Teaching Their Children Well
Russia, Serbia, Lithuania Taking a Fundamental Approach to Basketball
By Michael Lee
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, December 17, 2006; E01
MOSCOW Fifteen-year-old Lavrentiy Klimov packed his luggage last July with everything he thought he would need: two pairs of his favorite sneakers, which he called "keecks"; more T-shirts than he could count; a few warm jackets; some of the admitted bookworm's best reading material; a Russian-to-English dictionary; his CD player; and his favorite music.
"I listen to rap music," he said. "Most of all, I like Tupac Shakur."
Klimov likes basketball more. So he and his mother, a doctor, signed a five-year contract with CSKA Moscow, one of the premier teams in Europe, making Klimov a professional basketball player at an age when most of his U.S. counterparts are still worrying about their place on the varsity team.
"I was ready," he said. "I thought it would be important for me to continue playing basketball in professional way."
If U.S. basketball officials want to understand the challenge they face in restoring the nation's dominance in international play, they need look no further than one blond, shaggy-haired teenager from Yekaterinburg in the mountainous Ural region of central Russia. Klimov left home on a 1,000-mile journey to enter a player development program that is vastly different from what American children experience.
The U.S. approach has numerous fissures, as do ented in a year-long series of stories by The Washington Post. Shoe company-sponsored AAU teams, which play with little regard for fundamentals under coaches who work with little or no oversight, dominate youth basketball. The series also found that academic integrity, the foundation of the NCAA system, has been damaged by prep schools that grant eligibility through questionable academic programs.
In foreign countries, completely different approaches are used. And while there still are concerns about aspects of player development systems that resemble trade schools more than colleges or high schools, there is little doubt that players for the most part are drilled in fundamentals by coaches who are well trained and, in some countries, accredited.
In Europe, professional teams oversee most of the best young players, who sign contracts at an early age. Italian power Benetton Treviso has about 600 players, some non-pros as young as 8, in its junior program. The French system that produced Tony Parker of the San Antonio Spurs puts its young players in the National Ins ute of Sport and Physical Education, a government-run training center in Paris that teaches basketball and also offers a school curriculum.
A tour of facilities last month in Russia, Serbia and Lithuania, whose teams have defeated the United States in international play, found a mixture of approaches. In Russia, players can either sign with pro teams and join their junior programs or go to basketball schools. Serbian youngsters are most likely to be signed and trained by pro teams, and young Lithuanians have a choice of basketball schools, including two run by former NBA stars.
Regardless of the system, the results are undeniable: After the embarrassment of finishing sixth in the 2002 world championships, a recommitted U.S. team could finish no better than third in the Olympics in 2004 and third in the world championships in September. And NBA teams have taken notice: There are a record 83 international players, almost 20 percent of the league, this season.
High-ranking officials from U.S. high schools, the AAU, the NCAA, the NBA and shoe companies are studying ways to improve the American development system because, as NBA Commissioner David Stern put it, "the rest of the world is trying to eat our lunch."
Klimov had a chance to come to the United States. He had been selected for a foreign-exchange program that would have allowed him to spend a year living with a family and attending high school in Greensboro, N.C. But he had played so well at a CSKA basketball camp that team officials had offered him the contract and a place in their junior program. Klimov decided that no matter how strong the lure of the United States, he didn't want to lose an invaluable year of Russian basketball training. So the night Klimov and his mother signed the contract, he hurriedly packed his luggage. A day later, he was in Moscow.
"I knew that it would be hard here," Klimov, now 16, said in an interview at the CSKA training facility. "Maybe sometimes I miss my family. I think it's quite normal."
The Teenage Professionals
After an hour of weight training and a two-hour practice last month, the members of CSKA's junior program, none older than 19, tossed on stocking caps and hefty, team-issued, navy blue bubble coats. They prepared to trudge 10 minutes, through a light snowfall, from team headquarters to their dormitory on the opposite side of Leningradsky Prospect, the crammed thoroughfare that links Moscow to St. Petersburg, 400 miles away.
Coping with the brisk temperatures and fumes from the bumper-to-bumper traffic, they walked through an armed CSKA security gate and past a shopping center parking lot. Ignoring the sex shops that line the next block, they climbed a pedestrian bridge and headed down to the dormitory. Lunch and afternoon naps beckoned before they had to return practice again in six hours.
"I eat, sleep and train," CSKA point guard Alexey Shved, 18, said through an interpreter. "I have very little free time. I'm not like the other youth, smoking, drinking. I prefer training. It's better for me to be here."
( I'm reminded of the secret agent training camp in James Bond movie "From Russia With Love".)
