This is a great little article about a great and humble man, Coach John Beilein.by Dan Wetzel
John Beilein was climbing a ladder to go clip a net, climbing a ladder to the Final Four, making a climb a long, long time coming. Off to the side, surrounded by kids and grandkids, Kathleen Beilein looked up and began dabbing her eyes.
Thirty-five years as a head coach, so many of them grinding it out in little schools in western and central New York, so far from the glamor of this – the middle of Jerry Jones’ billion-dollar football palace – that it’s a stretch to call it the same sport.
Michigan 79, Florida 59, and, yes, the Beileins weren’t at Erie Community College in Buffalo anymore.
“It’s almost like a dream come true,” Kathleen said. “I am almost speechless.”
John Beilein is a lifer, a grinder, a no-frills basketball teacher. He’s a coach’s coach and a good man’s good man. He grew up the eighth of nine kids in little Burt, N.Y., near Niagara Falls, the son of a mill worker and an apple farmer, the nephew of basketball coaches.