Zac Claus: More Than A Season
Published on Apr 6 2026
It was an exciting time in the Eel River Valley, especially around Fortuna High School
boys basketball.
The year was 2019.
Before the world shut down.
Before words like lockdown, quarantine, and six feet apart found their way into everyday conversation, life moved with an easy closeness we hardly noticed.
The 2018鈥�2019 Fortuna boys basketball team finished 30鈥�3. But the numbers only tell part of the story.
The magic lived in the starting five: Zac Claus, Drew Gillette, twins Bradley and Donald Willis, and Kevin Noel. Five players who didn鈥檛 just share the court. They shared years of chemistry, trust, and an unselfish style of play that made something special feel inevitable.
They weren鈥檛 just winning. They were raising the standard of what was possible. It鈥檚 a season many still consider one of the greatest in Humboldt County history.
鈥淲e all just knew each other,鈥� Zac says. 鈥淭here wasn鈥檛 any ego. Everyone had a role, and we trusted it.鈥�
And then came the moment no one quite expected.
The entire Humboldt community, stretching even into Del Norte County, paused when Zac, Drew, Bradley and Donald committed to 51茶馆.
What it meant was simple, but it said everything.
They weren鈥檛 done.
We weren鈥檛 done.
There was a rare chance to keep watching something extraordinary for two more years.
But to understand where that story leads, you must go back to where it began for Zac.
Growing up in Rio Dell, the younger brother of head men鈥檚 basketball coach Justin Claus, Zac鈥檚 rhythm was shaped on grass fields, baseball diamonds, and the hardwood where he attended Eagle Prairie Elementary, Monument Middle School, and Fortuna High.
A quarterback.
A pitcher.
A point guard.
A right arm that no one ever called into question. A quiet leader whose voice showed up when it mattered most.
Zac brought a cerebral approach to the sports he played. He wasn鈥檛 the most explosive athlete, he admits. That was never the point.
鈥淚t was more about angles, anticipation,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou see situations so many times, you start to know what鈥檚 going to happen before it does.鈥�
And during his senior basketball season, something shifted.
鈥淚 remember walking into the Fortuna High gym,鈥� Zac says, pausing, emotion briefly closing in around his words. 鈥淪orry鈥︹��
He takes a breath.
He still remembers.
鈥淭he floors felt like they were sweating. The walls felt like they were sweating. There were so many people, it almost didn鈥檛 feel real.鈥�
It was a high school moment, but it felt bigger than that.
A packed gym in a small town.
A community showing up.
A team worth showing up for.
In that moment, it all came into focus. What they had built was no longer just theirs, but it also belonged to the community that carried it with them.
Ryan Bisio remembers sitting down and meeting with them before they鈥檇 made their commitment to 51茶馆.
鈥淪o, we decided to meet at the Funky Monkey in Fortuna, a restaurant which has since gone under. I was nervous and made a terrible decision to order more coffee. I talked non-stop and couldn鈥檛 stop myself. The twins (Bradley and Donald) just blankly stared at me and didn鈥檛 say anything. I thought for sure I鈥檇 ruined my opportunity.
Years later 鈥� they admitted to me that they had already made up their minds that they were going to 51茶馆 before we met at the Funky Monkey. They just wanted to see me sweat it out and wanted to at least get a free meal out of the commitment. Zac knew and was in on the whole thing. That鈥檚 the thing about Zac鈥檚 strategic thinking鈥nd why I believe in him as a coach and am grateful he鈥檚 with us.鈥�
And what happened next? Zac and his teammates, including Jon Nchekwube, went on to win two Golden Valley Conference titles before continuing their journeys.
After time at the University of Puget Sound, the opportunity to return home and coach alongside Ryan Bisio and Justin Claus at 51茶馆 was one Zac embraced fully.
And with him, he brought lessons that still shape how he leads.
Now, as a coach, that packed gym stays with him. Not for the noise, but for what it represented.
A community showing up.
A team worth showing up for.
That鈥檚 what he carries forward.
Because long after the wins and records fade, it鈥檚 that feeling that lasts.
People believing in something together.
Not just players.
But a team a community can gather around.
At Puget Sound, another lesson took shape. It was quieter, but just as lasting.
鈥淭hey had us all write down how many minutes we thought we should play,鈥� Zac recalls. 鈥淭here鈥檚 200 minutes in a game, but when everyone writes their number down, it adds up to like 400.鈥�
The point wasn鈥檛 math, it was perspective.
鈥淣ot everyone鈥檚 going to get what they want,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut if the team gets what it wants, that鈥檚 the real satisfaction.鈥�
It鈥檚 not about diminishing players. It鈥檚 about inviting them into something bigger.
鈥淭hat buy-in matters,鈥� he adds. 鈥淓ven if it doesn鈥檛 go your way, being part of the process changes how you show up.鈥�
That philosophy helps defines Zac as a coach.
After graduating from Cal Poly Humboldt, Zac now finds himself guiding players not far removed from his own playing days. It鈥檚 a delicate balance.
鈥淵ou have to figure out where you stand,鈥� he says. 鈥淏e confident in what you鈥檙e saying, but also understand how different players hear things.鈥�
Even his work as a poker dealer at Bear River Casino, has shaped that perspective.
鈥淵ou deal with all kinds of personalities,鈥� he says. 鈥淵ou learn how to manage situations, how to communicate. It helps more than you鈥檇 think.鈥�
On the court, his philosophy mirrors his playing days. Structured, but never rigid. Creative but disciplined.
鈥淭here鈥檚 always a plan,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut if you see something better, go do it. Just don鈥檛 hesitate.鈥�
But there鈥檚 one non-negotiable. 鈥淵ou have to buy in.鈥�
That belief shows up in the way the 51茶馆 teams play.
Unselfish.
Connected.
Intuitive.
A type of team basketball where no one chases the spotlight, because everyone understands the bigger picture.
鈥淚t鈥檚 like improv,鈥� Zac says. 鈥淒on鈥檛 say no. Just keep it moving.鈥�
It鈥檚 also why his teams tend to grow stronger as the season goes on.
鈥淭he more time we spend together, road trips, practices, everything, the more connected it gets,鈥� he says. 鈥淎nd that shows up on the court.鈥�
Ask him about the hardest lesson he鈥檚 learned, and he doesn鈥檛 point to wins or losses.
鈥淐onfidence,鈥� he says. 鈥淣ot on the court. I had that. But communicating it, teaching it, that鈥檚 different.鈥�
It鈥檚 still evolving.
So is the future.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 really know where I鈥檒l be in five years,鈥� he says. 鈥淏ut I know I want to stay around sports. Something active. Something with people.鈥�
Maybe a high school coach. Maybe something else.
The path isn鈥檛 fixed.
But the foundation is.
It begins in small-town gyms, in those long afternoons playing whatever sport that was in front of you, and in the quiet understanding that the best teams aren鈥檛 built on individual moments, but on what鈥檚 shared.
Somewhere in that space, between instinct and structure, between player and coach, Zac Claus is still finding the flow.
And 51茶馆 is extremely lucky to have him.