For Rainier Beach, basketball's bonds weave them closely together
Basketball and family.
At Rainier Beach High School, people sometimes say the two are one and the same. And on this crisp afternoon in February, you almost have to believe it.
The shoot-around started 20 minutes ago. Most of the Vikings' players already have arrived. But so too have about half a dozen kids, several assistant coaches and a few curious parents.
Dunks rattle rims at both ends of the gym. Near midcourt, a boy not more than 5 or 6 sneaks up on Coach Mike Bethea and launches a volleyball into Bethea's midsection.
Uff!
"I'm gonna get you," says Bethea, laughing. The boy dances playfully away, wiggling his little fingers in his little ears.
"It felt like family as soon as I came here," says senior forward Josh Love, who transferred to Rainier Beach from Auburn last summer.
Athletic Director Dan Jurdy knows the feeling. "It is a family here," he says.
Rainier Beach's story is one of expectation and budding greatness, a tale that began with national-title aspirations and will end this week in Tacoma, somewhere short of that goal.
Revered by many, reviled by some, the Vikings are ranked 16th in the nation by USA Today and will be the heavy favorites to repeat as champions when the Class 3A state tournament begins tomorrow at the Tacoma Dome. The Vikings (23-3) open at noon against West Valley of Yakima.
To see the family as individuals reveals much about the whole. What follows are snapshot looks at some who have contributed to the success — and feeling — of Rainier Beach basketball.
The patriarch
If Rainier Beach basketball really is a family, then the head of the household is Bethea, whose growing list of accomplishments includes two state titles (1998 and 2002) and a 198-53 record since taking over the program midway through the 1993-94 season.
Lean and wiry with penetrating eyes, he can be demanding and demonstrative on the court.
On this day, however, he is clad in jeans, sitting in a squeaky chair in an office just off the gym, answering questions in his more typical, soft-spoken style.
Bethea has heard them all.
"I don't get caught up with what people say," he says. "You can't start worrying about that. The people that are close to us, close to our program — the kids — they know what's going on."
A 1975 Franklin graduate, Bethea played basketball at Yakima Valley Community College and turned out for the team at Central Washington, but saw his playing career cut short by two torn Achilles tendons.
He turned his attention to family shortly thereafter, marrying his wife, Gloria, and taking a job at Boeing, where he has drawn a paycheck for 24 years. During that time, he and Gloria had three children, all of whom are now grown.
Friends and colleagues say Bethea is first and foremost a family man. It's not uncommon for players to stop by his house to watch movies, play video games or sample some of Gloria's cooking. The open-door policy has been in place since his earliest days as head coach.
To his players, he's simply "Coach Mike."
"He's one of these cats who will marry one time and he will die with the woman," said Jurdy, one of Bethea's closest friends. "He's like this little old man that is going to be everyone's grandfather. He's a role model for these kids — for what a father should be like, what a husband should be like."
The boss
Jurdy himself is an avuncular sort, a self-described "hands-on" athletic director who on more than one occasion this season has jokingly likened himself to New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner, a notorious meddler.
Affable and sincere, he talks about Rainier Beach as a father might speak of a son.
"There are times," he says, "when I roll up to this building and I can actually see the concrete pulsating like a heartbeat because there is that much energy in this place."
He has been at the school for 16 years, half of that time as an award-winning science teacher.
The native of Eastern Washington graduated from Gonzaga Prep and Washington State University, where he earned a master's degree in biology.
Feeling unfilled after working several years at Swedish Hospital, Jurdy decided to return to school to become an educator. Enrolled at the University of Washington, he was sent to Rainier Beach to do his student teaching.
"When I walked in the door," he says, "it felt like home. It just felt like I belonged."
He is proud of the school and the South End community it serves. Jurdy is 48, single and lives in the nearby New Holly neighborhood. If he has his way, he'll retire from Rainier Beach.
"That's what Seattle lacks," he says, "people having the commitment to stay in one place and make it better."
Three years ago, Jurdy said the Seattle School District told him it would cost a couple of thousand dollars to have the number "98" painted on the outside of the gymnasium, something the Vikings wanted to do to commemorate their 1998 boys basketball state title. The school didn't have the money.
