ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Tuesday, February 18, 1997 TAG: 9702180093
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: JACK BOGACZYK
DATELINE: BLACKSBURG
SOURCE: JACK BOGACZYK
John Chaney lives in the same house where he and wife Jeanne have spent about four decades of their 42-plus years together, the home where their three children grew up.
It's a three-bedroom rowhouse in the Mount Airy neighborhood on the edge of North Philadelphia. It's on the bus route. One day a driver brought his coach to a brake-screeching stop when he saw another coach.
``Are you John Chaney? The Temple coach? You live here?'' the driver asked loudly in disbelief.
``I told him it was me, and what's so wrong with living here? The place is paid for,'' Chaney said Monday. ``Then, from inside the bus, some guy yells, `Let's go. I'm already late for work.'''
That tale says much about Chaney, who makes another new stop in his long basketball life tonight, when the Owls visit Virginia Tech for the first time in an Atlantic 10 Conference game about which everyone can get really defensive.
He is a down-to-earth man, respectful of tradition. Even the most knowledgeable hoopheads often are stunned at seeing Chaney and his Owls residing in the neighborhood they do. However, the only mansion to which he aspires is the Apollo of Temple, the school's 10,000-seat arena that will open next season.
Chaney, 65, has climbed the steps of his profession while barely leaving the neighborhood. A Florida native, Chaney moved to Philly when he was an eighth-grader. He left to play college basketball in his native state, at Bethune-Cookman, because the Big Five schools looked down on him.
He is primarily known for Temple's matchup zone defense, which he uses as much as anything because that's what old Philly coaching legends did. Chaney also uses it because when he was coaching at Division II Cheyney (Pa.), he found it was a way to hide weaknesses and keep from having ``an apple-lemon matchup.''
To only match up Chaney with defense is shortchanging him. In a city where hoops has a lot of history, Chaney's chapter in the book doesn't belong far behind those of Wilt or the Palestra.
When Chaney speaks at practice, the dribbling stops. You can say his program is about discipline, but you would be only half-right.
``It's not my program,'' Chaney said as his team finished a Cassell Coliseum workout Monday. ``Temple basketball has been great [only five Division I schools have won more games], and the program didn't begin with me, nor will it end with me. I'm here to help it continue.''
Not every Tom, Dick and Rasheed Roundball can play for Chaney. Those who appreciate the way the game is played can't help but admire his program.
``It's how you comport yourself on the floor,'' Chaney said. ``There are no gyrations, no monkeyshines, no showing up people. Our players are taught that the team you play against is not the enemy but an opponent.
``You can't play this game from emotion too much, because then you can get emotionally drunk. You need to win this game a lot more with your head than your [butt]. That's why I say, `Heads, you win; tails, you lose.'''
Chaney doesn't often coach heralded recruits or All-Americans. During the Final Four two years ago in Seattle, the Post-Intelligencer surveyed 113 of his coaching peers, who voted that the Owls' coach ``regularly does the best job under the most difficult circumstances.''
It was a ``deep'' compliment, he said. He also stands alone in history in winning national coach of the year honors in Division I and Division II, where he took Cheyney to eight NCAA tournaments, two Final Fours and the 1978 championship.
He has the Owls headed for their 14th postseason trip in 15 seasons. They've been to the NCAA Tournament 12 times in 13 years, reaching a regional final three times.
He measures success, however, not so much in how deep his team goes in a tournament bracket, but in how deeply he reaches his players, who often practice at 5:30 a.m.
``These kids are the ones who are keeping me here,'' Chaney said, while not putting a clock on retirement. ``When people stop needing you, that's when it's time to go.
``Old people die when people stop listening to them. Go to a home for the elderly, and they want people to gather around so you can listen to them. When nobody cares to listen, that's when you're going to die.
``What you don't want to do is stay past your time. When I stopped playing pro ball in the Eastern League [where he was a two-time MVP], I never looked back. All of us, at some time, have to walk away without a clap. What's important is just to know when you do walk away, you've done a good job.''
Here's another compliment. He's a wise, old Owl.
LENGTH: Medium: 87 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: (headshot) Chaneyby CNB