Inside the Jenny Craig Pavilion, the crowd takes note when the ball finds Kylie Ray’s hands.

The University of San Diego sophomore guard slows the offense, scanning the court before making the next pass or driving into the lane. To most fans in the stands, she is simply USD’s point guard, the engine of the offense, a player who helped steady the team through a long and sometimes difficult season. 

But one set of eyes in the stands sees the game a little differently. 

Jim Harrick has spent decades studying basketball from the sideline. The former UCLA men’s basketball coach led the Bruins to a national championship in 1995, coached for nearly 60 years and sent eight point guards to the NBA. Now, instead of pacing the court or drawing up plays during timeouts, Harrick sits in the stands at his granddaughter’s games, watching closely. 

And even now, the coach in him never quite disappears. 

“I keep her turnovers,” Harrick said with a laugh. “I keep her assists. If she doesn’t have more assists than turnovers, she’s not doing the job that I want her to do.” 

For Ray, that scrutiny is nothing new. 

“The coach in him still tries to coach. It’s just funny,” she said. 

Ray’s sophomore season at the University of San Diego marked a turning point in her young college career. 

“She’s proved to everybody in basketball that she can play high-level Division I basketball,” he said. “And that’s the greatest compliment you could pay her.” 

But long before she stepped onto a college court, Ray and her grandfather had already spent years building the foundation for the player she would become. 

Harrick remembers the moment vividly. 

At the time, he had spent most of his life around men’s basketball. When he was growing up, girls played a version of the sport that looked very different: six-player teams divided between offense and defense, unable to cross half court. 

Women’s basketball simply wasn’t something he followed. 

So when his wife suggested that they attend one of Ray’s youth games, he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. 

“I told her, ‘You want me to go to a third-grade girls’ basketball game?’” Harrick recalled. 

But he went. And what he saw stuck with him.

Ray scored all 16  points in a 16-0 victory. 

“I thought, ‘That changes everything,’” Harrick said. 

From that moment forward, their relationship began to revolve around basketball. They worked together on fundamentals like ball handling, passing, shooting, footwork, sometimes for hours. 

“We spent a lot of time working out and just truly understanding the game,” Ray said. “He’s taught me a lot.” 

Harrick’s coaching background shaped those lessons. A former point guard himself, he has always believed the position is the “engine that drives the car.” 

So when Ray began developing into a point guard of her own, his attention to detail only intensified. 

“I want her to know angles,” Harrick said. “You’ve got to make the right pass at the right time for the right person at the right time.” 

Ray grew accustomed to that level of detail. Even now, the conversations continue. 

After nearly every game, she walks off the court and eventually makes her way toward him in the stands. 

“She comes out and greets her mom and dad,” Harrick said. “Then she looks at me.” 

And the look carries an unspoken message. 

“What she’s really saying is, ‘Give it to me,’” he said. 

Ray doesn’t mind. 

“It’s cool to see him there,” she said. “He always reminds me to stay steady and keep going.” 

Growing up, Ray knew her grandfather’s name carried weight in basketball circles. When she attended UCLA games as a child, fans occasionally recognized him, remembering the excitement surrounding the Bruins’ championship run.  

And sometimes, the best lessons come not from championships but from the daily process of improving. 

For Harrick, the experience of watching from the stands is very different from coaching on the sideline. 

“Much easier to coach than just watch,” he admitted. 

Coaching gave him control, the ability to call timeouts, draw up plays and direct the action. Sitting in the stands means simply observing. 

But old habits never disappear entirely. 

“I see the game differently than my dad and mom,” he said. “I watch the coach.” 

Still, the emotional investment is stronger now than it ever was when he was coaching. 

“There have been moments where I’ve gotten emotional watching her,” Harrick said. 

One of those moments was when USD took down Saint Mary’s on March 5 in the West Coast Conference Tournament, where Ray was “absolutely spectacular.” Ray dropped 19 points and brought in 10 rebounds. 

For a coach who once evaluated players at the highest level of college basketball, the praise carries weight. 

Beyond the numbers and hours of practice, Ray’s love for the game remains the thing Harrick values most. 

“She’s got a passion that you can’t coach into an athlete,” he said. 

Their countless hours in the gym built more than skill, but rather memories. 

“He’s truly one of my biggest supporters. He doesn’t really miss a lot of things,” she said. 

For Harrick, the feeling is mutual. 

After a lifetime spent chasing wins, championships and coaching milestones, the game has taken on a different meaning. 

“I had a great, great, great run and my time’s gone. It’s time for somebody else,” he said. 

And now the joy comes from watching the next generation play. 

“She’s given us great joy in our lives for the past six, seven years,” Harrick said, sharing how much he and his wife have enjoyed watching her play. 

Her grandfather studies the game the way he always has, by evaluating decisions, remembering plays, thinking about what could be better next time. 

Ray knows exactly what’s coming. And she welcomes it. 

Because long before the crowds and statistics and college arenas, the lessons began on a small gym floor when she was just a third grader. 

The coach hasn’t left the building. He’s just moved to the stands. 

Top photo: University of San Diego sophomore guard Kylie Ray and her grandfather, Jim Harrick, coach of the 1995 UCLA NCAA Championship men’s basketball team (taken in 2023). Photo shared with permission. Sebastian Moore/ Glendale News-Press