Cornfields to Gold Medals: Coaching Championship Basketball, Lessons in Leadership, and a Rise from Humble Beginnings

Advance Praise for Cornfields to Gold Medals

"Don Showalter is a tremendous coach, teacher, ambassador, and mentor to countless basketball players and coaches who’ve benefited immensely from his guidance and principles that are shared in this book. Cornfields to Gold Medals takes readers on an improbable journey filled with an elite level of winning, continuity of leadership, and, most important, incredible purpose."—Mike Krzyzewski, former Duke University and USA Senior National Team head men’s basketball coach

From developing USA Basketball grassroots initiatives to achieving coaching excellence with the USA Men’s Junior National Team program, Don’s handprints have been all over our organization. His positive impacts as a teacher and coach are far-reaching. As it shares his journey, this book captures Don’s passion and enthusiasm for the game at all levels.—Jim Tooley, chief executive officer, USA Basketball

Don Showalter epitomizes all of the values of a great coach and teacher. From Iowa high school players in the heartland to future NBA stars, all have been influenced by his approach to teamwork, competition, and hard work. He teaches winning, on and off the court.—Fran Fraschilla, ESPN

I’m so glad this book about Don Showalter has been written. There are more famous coaches, but there isn’t a better one than Don. He is a selfless servant of the game, and I’ve never been around a better teacher, coach, and person. This book details exactly why Don Showalter is the model of what every coach should aspire to be.—Jay Bilas, ESPN

As one of our game’s most respected teachers, Coach Showalter reflects the best of our profession. He is a gifted tactician and a valued mentor to me in my quest to be a better leader. This book offers the reader some of the great lessons he has absorbed in a career devoted to teaching young men not just our game but proven methods to positively impact those around them.—Jay Wright, former Villanova head men’s basketball coach, assistant coach of the USA Basketball Olympic team, and Naismith Hall of Fame member

Don Showalter is, without question, one of the best coaches and, more important, one of the best individuals I’ve met in my 40 years in college basketball. His leadership running USA Basketball has been outstanding, and there is no one better to lead our sport and our nation on the global stage. I am proud to know him and call him my friend.—Fran McCaffery, University of Iowa head men’s basketball coach

I would not be where I am today without the teachings, guidance, and leadership Don Showalter has provided me since the summer of 1974, when he introduced me to the game of basketball. Coach Showalter possesses the rare quality of being able to lead people of all ages. Players and coaches gravitate to him due to his willingness to give back to the game that he loves and has dedicated his life to.—Steve Forbes, head men’s basketball coach, Wake Forest University

The USA Basketball Junior National Team would not be what it is today without Don Showalter. He started the program with structure and attention to detail, and he provided disciplined coaching to a generation of elite players. Don has given so much to the game of basketball and has never asked for anything in return—a true basketball lifer!—Sean Ford, USA Basketball Men’s National Team director

"I have been around the game of basketball my entire life, it seems, and I know of no better teacher than Don Showalter. His ability to connect, correct, and lead is unmatched. To lead a group that has all of the pressure not to lose and to teach every young man how to win with class is truly a remarkable task, and one Show made look easy; he is called Mr. Perfect for a reason. And he has always been that way. From Iowa to Colorado Springs to the world, Coach Show is someone who every player, coach, and fan can look at as the example of how to be a true winner!"—Mike Jones, associate head coach, Virginia Tech men’s basketball

A remarkable true story of a person’s passion for basketball. A must-read for any coach and those in evolving leadership roles. Readers will enjoy this story of compassion, leadership, and success.—Don Logan, executive director, Iowa Basketball Coaches Association

This is a man who fell madly in love with basketball. He has tirelessly promoted the game, coaches, players, and fans. He is a true evangelist and extraordinary coach. This is the story of a most unique human being.—George Raveling, member, Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame

To my lovely wife and best friend, Vicky, for sharing every game. To my assistant coaches, both in high school and with USA Basketball. To all the players who I had the privilege to coach. And to my family, especially Melissa and Brent, for all their support along my coaching journey.

—Don Showalter

To the coaches I played and worked for, you are cherished mentors for life. To the players I coached, thank you for letting me share my passion for basketball with you. To my parents, who supported me in finding my own path.

