It sounds like the setup to a joke—an NBA head coach’s origin story beginning with a mop, a college gym, and Charles Barkley in full sweat. But sometimes, truth has a way of out-plotting fiction.
More than 30 years ago, Chris Finch was a government major at tiny Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. His side gig? Wiping up spills and rebounding basketballs for the visiting Philadelphia 76ers during training camp. Today, he’s drawing up game plans for Anthony Edwards and the Minnesota Timberwolves, one of the most dangerous teams in the West.
A leap? Absolutely. But if greatness is contagious, maybe Finch caught something all those years ago—leaning on a mop, watching Barkley throw down dunks like a human wrecking ball.
Now 55, Finch is closing out his fourth full season as Minnesota’s head coach. Last year’s Western Conference Finals appearance wasn’t a fluke, and the Timberwolves look ready to make noise again. As of Thursday, they’d won 13 of their last 16 games, climbing to 45-32 and fighting for a playoff spot in a Western Conference that eats teams alive. Edwards continues to rise like a future MVP, and with Julius Randle and Donte DiVincenzo finally healthy, the Wolves are looking less like survivors—and more like contenders.
But Finch’s road here? It wasn’t paved. It was patched together—across continents, across divisions, through obscurity and opportunity alike.
Before the NBA sidelines, there were overseas courts and second chances. Before that, there was F&M. And before all of it, there was the Sixers’ training camp—hosted every fall in the very gym where Finch played his college ball.
Back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, Finch and his F&M teammates doubled as training camp staff—glorified ball boys, really. Rebounding, towel duty, cleaning up after grown men with All-Star contracts. For a diehard Sixers fan who still remembered every detail of the ‘83 title run, it was surreal.
The memory resurfaced this March in Miami. Minnesota’s locker room was streaming an NCAA game: F&M vs. Catholic University. It was a blowout. Catholic was cruising. Someone asked Finch about the Mayser Center—his alma mater’s old gym. He grinned, calling it the “Diplodome,” a tongue-in-cheek nod to F&M’s mascot, the Diplomats.
And then he brought up Barkley.
Finch remembered walking by the trainer’s room one day and overhearing Barkley and Rick Mahorn cracking jokes. “Put it this way,” Finch laughed, “I don’t think they had their evening fun in Lancaster.” That’s about all he recalls. But that tiny sliver of memory—NBA legends in a small-town college gym—feels oddly symbolic now.
Jim Lynam, the Sixers’ head coach at the time, doesn’t remember Finch from those days, but he appreciates the symmetry.
“If you’re around basketball long enough,” Lynam said, “your paths are bound to cross.”
Had he known Finch would one day coach in the league, Lynam said he’d offer just one piece of advice: “It all comes down to how you deal with the group.” No matter the level—high school, college, or NBA—great coaches know how to connect.
Back then, Finch had no plans to coach. A career in politics? Maybe. Academia? Possibly. He’d played at a high level—twice an All-American, helped F&M reach the DIII national championship game—but his future felt open-ended. Then F&M assistant Mike McKonly planted a seed: Have you ever thought about coaching?
Finch had, but vaguely. That suggestion soon turned into a first gig—an assistant role at Conrad Weiser High School in 1992. Still, it didn’t feel like the beginning of a career. Not yet.
That turning point came overseas. Finch played professionally in Sheffield, England, for four seasons before the team made a bold ask: would he consider becoming their head coach? He was 27, and he’d be coaching teammates he’d just been sharing a locker room with.
“Looking back, it’s pretty wild,” Finch said later. “I wouldn’t have hired me at 27.”
Yet Sheffield rolled the dice, and Finch made it work. Over the next several years, he built his resume in Europe—coaching in Germany, Belgium, and eventually facing off with another up-and-comer in the British leagues: Nick Nurse.
At first, they were rivals. But they grew close, teaming up for Great Britain’s national team (including the 2012 Olympics), and later reuniting in Toronto—Finch as an assistant under Nurse with the Raptors.
Stateside, Finch climbed the ranks the hard way—through the Houston Rockets’ G-League affiliate, then onto NBA benches in Houston, Denver, New Orleans, and finally Toronto. In 2021, Minnesota gave him the call.
His first few seasons were turbulent but promising. This year, the promise is finally crystallizing. Even after trading away five-time All-Star Karl-Anthony Towns in a three-team deal that brought Randle and DiVincenzo, Finch kept the Wolves afloat.
At the start of the season, things looked shaky. The defense was sharp, but the offense? Not so much.
“We were stuck in the mud,” Finch admitted. “It was brutal. We were just trying to tread water.”
But they’ve emerged from the depths. On March 16, Finch picked up his 200th career win, joining Flip Saunders as the only Timberwolves coaches to hit that milestone. He did it faster, too—356 games to Saunders’ 393.
From mopping floors to milestones. From Division III to the NBA playoffs. If you tried to script this career, you’d be told to tone it down. Too implausible. Too roundabout.
But maybe—just maybe—it really did start with a mop and a dream in the Mayser Center.
