Culture
How two obscure coaches built the basketball podcast top coaches swear by
Last week new Michigan coach Dusty May spent a day with the Miami Heat staff, then flew to Pittsburgh to trade ideas with Utah Jazz coach Will Hardy and Charlotte Hornets assistant Josh Longstaff. May will read any book or study any basketball team’s film if he thinks it might equip him with an idea or a play or a leadership tactic.
And part of his continuing education is a podcast from two coaches most basketball fans have never heard of.
While driving to lunch last February, May listened to Olympia Milano coach Ettore Messina break down the spacing concepts in his offense. The previous week, the voice of Tokyo Hachioji Bee Trains head coach Tyler Gatlin had come through May’s speakers. The next week he would hear from former NBA head coach Stan Van Gundy.
The globe-spanning lessons came from the Slappin’ Glass Podcast, which has turned into a word-of-mouth hit for coaches at every level of the sport, four years and 201 episodes in.
“I listen to every episode,” May said. “My staff listens to just about every episode. I think a majority of college coaches probably listen to it regularly.”
Jeff Van Gundy stumbled upon one of the hosts’ video breakdowns — they also have a weekly newsletter and YouTube channel — and was so impressed he called them up to say how great it was. Since then, he has encouraged some of his best friends in the business to go on their show, which is how two obscure basketball coaches who played together at Division III Chapman University end up on a call with Hall of Fame football coach Bill Parcells.
“Everybody’s wary of going on a podcast where they veer off into things that they aren’t able to discuss,” Van Gundy said. “They know they’re going to be straight basketball. There’s no ‘gotcha’ questions. It’s not overly dramatic clickbait, like ‘who’s the best player?’ … They’re truly trying to help coaches coach better.”
The show’s guest list features some of the most respected basketball coaches in the country — Brad Stevens, Geno Auriemma, Rick Pitino, Tom Thibodeau, Mike D’Antoni, the Van Gundy brothers, John Beilein, to name a few — and just as many big names in the international game. What started as a self-improvement project for the hosts has become a shop-talk paradise for coaches and hoops diehards at every level.
“You can put one of those on in an hour and you’re generally a better coach by the end of it,” said Saint Louis coach Josh Schertz.
Carney and Krikorian in Berlin, the night the idea for the podcast was hatched. (Courtesy of Dan Krikorian)
Dan Krikorian’s initial plan was to be a musician when he graduated from Chapman in 2007. Between tours, he made extra money giving shooting lessons, coaching a youth team, and eventually coaching the junior varsity team at his high school alma mater. “Once I stepped foot in the gym to coach, I was like, ‘OK, this is what I want to do,’” he said. In 2013, Krikorian returned to Chapman as an assistant coach. This summer, he was elevated to head coach.
Pat Carney played professionally for 12 seasons in some of Germany’s top basketball leagues. In 2018 he retired and stayed in Germany to pursue a coaching career. The two young coaches and former teammates stayed connected by phone, studying other teams around the world and talking ball. Over beers one night in Berlin after Krikorian’s band had played a show, Krikorian suggested they turn those jam sessions into a podcast and interview the coaches whose systems piqued their interest.
The idea was mostly forgotten until a year later, when Krikorian and Carney were discussing the motion offense of Division III Yeshiva University, which had just gone 29-1 running a modern-day replica of Bob Knight’s system at Indiana. Krikorian and Carney wanted to pick the brain of coach Elliot Steinmetz, so they set up a Zoom. Right before the meeting, Krikorian suggested he record it. He already had all of the sound and editing equipment; if it went well, he could turn the interview into their first episode.
The pandemic had made it more commonplace for coaches across the world to connect over video call. The podcast’s first episode, published on Aug. 17, 2020, was not as polished as what the Slappin’ Glass guys produce today, but they enjoyed it so much they decided to make it a weekly routine.
