Calling Dr. Flood : Des Flood, Also Known as the Shot Doctor, Saves Patients’ Jump Shots in His Backyard

Des Flood, the so-called Shot Doctor, has been in such demand in recent years that sometimes he has a difficult time recognizing his own patients.

While attending a high school basketball game between St. Bernard and Mater Dei last season, Flood was so impressed by a St. Bernard sophomore that he mentioned it to his wife.

“After the game,” Flood said, “the same boy came up to me and said hello. Only when I got closer did I see that it was David Whitmore. He’d been over at my house several times working on his shooting.”

Whitmore hasn’t been the only one.

UC Irvine’s Johnny Rogers, Notre Dame’s Matt Beeuwsaert, Brigham Young’s Mike Smith and USC’s Tom Lewis--all former Southern Section Players of the Year--had their shots molded by Flood.

Among Flood’s current students are Tom Neumayr of Thousand Oaks High and Paul Keenan of Westlake, the leading scorers at their schools this season. Flood also worked last summer with Simi Valley’s Don MacLean, one of the Valley’s best players and one of the most highly regarded sophomores in the state.

Flood was recommended to Neumayr, who averaged 18 points and shot 55% this season, by Thousand Oaks Coach Ed Chevalier.

“He’s just a wonderful man, and he’s a fine teacher,” Chevalier said of Flood, whom he met last summer. “I think as much as anything else, he really instills a sense of confidence in the kids. Another thing that he can do, that sometimes is tough for some of us: He works with the kids individually and teaches just a few points. And teaches them really well.”

Chevalier said Neumayr was a good shooter to begin with, “but Des helped him to become an even better shooter.”

While he merits the praise, Flood, 60, seems terribly miscast as a shooting guru.

As a player at Sequoia High of Redwood City in 1942 and ‘43, Flood said he was just a mediocre player. He never took jump shots. He used the traditional set shot, which is about as useful today as the drop kick in football.

With a limited playing background, one might figure Flood’s success has something to do with elaborate gymnasium facilities.

Not so.

Flood teaches in the backyard of his Anaheim home. The court is bordered on one side by his grandson’s garden and on the other by a large tree. The tree makes for a nice picture, but its roots are cracking and raising the court on one side.

Besides immovable objects, other natural barriers include the family’s German shepherds, Dr. Moose and Scuppers. The dogs are allowed to roam around the court, which can pose a problem for someone trying to concentrate on shooting.

“I tell the kids to just think of the dogs as the defense,” Flood said. “They have to maneuver around them and keep their concentration on the basket.”

The basket and backboard are the same ones that Flood and his sons put up when the family moved into the house in 1961. “I’m thinking about tearing it out this spring and putting in a new one,” Flood said, “but so far, I just haven’t had the time.” The backboard, a sheet of plywood painted white, is less than sturdy. The rim is soft, giving generous bounces to shots. Much of the tenderizing has come at the hands of players who have broken the rim with dunks.

“I’ve lost count of how many times it’s been broken,” Flood said. “It’s lucky that I have a neighbor that welds it up whenever it busts.”

With little background as a coach and facilities right out of Mayberry RFD, perhaps Flood’s success rests on being a strict disciplinarian. In fact, he has two non-negotiable, iron-clad rules.

“I tell everyone that when they’re tired they must stop, and when they’re thirsty they go inside and get a drink of water,” he said.

What’s next, mandatory sing-alongs? This is not exactly the Bobby Knight school of basketball.

The approach is uniquely Flood’s, who believes that the best way to teach a shooting touch is with the human touch.

It’s a chilly February evening, and Johnny Rogers is shooting. There are many, Flood included, who think Rogers has one of the finest jump shots in college basketball. Rogers, the No. 2 scorer in the Pacific Coast Athletic Assn., is building a good case for himself. He hits shot after shot. There’s no need for a soft rim. The ball is touching nothing but net.

