Brad Feeken didn’t do shortcuts.
The game of basketball is full of emotion. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes jubilant, but the best give their all every single play, every single game, every single day.
That was Brad Feeken.
With tumors ravaging his torso, Feeken didn’t quit. He gave his absolute best to his family, his players and his coaches every single day, every game, every play.
In his waning days, Feeken was finding the energy to give advice on how his best friend and assistant coach Bill Heard could help his team win. The message: no shortcuts to winning.
Brad Feeken didn’t win his battle with cancer but the toughest person I’ve ever met gave his all to beat it, every single play, every single game, every single day with no shortcuts.
There were good days, and bad but you would never know the bad ones. Coach Feeken didn’t publicly want to talk about what he was going through. He wanted to coach and directed conversations back to the game he so passionately loved.
“Brad was so well respected in the coaching circle,” Creighton coach Greg McDermott said. “Even after the diagnosis, he always deflected any attention or concern for himself because of his genuine care for others.”
Since his cancer diagnosis was made public, I would genuinely ask, ”How are you doing?”, knowing the response would be “I’m fine” followed by the patented Feeken shrug.
I’d ask again, more sternly the second time: “No, I mean how are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine, but you’d never know it.
Love You Buddy
My last text to Feeken was on Dec. 13, 2023. It reads in part….
“Love you buddy.” You said that to me after you guys lost in the state tournament two years ago in the back hallway of PBA (Pinnacle Bank Arena). No adult male has ever told me that. I can’t say it out loud to my kids or even my wife except for occasionally at bed time when I am home. I’m blessed to call you my friend. I’m thankful you let me just be around your teams. I’m not a great writer, I’m not the best at breaking down basketball but the passion I have for my job and work ethic is something I hope you can be proud of. I just want to let you know how much that one conversation impacted me.”
That game wasn’t two years ago, it was a 54-52 semifinal loss in the 2023 Class A boys state semifinals to Millard North. A game that came down to a chance by his team to win it with a last second shot.
“That is the great thing about our team. I don’t have to worry about us competing or us playing hard,” Feeken said to the media after the loss. “What we’ve established and what we believe in that is just kind of taken for granted. When they step on the court you know you are going to get your best from them. I can’t ever fault how they fought.”
The conversation wasn’t about the game they had just lost but about how I could be a better father to my two daughters, how I can be a better husband to my wife and finally how he was doing.
Roughly 20 minutes later, he finally told me just how he was feeling, the pain he was living through every single play, every single day, every single game. He talked about the love he had for his players and some advice on how to be loyal to not just your work but your craft, and most importantly, to those that care about you.
His lasting response: ”I’ll get through it and I’ll be fine.”
Community
Feeken didn’t just impact me but the basketball community as a whole in the state of Nebraska.
How do you know? Look around the Creighton Prep gymnasium Friday and Saturday at the Metro Holiday Tournament to see his colleagues, opposing teams and even the referees wearing For Feek t-shirts.
His players could have chosen not to play Saturday evening after learning their coach passed away early Saturday morning. They did, because their coach wouldn’t want it any other way.
“The basketball community is very tight,’’ Heard said after the 49-47 win. “A lot of good people are in this thing. They’re about kids, they’re about doing things right. The support has been unbelievable and it’s not just been tonight. It’s been ongoing for a long time.”
They didn’t just win, they played hard, every single play. They missed some shots, gave up some easy baskets, but they didn’t take a shortcut.
They could’ve chosen to postpone the game to Monday afternoon. They could’ve taken a forfeit and not played the game at all. They played on the day they were supposed to because it was every single game, every single day, because their coach would have wanted them to.
“It’s neat to see coaches that are real hard competitors come together with a common goal of helping a brother and his family. Just as importantly, there are three little kids there and a wife and husband that they love dearly … it’s just devastating,” Former Bellevue West coach Doug Woodard said. “The inspiring thing is how people have come together. It’s going to be important for that community to stay gathered and rallied around his family.”
The deep bass voice yelling “win it” is gone. The high pitched lower lip tucked inside the upper lip whistle is gone. The one-foot stomp on the sideline to get players’ attention to call the next play is gone. The northwest corner of the Gretna High football field with his kids playing on the black and white lined track is gone.
The imprint Brad Feeken had on the community of Gretna, the basketball community in Nebraska and, most importantly, his family and friends will live forever.
I look forward to the day we can finally have the garage conversation about the culture you built.