CSKA -- an acronym for Central Sports Army Club, the name it carried when affiliated with the Soviet army -- signs players beginning at age 14 to contracts that usually last about five years. CSKA supplies them with room, board and a salary ranging from $300 to $2,000 a month, depending on their progress and play (the average Russian salary is $410 a month).
Seventeen players on the junior team, who are between 15 and 19, live in seven rooms in the dormitory, a terra-cotta-colored building with two square beige columns outside the front door. The CSKA soccer players are on the third and highest floor, with the basketball players below them. The CSKA boxers, ice skaters and hockey players are elsewhere in the dorm. Shved and Artur Urazmanov, a participant in the Nike Hoop Summit against top U.S. prep stars in Memphis in April, live in a furnished apartment a few blocks away, provided by the club.
After plowing through large portions of chicken soup and meatballs with pasta in the dining hall, Klimov took a nap, but teammates Semen (pronounced SEH-men) Shashkov and Maxim Zakharov postponed sleep to watch highlights of NBA players LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Vince Carter on a DVD in the tidy room they share.
A few teammates slipped in and grabbed spots on the twin beds or adjacent couch to watch. The players, some in T-shirts from CSKA sponsor Nike, were silent, studying the movements of each player intensely. Above the television and between two windows that look down on the street was a small poster of Kobe Bryant in a Los Angeles Lakers uniform, dunking.
"If you look at the basketball aspect, it's great. The players that I've practiced with, I've seen them get better," said CSKA senior team guard and former Duke standout Trajan Langdon, who is in his fifth season playing in Europe and has observed the club systems in Italy and Turkey, as well. "One of the negatives of this experience is that this is all that they do."
The day for most players begins with breakfast and weight training as part of an individual strength program. Donning their red CSKA practice jerseys last month, the players worked more on state-of-the-art weight machines than with the free weights arrayed against one wall. They also did resistance training with large rubber bands as a strength coach looked on.
Players who haven't finished secondary school attend classes three times a week, while every member of the team practices mornings and evenings, a total of 10 times a week, in a gym one floor above the senior team's practice court.
"No doubt, [my life] has changed," Klimov said. "Now, I go to work. Every day, I must get up and train. No matter if I am sick, I am tired, I don't want to. I must go. I've come here for basketball."
Those who have completed secondary school can continue their education through correspondence courses. Shved said he is enrolled in courses at a local college, but with a sheepish chuckle, he couldn't name the course or the school.
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"Basically, they are going to college -- basketball college. That's what these farm systems basically are," said CSKA player David Vanterpool, a graduate of Blair High School in Silver Spring and St. Bonaventure who played briefly with the Wizards in 2001. "They don't have those NCAA stipulations. A lot of the arguments in America are about young players losing the ability to mature, losing their education, losing this, losing that. At a time I agreed with it. But seeing the way some of these kids have traditionally learned to grow in a system, I have a big question as to if you lose something by not going to college. Your education never stops. I got a college degree. It's always great to go to college. But I mean the system they have in place, it seems like it's working."
CSKA is backed by billionaire Mikhail Prokhorov, an avid basketball fan who serves as controlling owner in the nickel enterprise Norilsk Nickel. The club reportedly has a budget of about $38 million, considered extremely high by European standards (the payroll of the NBA's Charlotte Bobcats is also $38 million). The money has paid off: CSKA is the defending Euroleague champion, having made three straight appearances in the final four, and won its third consecutive Euroleague junior championship last April in Prague.
CSKA is affiliated with the Trinta basketball school in Moscow, which works with players beginning at age 7. CSKA also hosts an annual basketball camp where top prospects, such as Klimov, can earn contract offers. In some instances, the process resembles the recruitment of blue chip athletes by American colleges, as CSKA, with six scouts in each region of the country, competes with other pro clubs throughout Russia.
Shved, ranked as one of the top international players, landed in CSKA's lap. Shved's father, a coach of a junior team in Belgorod, contacted team officials about two years ago and asked them to take a look at his son. CSKA sent two coaches to watch the rail-thin point guard and came away impressed with his playmaking and scoring. Within a week, Shved had moved to Moscow. Now he is the junior team's leading scorer and often invited to practice with the senior team, which includes Langdon, Vanterpool and Theodoros Papaloukas, who had 12 assists in Greece's stunning upset of the United States at the world championships. "We didn't know he would be this good," CSKA General Manager Yuri Yurkov said of Shved with a smile. "We are pleased."
Yurkov said the organization selects players based on how well they perform against peers, but other factors are considered in an attempt to project a player's height: the size of his hands and feet, the height of his parents and grandparents.