Rogers launches shots behind an invention of Flood’s that is dubbed the “shooting shield.” Like Flood’s teaching method, the shield is simple in design. Two adjustable aluminum poles have a piece of red plastic strung between them. It is adjusted so the players must jump just to see the basket. The shield forces players to concentrate on a specific spot on the basket. It also corrects players who extend their arms away from their body and encourages them to extend them skyward.

It usually takes a player several attempts to get used to the shield--Flood said he reserves it for more advanced players--but this is Rogers’ first time.

“He’s amazing,” Flood said. “You can only teach so much. He just has an incredible gift.”

Rogers’ shot is a result of a relationship that started with the Floods at age 9. Like many others, Rogers practically grew up at the Floods.

His name appears on a kitchen door that Flood’s wife, June, is proud to say has never been painted. The door is pencil-scarred with names and dates of kids at various ages and heights. Rogers’ name first appears about halfway up. Now 6-10, Rogers ducks under the Floods’ doorways.

“Mr. Flood is more than a coach,” Rogers said. “He’s a friend. You know that you’re much more than a basketball player to him.”

Flood said offers to coach come every now and then, but he’s not interested. He views himself more as a teacher than a coach.

“I don’t think Mr. Flood could ever make it as a coach--he’s too nice,” said former Katella High player Bob Erbst. “Coming over here is like going to your grandparents. The whole family is so nice.”

Nice? Ma and Pa Kettle should have been so hospitable. Players never just walk onto the court. They first must gab for a few minutes with June about their families and their studies. June usually has some pictures to show and the players are offered some kind of healthy snack.

It all started inconspicuously enough for the Floods. In the mid-1960s, Flood and his friend, Ken Sarvak, were coaching a Boys Club basketball team in Orange County. Flood believes that his shooting eye came of age during that time.

“I used to stand for hours under the basket rebounding shots for kids,” he said. “It got so that I could tell where the ball was going to go just from watching their release. I started to make suggestions to kids on how to shoot. I even tried to get some books on how to shoot, but I was surprised to find out that there are not that many around. So, I had to formulate my own way.”

Pretty soon, Flood and Sarvak were taking an eighth-grade all-star team on the road in search of games. “We played 60 games a season,” Flood said. “We’d go anywhere that people would play us.”

Sometimes that meant traveling as far as Arizona. Flood said he was totally committed to his players for 15 years, but in 1980 he figured he finally had done enough.

“I was happy until Pat Barrett forced me out of retirement,” Flood joked. Flood had known Barrett, a former Mater Dei High assistant coach, when Barrett played at Magnolia High in Anaheim. Barrett, then an assistant coach at Capistrano Valley High, asked Flood to take a look at a freshman whom Barrett thought had some potential. His name? Tom Lewis.

Lewis later transferred to Mater Dei and in his sophomore year averaged 19 points a game as he and Beeuwsaert led the Monarchs to the Southern Section 4-A championship.

“There would be articles about Tom that would mention me being his shooting coach,” Flood said. “Pretty soon, the phone was ringing off the hook. Everyone wanted to be the next Tom Lewis.”

Now Flood is busier than ever.

Neumayr and Thousand Oaks teammate John Walker make the 120-mile round trip to Flood’s home once a week.

“I’d never say no to a kid who really wanted to work,” Flood said. “If they can bother to come out here, then I can take the time to help out.”

Said June: “People have asked me if I get tired of these kids always coming over. But these kids are like an extended part of our family. That door with the names on it is like our basketball family album.”

With so many students, Flood could have made a handsome salary. Shooting coaches of his quality make $25 a lesson, according to Barrett. But Flood doesn’t charge for his instruction.

“When someone pays you, they think you automatically owe them something,” Flood said. “If I were to take money and a kid was not to improve the way their parents wanted they could say, ‘I’m paying you this money. I want my kid to be a great shooter.’ I don’t want to have to put up with that.

“Even when I was coaching Boys Club basketball, Ken and I would buy the kids’ uniforms. We didn’t want some parent complaining that he had shelled out all this cash for uniforms and now their kid doesn’t even play. I just want to be in control. I don’t want somebody else telling me how to run things.”

Considering Flood’s record, who would want to do that?