When Phil Martelli was coaching men’s basketball at Saint Joseph’s University, his family knew to leave him alone on game days. “I stayed out of his way. I made the kids stay out of his way,” says Judy, his wife of 48 years. “He had a routine.”
One day, Judy came upstairs at home to find her husband pressed against the wall. She asked him what he was doing.
“I’m playing hide-and-seek with Philip,” he said, referring to his grandson, whose family was living with them at the time.
“I asked him if he wanted me to get Philip out of his way,” Judy says. “He said, ‘No. It’s OK.’”
There wasn’t much else that could alter Martelli’s routine—until he was blindsided with the biggest change of his life in 2019, when Saint Joe’s let him go. He’d been at the school for 34 years, leading the Hawks to seven NCAA tournaments and six NIT appearances in his 24 seasons as head coach.
Most coaches have slogans and phrases they use to motivate their players. Martelli has used plenty of them during his career. These days, though, he’s more focused on what he calls “the power of thank you.” It’s the sort of mantra inspired by life experience—and at 70, Martelli has had plenty of that.
This past April, during his final week as an assistant men’s basketball coach at the University of Michigan, Martelli addressed a leadership class at the school via Zoom. There were about 300 people on the call, and Martelli imparted the wisdom that comes from nearly 50 years coaching at the high school and collegiate levels. He thought the message registered, but it was impossible to know how it actually landed—until the middle of the night.
“I love the game, and I love the competition. If I was to boil it down to what my favorite thing was, it would be the locker room—the relationships and interactions I craved every day.”
“I got an email that still makes me tear up,” says Martelli. “A young woman told me she called her parents on Zoom after hearing me speak to thank them for paying her tuition.”
It’s a warm fall day, and Martelli is sitting in the kitchen of his Media home discussing the Make a Difference campaign, an endeavor he aims to take to businesses, schools, teams and anybody else interested in enhancing leadership and communication skills. With in-person talks, social media posts and podcasts, he weaves stories from his days as a coach into a compelling, from-the-heart presentation that often makes him feel “as tired as I was after coaching a game,” he admits. “I’m coming with leadership and theories I hope will take you from good to great.”
It’s an apt next chapter for Martelli, who’s also doing some consulting with basketball coaches and providing TV analysis on Fox and ESPN. This is what’s fired his furnace since he returned this past May from Ann Arbor, where he spent five years assisting Juwan Howard at Michigan. It’s also the byproduct of his life experiences, including the jolt of being dismissed after almost a quarter century as the winningest head coach in Saint Joe’s history.
Martelli’s gregarious nature and storytelling acumen have made him a coveted public speaker over the past several decades. Judy estimates that her husband has addressed every Catholic youth organization in the Philadelphia area at one time or another. In September, Martelli spoke at the national sales meeting of FlynnO’Hara, the Philadelphia-based school uniform company with branches in New York, Maryland, Georgia, Florida and Texas. “What’s appealing to people is that it never feels scripted,” says Kevin Flynn, FlynnO’Hara’s co-president and COO. “You don’t need to know about high school or college basketball for him to tell you a story.”
Dan Hilferty, Comcast’s chairman and CEO, is one of the most devoted Saint Joe’s alums on the planet. “Phil was an innovative coach and has a charisma about him,” Hilferty says. “I think of him as a motivator.”
During his high school coaching days, Martelli once called for a defensive change on the court. When a player ignored him, he took him out of the game. The next morning, Martelli got a call from the kid’s mother. It turns out her son was deaf in his left ear. Martelli had no idea.
“Was that a real relationship?” he poses. “I say to people, ‘Real relationships? You know what you need to know about those you know.’”
Those who know Martelli understand that he was a bit lost when he returned home after Michigan fired its head coach. The level of uncertainty was difficult to endure—especially for a coach who could recite February practice times in November. “There was a lot of angst,” says Judy, a member of three national championship basketball teams at Immaculata University. “He was beside himself. He wanted something on the books for every day.”