"Before making a serious choice and invite them, before we start being responsible for them, we must feel they could have an opportunity. We don't have room for mistakes," Yurkov said through an interpreter. "If one or two players makes it to the senior team, then it's a success."
The program has produced two players for the senior team since its inception in 2002. And Los Angeles Clippers forward Yaroslav Korolev used rules established by FIBA, basketball's world governing body, to leave CSKA before playing for the senior team and enter the 2005 NBA draft at age 18. He became the highest Russian ever taken in the draft at No. 12.
Coaching Pipeline
Serbia and Russia have similar player development strategies. Top Serbian pro basketball clubs Red Star and Partizan, which have combined to produce about a dozen NBA players, run youth development programs similar to CSKA's. Players are recruited and signed from different regions -- there are more than 800 youth teams in the country -- and often their families are moved to Belgrade, with the teams helping the parents find jobs. Players attend regular schools and practice in the evening, sometimes pushing close to midnight on weeknights, based on the availability of floor time because the clubs don't own gyms. It is almost a year-long commitment, with players and coaches practicing and playing games for all but two weeks of the year .
Critics of the club system throughout Europe worry about smaller, poorer teams profiting off the young players who are developed. Serbia's FMP Zeleznik, which competes one level below the Euroleague, has an average attendance of about 800 at its gym on the outskirts of Belgrade. The facility, comparable in size to a U.S. high school gym, has no seats at court level; fans sit in bleachers well back and above the court.
FMP states quite plainly that it is in the business of developing and eventually selling players to the highest bidders. Its 200 players receive scholarships, live in dormitories, attend classes and practice twice per day. They have access to a weight room, sauna and a medical center that is used by the Serbian national team. But if a player becomes a star, he won't be around long. Five FMP players, including Mile Ilic, a 7-foot-1 reserve center for the New Jersey Nets, were sold for a reported $3.5 million over the summer. A spokesman said the money from the transactions is invested back into the program.
The one big difference between Serbia and Russia is its emphasis on coaching. You can't take the reins of a team -- at any level -- without a license from the 1,500-member Serbian Coaches Association, which has a training center in Belgrade. Aspiring coaches must train for at least two months, attending classes on Mondays and Tuesdays, to receive a blue license to coach children and work within the low ranks of Serbian basketball. Coaches at higher levels must attend school for two years.
This has put Serbia in the position of exporting players and coaches. In Russia, CSKA junior players are coached by Ratko Joksic, 65, a Serbian with more than 35 years' experience and a meticulous taskmaster who seeks perfection with each drill.
He speaks Russian, though not always correctly -- he sometimes emphasizes the wrong part of the word, which can give it a different meaning -- but the players listen intently and never object to his instruction, even if they don't understand it. Last month, he spent about 20 minutes explaining almost every aspect of the pick-and-roll to six 15-year-olds: how to set a pick properly, with hand wrapped over hand, arms close to the body; how to roll off the screener's hip to create separation from the defender; and how to determine whether to shoot or pass to the cutter.
After one player set a pick and failed to roll to the basket promptly, Joksic shouted in Russian, "You have reflexes like your grandmother."
None of the players laughed or smiled.
The Lithuanian Way
In a brightly lit modern gymnasium with shiny hardwood floors in one of the up-and-coming neighborhoods in Vilnius, about a dozen 7-year-olds stumbled over each other, little feet scampering up and down the floor as they chased each other in an exercise that resembled rugby more than basketball. The capital of Lithuania might best be known for its unique combination of Gothic, Baroque and Renaissance architecture, but it also is one of the few cities in Europe where basketball is the most popular sport.
With so many players on the court, it was impossible to determine who was on the same team. And, despite the ball being smaller than those used by collegiate or professional athletes, the children could barely push it to the height of the rim. That led to more mad scrambles, tussles and pile-ons. The rare successful shot was often followed by arm-raising, fist-pumping, high-fiving celebrations.
The Sarunas Marciulionis Basketball Academy and other facilities like it are one of the few aspects of the Soviet era that remain since Lithuania declared its independence in 1990. Several private and government-run basketball schools are sprinkled throughout this tiny country of about 3.6 million people, with the two most prominent programs owned and operated by former NBA stars Marciulionis and Arvydas Sabonis, whose facility is in Kaunas, an hour away.
Before American losses in international compe ions became commonplace, Lithuania nearly became the first country to defeat an American team filled with NBA stars in the 2000 Olympics in Sydney. Former Maryland guard Sarunas Jasikevicius came within inches of making a three-pointer that would have shocked a team with Vince Carter, Kevin Garnett and Jason Kidd.