The audience was small at first — “our moms,” Krikorian jokes — but they got some bumps whenever a famous guest joined the show, like Jeff Van Gundy in February of 2021. The hosts put together a list of coaches they’d love to interview, took suggestions from coaching buddies, and then started shooting their shot. To their surprise, they rarely heard no.
“They ask really good questions,” said Alabama assistant Ryan Pannone, the show’s third guest while coach of the G-League Erie Bayhawks. “And as a result, because their product is good and they’ve had good coaches speak on it, more coaches are willing to come on because they listen to it.”
Their curiosity and research seems to loosen lips. Beilein, who has always been guarded with what he shared publicly about his two-guard offense, explained the teaching points to the Slappin’ Glass guys without hesitation, then praised the questions they had asked him.
“I haven’t talked basketball to anybody like this in a bit,” Belien said near the end of the interview.
Most coaches approach podcast interviews expecting to be dragged into story time, but the Slappin’ Glass guests quickly find themselves delving into the intricacies of their methods.
“That’s the ideal for us,” Carney says. “It’s not an interview. Let’s talk some hoops.”
The show’s ethos: Everything that a coach does is interesting.
“The best thing about basketball, and what keeps us having conversations fresh and new every week, is that there’s so many ways to win,” Carney said. “There’s so many ways to teach, so we’re never assuming there’s one right way. Otherwise we would have probably had that conversation, and we would have just wrapped up shop.”
Krikorian and Carney go into every interview with a few ideas of what they want to talk about from background reading and film study, but their ability to listen and ask insightful follow-up questions carries the conversation and sometimes leads them down a rabbit hole.
“That’s our favorite part of the podcast is when it goes someplace we didn’t even expect,” Krikorian said.
They often get coaches into uncharted territory during their regular segment called “Start, Sub, Sit,” a basketball-centric variation on a common forced-choice game. When Stevens joined the show, they asked him which of three Ted Lasso quotes he would start, sub and sit. (Stevens’ Start: “You know what the happiest animal on earth is? It’s a goldfish. You know why? It’s got a 10-second memory. Be a goldfish” — because you should never worry about what someone says about you or worry about missing a shot. “I love that,” Stevens said, “Let it go. Have shot amnesia.”)
Everything always comes back to the game, never going on a tangent that wouldn’t be applicable to coaching.
“We know the coach has 45 minutes to get on the treadmill, or they’re commuting for 40 minutes to work,” Krikorian says. “We don’t want to waste one second of their time with something that’s not valuable.”
Kirkorian (left) was named the head coach at his alma mater in August. (Alex Vazquez for Chapman University)
Relationships with coaches like Van Gundy have helped Krikorian and Carney land some of their most well-known guests, but what brings them the most pride is that the show’s downloads and listens no longer depend as heavily on name recognition. And they’ve been able to give some talented but lesser-known coaches a platform to share their knowledge and ideas.
“If you think about it, like the best players, they progress. They find a level. That’s not always true in coaches,” Van Gundy said. “Some do. And some, either by choice or by just lack of opportunity, don’t. But I think too many fans think the best coaches rise just like the players do. Not true.”
Krikorian and Carney have created a nice side hustle. Their podcast has multiple sponsors, and they average 30,000 to 40,000 downloads per month. Their newsletter has over 7,000 subscribers, with close to 1,000 of those paying for their premium content.
While their content is consumable for anyone who loves the game — not just coaches — it’s a niche audience. But the goal was never to become famous; it was to become better coaches.
“With coaching, you have to be proficient,” Carney says. “You have to know yourself. You have to work hard. But a lot of it is relationships, too, and this has allowed us to build genuine relationships and continue conversations past the podcast that have directly impacted our careers.”
During the interview for this story, Carney was in Poland with the German under-20 national team. The head coach of that team, Martin Schiller, was a guest in 2022 and kept in touch with Carney, eventually reaching out to ask Carney to join his staff this summer.
