Changing Faces

Former coach enjoys life after basketball

Looking at William Bruce Parkhill, it would be easy to conclude he is a calm, content man, happy with the life he has made for himself.

His slim 6-foot-4-inch frame appears dominating, but the constant look of contentment on his face negatses any appearance of intimidation. A well-dressed man who shops at Nordstrom's in the Philadelphia and Washington D.C. areas for clothes, Parkhill hides any hint of age although he will turn 49 in June. In fact, it's not often Parkhill will wear anything but a 44XL suit. His hair, parted on the left, is styled without a lock out of place, signifying that organization is one of his strong suits.

Yet there was a time when the top button of his collar was loosened, and the shirt that was once as white as snow became drenched in sweat. The hair that was so neatly combed was matted as the lines on his forehead became stretched. His tall, slender frame was in constant motion and the look of contentment on his face often turned to indignation.

"When I was mentioned for the job, a lot of my colleagues said, 'Don't go there. It's not a good place for basketball. It's a graveyard,' " Parkhill said, "but I always thought Penn State could be good in basketball."

He put Penn State back on the college basketball map with five 20-plus winning seasons. In fact, under Parkhill, Penn State won 20 games in the 1988-89 campaign -- the first 20-plus win season in 24 years. Later, Parkhill guided the Nittany Lions to four more seasons of 20 or more wins.

The accomplishments came with a price, and Parkhill paid dearly.

"It took its toll because of my nature," he said, "because I was so intense and hated to lose so much that I couldn't just philosophically look at it and say, 'Hey look, it's going to be tough, but we'll be OK.' I knew we would be OK, but it just beat the heck out of me."

"Big time," he said.

The end or just the beginning?

It was after the strong showing in the NIT that Parkhill decided to resign on Sept. 6, 1995. It was a decision Parkhill mulled over for five years. Along with the fatigue of coaching, Parkhill came to the realization he was distanced from his daughter, Katie, who was 10 years old at the time.

"What would happen at the end of those seasons, I would think, 'Man this is it?' " he said. "Then, I would get rejuvenated over the summer and by August I'd be ready to go again. The spring before my last year as coach, I was driving back from seeing Katie in a school function. I realized that it was her last little function, and I had only seen one or two of them all year. That really bothered me.

Unlike those other summers in which he would get excited again, Parkhill found he no longer had the desire. Despite ongoing discussions with Penn State Athletic Director Tim Curley and eventually a meeting with University President Graham Spanier, Parkhill decided it was time to quit what had been ruling his life since 1984.

"I realized it was the time," he said. "One of my priorities was that I wanted to leave the program in the best shape that it had ever been. At that point in time it was. I wanted to leave my staff with a really good team. It seemed like the perfect time for me to walk away."

For his team, but more importantly for his health, Parkhill got out.

"We were relieved when he quit," said Jane Parkhill, Bruce's mother. "We'd look at him sometimes and he just looked really sick and worn out. We were really worried about his health."

The long hours of studying game tape and the frustration of losing games eventually took its toll. He wasn't happy. He wasn't healthy. He was burned out.

"I was consumed by the job," he said. "I was consumed to the point that during the season, I'd get home, have dinner and then I'd get a pad out and do some Xs and Os, and then I might watch some hoops on TV. Then I'd go to bed and get out the pad. I'd go over stuff till 2 or 2:30 in the morning. Then, I'd have to read something to try and fall asleep. I was always getting run down during the season. I regret not being able to just cut it off. It was nobody's fault but my own."

"He treated Barry as an equal," said Willard Parkhill, Bruce's father. "The boys competed in just about everything. To Bruce, Barry wasn't a younger brother. He was an opponent. I think that's what made Barry a good athlete."

And that was what carried Bruce into a career as a coach -- the ability to mold players into competitors, starting with his younger brother.

"Boy, there can't be too many people more competitive in this world than Bruce," Barry said. "He taught me how to be competitive from a survival standpoint. He was a much better athlete than people realized. The competition, for both of us, was in just about everything we did."

Everything they did paid off for both siblings. That competition propelled Bruce and Barry into what would become successful careers in basketball.

- Bruce Parkhill

It wasn't always neat, because in the back of Bruce's mind, his little brother was still his competition. The will to win and be the best at whatever he attempted has always been a staple in Bruce's life.

