because the NCAA did not recognize his diagnosis of a learning disability that allowed for a third try at the qualifying score.
He added:“ It’ s a money-maker, plain and simple. Kids fall through the cracks. Things have to change. Kids who stay four years still can’ t find a job. College coaches, they make millions of dollars off these kids they get. What do these kids get? They have to compete in the classroom, too. They still have to go and perform when they are tired and hurt. People need to know these things.
“ I’ m glad things went how they went. If I could do everything over again, I would do it the same way.”
“ Baseball has minor leagues. That would create opportunities for ballplayers to still make money. We need to find a way to take care of our own. We’ ve got to fix that.”
All Cotton can do is do his part.
He has ambitious plans for his program, wanting to build what he terms as a“ one-stop shop” that includes academic counseling for his players.“ There’ s nothing out there like I’ m talking about,” he said.“ I’ m talking about a facility that encompasses everything.”
The idea was not part of any major epiphany, but part of an ongoing emergence from a funk that lasted 15 to 20 years.“ I first thought about it back in 2006 or 2007,” said Cotton.“ I wanted to leave a mark behind. I thought about how I can leave a legacy. The idea of a basketball academy came up.”
Although what he sees as his life’ s work has decades to go, the early returns are affirming, and he admits that it“ feels good.” And there is a more personal reason for Cotton to do what he is doing, looking ahead to goals like building on his foundation and a film and television company, which is his 7-year- old daughter, Chloe.“ I have a responsibility to her as well,” he said.“ Kids watch everything. I want her to know her father had a story, and he made something of his life.“ It did not turn out so bad, but you have to be careful what you wish for.”
photograph by Michael Angulo
Fall 2016 coachandplayer. com
19