From our archives: Her faces, her paces give no clue of what Vols are going to do

Originally published April 3, 2000.

She tried businesslike.

They didn't work, so Pat Summitt tried angry.

The Tennessee women's basketball coach was watching the national championship game get away from her talented team. She had to do something. So she turned into Nurse Ratched.

Star Tamika Catchings was the unfortunate soul cast in the Jack Nicholson role from the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Summitt stared unblinking into Catchings' eyes and shouted for the duration of a television time-out. Even Summitt's hair looked mad.

Most of what she said was inaudible above the brassy din of the Tennessee pep band, but one phrase erupted at a decibel level that no trombone or trumpet could hope to outdo.

"Players have to make plays, you got it?" Summitt shouted, disdain dripping from the word"players."

Catchings nodded. Last year, along with Chamique Holdsclaw and Semeka Randall, Catchings was one of"The Mekes." Now, in the face of her coach's fierce words, she was merely meek.

A few minutes later, Catchings scored on successive trips downcourt, breaking her personal scoreless streak and helping the Volunteers to get back into their game against rival Connecticut. And the next time the team huddled along the bench, Nurse Ratched was gone. Summitt was wearing another face, this time the confident, can-do visage of a big-time CEO.

Summitt seems to decide which face to wear in the early moments of a time-out. She and her assistants huddle first, a few feet from the bench. While they talk, the players are left to their own devices.

This is where Kristen Clement comes in.

Always vocal, the Broomall native known better as"Ace" was reduced to the role of extra assistant coach last night. Clement suffered a sprained ankle during the Vols' practice in the morning and was too sore to play.

While the coaches talked among themselves, Clement leaned over her teammates and shouted encouragement and advice. At first, at least. Like Summitt, Clement changed her approach as it became obvious the Vols were suffering from more than mere early-game jitters.

"We're playing selfish out there," Clement shouted during one first-half time-out."We're playing selfish on offense and defense. We've got to get the ball inside."

Summitt finished consulting with her assistants, nudged Clement aside and took over the huddle.

During the action, Summitt's face is tough to read. She sets her lips in a severe straight line and folds her arms. She kneels in front of the bench at times, taking time to talk to specific players or ask one of her assistants for an opinion. It's impossible to tell from Summitt's expression whether the game is going well or badly for her team.

R.B. Summitt is much easier to figure out. The coach's husband sat with their son in the front row of the first section immediately behind the Tennessee bench. A round-faced man with glasses and an orange-and-white striped shirt, R.B. is not subject to the same protocol as his wife.

"Sit down, Auriemma!" R.B. bellowed at Connecticut coach Geno Auriemma more than once. As Auriemma worked the officials, R.B. took exception:"Relax, Geno!"

And R.B. isn't above letting the officials know his opinion.

"Get in the game, Sally," he shouted to Sally Bell after one physical exchange on the court."This isn't football, you know."

R.B. Summitt was very quiet in the second half. Almost everyone in orange was quiet in the second half, including the players.

The first sign the game was over came with 12 minutes, 31 seconds left in the second half. After Connecticut scored to take a 54-29 lead, there was a TV time-out. The Volunteers jogged to their bench at the far end of the court.

This time, there was no conference among the coaches, no lecture from Clement. The players gathered on the floor in front of the bench. They listened, heads down, as Summitt spoke. This was a new face. Summitt's words weren't audible, but her message was obvious: Finish the season with pride.

When the time-out was over, Summitt handed her message board to a team manager, just as she did after every time-out. This time, for the first time, nothing was written on it.

With about six minutes left and the score an unthinkable 64-39, Summitt walked along her bench and stopped in front of Clement. The coach knelt in front of the player and the two spoke, sharing a quiet moment.

The game was out of reach, but there was still coaching to be done.

Even when it was over. After shaking hands with Auriemma and his staff, Summitt turned and saw her disappointed players walking toward the tunnel to the locker room.

"Hey," Summitt shouted, freezing them in their tracks."Get back out there and shake their hands."

They did as their coach said.