—Pete Van Mullem

Contents

Introduction by Don Showalter

1. Donnie

2. Vicky

3. Hickman

4. Coach Showalter

5. Lone Tree

6. Elkader

7. Coach Wooden

8. Snow Valley

9. Mid-Prairie

10. The Program

11. Golden Hawks

12. Snow Valley Iowa

13. AD

14. State

15. All-American

16. Nike

17. Coach K

18. USA Basketball

19. Gold

20. Elite

21. City High

22. Mentor

23. Legacy

Afterword by Don Showalter

Gold Lessons

Acknowledgments

Sources

Photo Gallery

Introduction by Don Showalter

The dominance of Team USA in international basketball competition often made us the favored team. The 2018 gold medal game against France was no different. Yet France presented a formidable opponent. In their previous six games leading up to the 2018 FIBA Under-17 Basketball World Cup final in Argentina, France bested opponents by double-digit scoring margins, with only their semifinal matchup against Puerto Rico a single-digit win: 78–73. Led by future pros Malcolm Cazalon, Killian Hayes, and Théo Maledon, France had their best chance to pull off an upset.

This would be my 10th and last gold medal game leading the Junior National Team. I struggled to grasp the finality of the moment because I was still living it, coaching the game I loved.

The 2018 USA Basketball Junior National Team featured the best young talent in the United States, future stars in the game like Jalen Green, who earned NBA All-Rookie first-team honors as a freshman in 2022 for the Houston Rockets; Jalen Suggs, who led the Gonzaga University Bulldogs to the 2021 NCAA national title game; Scottie Barnes, the 2022 NBA Rookie of the Year for the Toronto Raptors; and Vernon Carey Jr., who earned second-team All-America honors as a freshman for Duke University in 2020.

Both teams started slow, but we took an early lead, 8–5, on a De’Vion Harmon layup, his third bucket. The game remained tight as Cazalon banged home a three off an assist from Maledon to cut our lead to three with 1:24 left in the first quarter. Then Jalen Green followed with a three of his own, and we finished the quarter on a 7–1 run, capped by a thunderous dunk from Carey with four seconds left on the clock to end the period up 23–14. We struggled to score in the second quarter. With seven minutes to go, Cazalon scored a layup and France cut our lead back to five, 23–18. We needed a timeout.

We increased our defensive intensity coming out of the timeout, outscoring France 20–5 to take a 45–25 lead into the halftime break. Even with the breakthrough at the end of the second quarter, I was not satisfied. At halftime, we made adjustments and I reminded our players who they were representing as members of Team USA. Coaching the Junior National Team went beyond winning gold medals; it served as a training program for the Senior National Team, where winning Olympic gold took on a higher level of importance.

We opened the third period with three different players scoring buckets to expand our lead to 51–27. When Green caught a shovel pass from Suggs with 3:05 left in the third quarter and dunked over a defender, we almost doubled France’s scoring output to lead 69–35.

I began to realize the finality of it all. I never crafted a plan as a young coach to be on the podium accepting a gold medal, nor did I think about what coaching moves I needed to make along my journey to get there. I grew up on a small family farm in southeastern Iowa and had a passion for basketball. When my playing career ended, I transferred my enthusiasm for playing the game to coaching it. Coaching basketball allowed me to continue being a part of the game I loved and provided me an opportunity to share my passion for the game with others. Early in my coaching career, my passion drove my interest in pursuing opportunities. As my knowledge of the game and my skills as a teacher of the game began to align with my enthusiasm, more opportunities came my way.

The buzzer sounded. USA 95, France 52.

The Star-Spangled Banner played, and I glanced toward the young men next to me. I had been here before; for each of them, it was a new experience. I reveled in their moment, just watching them. The emotion and pride of representing the US as the head coach of the Junior National Team—a tenure that finished with a 62–0 record and 10 gold medals—overcame me. I could feel my eyes starting to well up. I blinked a few times to keep my emotions from spilling out, but one drop of moisture escaped. I held back the urge to wipe the tear away as I glanced toward a smattering of spectators and caught the eye of my high school sweetheart, my partner at every step of my journey, Vicky. We exchanged a smile; we both knew this would be the last time. A career that began among the cornfields of rural Iowa would end with another gold medal.

How did I go from being the son of a farmer and a night-shift hospital worker, growing up on a single-family farm among the cornfields of Iowa, to standing on the gold medal stand, coaching the best young basketball talent in the world? How did I cultivate my passion for basketball and my desire to share that passion with others to become an international ambassador for the sport? How did I keep family, faith, and basketball in perspective along my journey? I hope by sharing my story and the lessons I learned along the way, it will help you along your own personal and professional path.

