mary's. Carter asked how many. Phelan replied, "You." "That just showed how Jim Phelan was thinking in the '60s," said Carter. "He just changed my life totally. "Way before Proposition 48, he convinced the counselors that I could do the job academically. He went out on a limb for me. The guy is a bigger winner as a person than he is as a coach, and a tremendous coach." Dave Maloney, a key member of the 1962 College Division champions, said Phelan is "more than the basketball coach. He is an important facet of the total community. Jim doesn't need to satisfy a big ego by coaching at Duke. He doesn't live according to other people's expectations. He couldn't have been happier." Phelan can be aloof. He is the coach and the players are players, and that's that. But the door is always open if they have a problem. "He never gets on a personal basis while coaching them," Dottie Phelan said. "But after graduation, they are our children." "He's a little more tolerant and understanding than he was in earlier years," said Maloney. "Times have changed, and most people in athletics have had to adjust. Jim has. I don't see that he has any problem in dealing with young people."
A noisy beginning Phelan remembers the first of his 699 victories as if it were yesterday. "I couldn't believe how few people were in the stands as we warmed up," he said. "But we went back in and looked out the window at the field and saw a whole bunch of lights. It was a torchlight parade." When the Mounts returned to the floor of legendary Memorial Gym, Phelan was astounded. "There was nothing but screaming maniacs in there," he said. "That one really got us off rolling." Elvis was just starting with Sam Phillips. Ike was president. The Cleveland Indians were in the World Series. Baltimore just had gotten major-league baseball. Elvis and Ike are gone. The Indians never have made it back. The Orioles are in a new stadium. And 63 Division I coaches have been born since Phelan started coaching at the Mount. Memorial Gym, an old airport hangar that was intercepted on its way to the Pacific theater when World War II ended, now seeps with memories. It is the place where Phelan established the legend before Knott opened in 1987. Debris falling from the ceiling. Birds flying over the court. Poweroutages. A dog occasionally in the building. The stands overflowing with crazies. A 317-64 record.
And the milestones keep coming. Phelan survived a "misunderstanding" with school president Robert Wickenheiser before this season and apparently can call his own shots about retirement. He isn't ready yet. He has been nominated for the Basketball Hall of Fame and is almost certain to be inducted sometime soon. And he is universally respected by those whose lives he has touched. "The man is a gentleman," said Sullivan. "The school will never recognize all he has done for his kids. He's the kind who helps and never says anything. He has been a tremendous influence on a lot of people." At once a disciplinarian and a father figure. Demanding, yet understanding. Intense, but able to maintain perspective. A man of simple tastes who likes to read, bet the horses at Charles Town, fiddle with computers and golf. "The true test is being able to withstand time," said Carter. "He's done that as well as anyone. Most guys have long ago burned out the way he gets himself worked up. "All I can say is: God bless him." In the middle of practice one day, Lynne's 5-year-old son, James Phelan Robinson, wandered in to talk to the coach. He asked if his grandfather was going to the next game. "He said, 'We're both going,' and was real excited about it," said Lynne. Grandfather wouldn't miss it. For 39 years and 699 wins, he has presided over all the games.
Phelan, 63, can win his 700th game as Mount St. Mary's coach against Wagner tonight in Staten Island, N.Y. The significance of this coaching feat -- accomplished by only seven others, all Hall of Famers, in college basketball history -- is not lost on Phelan, a legend in his chosen small corner of the world.
But there's more to Phelan's story than just a number of victories. His career at Mount St. Mary's has been built on family, faith, friendships, integrity and loyalty.
Energetic again
After two uncommonly dreary seasons, Phelan is energized again. The "goose bumps and tingle" have returned, and he is alive on the sidelines, working the officials, prodding his players.
For the first time since the school joined the Northeast Conference in 1989, the Mount can take the league lead with a victory tonight. Phelan is seizing the day, enjoying work again after a stretch when he felt his team was too passive.
Magic No. 700 is on the back burner.
"He hasn't mentioned a word to us about it," said sophomore forward Michael Watson. "I don't think he wants the players to think much about it. Then, when it comes, we can all enjoy the moment."
The players wanted to win the 700th at Knott Arena, so the community, the fans and the students could share the jubilation. But they would have to lose two straight road games -- tonight and Saturday -- for that to happen.
"We don't want it to happen at home now," said senior guard Kevin Booth. "We wanted to give the local people who come a lot something to look forward to, but we can't think about that now. We're in a title race.
"Coach just prefers that it not be a big ordeal. He tries to make everything simple."
Assistant coach Bob Flynn said his boss is "more excited that we finally started playing good basketball.
"It would be great for his family and friends if it happened at home, but, from a selfish standpoint, we'd have more time to share it with the players on the road. Here, we'd be inundated."
Country life
Phelan's migration to the sleepy Frederick County town he has called home for 39 years has been well-documented.
He grew up in a tough South Philadelphia neighborhood, was raised by his mother alone and became one of the nation's premier defensive players at La Salle.
Phelan then served a hitch in the Marines and spent a year as an assistant to La Salle coach Ken Loeffler. In 1954, Loeffler told Phelan of an opening at a small Catholic college near Gettysburg, nestled in the foothills of the Catoctin Mountains.
Phelan was offered a long-term contract, but signed for only a year, because he wasn't sure he'd like the place. His wife, Dottie, grew up on Philadelphia's Main Line and, he said, "had never even seen a cow."
Within a year, they had fallen in love with Emmitsburg, and, as the program prospered and the family grew, Phelan began to resist offers from big-time schools and even one from the Baltimore Bullets.