Krikorian says he’d be lying if he didn’t think about one day coaching at a higher level than D-III, but he’s living a pretty good life now as the head coach of his alma mater, in the backyard of where he grew up, building a sustainable business that was born from a whim during the pandemic.
“The people that I’m able to call for advice now,” Krikorian says. “It’s a dream of ours, honestly.”
ESPN analyst Fran Fraschilla, a fan and two-time guest, says what the Slappin’ Glass guys have done reminds him of an era long ago when coaches like Hubie Brown and Dean Smith went overseas to teach the game.
“What’s happened over two generations or three generations is the world is now teaching the game of basketball back to us,” Fraschilla says. “Slappin’ Glass has provided an incredible menu of international basketball ideas. They are the conduit for great basketball coaching information.”
(Top illustration photos courtesy of Alex Vasquez and @ralf.zimmermann.fotografie)
Culture
Poetry Challenge Day 2: Love, How It Works and What It Means
Maybe you woke up this morning haunted by the first four lines of W.H. Auden’s “The More Loving One” — or tickled by its tongue-in-cheek handling of existential dread. (Not ringing any bells? Click here to begin the Poetry Challenge).
This is a love poem. Perhaps that seems like an obvious thing to say about a poem with “Loving” in its title, but there isn’t much romance in the opening stanza.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
Ada Limón, poet
Nonetheless, the poem soon makes clear that love is very much on its mind.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
David Sedaris, writer
The polished informality gives the impression of a decidedly cerebral speaker — someone who’s looking at love philosophically, thinking about how it works and what it means.
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Reginald Dwayne Betts, poet
Musing this way — arguing in this fashion — he stands in a long line of playful, thoughtful poetic lovers going back at least to the 16th century. He sounds a bit like Christopher Marlowe’s passionate shepherd:
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
Auden’s poem, like Marlowe’s, is written in four-beat lines:
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
Josh Radnor, actor
And it features strong end rhymes:
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Samantha Harvey, writer
These tetrameter couplets represent a long-established poetic love language. Not too serious or sappy, but with room for both earnestness and whimsy. And even for professions of the opposite of love, as in this nursery rhyme, adapted from a 17th-century epigram:
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell
The reason why I cannot tell.
But this I know and know full well
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.
There is some of this anti-love spirit in Auden’s poem too, but it mainly follows a general rule of love poetry: The person speaking is usually the more loving one.
This makes sense. To write a poem requires effort, art, inspiration. To speak in verse is to tease, to cajole, to seduce, all actions that suggest an excess of desire. That’s why it’s conventional to refer to the “I” in a poem like this as the Lover and the “you” as the Beloved. The line “Let the more loving one be me” could summarize a lot of the love poetry of the last few thousand years.
But who, in this case, is the beloved? This isn’t a poem to the stars, but about them. Or maybe a poem that uses the stars as a conceit and our complicated feelings about them as a screen for other difficult emotions.
What the stars have to do with love is a tricky question. The answer may just be that the poem assumes a relationship and then plays with the implications of its assumption.
This kind of play also has a long history. Since love is both abstract and susceptible to cliché, poets are eager to liken it to everything else under the sun: birds, bees, planets, stars, the movement of the tides and the cycle of the seasons. Andrew Marvell’s “Definition of Love,” from the 1600s, wraps its ardor in math:
As lines, so loves oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet;
But ours so truly parallel,
Though infinite, can never meet.
The literary term for this is wit. The formidable 18th-century English wordsmith Samuel Johnson defined a type of wit as “a combination of dissimilar images, or discovery of occult resemblances in things apparently unlike.” “The most heterogeneous ideas are yoked by violence together,” he wrote; that kind of conceptual discord defines “The More Loving One.”