1. Donnie

Donnie steadied himself on a chair. His long arms stretched above his head as he placed strands of masking tape in a circle on a large metal beam. The beam rose between the kitchen and the sitting room, a structural support for the Showalters’ farmhouse. After securing the tape, Donnie bounded off the chair and rejoined his brother Doug, who had just finished wrapping tape around a rolled-up sock. With the circle as a hoop and the rolled-up sock as the ball, a game of one-on-one basketball ensued.

Makeshift hoops were scattered about the Showalter farm: on the backs of doors, the light pole in the driveway, on the side of the barn, and inside the hay barn and corncrib. Rarely did Donnie miss a day shooting baskets. Often his brother Doug and good friend Fred Mishler joined him. Fred’s family managed a farm a mile from the Showalters’ place, and he and Donnie grew up together.

Hey, Fred, let’s head up to the hay barn, shouted Donnie as Fred jogged toward him with a basketball cradled in one arm. The hay barn, rented by the Mishler family, laid claim to a nonregulation full court. Fred’s older brothers had nailed down wooden boards and Doug, Fred, and Donnie pushed the hay bales off to the side to play. Fred tossed the ball to Donnie, now only a few feet away and said, Naw, let’s go to the corn crib instead. There is quite a bit of hay in the barn right now. We’d spend more time pushing bales than playing.

An enclosed structure, the corn crib attached to the side of the Showalters’ barn. Half of the barn housed hogs and the other half with ears of corn except for a 15 foot cement slab, an open space to allow for a truck or tractor to pull in and load corn. It was the perfect place for a basketball hoop, except that above the slab protruded a large funnel to assist with the loading of corn. Because the funnel hung out over the slab, its presence played with the amount of arc one could place on his shot.

Sure, said Donnie, with a slight grin. I have too much arc on my shot right now, it would be good to flatten it out a bit. He and Fred laughed and took off a on run, across the snow, toward the corn crib.

* * *

Donald Donnie Monroe Showalter was born to Donald and Iva Showalter in 1952 in Wellman, Iowa. The first of five sons, Donnie felt drawn to the competitive, social, and physical qualities offered by sports, especially basketball. A happy, easygoing disposition made Donnie approachable and likable—a charisma built on action more than words. He made others comfortable being themselves when in his presence. Donnie never seemed to be short of friends, one of whom was Dan Bontrager. They shared a love for sports and competition. Donnie was easy to be friends with, because he was fun to be around, recalled Dan.

Donnie bounded down the stairs from his second-story bedroom. He did not want to be late. He had lost track of time, preoccupied by the printed images of Ted Williams, Yogi Berra, Willie Mays, and two from his favorite team, Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle, otherwise known as the New York Yankees’ M&M boys. He had been captivated by the hundreds of other baseball cards sorted, stacked, or strewn about his bedroom floor and mesmerized by the baritone voice coming through his transistor radio of the legendary Minnesota Twins radio play-by-play announcer Herb Carneal, describing the action of his favorite player, Tony Oliva, right fielder for the Twins. Skipping the final three steps, Donnie hit the hardwood floor in stride and raced toward the front door. He flung open the door, leaving it to dangle wide-open, exposing the Showalter farmhouse to the hot summer afternoon breeze. The urgency of his pace quickened outside as he skirted around his mom’s garden, which took up most of the front yard, and headed in the direction of the turkey barn, where his father was working. His destination was in sight; he was going to make it. On his last stride, he slowed and leaped for the low step on the tractor. Then in one motion, like a seasoned farmhand, he pulled his body up by the steering wheel and twisted his torso into the metal tractor seat. He started the tractor and at only nine years of age headed out to the fields to assist with the hay, bean, and cornfields.

He had been introduced to farm chores at an early age. He cleaned the turkey barn, minded the yard and garden around the farmhouse, worked with the pigs and cattle, and tended to the 4-H calves. For both his parents, farming is what they knew and also how they met. Donald was the oldest of four siblings, which included a younger sister, Dorothy, and two younger twin brothers, Darrel and Dale. They all grew up farming. Iva was the second of five siblings, with an older sister, Rose, two younger twin brothers, Kenneth and Keith, and a brother nine years younger, Rowen.

Iva’s father, Monroe Hochstedler, started as a schoolteacher, then purchased a farm in 1940 to raise turkeys and dairy cows. When Iva was 13, her parents purchased a second farm with 120 acres and a two-story house. Monroe employed farmhands to take care of the turkeys on the range. One summer he hired 17-year-old Donald Showalter. Iva was smitten by the new hire. He spoke well and I knew he was smart, said Iva. Plus, it was the way he looked at me with those honest blue eyes. Their young love simmered for the next two years, before Donald and Iva began a courtship.

