A man making a difference

[cjppjc]

[metalman]

Re: A man making a difference

if that's a joke it's good... all i see is a black block of nothing.

[ThePythonicCow]

Re: A man making a difference

I cannot watch that video. It goes to a black screen with white text stating "The video you have requested is either unavailable or is being blocked by an Ad Blocker installed in your browser."

[ThePythonicCow]

Re: A man making a difference

This video is available at Coach Inspires, Wins.

[cjppjc]

Re: A man making a difference

It works for me. Here is the link.


http://www.tv.com/video/zgmdaOLKBwe9...%20Trend?o=cbs

[Rekutyn]

Re: A man making a difference

Too bad the only passionate teacher out there has to be a coach. If only we could get our math and science teachers to be this determined, maybe then America wouldn't have such massive, service-sector dependence.

[cjppjc]

Re: A man making a difference

Too bad the only passionate teacher out there has to be a coach. If only we could get our math and science teachers to be this determined, maybe then America wouldn't have such massive, service-sector dependence.

I don't think he is the only passionate teacher out there. Coach Hurley is an exceptional man for sure. There are all kinds of selfless people in the world. Many of them make a difference in the Big Brothers, and Big Sisters programs. They give their time and effort at soup kitchens. The world has alot of good people in it.

[cjppjc]

Re: A man making a difference

One year later, Bob Hurley gets his day.

http://www.northjersey.com/sports/Su...l_of_Fame.html

Sullivan: Humble Bobby Hurley Sr. inducted into Hall of Fame
Friday, August 13, 2010
Last updated: Friday August 13, 2010, 11:27 PM

