There are people you meet in basketball who help you win games. There are people who help you become a better coach.

And then there are people who speak something into your life that you don’t fully understand until years later.

Gerald “Puddin” Grayson was that person for me.

When I was coaching high school basketball, Coach Grayson was one of the people I could always call.

Actually, a lot of times I didn’t even have to call him. He would call me. Just to check on me. Just to encourage me. Just to make sure I was alright.

And whenever coaching had me frustrated or questioning things, I knew I could talk to Puddin.

He was always positive. He always had perspective. And most importantly, he always brought it back to God.

Looking back, I probably viewed him more like a grandfather than another basketball coach.

 

Puddin Had Already Seen Everything

By the time I became a head coach, Puddin had been around Western Pennsylvania athletics for decades.

And I mean decades.

He had been coaching boys and girls basketball since 1972, with stops in McKeesport, Duquesne and Elizabeth Forward. He coached McKeesport’s girls from 1985-98 and led them to the 1998 WPIAL championship. He eventually returned to his alma mater to coach the McKeesport boys.

He coached Swin Cash, who went on to become an NCAA champion, WNBA champion, Olympic gold medalist and Basketball Hall of Famer.

But even Swin has talked about something bigger than basketball when discussing Coach Grayson.

She has credited him with pushing his players toward developing their own relationship with God and caring about their spiritual growth beyond wins and losses.

That doesn’t surprise me at all. Because that’s exactly who I knew.

 

Being a Black Head Coach in the WPIAL

There’s another part of our relationship that I think is important to talk about.

When I was coaching, there weren’t many Black head basketball coaches in the WPIAL.

That’s just the reality.

And when you’re one of the few people in a room who looks like you, sometimes you naturally gravitate toward each other. There were experiences Puddin understood without me having to explain every detail.

When I became the first Black head basketball coach at Steel Valley, he knew that accomplishment came with something else.

Pressure. Expectations. And yes, the reality that there would be some people who weren’t going to like it simply because I was a young Black man sitting in that chair.

That’s the elephant in the room.

You don’t have to make everything about race to acknowledge that race has sometimes been part of the experience.

Puddin had been around long enough to know it. He didn’t make me bitter about it. He didn’t tell me to walk around looking for racism everywhere.

He did the opposite.

He prepared me. He encouraged me. He told me to keep going. And he constantly reminded me that there was something bigger than whatever obstacle was directly in front of me.

 

He Respected Me

That meant a lot because Puddin knew my background.

He respected what I had accomplished as a basketball player. But when I became a coach, he respected me as a coach too.

There’s a difference.

Sometimes when you’ve had success as a player, people always see you as the player you used to be.

Puddin didn’t do that.

He understood that I was trying to build something else. He wanted to see me succeed. So whenever things got difficult, he was somebody I could lean on. I could call him when I was down. I could tell him what was happening.

And somehow I usually felt better after we talked.

Not because he told me everything I wanted to hear. Because he gave me perspective.

 

Then Steel Valley Happened

When my situation at Steel Valley happened, guess who was one of the first people to call me?

Puddin.

At that moment, I was looking at what had happened right in front of me. He was looking beyond it. And I’ll never forget what he told me.

He basically told me: God has another calling for you.

At the time, I’m not sure I completely understood it.

When something you care about ends, especially something you’ve invested yourself into, you aren’t immediately thinking about what it might mean ten years from now.

You’re thinking about right now. You’re thinking about what went wrong. You’re thinking about what you could’ve done differently. You’re wondering why it happened.

Puddin was telling me to look further down the road.

 

A Decade Later, I Understand

This is the part that hits differently today.

Because Puddin was right. It took roughly a decade for me to really understand what he was telling me.

Basketball was part of my purpose. Playing was part of it. Coaching was part of it. Mentoring young people was part of it.

But it wasn’t the entire story.

Today, through DrewSchifino.com, I’ve found another way to use everything I’ve experienced.

I’m telling stories. I’m preserving Western Pennsylvania sports history. I’m giving people their flowers while they’re here. I’m giving former athletes and coaches a platform. I’m talking about communities and people whose stories might otherwise disappear with time.

And sometimes I think back to that conversation with Puddin.

God has another calling for you.

I couldn’t see it then. I can see it now.

 

Puddin’s Life Was Bigger Than Coaching

The more you learn about Gerald Grayson, the more you understand why he approached me the way he did.

McKeesport honored him in 2017 for embodying hope in the community. At the time, he talked about his purpose with young people.

His words say everything about him: “I’m out there to teach them what a real man is.”

He wasn’t only coaching teenagers. He was mentoring elementary-school boys, teaching them manners, kindness, respect and love.

One of his beliefs was that kindness is a sign of strength.

That’s Puddin.

Basketball was the vehicle. People were the purpose.

 

And Puddin Was One Hell of an Athlete Himself

Some younger people might only know Gerald Grayson as Coach Grayson.

They need to understand something. Puddin could PLAY.

Long before he became a respected basketball coach, he was a legendary McKeesport athlete.

At only 13 years old, he appeared in Sports Illustrated’s “Faces in the Crowd” after rushing for 2,392 yards in 11 games for the McKeesport Little Tigers. He became an all-state running back at McKeesport and eventually played college football at Boise State.  There’s even an incredible photograph of a 13-year-old Puddin standing alongside Jackie Robinson in 1961.

Years later, Puddin recalled what Jackie told him: Stay humble. Don’t get the big head. Keep fighting.

Think about that.

Maybe some of what Jackie Robinson poured into that young kid eventually got poured into generations of young people in McKeesport.

And maybe a little bit of it eventually reached me.

 

Give People Their Flowers

As I get older, I’ve learned to appreciate relationships differently.

Wins are great. Championships are great. Being a head coach is great.

But eventually the scoreboard gets turned off.

What remains is how people treated you. Who called when you were struggling? Who believed in you? Who gave you wisdom without wanting anything in return? Who saw something ahead for you that you couldn’t see for yourself yet?

For me, one of those people was Gerald “Puddin” Grayson. I am truly thankful God allowed our paths to cross.

He encouraged me when I needed encouragement. He understood some of the obstacles I faced. He respected where I had been. He believed there was somewhere else I was going.

And when one chapter of my life closed, he told me not to mistake the end of a chapter for the end of my purpose.

Almost a decade later, I finally understand exactly what he meant.

Coach, you were right. God did have another calling for me. And I’ll always be thankful you helped me believe that before I could see it for myself.

Flowers to Gerald “Puddin” Grayson. 💐

A coach. A mentor. A man of God. And most importantly, a good man who poured into people.