The second stanza is, when you think about it, a perfect non sequitur. A hypothetical, general question is asked:
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
Mary Roach, writer
The answer is a personal declaration that is moving because it doesn’t seem to apply only or primarily to stars:
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Tim Egan, writer
Does this disjunction make it easier or harder to remember? Either way, these couplets start to reveal just how curious this poem is. We might find ourselves curious about who wrote them, and whom he might have loved. Tomorrow we’ll get to know Auden and his work a little better.
Play a game to learn it by heart. Need more practice? Listen to Ada Limón, Matthew McConaughey, W.H. Auden and others recite our poem.
Question 1/6
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.
Your task today: Learn the second stanza!
Let’s start with the first couplet in this stanza. Fill in the rhyming words.
Ready for another round? Try your hand at the 2025 Poetry Challenge.
Edited by Gregory Cowles, Alicia DeSantis and Nick Donofrio. Additional editing by Emily Eakin,
Joumana Khatib, Emma Lumeij and Miguel Salazar. Design and development by Umi Syam. Additional
game design by Eden Weingart. Video editing by Meg Felling. Photo editing by Erica Ackerberg.
Illustration art direction by Tala Safie.
Illustrations by Daniel Barreto.
Text and audio recording of “The More Loving One,” by W.H. Auden, copyright © by the Estate of
W.H. Auden. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. Photograph accompanying Auden recording
from Imagno/Getty Images.
Culture
What America’s Main Characters Tell Us
Literature
Oedipa Maas from ‘The Crying of Lot 49’ (1966) by Thomas Pynchon
“The unforgettable, cartoonish protagonist of this unusually short novel is a California housewife accidentally turned private investigator and literary interpreter, and the mystery she’s attempting to solve — or, more specifically, the conspiracy she stumbles upon — is nothing less than capitalism itself,” says Ngai, 54. “As Oedipa traces connections between various crackpots, the novel highlights the peculiarly asocial sociality of postwar U.S. society, which gets figured as a network of alienations.”
Sula Peace from ‘Sula’ (1973) by Toni Morrison
“Sula arguably begins to disappear as soon as she’s introduced — despite the fact that the novel bears her name. Other characters die quickly, or are noticeably flat. This raises the politically charged question of who gets to ‘develop’ or be a protagonist in American novels and who doesn’t. The novel’s unusual character system is part of its meditation on anti-Black racism and historical violence.”
The speaker of ‘Lunch Poems’ (1964) by Frank O’Hara
“Lyric poems are fundamentally different from narrative fiction in part because they have speakers as opposed to narrators. Perhaps it’s a stretch to nominate the speaker of ‘Lunch Poems’ as a main character, but this book changed things by highlighting the centrality of queer counterpublics to U.S. culture as a whole, and by exploring the joys and risks of everyday intimacy with strangers therein.”
This interview has been edited and condensed.
More in Literature
See the rest of the issue
Culture
Poetry Challenge: Memorize “The More Loving One” by W.H. Auden
Let’s memorize a poem! Not because it’s good for us or because we think we should, but because it’s fun, a mental challenge with a solid aesthetic reward. You can amuse yourself, impress your friends and maybe discover that your way of thinking about the world — or even, as you’ll see, the universe — has shifted a bit.
Over the next five days, we’ll look closely at a great poem by one of our favorite poets, and we’ll have games, readings and lots of encouragement to help you learn it by heart. Some of you know how this works: Last year more Times readers than we could count memorized a jaunty 18-line recap of an all-night ferry ride. (If you missed that adventure, it’s not too late to embark. The ticket is still valid.)
This time, we’re training our telescopes on W.H. Auden’s “The More Loving One” — a clever, compact meditation on love, disappointment and the night sky.
Here’s the first of its four stanzas, read for us by Matthew McConaughey:
The More Loving One
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
Matthew McConaughey, actor and poet
In four short lines we get a brisk, cynical tour of the universe: hell and the heavens, people and animals, coldness and cruelty. Commonplace observations — that the stars are distant; that life can be dangerous — are wound into a charming, provocative insight. The tone is conversational, mixing decorum and mild profanity in a manner that makes it a pleasure to keep reading.
