Purdue legend Keady’s winning spirit, immortalized
There is no pretense to Purdue’s Gene Keady. There has never been more of a what-you-see-is-what-you-get person.
Keady made a career out of fighting opponents tooth and nail with his often overachieving teams. He never backed down from a basketball battle, and his teams reflected his personality better than most.
So there was a quiet celebration when it was announced at the 2023 Final Four that Keady had been named to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. One word came to the forefront for the myriad coaches, players, and fans who shared his nine-decade love affair with basketball.
Relief.
That seven-letter word doesn’t minimize his achievement; it only serves as a reminder that if there is any basketball justice in the world, Keady belongs in the Naismith Hall of Fame.
“Believe it or not, my first response was that word, relief,” says Tom Izzo, the Michigan State Hall of Fame coach who will present Keady in the induction ceremonies on Saturday. “The second part was excitement. I have idolized this guy for 40 years.
Nate Barrett and the folks of Twin City/Chariot Automotive Group celebrate Gene Keady’s enshrinement
“I have often asked myself: How could I be in the Hall of Fame (2014) and not him? Now, I don’t have to feel guilty.”
Keady belongs on a pedestal with the sport’s immortals. He has coached at every level of basketball, winning over 900 games. He was part of an Olympic gold medal team in 2000, giving his heart and soul for the betterment of the sport with his work with USA Basketball.
He is in the rarest of air at his beloved Purdue University, where he coached for 25 seasons, won six Big Ten championships and was named national coach of the year five times. Keady, John Wooden, Charles “Stretch” Murphy and Ward “Piggy” Lambert are the only Boilermakers to earn a spot at the pinnacle of basketball in its Naismith Hall of Fame.
But the success on the court and behind the scenes is only part of the story. Keady’s passion for the game is exemplified by his love for his players and fellow coaches, which is reciprocated by almost everyone who has ever known him.
Keady’s secret sauce has been his no-nonsense simplicity. He has done that in just about all facets of his 87-year life.
Izzo labels Keady’s coaching style and acumen as “respectfully crazy,” but Izzo has loved every minute of his time with Keady, except when he was on the losing end of hard-fought games. “He has meant so much to the profession.”
Keady made a career out of not worrying about things he couldn’t control and never, at least publicly, concerned himself with whether he would ever get the call from the Naismith Hall. It was simpler that way.
“When we were submitting Coach Keady for consideration to the Hall 20 years ago, we would seek some information from him, and he would gruffly bark back saying ‘get out of here,’” says Elliot Bloom, who has served Purdue basketball since his college days in the mid-1990s. “He never expected that this honor would come his way.”
Pragmatic by nature, Keady just plodded along, winning big at every stop: Beloit (Kansas) High School, Hutchinson Junior College, Western Kentucky and Purdue.
“In many respects, the delayed element of getting in the Naismith Hall is really in alignment with his entire career,” says Steve Lavin, the current San Diego coach who credits Keady for giving him his coaching start back in 1988.“ He paid his dues, earned the stripes and worked at his craft at every level, and wasn’t on the fast track.”
A healthy dose of fear buoyed Keady. Years later, Keady said, “I was always afraid I was going to get fired and that kept me motivated and focused on how my teams performed.”
In retrospect, Keady’s fear was unfounded, but his simple way to do better and contribute more to the game has given him so much.
Keady’s successor at Purdue, Matt Painter, agrees that Keady had a healthy fear of failure, but his role as a visionary is sometimes unfairly downplayed. An example? Painter thinks Keady was ahead of his time in one key area: His unique ability to communicate with players.
“He simplified the teaching process by explaining the ‘why’ to his players,” says Painter, one of 10 direct descendants of the Keady head coaching tree, having led the Boilermaker program since Keady retired in 2005 after playing for him from 1990-93. “That made us very loyal to him because we knew he had our back.
“His record is amazing, considering he didn’t become a head coach at the highest level of college basketball until he was in his mid-40s. He is the rare combination of tough and nasty, but he found a way to jump over the fight. He always did things first-class and treated everyone he knew with respect: the bus driver, the scorekeeper, the custodian, everyone. Those people are some of the happiest to learn he has made it to the Naismith Hall of Fame.”
Keady’s irascibility on the sidelines was legendary. And his career blossomed in the early days of ESPN when the battles with Indiana’s Bob Knight and others became college basketball must-see TV.
“There were lots of times when it wasn’t easy to get him to calm down during the heat of a game,” says Bruce Weber, who served as Keady’s assistant for two decades at Western Kentucky and Purdue before winning over 500 games as a head coach at Southern Illinois, Illinois and Kansas State. During Weber’s 18 years on the Boilermaker sideline, he could often be seen retrieving his boss back to the sidelines by grabbing his trademark gold “Century 21” sport coat.
“That’s who he was. Always fired up and trying to motivate his team to fight harder.”
Keady also never lost sight that the game was more significant than him or anyone else. He revered the sport’s legends, including UCLA’s Wooden, Oklahoma State’s Hank Iba, Kansas State’s Tex Winter, Cal’s Pete Newell and even Knight. He was deferential to the coaching elite by rarely calling them by their first name, always addressing them as “coach.”
