Hey Now! I'm Coach Brad

To Eric Kadooka, I was simply "Doc!"

Shawn Akina gave me that nickname back in 1985 when Rob Durand asked me to work with his basketball team. A senior transfer student from New Jersey interrupted my first talk asking, "Hey, you some kind of Doctor?" Shawn replied, "Yeah, he's Doctor Feel Good. He's here to make us want to play together." The name stuck, and I'm grateful for it.

I'm extremely grateful to have this opportunity to once again celebrate Eric. He was a great coach and an even better friend—a strong, loyal, resilient, and powerful man.

After visiting Eric the day before he passed, a movie has been playing in my mind, affirming how much I loved working with him and what a great friend he was to me, his players, coaches, friends, and Punahou.

The Genius of the Walk Home

As an old school guy, it never seemed like a big deal to me. But it turned out to be a stroke of genius. It provided the energy needed to address critical issues: the lack of team leadership, morale, togetherness, and respect for both coaches and the process.

Eric's Unique Presence

Eric was a fascinating study! I loved being around him. He had an uncanny ability to go deep and be present. Steven Covey, author of "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People," referred to this state as being proactive. To be truly proactive as a coach, parent, teacher, or teammate means holding onto an image of the person in question performing at their absolute best.

That was Eric! In being proactive, he gave others the confidence to know what was expected and then get the job done.

Understanding Eric's Profile

As a performance coach, I work with four performance profiles: Controller, Supporter, Free Spirit, and Player. Each has a switch they can flip to become present, focused, and extremely intense.

Eric was a Supporter. His switch was activated by a person, place, or thing that needed support. When a player or team needed support, Eric was there. When intensity or competitiveness was required, Eric was there, and that intensity could be felt for miles.

What made Eric's success even more remarkable was that he was extremely introverted. Introverts must create their own energy, while extroverts draw energy from their environment. Eric had the mental strength to generate that energy, anchored in his truth.

Our First Meeting and Partnership

When I first met Eric to discuss helping the team, I was impressed with his confidence. Despite being so introverted, he could truly listen and reply with clarity. I liked being with him immediately. After all, he had already won five state championships, and in his own way, he was open and invited me in.

As we worked together, I noticed Eric could focus intensely on what he wanted from his players and communicate with genuine feeling. This made it easy for me to represent his vision to the players.

What struck me most was how much Eric cared for his players. Team building came first—no player was more important than the team. But baseball was never more important than an individual's well-being. If a player needed to work on grades, that took precedence over practice and even games.

The Red Flag Story

We used to meet at the food court in Dole Cannery during Eric's lunch hour to debrief our progress. At one point, Eric asked me, "Doc, what do you mean by red flags?"

I explained that red flags are metaphors for challenges with three levels: Level One fits on a pencil tip—important but can wait; Level Two is paper-sized—important and needs handling soon; Level Three is banner-sized—needs handling now.

"Oh, okay," Eric said, and our meeting ended.

Hours later, I got a call from Eric. He had driven to one of our player's homes and met with the parents and player. "The mother and player are going to stay with her sister until they resolve the issues," he told me. "They'll meet with you tomorrow. I don't want the boy to practice until he's feeling better."

Our Championship Years

Eric and I worked together for the next three years, winning the 6th, and 7th state championships. We came up short in what could have been the 8th title, and shortly after, Eric stepped down.

During our time together, we had the blessing of Athletic Director Tom Holden, who could be seen in the dugout with his rally hat on. We established Player Core Groups—great young men who embraced the challenge of learning to lead, follow, and get out of the way.

The Academy Deans helped schedule our meetings. The entire athletic department worked to establish locations for team meetings led by players without coaches present. We resolved issues, expressed emotions freely—there were tears and laughter—and in the end, we became a team.

Eric's Lasting Impact

Lou Holtz perfectly summed up Eric: "Your talent determines what you can do. Your motivation determines how much you are willing to do. Your attitude determines how well you do it."

Eric had the talent to prepare his players to focus—they learned to be deliberate, confident, present, and always ready.

Eric was motivated by his passion and trust in his process—players learned to work hard, make it fun, and finish each play in practice and competition.

Eric had the mental strength to find his truth—players learned to play the game the right way, debrief, learn, and get better.

While preparing these remarks, I consulted with several former players. They shared remarkably similar feelings about playing for Eric. He created an environment that allowed players to build confidence in their skills, develop trust to perform under pressure, and cultivate love for the game and gratitude for each other.

That environment didn't just shape baseball players—it shaped young men who carried those lessons far beyond the diamond, influencing how they approached challenges, relationships, and life itself.

Eric "Dookie" Kadooka: a coach who understood that winning championships was just one part of his greater calling—developing champions in life.