This is the second article of a two part series that explores a unique 12-year contract that was given to ISU women’s basketball coach Bill Fennelly.

“I appreciate your time” &#8212 Bill Fennelly’s trademark phrase.

The statement can be heard from him after nearly every encounter. Even when he’s the one doing the favor, he’ll find a way to slip it in.

Although the phrase is simple, the magnitude of the message it brings far outweighs its simplicity, and it leaves a lasting impact with almost everyone he meets.

“He knows he’s where he is with the help of a lot of people, and he never forgets that,” said assistant coach Jodi Steyer, who has coached with Fennelly for 11 seasons.

“I think, honestly, he is just really genuine, and he appreciates all the support he gets, and he appreciates the players and their hard work. He appreciates us as a staff and what we do.”

The phrase exemplifies what is truly unique about Fennelly – he cares. The phrase itself doesn’t hold much meaning, but it’s just one example of the mindset and culture he conveys each and every day.

To work for Fennelly is to work with him. His program has never been about him, but rather about “we.” It’s that ideal that, perhaps, has helped him recover from what he called the lowest point of his career.

Last January, after losing three straight conference games, Fennelly’s team sat at 1-3 in the Big 12 and was struggling to grasp the mindset and culture of basketball he preached. Fennelly’s best friend, Dan McCarney, had resigned, job security was suddenly an issue and, for the first time, the thought of walking away from his home of 12 years had found its way in to his mind.

“That truly was a low, low point, and you know you have those in this line of work,” said Deb Fennelly, Bill’s wife. “It’s a roller-coaster kind of job: You’re either feeling like you’re ready to get out of it, or you’re ready to coach for 20 more years.”

It wasn’t just Bill being affected by the low. Everyone, from his family to his players to his coaches, were feeling the same stress that he revealed with his statement.

“It’s hard, because it’s one of those jobs that, when I leave here, I take it with me, and that means you take it home,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s fun to go to the NCAA Tournament, and people see all that stuff, but they don’t see the times when you go home, you’re 1-3, life’s not very good, you’re getting your butt kicked around and you got to go home – it’s very hard on your family. I always tell people at coaching clinics that if you are going to stay in this business, you better be surrounded by a family that understands, whether it’s your wife or husband or kids, they have to understand it.”

And Bill’s family does understand.

“You can’t always say the things you think they want to hear. You have to say some things they don’t want to hear,” Deb said. “Wives support their husbands, and I do all that all the time. But at some point, sometimes you have to say, ‘All right, pull your head out, let’s go.'”

Bill wasn’t ready to get out of it, and the people involved in his program – and his life – weren’t going to let him, even if he had wanted to.

“We knew we had to get the program turned around right there,” Steyer said.

When you make it a point to make everyone feel a part of your program, you’re not alone when you are at your low, and it makes it that much easier to get to get back to a high.

“It’s easy to come to work when you know somebody appreciates you,” Steyer said. “As somebody that works for him, when you know that somebody has your best interest in mind, it’s pretty easy to want to go through a brick wall for the guy.”

With a family that understands and a staff willing to “go through a brick wall” for you, staying at a low wasn’t likely to last very long.

And they didn’t. Fennelly’s team rebounded, made a surprise run to the Big 12 Championship, received an NCAA Tournament berth, and, just two months removed from the lowest point of his career, he was at possibly the highest point – a brand new 12-year contract extension.

When Fennelly picked up win No. 400 last season, he was asked about the possibility of reaching 500. That was a notion he quickly dismissed.

Now Fennelly sits at 425 career wins, and with a brand-new contract, the milestone doesn’t seem so out of reach. But as always with him, it’s not about reaching the milestone, it’s about the people who will help him get there.

“I’m going through some stuff right now to reflect on all the young people that allowed it to happen,” he said.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about all those people and all the work they have done and the staffs you’ve had. The other thing is, it means you’re getting old too.”

Fennelly will be 62 when his current extension ends. The question becomes: Will he be done coaching? Steyer doesn’t think so. His wife thinks he will be, but as for Bill – well, maybe he doesn’t even know.

“If I’m healthy and I’m still doing a decent job, then I want to coach until I’m done. I love being here. If it’s not coaching it will be something else. I’d like to find something to do here – I’d like to keep working. I’m not going to be ready to retire,” Fennelly said. “I don’t think you’ll see me coaching past 62 though – I don’t think.”

Then again, he didn’t think he’d get 500 wins. Fennelly’s legacy won’t be determined by the number of wins or by winning the NCAA Tournament. His legacy is already set.

He is the perfect example of not only just how to run a program, but how to treat people. This just might be the last 12 years Fennelly has to cement that legacy.

Just in case it is – appreciate his time.