Donald’s work ethic made an impression on Monroe, and when Iva and Donald announced their engagement, he gifted them the second farm. They wed in 1951 and moved into the farm’s two-story house. It had running water and a shower in the basement but no indoor toilet. Hot-water bottles placed at the foot of their bed warded off the chill of the winter wind as it seeped into the upstairs bedrooms.

For the next 40 years, Donald and Iva made the farmhouse their home. They added an indoor bathroom and shutters for the windows; remodeled the kitchen/dining area; paneled walls; screened in a porch; constructed a garage; painted; and landscaped with trees, bushes, and flowers. After Donnie’s birth in 1952, the family grew again in 1954 with the arrival Doug. Then three more times with three more sons: David in 1959, Dean in 1966, and Dennis in 1968. Iva and Donald were a team when it came to raising their family. They supported their children, both in education and the activities they were involved in and they always made sure that family came first; together they modeled an approach to living one’s life that later influenced how Donnie lived his.

* * *

Donnie’s legs bounced up and down. The view from the dugout bothered the 12-year-old. With each passing minute, he became more agitated by his coach’s decision to have him sit on the bench. Donnie followed the action on the field, clapping and cheering with his teammates in the dugout, his true emotions masked. He often pitched, and when someone else pitched, Donnie played shortstop. But on this day, he played neither. After the game, in the presence of his parents, Donnie uttered his frustration.

Why didn’t the coach put me in? Donnie pouted. I always get to play.

I don’t want to hear any more about it, scolded his father. I am sure he had a good reason for not playing you today.

Donald Showalter presented a calm, easygoing manner in the presence of others. He listened first, then spoke in turn. He was a man of action who served as an elder in the East Mennonite Church, where he taught Sunday school and led church activities; later he served on the Mid-Prairie School Board. He exhibited an intense work ethic and liked order, and he set high standards for his five sons, expecting them to give their best effort until a task was complete.

As a father, Donald was distant at times. He did not regularly play ball with his kids and shied away from displays of fatherly affection, such as hugs and kisses. Yet he displayed unwavering support of their educational interests and passion for sports. An avid softball player himself, Donald understood the allure of competition and always made time to attend each of his son’s athletic contests.

Iva took great pride in caring for her children, serving in the traditional role of homemaker. She combined a determined, sincere devotion to doing what was right for her family with a strong curiosity about the world. She did not want the limitations of rural farm life in Iowa to squelch her sons’ opportunities to learn; she made sure there were books in the house and there was time to read. A young bride, Iva never finished formal high school. In time, she earned a GED and trained for a career in nursing at Kirkwood Community College in Cedar Rapids. Using her degree, she spent 25 years working the graveyard shift at the University of Iowa Hospital, a 16-mile commute from the family farmhouse.

Whereas Donald held a quiet presence over the house, Iva was more direct, serving as both the disciplinarian and the first source of emotional support. To be present for her children was important to her, which is why she worked the graveyard shift: to be around her children before and after school each day. Both Donnie’s parents left an imprint on his future and allowed him to discover who he would become.

* * *

Once Donnie had his heart set on a brand-new 1961 Schwinn Speedster. But he felt apprehensive about asking his father for the bike because he knew it was expensive. One day he finally mustered the courage. His father considered the request and replied, I’m sure I can find you a good used bike from one of the neighbors.

Donnie paused, not willing to give up on the idea of a new bike, and said, Dad, I really want a new Schwinn Speedster—a black one.

His father glanced in his direction, paused, and answered, We’ll see.

A few weeks later, Donnie noticed his father and sometimes his mother away from the farm in the early morning hours, not something either one of them normally did. This happened for about a week, then both resumed their morning routines about the farm. A short time later, his parents surprised him with a brand-new black Schwinn Speedster. Donnie later learned that his parents had cleaned up the school grounds around the one-room country schoolhouse he attended to pay for the bike.

Both Donald and Iva reinforced the importance of hard work and taught all five of their sons how to be independent. After school, homework came first, then chores. Donald pushed all his sons on the farm, but he understood when they needed a break just to be kids and he would give them an afternoon off to go fishing or play with their friends.

For Donnie and his friends, sports became a place to discover who they were and who they could become, a place to develop a sense of identity. In Donnie’s case, his passion for basketball became quite apparent to his family and friends—a part of how they knew him and interacted with him, a part of who he was.

Dan Bontrager remembered thinking Donnie had it pretty good in that regard. My dad made me help on the farm quite a bit. It seems to me that Donnie got to go play basketball a lot in the summertime, said Dan jokingly. I always envied that a bit.

