Tom Crean off the court: Quiet, random acts of kindness

BLOOMINGTON -- Corey White has a photo of it, snapped from a passing car.

Caleb Anderson experienced it firsthand on the side of a snowy Bloomington road.

Christa Sist-Morris is almost sure she's held it in her hands.

All have been touched by examples of small, random kindnesses paid around the Bloomington community by Indiana men's basketball coach Tom Crean.

"There's so many of those stories like that," said Tom Morris, Christa's husband.

White's story is well-traveled. The Morrises' is, too. Anderson's was chronicled by Louisville sports columnist Rick Bozich in December 2012. Others like them have gone unnoticed.

ANOTHER TOM CREAN

There are, in the public eye, at least two different sides to Tom Crean. One is well-known, broadcast around the country at least 32 times each winter — the fiery, energetic coach, rarely pausing from pacing his sideline.

The other is more subtle, less interested in the spotlight, guided by faith and upbringing.

"It's always been really about being just another human being," Crean said, "really believing, truthfully, what we learn at the very beginning, that God created each and every one of us equal."

Stories of Crean's goodwill are commonplace in Bloomington. If you don't have a personal experience, you probably know someone who does.

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White's began on Third Street, near the College Mall, where he saw Crean in the parking lot of a McDonald's on a Sunday afternoon in May.

Crean had spotted two people in need. He pulled over, bought them food, spoke with them for a few minutes, and handed them a Bible.

Moved by Crean's generosity, White snapped a quick photo. Jon Jeffries, a co-worker, heard White's story, saw his photo and shared the story on Facebook, where it went viral. One sharing on Twitter received more than 600 retweets.

"It was a wonderful moment to capture," White said.

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Friday night had turned to Saturday morning near the end of 2012 when Caleb Anderson decided to chance it and drive home through thick falling snow.

Bloomington had been blanketed with a foot of snow on Christmas, and more was piling up. But Anderson — who had been out that night for IU's nonconference finale against Jacksonville and was at a friend's house — wanted to try.

"We could barely drive out of my friend's neighborhood, because the snow was not plowed," Anderson told The Indianapolis Star.

He wound up in a ditch near Bloomington's eastside post office.

His night became the subject of Bozich's story. While on the phone telling his mother he was stranded, Anderson saw Crean pull up.

"Mom, it's Tom Crean," he told her, according to Bozich. "He said he'll help me get the car out."

Anderson and Crean worked in vain to try to get his 1992 Honda Accord back on the road. Finally, a high school classmate of Anderson's with a pulley on his truck was able to haul him out of the ditch.

Bozich's story described Crean as "reluctant" to talk about the incident.

"I just saw somebody who needed help and that's what I tried to do," Crean said then. "I'll do it again the next time I see somebody who needs help. I hope somebody would do the same for me or my family."

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The Morris' story is well known in Bloomington.

A strength coach at IU, Tom was paralyzed in a mountain biking accident in 2012. The community rallied around Tom and his wife, Christa, raising money to help support them through rehabilitation toward Tom's eventual return to work at Indiana, where he now serves as an assistant athletic director for strength and conditioning/performance.

Several IU coaches, including football's Kevin Wilson and men's soccer's Todd Yeagley, helped rally the Indiana community to support Tom and Christa, who works as an assistant director of academic services and certification for IU athletics.

Crean did, too, raising money for the Morris' "Tom's Team" charity. Publicly, Crean's contributions and support mirrored those of many others around IU and the city. Privately, they went further.

When Crean heard that Tom and Christa's parents were arriving overnight in Indianapolis in the hours after Tom's accident, he booked two rooms at a local hotel, covering their costs for their entire stay.

In Indianapolis for a playoff game between the Pacers and the Miami Heat, Crean gave up tickets to catch his old pupil, Dwyane Wade, so he could watch the game with Morris in his hospital room.

There were moments, too, when the Morrises believe they felt Crean's generosity, even if it went unstated.

Whenever doctors came into Tom's room to update his condition, Christa took notes as meticulously as she could. During one visit, Crean noticed.

Soon after, upon returning to her office, she was given an iPad by her coworkers — a gift Christa firmly believes actually came from Crean.

"He really doesn't want you to know he's doing stuff, which makes it even more amazing," Tom Morris said.

"They're not about the limelight, which a lot of people may think," Christa Sist-Morris said of Crean and his wife, Joani. "He did everything behind the scenes."

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Stories like these have spread around Bloomington since Crean's arrival more than seven years ago.

Some are more publicized than others.

When Crean and his wife joined the search for missing IU student Lauren Spierer, Crean played down his involvement, directing the attention his presence received toward the search effort.

"It's about doing the right thing," he told a reporter then. "It's about impacting this search. It's about helping this family."

Crean welcomed Brian Jones, an Indiana fan and ALS patient, into a postgame news conference last season, calling Jones "a model of perseverance." The Big Ten Network, among others, reported it.

Once, out to dinner in Bloomington with his family, he quietly paid for the meal of two patrons sitting near him on his way out.

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Crean tries to spark the impulse for random acts of kindness in his players, too.

This summer, players volunteered at Camp Riley, a program for children with physical disabilities at Bradford Woods, just north of Bloomington. And Hoosiers spent time visiting children from an Omaha after-school program during their NCAA tournament appearance in March. Crean hopes that these experiences teach his players selflessness and responsibility.

"What I've learned a lot is that you're planting seeds for people, and you hope that it's going to help them see things from a clearer view as they get older," he said.

But Crean's own motivations are more personal.

"When things happen and you have an instinct to encourage or an instinct to help or support, I think you've got to act on it. That's what I've tried to do," he said. "I've probably missed more opportunities to help than I've taken advantage of."

Crean agreed to speak for this story out of encouragement, rather than attention, because paying kindness forward doesn't require a platform or a podium.

Just awareness.

"I don't look at it like it's anything special. We should all be trying to help people where we can," Crean said. "I think the most important thing is that you take your turn when it comes."

Follow Star reporter Zach Osterman on Twitter: @ZachOsterman.