Published: January 29, 2003
Edition: METRO
Section: SPORTS
Page#: 1C
Point of contention

Minneapolis Community and Technical College's Jay Pivec loves coaching his son, Tyler - now. But he wasn't so sure last year, when he had to bench him. It strained a relationship that always had been close and blurred the lines between coach and player and father and son.
By Dean Spiros

Staff Writer   

Everything goes through the point guard. For that, Jay Pivec's basketball program at Minneapolis Community and Technical College is not unique.

The point guard sets the tempo, he sets the offense. During the process, he can expect to be challenged, to be pushed, to leave practices some days wondering if it is all worth it. And, if he's fit for the role, to come back the next day convinced more than ever that it is.

The choice is clear: Lead, or take a seat so someone else can.

MCTC has its man this season in a 5-9, 160-pound sophomore who has evolved into Pivec's coach on the floor. Indeed, his teammates are amazed by how much Tyler Pivec is like his dad.

The same willingness to raise the decibel level in his voice to get a point across, they say. The same penchant for sarcasm. The same deep-rooted respect for the game and those who play it.

Boasting a 16-1 record and a top-10 ranking in the national junior college polls, the Marauders just might have what it takes to earn Jay his first national championship after 13 seasons at MCTC.

Father and son can't help but to look ahead to the wondrous possibilities. Just as they look back to a year ago, when their relationship was strained to the point that the thought of sharing such a moment was nonexistent.

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Missing the point

Jay couldn't wait for the image in his mind to play itself out in his living room. A beer in his hand, a pop in Tyler's. A bowl of popcorn the only thing between them. Father and son going over the game film.

The two always had a special bond. By the age of 3, Tyler was spending his days in the gym with his dad. They were always a team, and now, with Tyler beginning his college career at MCTC, how special it would be to truly be on the same team.

Tyler earned the starting point guard position at the start of the 2001-02 season, and while he experienced the typical growing pains for someone learning to play on the next level, the coach kept pushing and the point guard persevered.

By December, however, things began to unravel. Tyler's play suffered as he tried to play through an illness he refused to reveal to the coaches, fearing it would keep him off the floor. But when a back injury soon followed, he was forced to the sidelines.

The team responded well to his replacement. When Tyler returned, he no longer was the starter.

``I had to look out for the whole and not just the part,'' Jay said. ``When that part is your son . . .''

``That crushed me,'' Tyler said. ``I took it personally.''

So Tyler lashed out, butting heads with his father on the basketball court over anything and everything. Basketball no longer was a joy, and he blamed one person for that. Tyler complained often to his mother, ending each rant with the words, ``But don't tell Dad.''

Mary Pivec had both faith in her husband's methods and sympathy for her son's frustration.

``Jay runs a rigorous program,'' Mary said. ``Tyler is the only player on the team who can't come home and complain to his dad about the coach.

``Tyler long had said he wanted to grow up and be just like his dad. So, all of a sudden, when he's thrown into a situation where the person he really doesn't like is also the person he wants to be just like, it doesn't make for a happy camper. Especially for someone who should be able to reconcile all of these contradictions through force of his own will.

``They say you have to suffer for your art. Tyler spent last year suffering for his art.''

At practice, Tyler did his best to withstand what he considered excessive criticism from his coach. At home he did his best to avoid his dad. He proved much more adept at the latter.

Father and son, side-by-side on the couch?

``There was none of that,'' Jay said.

Tyler spent the majority of his time at home in his bedroom in the basement. The communication wasn't much better when he wandered upstairs.

``The silent treatment . . . kids are cruel,'' Jay said. ``That's a good way to get back at us. The focus for me was to try to get him to talk. He sensed that, and he resisted even more. It gave him the upper hand.''

Then there were the days he didn't come home at all.

Tyler often called his mother after practice to tell her he was going to spend the night at his grandparents' house.

``He didn't want to come home; he didn't want to run the risk of running into his dad in the driveway,'' Mary said. ``He wasn't sure he wouldn't run right over him with his car. At least it was nice for me to know that my parents were nearby and Tyler had a place to blow off some steam.''

For Jay, the quick trip around the lake to his in-laws' house in south Minneapolis did not provide the same escape. While there for dinner one night after a game (another in which Tyler had played sparingly), Jay's mother-in-law pulled him aside to say, ``My grandson needs more playing time.''

The answer then, as it always had been and always would be, was that he'll get it when he earns it.

In the meantime, when he walked into a room only to have his son walk out, Jay did his best to deal with his own pain.

``I wasn't hard on him because he was my son, and I had to prove to everyone that I was going to prove that he wasn't going to get a break,'' Jay said. ``I was hard on him because he was the point guard.''

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Road to redemption

MCTC's 2001-02 season ended with a conference championship and a loss in the regional playoffs.

But the college basketball season rolled on, and Jay and Tyler drove to Chicago to watch some NCAA tournament games. Both knew the seven-hour trip would offer them the opportunity to discuss what had gone wrong between them. There would be no more avoiding the issue.

``It was a captive audience,'' Jay said. ``We were going 70 miles per hour. He couldn't jump.''

Not a word was spoken between the Twin Cities and Eau Claire, Wis. Jay took it as one last chance for Tyler to ``let the old man squirm a little more'' before they got down to business.

``I think every dad has that conversation with his son or daughter over something,'' Jay said. ``We aired a lot of things in that drive to Chicago. It was a cleansing.''

For Tyler, it also marked the beginning of what he called his summer of growing up.

``He didn't change; I was the one who needed to change,'' Tyler said. ``He never told me that, though. I needed to figure that out on my own.

``He was the one I was having problems with, but he was the one who helped me out the most. Just by the way he went about it. As bad as he felt for me, he never let up on me. He never said he was sorry for me; he always told me he loved me, but he kept pushing me to be better.''

To that end, Tyler said he's having the best year of his life. Jay is thrilled to hear that but admits, ``There's still that awkwardness to the relationship,'' that he knows he's responsible for.

``When you're coaching one of your children, I don't think you can do the best job as both coach and parent,'' Jay said. ``That's where I'm struggling a little bit.

``Don't we want to be perfect in the eyes of our kids? I carry it a little more than [Tyler] does. He has accepted who I am. I probably haven't accepted who I am. I'm probably still trying to be that perfect dad. There's no such thing. But we try.''

There's no such thing as the perfect point guard, either. But Jay Pivec will tell you: The one spending a lot less time in his basement can play.

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- Dean Spiros is at dspiros@startribune.com.

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