It sounds like the setup to a joke—an NBA head coach’s origin story beginning with a mop, a college gym, and Charles Barkley in full sweat. But sometimes, truth has a way of out-plotting fiction.
More than 30 years ago, Chris Finch was a government major at tiny Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. His side gig? Wiping up spills and rebounding basketballs for the visiting Philadelphia 76ers during training camp. Today, he’s drawing up game plans for Anthony Edwards and the Minnesota Timberwolves, one of the most dangerous teams in the West.
A leap? Absolutely. But if greatness is contagious, maybe Finch caught something all those years ago—leaning on a mop, watching Barkley throw down dunks like a human wrecking ball.
Now 55, Finch is closing out his fourth full season as Minnesota’s head coach. Last year’s Western Conference Finals appearance wasn’t a fluke, and the Timberwolves look ready to make noise again. As of Thursday, they’d won 13 of their last 16 games, climbing to 45-32 and fighting for a playoff spot in a Western Conference that eats teams alive. Edwards continues to rise like a future MVP, and with Julius Randle and Donte DiVincenzo finally healthy, the Wolves are looking less like survivors—and more like contenders.
But Finch’s road here? It wasn’t paved. It was patched together—across continents, across divisions, through obscurity and opportunity alike.
Before the NBA sidelines, there were overseas courts and second chances. Before that, there was F&M. And before all of it, there was the Sixers’ training camp—hosted every fall in the very gym where Finch played his college ball.
Back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, Finch and his F&M teammates doubled as training camp staff—glorified ball boys, really. Rebounding, towel duty, cleaning up after grown men with All-Star contracts. For a diehard Sixers fan who still remembered every detail of the ‘83 title run, it was surreal.
The memory resurfaced this March in Miami. Minnesota’s locker room was streaming an NCAA game: F&M vs. Catholic University. It was a blowout. Catholic was cruising. Someone asked Finch about the Mayser Center—his alma mater’s old gym. He grinned, calling it the “Diplodome,” a tongue-in-cheek nod to F&M’s mascot, the Diplomats.
And then he brought up Barkley.
Finch remembered walking by the trainer’s room one day and overhearing Barkley and Rick Mahorn cracking jokes. “Put it this way,” Finch laughed, “I don’t think they had their evening fun in Lancaster.” That’s about all he recalls. But that tiny sliver of memory—NBA legends in a small-town college gym—feels oddly symbolic now.
Jim Lynam, the Sixers’ head coach at the time, doesn’t remember Finch from those days, but he appreciates the symmetry.
“If you’re around basketball long enough,” Lynam said, “your paths are bound to cross.”
Had he known Finch would one day coach in the league, Lynam said he’d offer just one piece of advice: “It all comes down to how you deal with the group.” No matter the level—high school, college, or NBA—great coaches know how to connect.
Back then, Finch had no plans to coach. A career in politics? Maybe. Academia? Possibly. He’d played at a high level—twice an All-American, helped F&M reach the DIII national championship game—but his future felt open-ended. Then F&M assistant Mike McKonly planted a seed: Have you ever thought about coaching?
Finch had, but vaguely. That suggestion soon turned into a first gig—an assistant role at Conrad Weiser High School in 1992. Still, it didn’t feel like the beginning of a career. Not yet.
That turning point came overseas. Finch played professionally in Sheffield, England, for four seasons before the team made a bold ask: would he consider becoming their head coach? He was 27, and he’d be coaching teammates he’d just been sharing a locker room with.
“Looking back, it’s pretty wild,” Finch said later. “I wouldn’t have hired me at 27.”
Yet Sheffield rolled the dice, and Finch made it work. Over the next several years, he built his resume in Europe—coaching in Germany, Belgium, and eventually facing off with another up-and-comer in the British leagues: Nick Nurse.
At first, they were rivals. But they grew close, teaming up for Great Britain’s national team (including the 2012 Olympics), and later reuniting in Toronto—Finch as an assistant under Nurse with the Raptors.
Stateside, Finch climbed the ranks the hard way—through the Houston Rockets’ G-League affiliate, then onto NBA benches in Houston, Denver, New Orleans, and finally Toronto. In 2021, Minnesota gave him the call.
His first few seasons were turbulent but promising. This year, the promise is finally crystallizing. Even after trading away five-time All-Star Karl-Anthony Towns in a three-team deal that brought Randle and DiVincenzo, Finch kept the Wolves afloat.
At the start of the season, things looked shaky. The defense was sharp, but the offense? Not so much.
“We were stuck in the mud,” Finch admitted. “It was brutal. We were just trying to tread water.”
But they’ve emerged from the depths. On March 16, Finch picked up his 200th career win, joining Flip Saunders as the only Timberwolves coaches to hit that milestone. He did it faster, too—356 games to Saunders’ 393.
From mopping floors to milestones. From Division III to the NBA playoffs. If you tried to script this career, you’d be told to tone it down. Too implausible. Too roundabout.
But maybe—just maybe—it really did start with a mop and a dream in the Mayser Center.
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