"I was surprised he never left," said Jack Sullivan, cornerstone of Phelan's first Mount teams and still the school's all-time leading scorer.
"But, as the years went by, it got to a point where you couldn't have got him out of there with a bomb."
Dottie, as effervescent as Jim is low-key, said that she was homesick when he first accepted the job.
"We were going to be here a couple of years at the most," she said. "But then it got to the point where every time someone called Jim with a feeler for a job, I would just hold my breath. I didn't want to leave."
"My wife wanted to go home every weekend at first," Phelan said. "But then the next summer we had our first child [of five] and visits to Philadelphia got few and far between," Phelan said. "We were accepted here from the start. The people were great to us. "Neither of us had ever known a farmer," he said. "That first summer, I was helping to make hay, and, when I got finished, I've never been so exhausted in my life. I never realized how hard those people worked, how strong they were." "He just staggered down the lane that day," said Dottie. "The guy he was working with was going over to milk the cows. From that day on, he had total respect for the people here."
Family man
The Phelan home wasn't dominated by basketball. The Phelans have five children, but they never pushed them hard toward athletics. Only Lynne, now the Mount's assistant athletic director specializing in the women's program, excelled on the collegiate level.
And Phelan was never one to bring a game home. "One time, he came home from a double-overtime loss at home, which was so rare in those days," said Dottie. "The children were young and allhyped up. I told them not to bother their father. "He looked at me and said, 'Dottie, the kids aren't bothering me, but you are.' " Lynne Phelan said: "In the days before radio and videotape, he would call after every away game to let us know how they'd done. Mom could never tell if they'd won or lost until he told her." The happiness of the family was a major factor in Phelan's decision to spend almost his entire adult life in Emmitsburg, Lynne said. "That was the most important thing to him," she said. "He grew up in kind of a hard environment, and he was one of those guys who couldn't imagine the grass would ever be greener than it already was. don't think he ever seriously considered taking another job. He was very content, and he wouldn't think of uprooting us." Loyal players
The devotion of his former players is deeply ingrained. Phelan's contribution to pro basketball was Fred Carter, whom he found on a 1965 recruiting trip in Philadelphia almost by accident. While pursuing John Baum, who already was committed to Temple, Phelan turned to leave the playground game when Buddy Jeannette, then the Baltimore Bullets coach, talked him into returning for a chat with Carter. Phelan got his man, then drove him to campus. On the way, Phelan told him there weren't many blacks at Mount St. Mary's. Carter asked how many. Phelan replied, "You." "That just showed how Jim Phelan was thinking in the '60s," said Carter. "He just changed my life totally. "Way before Proposition 48, he convinced the counselors that I could do the job academically. He went out on a limb for me. The guy is a bigger winner as a person than he is as a coach, and a tremendous coach." Dave Maloney, a key member of the 1962 College Division champions, said Phelan is "more than the basketball coach. He is an important facet of the total community. Jim doesn't need to satisfy a big ego by coaching at Duke. He doesn't live according to other people's expectations. He couldn't have been happier." Phelan can be aloof. He is the coach and the players are players, and that's that. But the door is always open if they have a problem. "He never gets on a personal basis while coaching them," Dottie Phelan said. "But after graduation, they are our children." "He's a little more tolerant and understanding than he was in earlier years," said Maloney. "Times have changed, and most people in athletics have had to adjust. Jim has. I don't see that he has any problem in dealing with young people."
A noisy beginning Phelan remembers the first of his 699 victories as if it were yesterday. "I couldn't believe how few people were in the stands as we warmed up," he said. "But we went back in and looked out the window at the field and saw a whole bunch of lights. It was a torchlight parade." When the Mounts returned to the floor of legendary Memorial Gym, Phelan was astounded. "There was nothing but screaming maniacs in there," he said. "That one really got us off rolling." Elvis was just starting with Sam Phillips. Ike was president. The Cleveland Indians were in the World Series. Baltimore just had gotten major-league baseball. Elvis and Ike are gone. The Indians never have made it back. The Orioles are in a new stadium. And 63 Division I coaches have been born since Phelan started coaching at the Mount. Memorial Gym, an old airport hangar that was intercepted on its way to the Pacific theater when World War II ended, now seeps with memories. It is the place where Phelan established the legend before Knott opened in 1987. Debris falling from the ceiling. Birds flying over the court. Poweroutages. A dog occasionally in the building. The stands overflowing with crazies. A 317-64 record.
And the milestones keep coming. Phelan survived a "misunderstanding" with school president Robert Wickenheiser before this season and apparently can call his own shots about retirement. He isn't ready yet. He has been nominated for the Basketball Hall of Fame and is almost certain to be inducted sometime soon. And he is universally respected by those whose lives he has touched. "The man is a gentleman," said Sullivan. "The school will never recognize all he has done for his kids. He's the kind who helps and never says anything. He has been a tremendous influence on a lot of people." At once a disciplinarian and a father figure. Demanding, yet understanding. Intense, but able to maintain perspective. A man of simple tastes who likes to read, bet the horses at Charles Town, fiddle with computers and golf. "The true test is being able to withstand time," said Carter. "He's done that as well as anyone. Most guys have long ago burned out the way he gets himself worked up. "All I can say is: God bless him." In the middle of practice one day, Lynne's 5-year-old son, James Phelan Robinson, wandered in to talk to the coach. He asked if his grandfather was going to the next game. "He said, 'We're both going,' and was real excited about it," said Lynne. Grandfather wouldn't miss it. For 39 years and 699 wins, he has presided over all the games.