Marciulionis and Sabonis started their programs for players ages 7 to 18 in 1992. Marciulionis, who played seven seasons in the NBA after winning an Olympic gold medal with the Soviet Union in 1988 and two bronze medals for Lithuania with Sabonis, started his academy with his own money but now relies mostly on sponsors and tuition to cover the costs. He said he could remember growing up in Kaunas, when his friends built a hoop in his yard and his family struggled to provide some simple necessities. "My grandmother used to sew socks for me," he said.
Marciulionis has four gyms, with three located at the primary headquarters. Sabonis bought a former tennis facility and converted it into a state-of-the-art basketball facility with four courts, a weight room and cafeteria. Unlike the all-consuming CSKA program, these academies serve as before- and after-school programs, in which parents pay for their children to intensely learn fundamentals at an early age and engage in compe ions when they reach 12. They are also taught life skills and receive lessons in English.
Students begin practicing three times a week at age 7. After three years, practices increase to 90 minutes four times per week. And in the fifth year, participants practice five times a week for 90 minutes. Lithuanian youngsters do not sign pro contracts until they are 18, and many prefer to play college basketball in the United States.
Asked if this is the best way to produce players, Marciulionis shrugged. "I can't say what's right or wrong. Time dictates what is better," he said. Six members of the Lithuanian national team that finished seventh at the world championships last summer were products of these two schools. Sabonis alum Martynas Andriuskevicius is a reserve center for the Chicago Bulls.
The tuition at the Marciulionis Academy is 120 litas per month -- about $45, or almost one-tenth of the average monthly salary in Lithuania -- but the most talented older players either receive a free or discounted tuition. Marciulionis said in special instances, he is willing to assist some families. "If we have a mother with three kids or a divorced family, there are other obligations, we help them out, free of charge," Marciulionis said.
Marciulionis has 815 children in his program, ranging from ages 7 to 18. He has 11 certified coaches who are assigned to two age groups each. Sabonis has a similar setup, except the age groups for coaches differ by five years.
The coaches stay with the same group of players until the children graduate from the program, which helps to maintain continuity and form lasting bonds.
Marius Linartis has coached the players on the Marciulionis under-16 cadet team since 1998. In beating an opponent by 63 points last month, his players put on a sharp display of team basketball -- moving without the ball, multiple passes on offense, cutting to the basket, solid defense. Povilas Duchouskis, the team's starting center, had a commanding presence inside but was just as apt to step out and make three-pointers. Augustus Peciulevicius was quick enough to dart to the basket almost at will.
When Linartis first began coaching them, he took them on the typical track, from having them running wild as neophytes, to gradually teaching them how to dribble, pass, shoot and defend. Linartis, 33, has been with the Marciulionis Academy for 10 years, working his way up as an assistant for one year, until he gained the experience to guide his own team. In addition to working with players born in 1991, he also coaches kids born in 1998. With the younger kids, the focus is simpler, like teaching them to dribble without looking at the ball. "At the smaller age, I am trying to get them mostly to feel the ball," he said. "To play basketball, they must feel the ball."
He teaches his team of mostly 15-year-olds the principles of zone defense and forces each player, no matter how tall they may be, to learn how to score in the low post. "I don't know who this player can be when he grows. Maybe in 10 years, he can play the center position," Linartis said, explaining his reasoning for not focusing on developing guards, forwards or centers. "They must all know. I want them to know everything about basketball."
Dallas Mavericks General Manager Donn Nelson, an assistant on the Lithuanian national team, was responsible for signing Marciulionis, the first NBA player from the Soviet Union, when he was with the Golden State Warriors in 1989. He believes that the focus on fundamentals creates a more well-rounded player.
The United States has "through a lot of things -- some within our control, some without -- slowly de-emphasized the educational aspect of our sport, I think," Nelson said in a phone interview. "There's no reason with the emphasis that we have on the sport of basketball, with the resources that we have -- both financial and educational -- and with the popularity of our game at all ages, why we shouldn't be doing a better job in developing our young players. There is no reason that anybody develops a better basketball player than we do."
Sounds harsh to me. Almost like Communism. I don't like forcing kids to loose their childhoods over a stupid game, even if they have a chance to make millions. Childhood is precious. You can learn fundamentals without being in military-style camp, and you retain joy of the game. That is essential. If the players don't have fun playing they aren't fun to watch.
"to loose their childhoods over a stupid game"
when the avg monthly wage is $400+, going to school doesn't seem to pay off.
I have several of my HS teammates who played basketball in college, even junior college, and said it became a grinding job, no fun.
That is a shame.
I have 2 siblings in a HS basketball team. They can't wait to practice/play.
this is one of the reason why i hate how the european clubs/teams in all sports transfer system
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