By TARA SULLIVAN
RECORD COLUMNIST

SPRINGFIELD, Mass. – The measurable accounts of Bob Hurley’s coaching success are as definitive as they are convincing. A mind-blowing roll call of basketball statistics — 984 victories, 24 State titles, seven Tournament of Champions crowns — provide more than enough evidence he richly deserved his Friday night induction into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.
But ask the longtime St. Anthony High School coach about compiling those numbers and you’re likely to get a pause, maybe even a frown, as he searches for a way to move the spotlight away from himself. Even while Hurley delivered his witty, heartfelt acceptance speech, he referred to those benchmarks as “we,” not “I.”
But ask Hurley about any of the players who made those numbers real, the ones who ran, jumped, shot and rebounded their way out of Jersey City’s White Eagle Hall across the last 38 years under his watch, and see him come alive. Putting on a St. Anthony uniform always has been the kind of fraternity that didn’t just make you part of a team, but part of a family.
The Hurley family.
The legacy of the man who joined heavyweight stars like Karl Malone and Scottie Pippen on the 2010 induction stage is not in the games he won, but in the lives he changed.
More than 100 of Hurley’s players earned scholarships to Division I basketball programs, and all but two of the hundreds who heard his whistle attended college. They sidestepped their way through paths littered with danger to get to the tiny Catholic school, emerging from dark shadows cast by inner-city crime and poverty to thrive in the high school basketball world. They could have barely known it then, but time has crystallized what it meant to belong to something that powerful.
“Bob Hurley saves lives,” said Rashon Burno, one of the stars of Hurley’s late-90s teams. “He absolutely saved my life. He also gave me a life. I now know that he gave me an avenue to see outside of my box.”
Hurley was sitting on a folding chair inside the Hall of Fame building Friday morning with his wife, their three children and their children’s six children milling around, when I repeated what Burno told me, how Burno credits Hurley for fueling his escape from the roughest Jersey City housing projects and into a fulfilling life of his own. I told Hurley the way Burno summed up his debt to his high school coach.
“I knew at the end of the day if I was hungry, I had a place to eat,” Burno said. “Most kids learn that from a parent. I didn’t have that. Coach Hurley, he gave me that.”
The coach paused again. He glanced up the stairs, where 1992 Olympic Dream Team players like Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, David Robinson and Chris Mullin were gathered to talk about their enshrinement.
“This fraternity, the one with the Hall of Fame, I’m proud and happy to be part at it,” Hurley said. “But this other organization, the one with guys that played at our school and how close we are, is so different. There isn’t a day we don’t talk about Rashon. It’s miraculous what’s happened to him. He’s an amazing story.”
Hurley would never wage a contest among his players for who had the toughest upbringing, but if he did, Burno would have a strong case. His parents died before his ninth birthday, victims of drug abuse. A younger sister died, too, not 8 years old when the HIV virus took her.
Alone against the world, basketball became Rashon’s lifeline, and he followed it from the local Boys & Girls club to Hurley’s gym. He worked part-time jobs to support himself, and learned to take the help of a community that wanted to save him from the drugs ravaging the Duncan Avenue projects.
“That’s the million-dollar question, what would have happened to me if I didn’t play for Coach Hurley,” Burno said. “I know what he meant to me. He’s a mentor, an example of truly being a man. I don’t know if I’d have the life I have now or the discipline I have now without him. For those things I’m forever grateful.”
Burno made his mark on the court as the defensive star of Hurley’s undefeated 1996 team, a tiny guard in relentless attack mode. Though unable to finish his senior season because a jealous neighbor stabbed him on his way home, he earned a scholarship to DePaul University anyway, one he cashed in after attending prep school for a year. He earned a degree in communications and sociology, became DePaul’s first three-time captain and embarked on a lucrative investment banking career. He married his college sweetheart – they have twin boys, now 9.
When he returned to St. Anthony as part of a documentary project, Burno felt a familiar pang. His bank account was filled, but his spirit hollow. He missed basketball. He took a job coaching at a private Chicago high school, and three years later, joined Towson University as an assistant.
He didn’t accept the position until he made a certain phone call.
“I wouldn’t take the job until Coach Hurley gave me his approval, but my wife will tell you, I still get nervous when I call him,” said Burno, 32. “He’s the type of person I can go three years without talking to, but if something good happens, I want to tell him. … He’s a rare breed. He really sacrificed his life for the young people of Jersey City. If anyone deserves to go in the Hall of Fame, he does.”
Hurley, a stoic and humble man, admitted after descending the dais Friday, “There’s still a part of me wondering how exactly I got up there.”
He got there not for games won, but lives changed. Burno is but one example, but he is not alone. That is Hurley’s Hall of Fame legacy.


SPRINGFIELD, Mass. – The measurable accounts of Bob Hurley’s coaching success are as definitive as they are convincing. A mind-blowing roll call of basketball statistics — 984 victories, 24 State titles, seven Tournament of Champions crowns — provide more than enough evidence he richly deserved his Friday night induction into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.

[IMG]http://media.northjersey.com/images/300*232/Hurley0815.jpg[/IMG]
AP
BHall of Fame inductee Karl Malone, right, leans to speak with fellow inductee Bobby Hurley Sr. on Friday at Springfield, Mass.