So Jurdy got a ladder and a bucket of paint and that spring, went out and did the job himself.
The twins
Rodrick and Lodrick Stewart, the city's most recognizable high-school athletes, are clowning around in a basement studio.
It's the middle of the afternoon and they're in full uniform for a Seattle Times photo shoot.
One of them finds a small, partially deflated soccer ball hidden amidst the props. A red pen appears, and suddenly, without prompting, both players are signing.
They leave the ball on the floor, a parting gift for no one in particular, then pose for a series of photographs.
In the sometimes circuslike atmosphere that surrounds Rainier Beach basketball, the Stewarts are the main attraction. As such, they routinely are approached for autographs.
"If it's like a big game, (we'll sign) like over 100," Rodrick says. "The most I signed was at KeyArena for Ingraham. We were just sitting in the stands and it was like every kid in the place came up to us."
The twins said they were first asked for their autographs as seventh-graders, at a tournament in Seaside, Ore. A little boy came up to them holding a shoe and a basketball.
"It was fun," says Rodrick, who is averaging 17.1 points. "I felt like I was in the NBA."
"If I was a little kid and I saw a seventh-grader dunk," says Lodrick, who is averaging 19.9 points, "I'd probably ask for an autograph, too."
In a few months, both will be off to USC.
The final chapter in their brilliant high-school careers will be written this week. Most believe that chapter will end happily, with another state title for Rainier Beach.
But individually? How will the twins be remembered? What will be their legacy?
"That me and him," says Lodrick, who wears No. 15, "are two of the hardest-working players in the nation and to ever come through Rainier Beach."
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The freshman
The youngest kid on the team runs into the gym and, breathless, takes a seat on the bleachers.
He has come from his house, a few blocks up the street and arrived just in time for the start of the 3 p.m. practice. He is wearing a baby-blue sweat suit and on his upper lip, a few fine hairs are doing their best impression of a mustache.
Meet Ryan Anderson.
He is 15, long-limbed and runs with an easy, loping gait. He is the only freshman on the Rainier Beach roster and one of only four to ever make the varsity under Bethea.
The others were Rodrick and Lodrick Stewart and current Huskies point guard Nate Robinson.
"He had a feel for the game," says Bethea, recalling Anderson's performance in tryouts. "It wasn't like your normal, run-of-the-mill freshman."
An equally skilled musician, Anderson plays baritone saxophone, piano and drums. He sings, too. And when the team went to Houston for a national tournament earlier this season, he held teammates and passers-by captive with impromptu piano concerts in the hotel lobby.
He is running late today, in fact, because of music.
"My dad's friend," he explains, "was showing me some stuff on the piano."
Anderson never has scored in double figures as a varsity player, but he averaged 17 points and eight rebounds playing half of every junior-varsity game this season.
"I don't care about playing," he says. "I just want to watch. If I can get in, that would be great, too. But I'd rather cheer my team from the bench and just be a team player."
Then, shrugging, he adds: "I got three more years."
The transfer
He arrived at Rainier Beach last summer, moving with his mother to an apartment near the school.
At Auburn High School, Josh Love had led the Trojans in scoring (9.6 points per game) and field-goal percentage (54 percent). At Rainier Beach, he just hoped to play.
He is vague about the reasons for his transfer, saying only that: "This is just a better fit for me."
Deemed eligible, Love has worked his way into the starting lineup, combining with 6-10 junior C.J. Giles to give the Vikings one of the area's most formidable frontcourt tandems. He is averaging 8.5 points and scored a season-high 22 against Cleveland on Feb. 7.
Eastern Washington and Idaho both are pressing hard for his services.
"That's a kid I wish I would have had for four years," Bethea says. "He's just now starting to tap into his talent. His best years are way ahead of him."
Love says he hasn't talked much with his ex-teammates, but adds he wouldn't be surprised if some people at his former school still harbor feelings of resentment.
"Even though I'm not the star no more," he says, "it's like way more exciting now. I've never been this far in my high-school career. So it's just all new for me and it's fun."
The 12th man
In the joyous aftermath of last year's state-title game, Nate Robinson took a minute to remember Romell Witherspoon.
