Breakfast with Coach Wooden

Editor’s note: John Wooden died on June 4, 2010, at the age of 99 in Los Angeles, California. The following article was published in October of 2008.

John Wooden sits in the same booth, at the same coffee shop at the same time every morning. The only thing that might change from time to time is his order.

“I like the No. 1 which is two eggs, two hotcakes and two slices of bacon or sausage,” he says. “They also have the No. 2 which is two eggs, two slices of bacon or sausage with a choice of toast or biscuit and gravy. I usually get one of those two.”

There isn’t a menu within Wooden’s reach as he recites the breakfast specials at this quaint diner near his home in Encino, Calif., which has been his home away from home for the past decade.

Earlier this month, Wooden celebrated his 98th birthday with friends and family the same way he has for the past dozen years — over breakfast at the diner. It’s one of the rare times that Wooden moves from his regular seat in the middle booth near the kitchen to the tables in the back of the restaurant to accommodate all his guests. Most mornings he’s only joined by Tony Spino, a UCLA trainer who takes care of Wooden and has been checking in on him every morning for some time. He was actually the one who found Wooden lying on the floor of his condominium after he had been there for several hours. Wooden broke his collarbone and wrist and was hospitalized for two weeks.

While Wooden is in better health these days, despite another minor fall last week, he needs to be helped in and out of his wheelchair by Spino every morning. Still, he comes to the diner for breakfast and the familiar faces around the counter.

“It’s great. Some of the people I’ve known for about a dozen years and I see them everyday,” he says. “It’s the only place I see them. We’ve become very friendly and close to each other and it’s just like home. It has a homey atmosphere and I like that. I’ve been going there for a dozen years, seven days a week.”

Wooden knows the names of all the regulars at the Cheers-like diner, shaking each one’s hand after they sing “Happy Birthday” and the waitresses pass out pieces of his birthday cake. “It’s nothing special,” says Wooden with a smile. “It’s just another year.”

While Wooden looks at his birthday as nothing special, the same can not be said for those that travel from all over to have breakfast with him. Even Spino, who has breakfast with Wooden almost every morning, says he learns something new from him all the time. Wooden’s wit is still as sharp as ever and his memory is better than most, regardless of age.