Here’s Tracy K. Smith, a former U.S. poet laureate, with the second stanza:
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Tracy K. Smith, poet
These lines abruptly shift the focus from astronomy to love, from the universal to the personal. Imagine how it would feel if the stars had massive, unrequited crushes on us! The speaker, couching his skepticism in a coy, hypothetical question, seems certain that we wouldn’t like this at all.
This certainty leads him to a remarkable confession, a moment of startling vulnerability. The poem’s title, “The More Loving One,” is restated with sweet, disarming frankness. Our friend is wearing his heart on his well-tailored sleeve.
The poem could end right there: two stanzas, point and counterpoint, about how we appreciate the stars in spite of their indifference because we would rather love than be loved.
But the third stanza takes it all back. Here’s Alison Bechdel reading it:
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Alison Bechdel, graphic novelist
The speaker downgrades his foolish devotion to qualified admiration. No sooner has he established himself as “the more loving one” than he gives us — and perhaps himself — reason to doubt his ardor. He likes the stars fine, he guesses, but not so much as to think about them when they aren’t around.
The fourth and final stanza, read by Yiyun Li, takes this disenchantment even further:
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
Yiyun Li, author
Wounded defiance gives way to a more rueful, resigned state of mind. If the universe were to snuff out its lights entirely, the speaker reckons he would find beauty in the void. A starless sky would make him just as happy.
Though perhaps, like so many spurned lovers before and after, he protests a little too much. Every fan of popular music knows that a song about how you don’t care that your baby left you is usually saying the opposite.
The last line puts a brave face on heartbreak.
So there you have it. In just 16 lines, this poem manages to be somber and funny, transparent and elusive. But there’s more to it than that. There is, for one thing, a voice — a thinking, feeling person behind those lines.
When he wrote “The More Loving One,” in the 1950s, Wystan Hugh Auden was among the most beloved writers in the English-speaking world. Before this week is over there will be more to say about Auden, but like most poets he would have preferred that we give our primary attention to the poem.
Its structure is straightforward and ingenious. Each of the four stanzas is virtually a poem unto itself — a complete thought expressed in one or two sentences tied up in a neat pair of couplets. Every quatrain is a concise, witty observation: what literary scholars call an epigram.
This makes the work of memorization seem less daunting. We can take “The More Loving One” one epigram at a time, marvelling at how the four add up to something stranger, deeper and more complex than might first appear.
So let’s go back to the beginning and try to memorize that insouciant, knowing first stanza. Below you’ll find a game we made to get you started. Give it a shot, and come back tomorrow for more!
Play a game to learn it by heart. Need more practice? Listen to Ada Limón, Matthew McConaughey, W.H. Auden and others recite our poem.
Question 1/6
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.
Your first task: Learn the first four lines!
Let’s start with the first couplet. Fill in the rhyming words.
Monday
Love, the cosmos and everything in between, all in 16 lines.
Tuesday (Available tomorrow)
What’s love got to do with it?
Wednesday (Available April 22)
How to write about love? Be a little heartsick (and the best poet of your time).
Thursday (Available April 23)
Are we alone in the universe? Does it matter?
Friday (Available April 24)
You did it! You’re a star.
Ready for another round? Try your hand at the 2025 Poetry Challenge.
Edited by Gregory Cowles, Alicia DeSantis and Nick Donofrio. Additional editing by Emily Eakin,
Joumana Khatib, Emma Lumeij and Miguel Salazar. Design and development by Umi Syam. Additional
game design by Eden Weingart. Video editing by Meg Felling. Photo editing by Erica Ackerberg.
Illustration art direction by Tala Safie.
Illustrations by Daniel Barreto.
Text and audio recording of “The More Loving One,” by W.H. Auden, copyright © by the Estate of
W.H. Auden. Reprinted by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd. Photograph accompanying Auden recording
from Imagno/Getty Images.
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