Much of Donnie’s extended family was nearby, including Donald’s younger brother Darrel and his wife, Janet. With Donnie being the oldest, and with no children of their own at that time, Darrel and Janet became especially close with Donnie, attending Donnie’s games as a player and later coach when their son Craig played for him.

For 43 years, Darrel worked at the University of Iowa Hospital as a supply manager, which earned him two discounted staff tickets to all University of Iowa athletic events. One Saturday in the early 1960s, the couple was taking Donnie and his younger brother Doug to a Hawkeyes football game. Darrel fiddled with the radio dial until he landed on the voice of Jim Zabel. Zabel, known as Z, did play-by-play of both Hawkeye football and basketball games for close to 50 years on WHO 1040-AM. Donnie glanced toward the bag resting below his Aunt Dorothy’s feet, as she always brought snacks for the game. She often accompanied Darrel and Janet to football games and also had access to discounted ticket working as a staffing clerk at the University of Iowa. His eyes caught a glimpse of aluminum foil inside, and he sat back, satisfied. They were there: hot dogs, neatly wrapped in foil—his favorite. Donnie’s focus shifted to football as Iowa Stadium came into view.

They easily found a seat at the 50-yard line, as Iowa football had fallen on hard times. The team had won only 14 games over six seasons from 1962 to 1967. Darrel pulled out his transistor radio and tuned to the game. Rarely did Darrel leave home without the radio when he attended Iowa games, a practice he would continue at Donnie’s high school basketball games. For the next three hours, the action on the field, the food in Aunt Dorothy’s basket, and family time together created fond memories for all.

* * *

In Iowa, belief systems dot the landscape like coffee shops occupy urban street corners. For the Showalter family, the Mennonite faith guided their spiritual life. Like the Amish, the Mennonite way of life is rooted in strong conservative values that focus on humility, hard work, cooperation, and building a sense of community among their own—a self-sufficient approach to protect their community from the sins and perceived corruption of the outside world. In contrast, the Mennonites are considered more liberal and progressive than the Amish, more willing to adapt to the ever-changing world in the 20th century.

One area of particular concern for the Mennonites was the education of their young people. There was a growing sentiment in the 1930s among the Mennonite community that the public schools were an immoral environment that challenged Mennonite teachings by exposing their youth to adolescent sins, such as tobacco and alcohol. Furthermore, the public schools encouraged participation in extracurricular activities, which took time away from farm work. These concerns drove the Mennonites of southeastern Iowa to construct their own school, and in 1945 the Iowa Mennonite School, which became known as IMS, opened its doors to Mennonite youth.

Under the guidance of the Mennonite faith, both Donald and Iva instilled and modeled the value of education with all their sons. Donnie knew they expected him to attend college, as had their siblings. Iva’s younger twin brothers, Kenneth and Keith, both attended a community college in Kansas, for instance, but it was Iva’s youngest brother, Rowen, who acted on his own curiosity when it came to higher education, in a manner that captured Donnie’s interest the most.

Rowen was only nine years older than Donnie, and from a young age he was intent on carving out a different future for himself, one removed from the daily grind of farm life. He desired to experience a bigger world and break free of the strict doctrine established by the Mennonite faith. Growing up, your options were to be a farmer, teacher, minister, or a doctor, said Rowen. Because becoming a doctor was a wide-open field and my mother had lots of faith in my local doctor, I mapped out a plan that I would attend a Mennonite college and go premed and then to medical school. 

Rowen roomed with the son of a Harvard divinity professor his first years at Goshen College, a private Mennonite college in Indiana. With the urging of his roommate, Rowen applied to Harvard, an act that challenged traditional Mennonite beliefs. He told no one in his family. About midsummer between his freshman and sophomore year at Goshen, Rowen received an acceptance letter from Harvard. At this point he knew he needed to tell his parents. Although his father cautioned him on making the move, they let him go.

Rowen graduated from Harvard premed and attended New York University to become a psychiatrist. He practiced psychiatry for more than 50 years. He set an example that showed Donnie that he too could carve out his own future. 

* * *

Donnie rushed up the stairs, a couple steps ahead of his father. Donald paced himself on the climb up the staircase hidden beneath the arena seats, a stairwell that connected the lower concourse level with the upper deck. Donnie looked toward the court gleefully in anticipation of the game. Completed in 1927, with a seating capacity of close to 14,000, the Iowa Field House was a venue Donnie loved. The talents and abilities of the Hawkeyes