Winston Lee has resigned. 

Is he going somewhere else or just stepping away?

From the sound of his FB post I believe he’s stepping away from coaching. 

From Coach Lee:

Yesterday, after nearly 20 years, I stepped down from coaching Boys Basketball.

Today, I feel tremendous love.

I love basketball. I love kids who call me "Coach." I love seeing them grow into adulthood armed with lessons learned from team sports. This love has been my livelihood for a long time—for all of my adult life. However, there are a couple of things I love more than my union with basketball and coaching: my bond with Addie and Lana—the kids who call me "Dad." I want to shift my energy and focus into helping them grow into adulthood armed with lessons from their best Coach. I love my Boys, it’s just time to give energy and focus to my family, my Girls.

I had a friend tell me when Addie was born, “hey, just because you have your own, don’t forget about the others who need you.” I’ll continue to hold up my end of that bargain. I will continue to help students and student-athletes, and I will continue to work to ensure the students of Jenkins are getting the best educational experience possible. I will do so with a newfound balance, and I hope to be even more efficient.

I plan to carry a lot with me in this shift of direction. This is heavy. A decision that didn’t come lightly.

A Boston College basketball player who had been eliminated from post-season play was once asked what he’d take with him as his greatest memory of playing basketball. His reply: “Probably... just like... going out to eat.”

Since the day one of my old Coaches called me to help with Whitesburg’s summer camp back in 2003, I knew I wanted to coach.

At that time, it wasn't about winning; it was about trying to give others what the sport had given me: the opportunity to grow and learn. I wanted to help young boys become young men through sports, and I wanted to do it at home. It became my passion; Letcher County, always my heart. Thanks to catching the ear of Letcher Central’s Coach while helping with ALC’s summer camp—who called me down from the stand at Whitesburg Municipal—I was given that opportunity.

I’ve been overly blessed to practice that passion and accomplish team goals for nearly 20 years. It hasn’t always been the capacity or the dream I once thought it’d be; in some ways, it’s been better. I’ll also say that in a few ways, it tried to be a nightmare. I’ve learned that through a little faith, your dream can be fitted to fill a much more important purpose.

The championships, the records, the history, the banners that are hanging (and the banners that should be), the big wins, and even the hurtful losses—all great for spiritual growth and a more important lesson. But all I can think about are those bus rides and that cold pizza, times outside of the game spent with my players.

Players, I hope you realize the truth: I am always here for you and wish you the absolute best in this life. I hope I had some sort of positive influence on your journey or taught you something that helps.

I’ll reflect later on specific times and specific games. There are too many names and too much context to include here; it’s a book. Man, what coaching has given me. What the players have given. What mentors have shown me.

My help. Oh my God, the people that signed-up to help me in this journey at any capacity. Thank you. I love you. Know your piece of any net is small in the piece of my heart that you’ll forever carry.

I won’t share too much "locker talk," but these are the phrases I’ve carried most in my mind, even if I rarely used them directly.

“Coach always knows.”

“I ain’t your Daddy, but...”

“Put players’ safety first.”

“You got on your blue collar?”

“W.E.T.S.U.”

“Drew that on a napkin at Applebee’s.”

“Y’all want to play helter-skelter.”

“Those six inches from the second seat to the first…is a lot further than you think.”

“Hold the ball. All they know is hold, hold, hold the ball.”

“We played on an outdoor court, in the winter.”

“We do a good job. No one could do what we do here.”

“It’s hard to win ‘a’ game. Everyone wants to do it. Only half of ‘em can.”

“No such thing as an ugly one.”

“You can put makeup on a pig…but it’s still a pig.”

“If you get beat. Be the first to work the next day.”

“It really is about Jimmys and Joes. I don’t care if you’re John Wooden.”

“Be careful. If you’re good at it, they’ll make you do it.”

“The right decision is often the hardest one to make.”

I probably micromanaged and insisted on doing too much at times, and sometimes, I didn’t do enough. I probably cussed more than I should have and made it okay in the name of passionate accountability. No matter what, I put every ounce of energy into the job. I’d like to think I took a little from every single coach I played for and worked for; I took my own wild shots at the rim and the outcome was literally a nothing-but, or an absolute airball. That’s the expected result when your well-being is in the hands of young boys who are still processing. I was the same way as a kid and tried never to forget it while coaching. I probably had more airballs than makes but I wouldn’t trade one shot.

