The Carolina Way: The Quiet Greatness of Dean Smith

The most popular technique attributed to him is the implementation of John McLendon's four corners offense, a strategy for stalling with a lead near the end of the game.

Smith's teams executed the four corners set so effectively that in 1985 the NCAA instituted a shot clock to speed up play and minimize ball-control offense.

He was also credited with popularizing techniques such as the "tired signal" for a player to indicate that he needed to come out for a rest, huddling at the free throw line before a foul shot, encouraging players who scored a basket to point a finger at the teammate who passed them the ball to honor the passer's selflessness, and creating a number of defensive sets that a point guard would call for.

As one of his many acts of making sure every player felt valued, Smith also instituted the practice of starting all his team's seniors on the last home game of the season as a way of honoring the contributions of the substitutes as well as the starters.

In a season when the team included six seniors, he put all six on the floor at the beginning of the game and drew a technical foul, rather than leaving one of them out.

While Smith was credited with countless innovations on the court and helped shape players who would become legends (Phil Ford, Michael Jordan, Sam Perkins, and so many others), one of his most meaningful recruitments came in the form of Charlie Scott, North Carolina’s first Black scholarship athlete.

It was a decision that went far beyond basketball, and it wasn’t the first—or the last—time Dean Smith made a quiet but powerful stand for equality and integration.

Long before his time at Chapel Hill, as a high school student in Topeka, Kansas, he repeatedly visited his principal’s office to argue that the school’s segregated basketball teams should merge. After the 1948-49 season, and plenty of persistence, Topeka High School’s basketball team finally integrated. 

Smith never wavered in his beliefs, even as a coach in the South where every move, on or off the court, was watched and judged. As his platform grew, so did his quiet acts of conviction.

In Chapel Hill, he joined a local pastor and a Black theology student to integrate a restaurant, a simple meal that carried the weight of change. He was also noted as having helped black graduate students purchase homes in all-white neighborhoods, opening doors where they had long been closed.

But Smith’s sense of justice stretched beyond race. He spoke out about the injustices of the world frequently, recording radio spots calling for a freeze on nuclear weapons and lending his voice to the fight against the death penalty.

At times, he even took his team into prisons for practice and arranged visits to death row so that his players could see the human side of injustice in America’s prison system.

By the time he retired in 1997, Dean Smith’s numbers spoke for themselves:

• 879 career wins (the most in NCAA history at the time)
• Two national championships (1982, 1993)
• 11 Final Fours
• 17 ACC regular-season titles
• 36 consecutive winning seasons

But his real legacy lives in the countless players, coaches, and communities shaped by his example. 

In an era where college basketball is increasingly driven by money, media, and the transfer portal, Smith’s example feels even more powerful. He proved that a coach could win big without compromising integrity, that greatness and goodness could coexist on the same sideline.

His influence echoes in every huddle, every unselfish pass, every program that tries to do things “the Carolina Way.”

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