Huggins' heart gives fiery coach a second chance
March 15, 2012 12:00 am


Matt Freed/Post-Gazette
Ohio State head coach Thad Matta, left, talks with West Virginia head coach Bob Huggins during practice at Consol Energy Center on Wednesday.

By J. Brady McCollough, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette /

Bob Huggins had spent many nights in Pittsburgh over the years, and this particular Friday evening in September 2002 was playing out the way it usually did when he visited.

Mr. Huggins and his close friend, local businessman and AAU basketball coach J.O. Stright, sat outside on Mr. Stright's deck in Mount Washington. They drank wine, they talked basketball and Mr. Huggins smoked a cigar.

His status as a cigar aficionado went right along with the intimidating, bigger-than-life persona Mr. Huggins had created as a high-profile college basketball coach. The TV cameras loved "Huggs," and when they caught him at the right moment, he could come across rather boorish.

Still, the results were impressive. His Cincinnati Bearcats had been a No. 1 seed in the NCAA tournament the previous spring, and it appeared Mr. Huggins had built a juggernaut. He was in Pittsburgh to recruit more talent, to keep pushing toward that elusive national championship.

Mr. Huggins was riding high. He never could have imagined that the events of the next day would have the power to change his life forever.

Nearly 10 years later, Mr. Huggins, 56, is back in town as the coach of his alma mater, West Virginia, which will face Gonzaga tonight in one of four NCAA tournament second-round games at Consol Energy Center.

Friends and family members say he's the same guy who drove west to the Pittsburgh International Airport from Mr. Stright's home on that Saturday morning -- obsessed with winning and willing to do whatever it takes to instill toughness in his players. Mr. Huggins, though, isn't so sure.

"Honestly, I don't know," he said. "I'm obviously a lot more laid back than I was then, but I'm also 10 years older, too."

Mr. Huggins was on his way to a coaching clinic in Wisconsin, and he was planning to meet his wife, June, during a layover in Cincinnati. He turned in his rental car and, walking toward his flight, began to feel pain in his chest. He immediately called Mr. Stright, who answered.

"I think I'm having a heart attack," Mr. Huggins told him.

"Huggs," Mr. Stright said, "I have a heart attack every time you come to town."

"No," Mr. Huggins said, "I am serious. I feel like there's an elephant in my chest."

Then, Mr. Stright heard Mr. Huggins' phone hit the ground.

While waiting anxiously at Heritage Valley Sewickley Hospital, Mr. Stright learned of a doctor's determination that the hospital was "not equipped" to handle Mr. Huggins in such a serious state. Mr. Huggins was ushered into another ambulance for a 15-mile ride to save his life.

Hours later, once Mr. Huggins had stabilized after surgery at Heritage Valley Beaver Hospital, Mr. Stright realized Mr. Huggins didn't understand how close he'd come to death. He pulled up Mr. Huggins' gown to show him the burns left from the paddles.

Still, as his family members started arriving from Ohio, they were met with Mr. Huggins' game face. Practice was about two weeks away from starting, and everybody knew what that meant.

"He handled it like an idiot," said Mr. Huggins' brother, Harry, who is four years younger. "Because he acted like it was no big deal. He was groggy in bed, and he acted like, 'Hey, let's get out of here. I've got stuff to do.' "

After a few days, Mr. Huggins was flown to a hospital in Cincinnati, where he would continue his recovery. It was there that he truly began to return to his old self.

A security guard was assigned to his room; with his celebrity status in Cincinnati, the hospital felt it necessary to protect him from potential unwanted visitors.

Mr. Huggins, a jokester, took this as an opportunity. He'd give the guards a reason to walk across the hall to the nurses' station, and, as soon as they were gone, leave the room and get into an elevator around the corner. If that meant a random Cincinnati fan ran into him wearing a gown, so be it.

"He knew that the guy was going to panic because he was out of sight," Harry said.

Mr. Huggins was making the best of a bad situation -- one that had to go away once basketball season started.

"He was back on the floor for the first day of practice," June Huggins said.

His doctors allowed him to be there on one condition: That he not act like Bob Huggins. Good luck with that.

"He's a very good basketball coach because of the strength of his will," said Andy Kennedy, then an assistant coach at Cincinnati. "It was a year that was very unusual for him. He's a guy who brings a lot of passion to every practice, every game. Physically not being able to do that, he had to make an adjustment."

Any adjustments didn't last long. Mr. Huggins recalls that his doctor actually told him it was better for his heart to let out his emotion rather than keeping it bottled up.

"I knew how serious it was," Mr. Huggins said. "I died three times. But are you going to be afraid to live your life? I'm not going to live like that. You do what you're passionate about."

His passion has carried him through a chaotic decade. He was fired from Cincinnati in 2005 after 17 seasons because of a perception that his players weren't graduating frequently enough. After taking a year off, he got a second chance at Kansas State. A year later, the West Virginia job opened, and he followed his rejuvenated heart back home to Morgantown.

Mr. Huggins hasn't spent much time looking back -- he has often said he has no rear-view mirror -- but he certainly hasn't forgotten his brush with death. In 2006, Frank Martin, a former assistant coach under Mr. Huggins and his successor at Kansas State, was fighting pancreatic cancer. Mr. Huggins visited Mr. Martin in the hospital.

"I thought I was gone five years ago," Mr. Martin said, "and Huggs gave me those words of encouragement. I was laying there, not knowing what's wrong with me. He said, 'Hey, Frank, I was flat-lined twice and I'm still here."

He's still here -- but his family wonders how much longer he'll be able to live through the losses. Two years after taking the Mountaineers back to the Final Four, they come to Pittsburgh a No. 10 seed with 13 losses.

"We've lost 10 games by a total of 29 points," Mr. Huggins lamented.

He is the son of legendary Ohio high school basketball coach Charlie Huggins, who went 398-74 for his career.

"Anytime you lose 13 times, it's hard on you," said Mr. Huggins, who has won more than 700 games. "I don't lose very well, and I really don't want to."

Or, as Harry Huggins put it, "This season is killing him."

June Huggins hasn't seen much of her husband this winter. After the losses, he has hardly slept.

"It's been really stressful," she said. "He's in a very bad mood, a very bad mood. You kind of want to stay away from him."

Has he changed since his heart stopped beating in 2002? He gave up smoking cigars -- "That's the leading cause of a second heart attack," he said -- and he doesn't have as much energy as he once did because of pills he is prescribed to take. At times, like when he consoled injured West Virginia player Da'Sean Butler at the 2010 Final Four by bringing him close, Mr. Huggins has shown a softer side.

Charlie Huggins would be relieved if his son retired soon. Some think it will take a national championship, but Mr. Huggins said it isn't about that at all.

"I'm going to coach until I wake up and say I don't really want to do this," Mr. Huggins said. "If I can't go in and bring some enthusiasm and passion to what I do, then it's time to quit. Because I'm never going to cheat those guys."

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