Witherspoon, then a sophomore, had committed the ultimate selfless act and relinquished his state roster spot so a senior teammate could experience the thrill of playing under the lights of the Tacoma Dome.
Minutes after the final horn, Robinson, the tournament's MVP, dedicated the win to Witherspoon.
"That drove me," says Witherspoon, a junior, who this week likely will go to state as the 12th man on the Rainier Beach roster. "He (Robinson) was like my mentor in high school. We was real close. Every time we prayed, he wouldn't hold nobody's hand but mine."
A pastor's son, he is by all accounts a hard worker and a steady player. At any other school, he might be a starter. At Rainier Beach, he averages 3.2 points and is buried on the depth chart behind Rodrick Stewart and sophomore sensation Terrence Williams.
"There's a lot of coaches that told me if I would have come to their school, I would have played," Witherspoon says. "But why not play with the best?"
Witherspoon's value, however, cannot be measured by statistics.
He is the team's resident funnyman, a regular guy with stand-up skills. Name somebody, anybody, in the Rainier Beach program and chances are Witherspoon has an impression ready-made.
"I had to laugh," Bethea said, when asked about his initial reaction to watching Witherspoon as Coach Mike. "I wanted to choke him, but I had to laugh because he did me so well."
When Witherspoon was 14, he did a comedy routine at Cafe Arizona, mimicking movie stars mainly. He says he most admires the work of Martin Lawrence.
"Whenever I see him, that makes me want to make people laugh," Witherspoon says, flashing that big Hollywood smile. "Making people laugh, now that feels good. Serious."
The assistant
They talk on the telephone almost every morning, usually at the crack of dawn, the head coach and his "right-hand man" melding minds to start the day.
One is the other's sounding board. And vice versa. On basketball, on life.
Mike Bethea admits he can't imagine the Rainier Beach bench without Ron Howard, his associate and friend. They have been together now for more than a decade, both starting as assistants under former Vikings coach Francis Williams.
On a staff that includes such coaching luminaries as Al Hairston and Frank Ahern — who together have more than 85 years of experience — Howard fills a critical role.
Attend a Vikings' practice and his voice likely will be the first you hear. Deep and booming, it overpowers the squeaking sneakers, overwhelms the bouncing balls.
It's a verbal kick in the pants, a reminder that discipline never is far away.
"That's one of his strong points," Bethea says. "He's a perfectionist, the type of guy who demands attention."
Standing 6-4 with a bald head and a powerful physique, Howard can back up the talk.
He has been where the most talented of his players aspire to go. A 1970 graduate of Pasco High School, Howard starred in football, basketball and track. He went on to play basketball at Seattle University, an undersize forward who made up for his lack of height with power and heart. Though he never played college football, Howard ended up in the NFL, where he played tight end for the Dallas Cowboys (1974-75) and Seattle Seahawks (1976-78).
Howard says his disciplined approach is designed to prepare players for what they will face after high school. He stresses schoolwork and accountability and talks proudly about a few of the 18 former Rainier Beach athletes currently playing sports at four-year colleges or universities.
"I know what they're about to embark on," he says. "A lot of them are trying to get to that final chapter or stage in their life and play pro ball. There's a lot of obstacles, man. And if you don't have the good work ethic and discipline ... ."
The future
The game hadn't been much of a game, after all.
In a much-anticipated rematch of last year's state-title showdown, Rainier Beach had rolled to a 75-51 victory over Mercer Island in the Sea-King District 3A semifinals.
Rodrick Stewart had scored 20 points. Lodrick Stewart had added 19.
The Islanders' venerable coach, Ed Pepple, stood outside the locker room afterward, wearing his customary maroon jacket and the look of a man who needed no convincing.
"I predicted last year at the state tournament that they would be better next year and everybody thought I was crazy," Pepple sys. "I'm not sure on our best day we'd have been able to hang with them the way they were shooting."
Out in the lobby, Bethea talked about his team's progress with an eye toward the state tournament.
"They're getting there," he says. "We're starting to peak. I'm starting to see the things that I'm looking for. Everything is going to be cool."
Matt Peterson: 206-515-5536 or mpeterson@seattletimes.com