At Virginia Wesleyan, a small-college stalwart

Five years after he played his last game, Marques Fitch can not only hear the voice, he can do the voice.

That accent. The Rs at the end of the words flattened, like empty cardboard boxes.

That tone. Pure Northeastern gravel. In full, toss-a-player-out-of-practice mode, like the sound of a snow plow blade meeting asphalt.

"Mah-kus, yah've got to get yah turnovahs down, Mah-kus!" Fitch bellowed over the phone, doing his best impression of his former coach, Virginia Wesleyan's Dave Macedo.

It was a credible "Macedo voice" as Marlins players call it, but there's only one real thing. For 12 seasons, it has been the soundtrack to one of the most successful small college basketball programs in the nation.

Virginia Wesleyan won a nationaltitle in 2006, reached the final game in 2007, and, with five starters back from a 25-5 team, tips off the season tonight as the preseason No. 1 in NCAA Division III.

Just 26 and single when he took the job, Macedo, 38, is married, with three kids under 5. He's one of the state's most successful and longest-tenured basketball coaches. The inclination is to wonder what he's still doing in Division III.

The more you learn about him, the wonder is why he'd ever leave.

"It's my passion," he said. "It's what I played. It's what I know."

Division III is, by reputation, the quaint corner of college athletics. It's the level Norman Rockwell would have painted. The small-town values division, in which players compete for the love of the game.

While there's truth to that, the flip side is, with no athletic scholarship money involved, the NCAA mostly keeps its tentacles out.

Division III rarely sleeps. When it comes to recruiting, the lifeblood of any program, it's a largely deregulated marketplace, a meritocracy of sweat and hustle. Unlike Division I, there are no dead periods, no quiet periods. Recruit every day if you like. Go see a player as often as you want. There also are no restrictions on live scouting of opponents, something forbidden in Division I.

So by all means, hit the road.

This suits Macedo fine.

"You can work as hard as you want," he said.

He's a grinder from way back, always chasing something. Growing up in Somerset, Mass., it was the dynasty across the Taunton River. Durfee High, in the old mill city of Fall River, was one of the state's power programs.

"Tough city, tough team," Macedo said. "We wanted to be those guys. We wanted to be them, and we wanted to beat them."

Somerset, a much smaller school, finally did during Macedo's senior year. He went on to play at Division III Wilkes University.

A point guard, Macedo was a tenacious defender with a knack for keeping his man in front of him. On offense, he got his teammates involved. He started on teams that twice reached the NCAA Elite Eight.

"He played with three of the best scorers that ever played here," Wilkes coach Jerry Rickrode said. "Those guys got a lot of the accolades, but Dave was a key piece, to put it lightly, kind of the glue of the team."

After graduation, Macedo stayed at Wilkes to pursue his master's degree and coach under Rickrode. When he finished, Rickrode helped him land a job at Virginia Wesleyan under Terry Butterfield, an old friend.

Butterfield was fired two years later. Macedo was named interim coach. Wesleyan announced that it would conduct a national search for a permanent hire. Macedo met with President Billy Greer.

"He walks in, this wide-eyed high-energy guy," Greer recalled. "He said, 'If you give me this job, I promise you that nobody will ever outwork me.'

"There was so much power in what he said and the way he said it. It was so believable.

"He didn't know it, but he had my vote when he left my office."

The national search turned up a guy down the hall.

It didn't take Macedo long to realize he wouldn't be successful unless he could land some local talent. Fitch, from Kellam High, was the first local player he really went after. Fitch knew next to nothing about Wesleyan, but he realized Macedo meant business when he turned up at a game on Valentine's Day, with his fiancee, Kristen, now his wife, in tow.

Macedo's ardor trumped the lukewarm affections of some small Division I and Division II teams. Fitch chose Wesleyan and became a key piece of the 2006 national championship team.

"I knew 100 percent they really wanted me," he said.

So did D.J. Woodmore, last year's national freshman of the year, after Wesleyan coaches came to 28 of his 30 games during his senior year at Landstown High.

"That passion they recruited me with is what sold me," said Woodmore.

Passion is not optional when there are no scholarships. Division III athletes receive need- and academic-based aid only, like any other student. How high you jump or fast you run doesn't factor into it.

Wesleyan is not an inexpensive school - tuition, room and board approach $40,000 - and everyone pays something.

"I don't go here for free, but there's a lot of money coming my way due to financial aid and scholarships and grant money for my hard work academically in high school," Woodmore said.

Enough that he turned down some Division II scholarship offers. It was a coup for Macedo, who needs to beat schools in higher divisions for players to win big in Division III. The Marlins often compete for players with Division I programs such as Longwood and VMI. Wesleyan's teams annually are considered among the most athletic in the division. They're known for a relentless, pressing style.

"They always very mentally tough," said Nathan Davis, coach of conference rival Randolph-Macon. "They're a confident group that really competes."

People have taken notice. Macedo said he's gotten calls over the years feeling out his interest in other jobs. He's never considered leaving, he said.

"I don't think he's hung up on what level he coaches at," Rickrode said. "He wants stability. The school took a chance on him when he was young, and I think he's loyal."

He enjoys the blank canvas Division III affords. With no need to worry about wasting a scholarship, he can carry 20 players on his roster. No need to turn someone away who can help the team, even if it's only in practice.

He can travel them all, if he raises the money to cover the cost.

He believes his level is where coaches can affect players the most. He's got a supportive administration and one of the nicer home courts in the division.

His wife is all in as well. Kristen Macedo's first Valentine's Day with him was spent on a recruiting trip to the Eastern Shore. Her present: a bag of peanuts picked up on the way home.

She knew what she was signing up for. She grew up with Dave in Somerset. They went their separate ways after high school, and re-connected as adults, when Dave came home for his grandmother's wake.

Kristen asked him what he did. He told her he was a basketball coach.

What else do you do, she asked.

"It did not take me long to figure out he did not do much more than basketball," she said.

Macedo tries. He has a plaque on his desk that says "Family First." Often, that means bringing the family along.

His two older kids have the run of the gym, and possession of his championship ring, which he's not interested in wearing anyway.

"They call it the ring of power," he said.

Everything revolves around basketball, even the birth of his youngest child, 11-month old Declan James. Kristen gave birth at 1:15 in the morning. Dave was on the court about 12 hours later, at her urging.

She says if someone had told her 10 years ago that she'd give birth and her husband would coach a game the same day, she would have told them they were crazy.

Now it seems natural.

"It's not just his career, it's our life," she said. "We work around basketball. It's who we are."

Ed Miller, (757) 446-2372, ed.miller@pilotonline.com