We mixed defenses too much, my call sheet is ridiculous, and we still don’t run half of it (and never will). I blame that on different people, but my head will forever be filled with things I want to do clashing into the reality of what’s reasonable. At the end of this run, I’m most proud of the fact that I did it solely my way—not one specific coach’s way, not a player’s way, not a parent’s way, not an administrator’s way, and not even my own father’s way (at times), haha. I’ll save the stories of our travels for now, but I am thankful for him at every turn, every turn from Jenkins to Buckhorn, every air mile from Mayking to Orlando.

I put it all out there. While I say I leave nothing behind in terms of my own effort, I mean to uplift the next coach of Jenkins Boys Basketball and help continue this awesome era.

Players, I love you. Thank you. I owe you everything and will always give you what I’ve got. You know that I’m here for you in any capacity, at all moments, and at all turns of this life. Please know that I treated you the best way I knew how to help you become a better person while trying to accomplish the goal at hand.

I can’t begin to share all the stories in this space. Just know that I’ve been out at 2:00 a.m. to save ‘em, 6:00 a.m. to wake ‘em up, and later in life to see ‘em graduate, write ‘em a reference, hire ‘em, or DJ their wedding. Whatever they need, I’m always here.

The goal gradually became winning. That’s the eventual nature of the beast, caught up in the competitive pressure of society and a dangerous pride, it’s nasty. The battle of winning and losing is very much like generic warfare in Kentucky high school basketball. As my career grew older, this became more prominent in my mind. No doubt, coaching is a prideful and consuming animal at its core—if you feed it. After being scorned a bit (which was good for me), I let my pride take over at times (which was bad). I’m relieved to wrestle down that wild sickness for now. I’m sure you’ve heard, but Lana is pretty crazy medicine, haha. She will be sure to ground me. One mentor would’ve called this kid, “birth control”. She and Addie are going to get my greatest show of effort and pride yet. Being Dad will truly be my next big win.

This is a reckless but transparent attempt to explain coaching from my experience, it’ll leave morals and character a bit exposed. The job is ultimately to win. Competing is important, but it’s only a step toward the destination. There must be some type of constant building for learning to take place. If you don’t win, everyone is miserable (or should be), and by others' standards, you should be relieved of duty. This can be widely and wildly subjective. There is an outstanding possibility that you win and people are still miserable; unfortunately, individual misery can’t be allowed to carry weight while winning. And the truest quote I’ve learned in sports (and life) is that “misery loves company”. If the job is accomplished, you may rest easy. That’s extremely difficult when you love everyone. I’ve been in spots where I’ve made the wrong decision in choosing how to best create this balance, and unless you’ve coached at a "live-or-die" capacity, where every kid is also very important to you, it’s extremely hard to understand. I took the lumps, didn’t sleep for weeks, wore stress at home, shouldered the weight, and tried to fight beyond my feelings for a greater goal. Still taught six classes a day, no P.E., sometimes a tough job, sometimes tremendous support, sometimes none. No complaints, that’s what I signed up for. Going "all [redacted] in" on the thought of winning at all costs is dangerous—it’s like tiptoeing across Raven Rock—but it’s also where the greatest lessons are learned. I preferred to play all-in and sometimes wished for more [redacted] to push. I incidentally made some enemies who will hate me forever. I am not proud; my personality obviously craves love and praise. But I’m never getting caught up in whether the trade was worth it—the cuts, the wins, the losses, the hate, the long nights, the discipline, making 'Speak Your Piece,' or even being mentioned in some ambiguous Facebook post. There’s a banner and a picture hanging above Whitney Creech Court. For my earlier guys, there should be a banner on the hill. The individual efforts of the young men in Blue and Green are in the record books forever; they can never be erased. We even gave a few guys the opportunity to play on. Always reckless in a responsible way. I will rest easy. A lot of people are satisfied, a lot of people happy. I am and have to be.

I thought in writing this I’d share my favorite names, games, and moments, but that list could be endless. Heavy ain’t the word. I’ll go back and watch some film at some point to share. Reflecting on the moments I’m taking with me, here are some recent meals that come immediately to mind, times we were happiest, in no particular order:

Taco Bell, February 2025: After beating ACTS. We wrapped up the winningest season in Jenkins’ history and looked forward to what was to come.