Martelli spent much of the summer at the Shore with his 10 grandchildren, which was therapeutic—but it wasn’t enough. He’d hoped he and Howard would stick around one more year at Michigan. “I love the game, and I love the competition,” Martelli says. “If I was to boil it down to what my favorite thing was, it would be the locker room—the relationships and interactions I craved every day.”
When coaches retire, they often go exclusively into broadcasting. Martelli’s got more on his plate, including a 100-page coaching curriculum he offers to those in the profession. Then there’s Make a Difference, which spans a variety of mediums. Every morning at 6:30, he crafts the Martelli Minute for Instagram—a continuation of something he began at Michigan to keep players, coaches and staff connected. One day this past October, he spoke about how “small steps today enable big leaps tomorrow.” The next, he focused on the process of change: “Change is up to you. If you desire to alter any aspect of your life, start the process now.”
Martelli also has a weekly podcast produced by his nephew Jared Phillips, a former TV reporter. Aside from his musings, it features interviews with people in a variety of professions, from athletics to business to education. And, of course, there are the in-person presentations. “When I go to speak, I tell thematic stories about real relationships,” he says.
Oftentimes, he’ll focus on the signposts that guide us—and he doesn’t shy away from getting personal. Martelli’s late father, Philip Sr., always paid his bills early—and usually in person. One day several years ago, he set out for the water company office in Sharon Hill, taking the same route he always had. This time, though, he ended up in West Philadelphia.
Martelli’s sisters called him, frantic. “They thought we had to institutionalize him that day for dementia,” he says.
Martelli arrived at his father’s house and asked him what happened. “They knocked down the Sunoco,” his father said, referring to one of his key landmarks. “I told them, ‘He’s fine,’ and I left,” Martelli says. “Landmarks help keep us organized.”
When Martelli spoke at a recent retreat for varsity sports coaches from the Hill School in Pottstown, athletic director Seth Eilberg had something specific in mind. “I wanted to set the tone for the day before we got into the transactional stuff involved in coaching,” says Hill, who’s also the school’s varsity boys basketball coach. “Phil tries to remind coaches how powerful their voice is and the opportunity they have to make a difference in kids’ lives. He talks about how we have to be intentional and thoughtful with our words.”
Martelli doesn’t have to be working this hard. He’s certainly earned enough from his coaching days to be comfortable financially. But as much as he enjoys his family, he wants to work. He wants to connect. “He’s about relationships,” says former Saint Joe’s athletic director Don DiJulia, who now works in the school’s advancement office. “If he’s among people, that’s what gets him going.”
Five years since his firing, Martelli takes a gracious stance on his abrupt departure from Saint Joe’s—a blow his wife calls “devastating.” “I’m grateful to have taken away cherished memories and lifetime relationships,” he says.
DiJulia is certain Martelli was hurt. How could he not have been? “He invested his whole self there,” DiJulia says.
Hilferty has been outspoken about the firing. “I thought Phil had earned the right to work with the school to make his own plan to move on,” he says.
For his part, Martelli rebounded in a matter of months. During his five years at Michigan, he had two opportunities to take charge of the team—once when Howard was suspended, and another when he was sidelined by a significant heart issue. Martelli’s record was 8-7. Alas, the Wolverines won just eight games in 2023-24 and finished last in the Big Ten. That ended both coaches’ tenures at the school.
“Coaching to me was not the Xs and Os—it was always about the relationships,” Martelli says. “Those relationships could go with the media. They could go with the fans. They could go with the alums. They could go with the administration. They could go with the players. They could go with the players’ families. They could go with your opponents.”
Whether it’s in a locker room, a conference room or an auditorium. Martelli knows his audience. “To me, making a difference is an interaction, any interaction, where I can bring one person to think—not to agree, but to just think,” he says.
“He’s still got lots of gas in the tank,” says La Salle University basketball coach Fran Dunphy, who is 76. “For a lot of people, reaching this age and accomplishing as much as Phil has, it would be enough. He still has itches to scratch and wants to do some good.”
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