The only coach Keady called by his first name was Michigan State’s Jud Heathcote. It was “Jud” to Keady. The former Spartan boss, who could have been a stand-up comedian in another life, brought out the best In Keady’s sense of humor.
Keady’s early road to greatness was far from paved. Growing up in Larned, Kansas, in the post-World War II era, he came from the wrong side of the tracks. He didn’t get in much trouble as a youth; his parents, Lloyd, a florist, and Mary Helen, ensured that. But there was a bit of hardscrabble to Keady that nurtured his lifelong habit of not backing down from anyone.
Blessed with ample athletic ability, Keady knew what it was to compete at the highest level in college. Yet, ironically, it wasn’t in the sport of basketball. He was an all-conference receiver at Kansas State, ran track, and loved baseball. The Pittsburgh Steelers later drafted him, but a knee injury cut short his NFL career in his first training camp.
He was never good enough to make the varsity basketball team for K-State. Yet that didn’t stop him from learning from Winter. He liked playing other sports, but he loved basketball. He can be seen on game film keeping stats behind the Wildcats’ bench so that he could be part of learning the game.
“Basketball was built for Coach Keady,” says “Hot Rod” Wilson, one of Keady’s first star players at Beloit High School, where Keady coached for six years. “There is lots of movement, and great effort could merit great results.”
While Keady never won a state championship at Beloit or a title at Hutchinson Junior College, where he spent a decade, his teams were always in the mix. Never winning it all kept Keady working hard, but never hardened him. Keady’s lone trip to the Final Four was during his days as an assistant at Arkansas.
“You would be hard-pressed to find someone more comfortable in his skin,” Lavin says. “He taught me that I had to find my comfort level; you have to be able to laugh at yourself and show humility in good times and in tough times. He is the best at that.
“For all the tough-guy approach people see in him, he is humble, gracious and just a big teddy bear. Heck, yes, he wanted to win, probably more than the next guy, but he kept a simple, productive perspective.”
As a sign of his old-school upbringing, Keady didn’t make a habit of doling out compliments. They were often tough to come by.
“When he complimented you, it meant so much,” says Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski, who, like Knight, had a losing record against Keady in head-to-head competition. The two worked together with USA Basketball for many years. “When he was your friend, he was your friend.”
Many coaches and players sing the same refrain about Keady’s loyalty, saying Keady had the unique ability to “chew your ass and make you like it.”
Glenn Robinson, who was the national player of the year for the Boilermakers and subsequently the top overall pick of the 1994 NBA Draft, reflected a widespread sentiment from those who wore the uniform for Keady.,
“He should have gone into the Hall of Fame long ago, but I am so excited for him,” Robinson says. “He means everything to me. “And he did a lot for me, to make me the person I am today.”
Keady won in the rough-and-tumble Big Ten not with future NBA star power but rather with players who were much more like Brian Cardinal than Robinson. Cardinal, a player who personified Keady’s hustle and grit on the court and was part of the Dallas Mavericks 2011 NBA title team, believes love best describes his former coach.
“We loved playing for Coach; it is hard to put into words,” Cardinal says. “He always had our back, and we knew that. He was quirky and goofy at times, but we knew when it was time for battle, he was there for us.”
Keady’s message was simple to his guys; he used Keadyisms that resonate with all who know him today: Make your bed every day, Be on time, Don’t shoot too quick on the road, Find the Magic Level and for gosh sake, Play Hard.
He was adaptable as a coach in terms of strategy. He was more up-tempo when his teams had plentiful offensive firepower, especially with his first two No. 1-seed NCAA Tournament teams in 1988 and 1994. When he didn’t have the horses, he found other ways to win. Keady may have appeared stubborn to the outsider, but he adapted to the hand he was dealt. His foundation was defense and toughness.
Bloom cuts to the chase regarding Keady’s quarter-century at Purdue. “Lots of banners, not lots of NBA talent.”
Maybe the best way to describe Keady’s ascension into the Hall of Fame is as the ultimate lifetime achievement award.
“People have no idea what he has done for the sport of basketball,” Painter says. “He has coached and won big at all levels, and his dedication to USA Basketball was unmatched during his time. “He showed the rest of us who came after him the importance of making the game the best for all those who participate in it, not just the elite programs.”
In Keady’s simple basketball life, there was the perfect combination of curiosity and the desire to get better at all stops in his career. He never rested on his accomplishments and always wanted to do more to better the game.
“His work has now been honored,” Krzyzewski says. “Did it take too long? Should it have been earlier? Right now, it doesn’t matter. It has happened.”
And the best part for all who have known Keady through the decades of hoops magic is that it happened in the living years.
A sense of relief and triumph rolled into one.
Keady will join the Class of 2023 and will be enshrined during festivities in Springfield, Mass., the Birthplace of Basketball, this weekend August 11-12.
Karpick was a basketball manager at Purdue during Keady’s first two years at West Lafayette.
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