Stranger Than Fiction: 'The Assist'

NEIL SWIDEY'S NEW book, "The Assist: Hoops, Hope and the Game of Their Lives," offers an intimate portrait of conflicted, controversial, obsessive high school basketball coach Jack O'Brien. He has almost no family, social life or interests beyond his program, but the coach has established a dynasty — winning six state championships in short order and, more important to O'Brien, seeing more than 40 of his players go on to college.

Swidey, a reporter with the Boston Globe magazine, also insightfully explores the bizarre history and consequences of race-based busing in Beantown's public schools. He does this largely through the lens of O'Brien's Charlestown High. Charlestown is a white neighborhood once notorious for racial violence, but its school is now predominantly attended by minority students from other parts of town. These kids have very little contact with the city of Charlestown; thanks to busing, the school has been divorced from the community.

"The average round-trip [commute to school] is over three hours, crossing several subway lines, trains and buses," Swidey said. "And I did that with the kids. When you're together for long trips, you start talking and opening up."

Indeed, the most remarkable aspect of "The Assist" is the access Swidey had to the inner-city boys on O'Brien's team. The journalist delves deeply into their family lives and even takes readers into a cramped apartment as the kids celebrate a brand-new state championship.

Swidey also follows these athletes after graduation, recounting both NCAA basketball heroics and a stranger-than-fiction legal proceeding centered on a broken window and gun possession.

What basketball fans may miss in "The Assist," though, is basketball. Swidey offers little description of O'Brien's sets and strategies, and the author's description of on-the-court action is lukewarm.

"I love basketball, but basketball is a backdrop to this story," Swidey said. "What's fascinating is that for O'Brien — this powerhouse coach who revolutionized the game in this state through sheer dominance — basketball is secondary, too.

"The fundamental motivation is working with these kids. O'Brien could live without basketball. I don't think he could live without having these relationships with these kids," Swidey said.

But by the book's surprising conclusion, that may be exactly what the coach, who collects "critics as freely as a pocket collects lint," must do.

» EXPRESS: What response have the people you profile had to "The Assist"?
» SWIDEY: I think they're pleased with it. I tried to make sure that there were no surprises in the book. These are the lives of real people and [the book includes] some very uncomfortable parts of people's lives. My goal was to prepare people for what I'd be writing about and not to whitewash it, but to make it real, because there's dignity in what people go through, what motivates them, the pain in their lives and what they do with that pain. And how quickly a life can pivot on the most seemingly insignificant events.

By being honest about these stories you really do relate to these people, care about what happens to them, get angry with them and feel invested in their lives. I think that's what O'Brien does and that's how I felt. I was invested in them. That doesn't mean that I'm going to paper-over the problems.

» EXPRESS: O'Brien is often accused of breaking the rules in his quest for success as a coach. Does he?
» SWIDEY: No. I ran down every allegation; I wanted to know. O'Brien doesn't do anything that other coaches in his league aren't doing — except devote his whole life to his program. He's made the decision to do this and I don't think people can understand it. And because they don't understand it, people get suspicious and think, "There must be an angle. There must be something unethical going on. Because if there isn't and if that's the playing field we're on — devoting every moment of your life to a three month basketball season — then I don't want to compete with that."

So, the understandable reaction is to assume there's something there.

Add to that the fact that O'Brien doesn't break rules, but he goes right up to the edge. He understands the rules and he'll do whatever he can, because, like a lot of true-believers in a cause, O'Brien believes he's working for a larger purpose. It's not just winning. Winning is the way he's learned to motivate players: There's a tangible goal that allows kids who don't have a lot of success in their lives to feel like superstars — and be seen that way by others. And that's a huge, powerful force that can change lives for the better — just that kids consider themselves successful.

And O'Brien's going to stay with them and help them get to college. He's not going to arrange, like a lot of coaches, classes with easy teachers. He's going to work the system so that these kids learn and don't fail and move forward. Those are things that a lot of people don't recognize. If it were only about winning, he would take some of these shortcuts. He doesn't.

» EXPRESS: It's clear that O'Brien feels unappreciated by both Charlestown and Boston. Do you think that feeling is accurate?
» SWIDEY: I do. I don't think that feeling was, for much of his tenure, a primary concern. O'Brien works best when he's leading a group of kids and there's a feeling that they're under siege. And as people looked at them and thought, "Hey, give someone else a turn," O'Brien was able to translate that into more solidarity and a feeling that they had to rely on each other, because they weren't going to get it anywhere else. O'Brien imposed a tight family structure — and discipline — on kids who often had very chaotic lives, where there wasn't a lot of structure. So, he used that effectively to motivate players and himself.

I don't think he's someone who would be happy and content if everyone loved him and loved the team and there was nothing but support. However, what you see in the book is an accumulation of a feeling of lack of appreciation. Charlestown is indifferent. I don't think there was antagonism toward O'Brien, it was indifference — as he did something that had never been accomplished in the history of the state. I think he was a chagrined by that, but OK with it. I think the larger point about the Boston school system itself: O'Brien is so hard-charging. The system rewards people who go with the flow and don't rock the boat. O'Brien is not that person.

» EXPRESS: What did you learn from O'Brien?
» SWIDEY: Well, I had the assumptions a lot of people might have about a coach of a powerhouse basketball program — a jock who only cares about winning. And winning gets easier every year.

Those things were dead wrong. He may, on the court, look like someone who cares only about winning, but off the court he's giving laundry advice to the kids, sending out Christmas cards with team pictures on them, driving them here, there and everywhere — to college visits, to test-prep classes, doctor's appointments.

There's a very nurturing side to him that no one would have expected. And it didn't get easier every year. It got harder. The stamina that it takes: You have a two-hour conversation with a kid about why he doesn't do his homework and the importance of [homework] and connecting it to the next phase in his life. And you feel like you got through to the kid — and then, two weeks later, you're back in the same place.

Or, you feel like you've built a system and you have players who have bought in and understand it — and then, after winning a state championship, you come back and, for a host of reasons, six kids who were going to be stars are gone. They've been cherry-picked by other schools, or caught up in drugs or crime or family problems.

Each year, it's as tough — if not tougher — than the year before. It's the perseverance in the face of continual setbacks that I really came to admire about O'Brien.

» Click here to read a PDF excerpt from "The Assist."
» Click here to read another excerpt and see a video of coach Jack O’Brien, player Ridley Johnson and author Neil Swidey on NBC's "Today" show.

Written by Express contributor Tim Follos
Swidey photo by Suzanne Kreiter; team photo courtesy PublicAffairs Books