Column: Chris Collins’ journey from Bulls ball boy to Northwestern coach brings him to the United Center

Chris Collins was walking through the bowels of old Chicago Stadium after a Bulls game in November 1990 when Michael Jordan walked past.

“Nice earring,” the former Bulls ball boy said to Jordan, pointing to a diamond-studded “23″ hanging from His Airness’ ear.

“You going to get one?” Jordan asked.

That was my introduction to young Collins, then a 16-year-old player at Glenbrook North trying to make a name for himself. More than 32 years later, the two of us sat in adjoining seats at an empty Welsh-Ryan Arena, reminiscing about the days I covered his high school feats.

“The slide,” I said. “That buzzer-beater over Maine East when you drove the length of the court, hit a 10-foot jumper, then ran back downcourt with your arms outstretched and slid about 10 feet on your knees.”

“Like a soccer goal, the knee slide,” he said. “Fun times. Long time.”

Seemed like yesterday. The Glenbrook North gym was in a frenzy as Maine East coach Ken Sartini acknowledged they knew all along Collins would take the final shot.

“We threw everyone at him but the cheerleaders,” Sartini said that night.

Time marches on. I hadn’t interviewed Collins in nearly three decades, but that moment from all those years ago remained etched in my memory. And in his.

“It’s funny, there are certain things you remember every detail,” Collins said. “I’m like that with all the games I played, so I can remember all my high school and college games (at Duke) when I played and a lot that I coached.

“But then the random stuff, I can’t remember. Stuff around the house like, ‘Where are my keys?’ It drives my wife nuts. She’s like, ‘How can you recall all that stuff and you don’t know where the tool box is?’ Selective memory.”

Chances are good Collins will remember every detail of Northwestern’s 2022-23 season, even if he can’t find those darn tools.

The Big Ten Coach of the Year brings his Wildcats into the quarterfinals of the conference tournament Friday as the No. 2 seed after overcoming preseason doubters, a midseason pause because of a COVID-19 outbreak and a three-game losing streak down the stretch that brought more skepticism over their turnaround.

“We’ve been through a long journey, especially the senior class with Boo (Buie) and Chase (Audige) and Robbie (Beran),” Collins said. “Those are guys who came in when we were in a rebuilding phase, and we went through tough times. They won three (Big Ten) games their freshman year, continually got a little better, and our two big guys (Pete Nance and Ryan Young) moved on and a lot of the outside negativity was there.

“But from day one of the summer we tried to focus on who was here, not who wasn’t here. There was a lot of equity in this room, and we still had a lot of veterans and they had confidence they could win. It’s a testament to them considering everyone around them told them they couldn’t. It’s fun to see them rewarded for that commitment.”

Collins appears to be much the same as he was when I first met him, though he’s 48 with a touch of gray and a few smile lines. A little less cocky perhaps. The aging process humbles everyone, and a lifetime of coaching in the college ranks can bring you to your knees without the sliding.

Chris learned things the hard way. His father, former Bulls coach Doug Collins, never let him win one-on-one showdowns in the family driveway in Northbrook despite the teenager’s constant pleading and crying after losses.

Doug wanted Chris to earn it, no matter how bad it felt.

“Your first instinct as a parent is to protect your son,” Doug Collins once told Tribune reporter Skip Myslenski of the driveway shootouts. “But life’s not that way. You get bumped. You fall down. And the measure of a man is how you handle hurdles in life.”

Chris finally managed to beat his dad one day at age 14 and celebrated madly. A lesson was learned, and it was one that would come in handy the last six years.

After taking Northwestern to new heights with its first NCAA Tournament appearance in 2017, Collins was bumped, fell down and went back to coaching a program synonymous with losing. He entered this season hearing whispers about his future at NU, where alumni wonder why they can’t win with high academic standards like programs such as Duke.

The sheen of that dream season was gone, and perhaps it was time for a new voice.

But Collins got up, dusted himself off and got back to work. He told senior guards Buie and Audige it was their team now and he believed in them.

A 5-0 start was followed by a one-point loss to Auburn and a blowout at the hands of Pitt. But the Wildcats shrugged it off and shocked Michigan State on Dec. 4 in East Lansing, Mich., to start another five-game winning streak before the calendar turned.

After back-to-back postponements in mid-January due to a COVID-19 outbreak, Northwestern faced a do-or-die stretch of six games in 13 days. They went 4-2 and would not look back.

The signature win over No. 1 Purdue on Feb. 12 opened eyes across the college basketball landscape. Collins’ son, Ryan, a sophomore manager for the team, hugged his father and cried during an emotional postgame interview with Big Ten Network’s Andy Katz.

“It was special, and it reminded me so much of when I was a ball boy with the Bulls,” Chris said. “Going through that run when the Bulls were emerging. The playoff win over Cleveland (in 1989), Michael’s shot over (Craig) Ehlo, then we beat the Knicks in the second round and took the Pistons to six games (in the conference finals). And always greeting my dad after those big wins.

“As great as sports is, a lot of people don’t realize that it’s your family’s life — the games, the losses, the commitments, the sacrifices. It’s not just their dad (coaching). It’s them too. My son is part of it, a student here, a manager, part of our team and going through our team rebuilding and through the tough times that go along with that. To have a win like the one against Purdue or Indiana, it makes it really special when you can share it with your family.”

Collins grew up at Duke when Bobby Hurley, Grant Hill and Cherokee Parks were well-established stars and the program was nationally loved and hated at the same time. He has heard many times this season from former Blue Devils coach Mike Krzyzewski, who gave him his first shot as an assistant, leading to Collins’ homecoming at Northwestern.

“Now that he’s not coaching I hear from him even more,” Collins said with a laugh. “He’s watching every game. He’ll send me a text, shoot me a call. To have that guy as a mentor my whole life, since I was 18. … He’s been incredible this year through our success — and also if we lost a game or a couple — to make sure my head is in the right spot, encouraging me to be at my best for my team.”

A hard-court education from his father and Krzyzewski probably meant Collins was fated to be a coach. But during his senior year at Glenbrook North, Chris desperately wanted to step out of his dad’s spotlight, like any teen with a famous father.

“Every time I did well it was, ‘Doug Collins’ son did this and Doug Collins’ son did that,’ and it was fine by me,” he told the Tribune’s Terry Armour in 1992. “I didn’t mind. But I made a promise to myself that I’m going to work as hard as possible to have people know me as Chris Collins.”

Collins would go on to be voted Mr. Basketball of Illinois that year, leading Glenbrook North to the Class AA supersectionals while averaging a state-high 32.1 points and shooting 47% from 3-point range.

Chris carved his own path, ultimately leading him to his father’s profession. Funny how that works.

Now his Wildcats enter the Big Ten Tournament quarterfinals Friday knowing what they can do when they all play together. They’ve been bumped. They fell down. And while no one was paying much attention, they got back up and accomplished something no one saw coming.

Collins returns to the Bulls’ home on West Madison Street, but his ball-boy days are a distant memory and he still doesn’t have that earring Jordan asked about.

“Not yet,” he said.

First things first.

It’s March and time to get back to work.