Wreckers Sports Bar, December 2024: I wanted one nice meal in Orlando. Coach almost choked to death; I gave him the Heimlich in front of a crowd (I couldn’t live without him). A player didn’t alert us until the check arrived that he never got his salmon. The card wouldn’t work. We won 2 out of 3, and Addie had a blast at Universal.

Bonanza, December 2024: A FORGOTTEN TREASURE.

Cracker Barrel, June 2024: Traveling from Transy to Berea. Realized we were going to be good—good enough to make a run.

Texas Roadhouse, December 2023: We took a picture with Santa at the mall. The lady asked how many wanted to sit on Santa’s lap and one player responded, “all of us”. Played 4 games in 24 hours.

Cook-Out, June 2023: We loaded up three cars of kids and headed to Morehead on a June morning. Lost a crazy game in OT but got to meet with Coach P. It makes me think of how desperate we were to play and learn.

Denny's, February 2023: A random Denny’s near Ashland, Kentucky. We were trying to teach a certain player how to socially survive in this world. Secured our 18th win. We had a top-rebounding team in the State.

Transy Camp, June 2022: Introduced the Jenkins boys to Transy and Drake’s. Drake’s brought out a huge piece of cake that could still be in a dorm room fridge. Just kidding—I think that’s the year they put us in the vintage dorms with no air and maybe no power. Pretty sure one of our guys got bit by bed bugs.

Pine Mountain Grill, Spring 2021: I had one last meal with my seniors who had just won District. It’s way more important now than it was then.

Papa John’s, 2019: Cold pizza on the way home from Powell. Our 18th win of the year—the year I thought I’d figured out how to be a Head Coach. We went back to Powell two weeks later and lost on a last-second and-one (phantom call). That group, like all others, holds a special place.

Pool Parties: Two separate summer pool parties at the house around summer ball. One player rode his dirt bike to the house—a little bigger than my road bike.

Whitesburg Sazon, February 2020: Out of the approximately 1,000,000 meals I’ve had at Sazon, this one is the most memorable. Sorry, Whit. We accomplished back-to-back upsets to win District (historical) and paraded the trophy through town in the driving snow. The snow didn’t keep us from Sazon, and early losses didn’t keep us from taking what our guys deserved.

Cracker Barrel, February 2026: My last road meal with my last Jenkins team, my boys. 18 wins when NO ONE thought we could (not even me). An Official delivered a Council shirt. Some of the boys ordered double steak, they also insisted the bathroom was haunted. I’ve never been happier to front the bill.

Buffalo Wild Wings, December 2021: I will never forget taking that group to B-Dubs. It was like we’d never been out of the house. We went viral for a “Jenkins player” warming up with a camo hat and a mullet out the back (I swear it wasn’t actually warm-up time), and we saw Johni Broome play live at MSU.

The 2021-22 season was some of the most fun I’ve ever had coaching. I am not kidding; we started 0-12. Dad looked at me at a Christian school in Louisville after we lost in OT and said, “What have we done?” When we celebrated later that year, on the road and at home, I knew we’d made the right decision to keep coaching. We had forced it to happen locally. I swear, every one of those seven wins felt like we won the Super Bowl.

So many people told me coaching at Jenkins would kill my career—a bit of “coaching suicide.” One former friend and administrator called me with something like, “I can’t let you do this in good conscience; think about the impossibility.” I thought about it, appreciated it, and called Jenkins that afternoon. I was hell-bent and faith-based on making it work. The gas that fired a burning couch in the school parking lot was a crazy and ironic fuel.

Every banquet at a local restaurant, every time our biggest fans bought pizza—especially pizza on a Sunday before District. That pizza had a decent tournament success rate.

Every single “Going out to eat.”

I love it. I’ll miss it. One day, I’ll write it all down. Mountain High School Basketball. What a life. What a dream. I’ll take it all with me.

Thank you to all that believed in me and stood in my corner. Forgive me if I made it hard at times. I’ll never forget it.

I’ve learned never to say never in this job and in this life. God only knows how the next dream will unfold; I only know my girls will be at the center.

It will always be in good faith. It will always be in love.

Can’t wait.

GO CAVS.

P.S. I don’t remember eating a meal after burning the couch. I do have a very burnt couch spring found in the parking lot afterwards. I kept it.