MITCH JOHNSON STEPPED INTO the Arrillaga Gymnasium during a recent Stanford men's basketball practice and took a seat along the wall.
As an assistant coach with the G League's Austin Spurs, Johnson was between games in Stockton and Santa Cruz, but off days are not what they seem. Johnson was scouting for the parent San Antonio Spurs, giving him a reason to catch up with a friend.
On the court, sophomore point guard Daejon Davis was trying to break down the defense. He found an opening, burst into the paint and smashed the ball through the hoop.
Johnson had long known Davis had potential. From the same Central District neighborhood in Seattle, they first crossed paths a decade ago when Johnson played point for Stanford and Davis, known by his nickname of 'Zoc', was a kid enamored with Lebron James.
"I remember a long athletic kid that you saw had potential," Johnson said. "He was good with the basketball, he was talented, he moved like an athlete. Sometimes you just see it. You knew he was going to be good."
Mitch Johnson, circa 2009. Photo by Bob Drebin.
All the kids at the Rotary Boys & Girls Club knew Johnson. He helped Stanford to two NCAA tournament appearances, including a Sweet Sixteen. Davis knew him as "Money Mitch" from Seattle basketball royalty: His father, John Johnson, played 12 NBA seasons and was a starting forward on the SuperSonics' 1979 championship team.
Mitch hoped to play in the NBA too, but it wasn't long after he earned his Stanford sociology degree in 2009 that he gravitated home.
"I never thought I wanted to coach," Johnson said. "It just kind of happened. You know these kids, you know their parents, you know their brothers' cousins. You just want to give them some resources, some knowledge, some opportunities to maybe succeed. You just want to pay it forward."
Johnson started his coaching career at the bottom, with his nephew's third-grade team.
"Funny thing," Johnson said. "I'd go home and think about third-grade games all night, like they were my games at Stanford against UCLA. I loved it."
Daejon Davis. Photo by Maggie Hobson.
Johnson also began assisting with Davis' AAU team, Rotary Seattle, and began a mentorship with Davis, a player who reminded Johnson so much of himself.
"You could tell he had an old man type of seriousness about him," Davis said. "I didn't know it before, but I think it's a huge result of him being at Stanford for four years. The biggest thing he wanted was a level of focus every time we stepped on the court."
Johnson was very much a product of his father, and that wasn't easy. As Mitch said, "he coached me hard, he loved me hard, and he raised me hard." John, who passed away in 2016 at age 68, coached Mitch with an uncompromising toughness. Mitch carries that style to some degree, though he first tries to understand what each player responds best to.
"He says a lot of things that you don't want to hear," Davis said, "but you have to hear."
Davis was an off guard who refused to play point, but when the team was struggling at the Peach Jam Tournament, he told Johnson the point guard looked him off wasn't getting him the ball.
Daejon Davis. Photo by Bob Drebin/ISIphotos.com.
"I told him that wasn't an acceptable answer," Johnson said. "I said, 'If he doesn't give you the ball, then take it.' He was reluctant to step up and be the man. Sometimes, that comes with failure."
Davis switched to point, became more assertive and truly took off. He became a top-50 prospect and had many conversations with Johnson when Stanford became a possible destination.
"He told me that Stanford won't let you fail," Davis said. "I definitely took that to heart. I had trust in Coach Haase. But Mitch, definitely more than other people, had a great influence."
Davis wears Johnson's Stanford number, No. 1. Two point guards from the same neighborhood. A generation removed, yet so much in common.
Jerod Haase, the Anne and Tony Joseph Director of Men's Basketball, made Davis his point guard from the beginning. He has responded with a maturity and wisdom Johnson hadn't seen before.
The visit was short, but Johnson could sense something as he stepped into the rain: Zoc was in good hands.
Daejon Davis. Photo by Bob Drebin/ISIphotos.com.