KOHN SMITH STEPPED from the demonstration pond at the Utah Boat Show and Fishing Exhibition, waders on, fly-fishing rod still in hand. It was a long way from a real trout stream, but close enough.
"You know," he said, "Mountain Crest beat us a week ago, and the next day I caught 30 trout up on the Little Bear River. I went home and didn't worry a bit about basketball. You leave that stuff in the gym. I can do that."If the name sounds familiar, it isn't because Smith was appearing at the boat show, or even because he is coach of the Logan High boys' basketball team. It's because he coached Utah State's basketball team from 1988-1993. In five seasons, his teams went 63-78 before he was fired. Smith could have gone out quietly and safely, after being told he could resign for family, health or the ever-popular "personal" reasons, but he checked the box that says "none of the above." The spin doctors could say whatever they wanted, but Smith wasn't making excuses.
Smith has never been big on diversionary tactics. He's as straightforward as Harry Truman. Raised "a half block from the Logan River," he has the homespun forthrightness that often comes from growing up in a small town. With Smith, what you see is what you get. Furthermore, what he sees is what he says. This is the man who once pointed out what every other coach in America was thinking: The fast cars, flashy suits etc. at UNLV looked suspicious. It got him in trouble, and though Smith apologized for his remarks, Jerry Tarkanian, UNLV's coach at the time, never forgave him.
This weekend, though, UNLV and college basketball seemed far away. Smith was manning the booth for his own personal business, Round Rocks Fly Fishing, which has grown in four years from a modest idea into a thriving enterprise. But Smith isn't your basic hard-driving businessman. He's more like, well, your best fishing buddy. He fields phone calls about fly fishing, lectures about fly fishing and is even writing a book about fly fishing. You won't see him holding board meetings in a conference room. He holds his meetings in the middle of a trout stream. When Normal Maclean wrote "A River Runs Through It" in 1976, Smith had to stifle a yawn. He had been fishing on rivers in Utah, Montana and Idaho since he was 8.
"All those guys run the business," he said, pointing to the Round Rocks booth. "I just talk about fishing. I'm just a guy who loves fishing."
Smith loves basketball, as well. He coached at Indiana for six years as an assistant, during which time the Hoosiers won a national championship. He returned to Logan for the 1987-88 season as an assistant basketball coach at USU, then was elevated to head coach. Although he enjoyed working in his hometown, there was the constant big-college pressure to draw fans, please the administration, recruit top players and, naturally, win.
So when he left Utah State, Smith had the choice to accept one of the numerous calls he received to coach elsewhere, or give up high-profile coaching and raise his family in the Cache Valley. He decided to stay. He started his business and settled in to spend the rest of his life in the place of his heart.
When Logan High officials first approached Smith about coaching the basketball team, he rebuffed them because he didn't also want to end up teaching, say, algebra or driver's ed on the side. A day job can raise havoc with your fishing schedule. So eventually a deal was struck. Smith didn't have to teach and they didn't have to pay him. The school got someone with an NCAA championship ring and head college coaching experience, and he got to coach basketball with no recruiting and no pressure to win. The Grizzlies are 5-3 and in second place in Region 5, despite being picked to finish last in the league. "I don't know what we are overall," he said. "Maybe around .500." (Actually, they're 8-7.)
If Smith is unsure of his team's record, that's because winning isn't his biggest priority. He just wants to teach basketball without worrying about appeasing booster clubs, media and college presidents. That's why he says no thanks when offers to return to college coaching arise. He'd rather be teaching a player how to post up, or casting his line out on the Logan or Provo rivers. Last week Bobby Knight, full-time Indiana basketball coach and part-time foreign diplomat, called to talk about the pressures of basketball and joys of fishing. Smith could only sigh understandingly.
"Guys call all the time asking if I want to coach," he said. "But if I did that I couldn't do what I enjoy - being outdoors in a crystal clear stream, maybe playing a little basketball. What a life."
So if you're feeling sorry for Smith because he is no longer a major college coach, don't. He'll be fine. He still gets to coach. And the best part is when he goes to work at his regular job, all he has to do is remember to hang out the sign that says "Gone Fishing."