How Kelvin Sampson turned his career around after Indiana

Kelvin Sampson and Indiana divorced less than two years into his tenure, on Feb. 22, 2008. It happened because of repeated rule-breaking tied to restrictions on cellphone usage, a flagrant abuse of a rule from an era of college sports that resembles almost nothing to the one we're in now. No one could have known it then, but the sever would prove crucial to the fates of both parties, veering them in vastly different directions. 

Leaving is what enabled Sampson to become one of the best college coaches of the past 30 years, even if he had to skip college for seven years to do it. His ending in Bloomington stained his reputation, but it turned out to be the best thing that happened to his career. He was immediately put on a path that will one day lead to his induction into the Hall of Fame, a path he began walking mere hours after cleaning out his office. 

In 2002, he was plucked to be an assistant coach under George Karl for the United States national team at that year's FIBA World Championship. Sampson served alongside then-Stanford coach Mike Montgomery and Spurs coach Gregg Popovich. 

"That started a friendship that is strong to this day with Pop," Sampson told CBS Sports. 

That team trained at the University of San Francisco. The coaches stayed downtown, at the W. Almost every day Sampson and Popovich would take marathon walks, sometimes as long as seven or eight miles, and talk themselves tired. After the '02 championships, Sampson returned to coaching at Oklahoma, then went to Indiana in 2006.

"I got fired on a Friday morning," Sampson said. "At 2 that afternoon, Pop called me and said the Spurs want to hire you, and you can pick your title. I was unemployed from 11:30 until about 3 o'clock."

A couple of weeks later, he flew to San Antonio. Popovich was waiting for him at baggage claim; the Spurs had a game that night. Sampson was whisked to the team facility, where then-assistant Mike Budenholzer had the scout. 

"My head's just spinning," Sampson said, recalling that day.

It was the first time he'd ever seen an NBA scouting report. He heard everyone from Tim Duncan to Manu Ginóbli to Tony Parker to Bruce Bowen chiming in, chirping with feedback.

"My eyebrows shot up," Sampson said, laughing. "Wow, you mean there's another way to guard a pick-and-roll? You don't just hedge it?"

He grabbed a notepad, jotted until his hand cramped and organized his notes every night. He was in basketball grad school as Indiana finished 3-4 that season without him, losing immediately in the Big Ten and NCAA tournaments. 

"I absorbed the learning, I learned so much," Sampson said. "It was almost like a reboot."

That summer, then-Bucks coach Scott Skiles hired him. 

"That dude was a basketball savant. I learned so much from him," Sampson said. "It's like, where have I been my whole life? I've been sheltered."

Sampson was revered enough to eventually get multiple interviews for head jobs in the NBA. He thought he was going to be hired in Houston — to coach the Rockets. It was 2011 and then-GM Daryl Morey even called him and signaled it was likely, Sampson said. He wound up coming in second to Kevin McHale, who then convinced Sampson to be his top assistant from 2011-14. With the Rockets he'd pore over the sets from opposing coaches like Terry Stotts, Stan Van Gundy and Doc Rivers, doing this while not even knowing initially how to operate the video equipment.

"I was addicted to the new stuff, to the learning," Sampson told me.

In February of 2014, a major life event happened to Kelvin, but he didn't realize it in the moment.

He spoke to his father for the last time. 

It was a phone call. Among other things, they talked about Kelvin not getting an NBA job. He saw himself as an NBA head coach, while NBA owners hadn't totally shed their viewpoint that he was just a college coach on sabbatical in the NBA.

"I thought that would be the way I would finish my career," Sampson said. 

Sampson told his father, Ned, that he couldn't see himself getting back to college basketball, not with how badly it had all crashed at Indiana.

"Fella," Ned said to his son in that plain, all-knowing tone he'd heard his whole life, "you're a college coach. Don't forget that."

John "Ned" Sampson died 36 hours after that conversation. Less than two months later, Sampson got three calls from three schools. One wanted to interview him, a second wanted to hire him, the third wanted the press conference within 24 hours.

The Houston Cougars were the second one.

His dad's words kept echoing in his head. You're a college coach.

He took the job. It was a bad job. A really bad job.

But he's made it a great one.

What might have been if not for what transpired in 2007 and 2008? Sampson is quick to admit he wouldn't be so revered. He told me he thinks he would've been fired even if he got to coach in the NBA. But that six-year journey changed so much about how he approaches coaching; he couldn't have done all this without going through all that. As he prepares for yet another NCAA Tournament with yet another elite seed and another chance to make another Final Four, it's only natural to think about what is and what could never be.

He's a college coach, and a Hall of Fame-level one at that.