OP-ED: Macs’ Success a Consequence of Failure

I went back this week and reread my season preview.

At the time, it felt like a hopeful exordium. I called this the Macs seniors’ “one last ride.” A core that miraculously won the Skyline last year. A group dancing into their final season together. A team that had already etched its name into the program’s ledger with an indelible inscription.

Guess what? They did it again — and this time it wasn’t magic. It was mastery. They went 19–0 in Skyline play. Undefeated. Back-to-back champions. The vista now is expansive, not just of what they’ve done, but of what’s possible. And yet, if you only glanced at the early standings, the prognosis looked dismal. They started 0–5. The blogosphere was a veritable gaggle of conjecture. The barbs were immediate. The musings were myopic. The questions were vexing. Was last year lightning in a bottle? Had the magic vaporized?

Some reduced everything to a platitude: “Just let Zevi cook.”

As if basketball were that simple. As if greatness rules the roost in isolation. As if you could hand over the keys to the castle and call it an offense.

That’s not how this works.

Head coach Elliot Steinmetz never flinched.

Back when the losses were stacking, he said something that now feels prophetic:

“We will play anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Not because we think we are great, but because we aren’t afraid to try and become great.”

This team had the toughest non-conference strength of schedule in Division III basketball. They went 1–8 in that gauntlet. They got humbled. They blew a 20-point lead to Tufts and lost in overtime. They lost on missed free throws to Chapman and Illinois-Wesleyan. They blew a late lead to Mary Washington and fell in double overtime. They got tested by teams that spread them out and attacked off the dribble. They missed free throws late. They turned the ball over when the pressure tightened.

And they kept scheduling up.

Monday morning, following hours of celebrating, Steinmetz doubled down on the teams 20-8 overall record.

“I have always believed in scheduling up. We might lose more games along the way; we might face questions from our fan base; we might even have a frustrated locker room. None of those things makes you weaker unless you let them. All of them make you stronger if you embrace them. There’s no better way to get better than to play those who are better. I’ll always believe that our success at the end of this conference season was a direct consequence of our failures before it.”

That out-of-conference schedule wasn’t about padding wins. It was about experimentation. About figuring out who they were, about stress-testing the system. They played man-man early because they were still installing things and figuring out who they could be. And the motion offense? That’s not plug-and-play. That’s a steep learning curve.

Skyline championship MVP Max Zakheim said it best on the Harold Katz podcast. Learning this offense takes time. Now, four years in, the game slows down. You start reading defenders. You know when to cut. When to screen. When to slip. When to wait. 

We learned a zone on a pickleball court before the Mary Washington tilt, and destroyed them early. Then, they picked us apart in the second half, forcing us to ask late-game questions that we weren’t mature enough to answer at the time. We were up six with thirty seconds left, but missed free throws en route to a 90-89 double overtime loss against one of the best in the nation. That was another lesson during the early season funk about learning to find and trust other guys, as were most of those eight non-conference losses. We’re a 12-seed on the 3-line right now, but three plays swing differently, and we’re talking about a 1-line.

Everyone assumes Zevi can get buckets in any system. Sure, the Skyline player of the year and programs all-time leading scorer can hoop anywhere. But this motion offense isn’t about calling someone’s number. It’s about trickery. Creativity. And Freedom before execution. 

The screener is often the most important guy on the floor. The flat screen can matter more than the shot. The cut-off of a backscreen can be a wide-open layup. Keep screening, ball reversal, and your shot will come within the 35-second shot clock. Zevi alluded to his experience with the ball. When Samet sets that back screen, it forces the defense into a decision. If his defender stays attached and refuses to help, the cutter has a clean lane coming off the screen. If they top-lock or deny the cutter, the backdoor is there immediately.

If the help defender tags the cutter, that means Samet’s man is momentarily disconnected, and that opens up a slip or a seal inside. Should teams try to jump to Zevi’s high side to take away the quick pop shot or the reversal, he simply seals and dives to the rim for a layup.

It’s a simple read, but the action puts the defense in rotation, and every coverage has a counter. That’s the beauty of the motion offense.

The system rewards patience. Yet it also requires you to answer a question for every possession. Are you willing to trade good for great? That might mean fewer points for you because you pass up a decent look, trusting that something better is coming, or that it’ll come back to you later in possession.

Last year, we were playing with house money. The boys caught fire in conference play and rode belief all the way through. It was magical. But even inside the locker room, they knew they didn’t have much to stand on nationally. It felt like a miracle run. This year is different.

This year, they’ve been through the fire. They’ve faced top teams. They’ve played together for four years. They’ve traded ball-dominant instincts for patience. They’ve learned to trade “good” for “great,” and trust each other.

Defensively, Max praised Zevi’s on-ball defense. And Max himself has been extraordinary defensively, which he’s connected to the offensive part of his game. When the ball moves, when you’re engaged, when you understand spacing, your defense sharpens too. Zakheim is the perfect example. The Red Rocket entered YU as a ball-dominant player. Now the Skyline playoff MVP has developed a mindset that screams, “We over me.” His screening. His defensive versatility. Guarding bigs, smalls, and quick guards are the little things you don’t see on the scoresheet and are easier said than done; but his work has allowed others to fill it up. 

Max Zakheim with the Skyline Championship and his MVP trophy. (Marvin Azrak/MacsLive)

Against Farmingdale, when things got tight and tense, YU didn’t rush. They didn’t panic. Stars like Max, who missed the free throws to beat Tufts in November, showed maturity by cashing in March against the Rams. He represents the seasonal progression in a nutshell. Instead of being inundated by indignation, they learned and improved.

From a numbers standpoint, YU has a winnable first-round game against Bates on Friday at 1:00 PM in Montclair State because they have earned it by trusting their process over outcomes. They went unbeaten in conference. They beat a top 30 NYU team earlier in the year. They showed calmness down the stretch of the Skyline championship. They built something sturdier than magic.

Now they enter the NCAA Tournament not as a team happy to be there, but as a group that believes it can win as a cohort forged in fire. It’s been a true joy watching these guys grow on and off the court, especially in their spirituality inside Samet’s “Beyond the Court " initiative. The “one last ride” these seniors are on isn’t sentimental anymore. Last year was magic. This year is maturity. Now we find out how far they can go. Now we find out how well they can dance in March Madness. Now we find out how high they can fly as free birds. Enjoy the journey.