"I really loved to bust his chops," Barry said. "He's a special person. For someone who kicked my butt as much as he did, I admired him immensely."

The love he has for his brother is one of the things Bruce cherishes to this day, but that closeness he has with Barry is something unique and something he rarely experienced with the players he coached.

Parkhill is the first to admit he didn't have a strong, personal relationship with his players. Driven by his own agenda, the desire to win and the technical aspects of the game, Parkhill cites this as one of his biggest regrets -- not only in his coaching career, but his life in general.

"My players didn't know me as a person," he said. "One of the reasons was that I was really intense, and I also felt like, 'Man, these guys have so many demands on their time, because they're student-athletes.' I didn't spend enough time off the floor for them to get to know me. I've had some of my players come up and say to me, 'Boy, I really enjoyed getting to know you.' This was after they had finished playing. I wished I could have figured out a way to let them see me in a different light."

Nate Althouse, a player for Penn State from 1993-95 and now a coach for Penns Valley High School, was one who played under Parkhill the coach, not Parkhill the man.

"I really didn't know him," Althouse said. "I remember how intense he was and how he hated to lose, but beyond that I didn't know him."

Beyond Penn State was the first time Althouse saw Parkhill in a different light. As a young high school basketball coach, Althouse often turns to Parkhill for advice.

"He has been a great help to me," Althouse said. "There are times when we'll get together and talk, sometimes about coaching, but sometimes we just talk. We look at game tape together and talk over strategies. One thing I can really say about him now is that he's always there to talk to."

But the people who were fortunate enough to know him personally during his tenure as coach of the Nittany Lions credit Parkhill for who they are today, as Althouse does now. Current Lion coach Jerry Dunn served as an assistant to Parkhill for 12 years. For Dunn, it was 12 educational years under Parkhill in which he learned more about life and people.

"I was one of the very fortunate people to work with Bruce," Dunn said. "I, probably longer than anyone else, and because of that I learned a great deal from him in terms of coaching, building a program, running a program and about people.

"I had a lot of opportunities to go to a lot of places as an assistant coach from here and I chose not to. One big reason was the person I was working for was Bruce Parkhill. I believed in him and I trusted him."

Despite not having a personal relationship with a lot of his players, Parkhill's personality still managed to grip a select few.

"I thought I really related to him," said senior guard Pete Lisicky, who was recruited by Parkhill. "We just clicked. He understood my personality and I understood his. On the court, he was like a father figure to me. He's intense, and that's what I expect from a coach. He made me improve my game."

Now, Parkhill has something he never had when he coached -- time. He has time to reflect on his life, time to spend with his 13-year-old daughter, time to read and time to play golf.

"I want to be the best dad I can be, because there's challenges awaiting me and so far it has been wonderful," he said. "I also want to get better at golf. I started playing about five or six years ago and now I'm addicted to it. I never liked golf when I was growing up and never thought I would play. I was out a couple Sundays ago when it was 37 degrees and I was hitting balls for about three hours."

Parkhill approaches golf with the same demeanor he did coaching.

"I get intense playing golf," he said. "I don't have a good golf attitude, but I love it."

His father also noticed this attitude.

"I think he throws the clubs farther than he hits the ball," Willard said.

In some cases, playing golf is a leisure activity, but for Parkhill it's another sport in which he must be the best.

"I don't want to go out there and just do it to have fun," he said. "I want to become a single-digit handicap golfer."

As Parkhill reflected on some of his greatest moments, a Barry Manilow song entitled "Looks Like We Made It" played peacefully on the radio that sits in the corner of his office. As the song played, Parkhill recounted his first year as a coach at William and Mary and how his team upset then-No. 2 North Carolina. He talked about being an All-American in soccer at Lock Haven. He remembered how happy he was when he became a father and how blessed he was to realize that there was life after basketball.

"I haven't been this happy maybe in my whole life," he said. "These last three years I've been so happy. I've been able to see Katie more. Everything is good with me. I feel very lucky."

As the smile graced his face and the song came to an end, it was evident that he is indeed content with his life. Through the rigors of coaching and the fatigue that accompanied it, it looks as if William Bruce Parkhill has found the common ground he never knew existed as a coach between life and basketball.

Looks like he made it.