The long road home for Askew

Surrounded by stay-at-home moms with toddlers in tow and gray-haired retirees sweating to the oldies, Vincent Askew is preaching perfection in yet another remote basketball outpost in hopes that someone will take notice once again.

He's done this sort of off-Broadway production before in his younger days.

He once toured Spain and Italy in pursuit of an NBA contract. He was a two-time MVP in the Continental Basketball Association, and 15 years ago, he had a stint in the now defunct World Basketball League.

Askew knows all about living on $10 per diems, 12-hour bus rides and playing in half-empty arenas in backwater towns that he'd have a difficult time finding on a map.

In another time and another place, he might have played for the Tacoma Navigators of the American Basketball Association, but this time he's the coach with a litany of responsibilities, including scouting, transportation and at times day-care services.

"This feels so familiar that it's crazy," he said. "I know these guys. I know where they've been, and I know how to get them to where they want to be. I think I can help them and who knows, maybe they can help me."

In many ways, Askew has come full circle. His professional playing career, which included four seasons with the Sonics, ended in 1998 once he was waived by Portland. Askew returned to his hometown of Memphis, completed a degree in marketing and did some scouting for Memphis coach John Calipari, which piqued his interest in coaching.

He confided in George Karl, who has always been a mentor, and the Denver Nuggets coach told him to go overseas, so Askew went to Europe for three years, where he coached in an Italian league.

A few months ago, he contacted Navigators owner Michael Tuckman, who needed a coach. The situation appears perfect. Askew gets a chance to hone his raw coaching skills, while the expansion team, which plays its home games at Mount Tahoma High School, markets its coach, who played for the Sonics.

"He really gets it," Tuckman said. "He's a smart guy. He gets the minor-league aspect of it. He's here for the long haul. The players really respond to him. He's been a great recruiter. He got guys in from all over the country. I think he'll be a great college coach."

Tuckman, who owns and operates ABA teams in Bellevue and Bellingham, may be a savvy businessman in the world of sports ownership as he seeks to corner the Northwest minor-league basketball market and plans to start expansion teams in Olympia and Vancouver.

But if he believes Askew is in it for the long haul, then he hasn't a clue about the motivations or desires of his employees.

Deep down, nobody wants to make a living in the 45-team ABA for very long. Not Tacoma's star players Tim Ellis or Jim Rainwater, who have chased the NBA dream since they were Seattle prep stars.

And certainly not the 39-year-old Askew, who still looks like he did when he was locking down Clyde Drexler.

As he walked through the doors of the Renton Community Center an hour before noon and 10 minutes before practice, a few of his players stood in the lobby amid a caravan of baby strollers, infants and old-timers making their way to a yoga class.

"Not what you expected, huh," Rainwater said. "Not like what the Sonics have, is it?"

Far from it. The ABA tries to distinguish itself from the other alphabet-soup minor leagues, but there's a common denominator between it and the IBL, USBL, CBA and D-League: they operate on a shoestring budget and survive because players like Rainwater and Ellis toil for little money, yet still carry big dreams.

"I see myself in Rainwater," Askew said. "Really hungry to play, works hard but just hasn't gotten that break. When I was in the CBA, we had [Anthony] Mason, John Starks, Mario Elie. We thought we could play, but we weren't there, yet.

"All it takes is for somebody to give you that chance. George was that guy for me. ... I don't know, maybe I can be that guy for them."

Throughout the years, the relationship between Askew and Karl has remained strong. They were infamous for their public spats, but Askew said that was just Karl's way of motivating those teams that lost in the first round in 1994 after winning 63 regular-season games and advanced to the 1996 NBA Finals.

"We had some characters, that's for sure," he said. "All of us, Gary [Payton], George and Ricky Pierce. It was a crazy group. But we knew that if we said certain things it was OK. All of these outside people would blow it out of proportion. The same night I'm over at [Karl's] house.

"We knew each other. He knew what it took to get me going. I didn't take it as a negative. He used to say I was soft or that I couldn't play at this level, and that only got me to work even harder."

Askew admits he's not as adept at the mind games and is still perfecting his coaching style. Sometimes he yells. Sometimes he consoles. The night before practices, he scribbles the workout plan on a white sheet of paper, but on Wednesday morning, he hardly gave it a glance.

The instructions he gives were given to him by Karl and Larry Brown. It helps, he said, that he was a 6-foot-6 do-everything player who played in the post and the perimeter and was a so-called defensive stopper who built a reliable jumper late in his career.

Askew's nomadic path, which is similar to many of the players he coaches, gives him credibility. He's got their attention, but hopes a few others will begin taking notice.

Percy Allen: 206-464-2278 or pallen@seattletimes.com