But ask the longtime St. Anthony High School coach about compiling those numbers and you’re likely to get a pause, maybe even a frown, as he searches for a way to move the spotlight away from himself. Even while Hurley delivered his witty, heartfelt acceptance speech, he referred to those benchmarks as “we,” not “I.”
But ask Hurley about any of the players who made those numbers real, the ones who ran, jumped, shot and rebounded their way out of Jersey City’s White Eagle Hall across the last 38 years under his watch, and see him come alive. Putting on a St. Anthony uniform always has been the kind of fraternity that didn’t just make you part of a team, but part of a family.
The Hurley family.
The legacy of the man who joined heavyweight stars like Karl Malone and Scottie Pippen on the 2010 induction stage is not in the games he won, but in the lives he changed.
More than 100 of Hurley’s players earned scholarships to Division I basketball programs, and all but two of the hundreds who heard his whistle attended college. They sidestepped their way through paths littered with danger to get to the tiny Catholic school, emerging from dark shadows cast by inner-city crime and poverty to thrive in the high school basketball world. They could have barely known it then, but time has crystallized what it meant to belong to something that powerful.
“Bob Hurley saves lives,” said Rashon Burno, one of the stars of Hurley’s late-90s teams. “He absolutely saved my life. He also gave me a life. I now know that he gave me an avenue to see outside of my box.”
Hurley was sitting on a folding chair inside the Hall of Fame building Friday morning with his wife, their three children and their children’s six children milling around, when I repeated what Burno told me, how Burno credits Hurley for fueling his escape from the roughest Jersey City housing projects and into a fulfilling life of his own. I told Hurley the way Burno summed up his debt to his high school coach.
“I knew at the end of the day if I was hungry, I had a place to eat,” Burno said. “Most kids learn that from a parent. I didn’t have that. Coach Hurley, he gave me that.”
The coach paused again. He glanced up the stairs, where 1992 Olympic Dream Team players like Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, David Robinson and Chris Mullin were gathered to talk about their enshrinement.
“This fraternity, the one with the Hall of Fame, I’m proud and happy to be part at it,” Hurley said. “But this other organization, the one with guys that played at our school and how close we are, is so different. There isn’t a day we don’t talk about Rashon. It’s miraculous what’s happened to him. He’s an amazing story.”
Hurley would never wage a contest among his players for who had the toughest upbringing, but if he did, Burno would have a strong case. His parents died before his ninth birthday, victims of drug abuse. A younger sister died, too, not 8 years old when the HIV virus took her.
Alone against the world, basketball became Rashon’s lifeline, and he followed it from the local Boys & Girls club to Hurley’s gym. He worked part-time jobs to support himself, and learned to take the help of a community that wanted to save him from the drugs ravaging the Duncan Avenue projects.
“That’s the million-dollar question, what would have happened to me if I didn’t play for Coach Hurley,” Burno said. “I know what he meant to me. He’s a mentor, an example of truly being a man. I don’t know if I’d have the life I have now or the discipline I have now without him. For those things I’m forever grateful.”
Burno made his mark on the court as the defensive star of Hurley’s undefeated 1996 team, a tiny guard in relentless attack mode. Though unable to finish his senior season because a jealous neighbor stabbed him on his way home, he earned a scholarship to DePaul University anyway, one he cashed in after attending prep school for a year. He earned a degree in communications and sociology, became DePaul’s first three-time captain and embarked on a lucrative investment banking career. He married his college sweetheart – they have twin boys, now 9.
When he returned to St. Anthony as part of a documentary project, Burno felt a familiar pang. His bank account was filled, but his spirit hollow. He missed basketball. He took a job coaching at a private Chicago high school, and three years later, joined Towson University as an assistant.
He didn’t accept the position until he made a certain phone call.
“I wouldn’t take the job until Coach Hurley gave me his approval, but my wife will tell you, I still get nervous when I call him,” said Burno, 32. “He’s the type of person I can go three years without talking to, but if something good happens, I want to tell him. … He’s a rare breed. He really sacrificed his life for the young people of Jersey City. If anyone deserves to go in the Hall of Fame, he does.”
Hurley, a stoic and humble man, admitted after descending the dais Friday, “There’s still a part of me wondering how exactly I got up there.”
He got there not for games won, but lives changed. Burno is but one example, but he is not alone. That is Hurley’s Hall of Fame legacy.




One year later, Bob Hurley gets his day.

[chr5648]

Re: A man making a difference

What they should of done, is a video and article on how those kids destroyed that bingo hall. They would throw the balls at the walls and ceiling on purpose to cause damage, even to the point of somehow damaging the roof and getting it to leak. Maybe they could gather some money together to fix the place. Instead the media tries to make you feel sorry for them that they had to practice in a 'bingo hall'.

Sources: friends in jersey city familiar with the town gossip and basketball program