By Gary Shelton, Times Sports Columnist
Monday, April 4, 2011
HOUSTON — And now it was at an end, perhaps, and the old man was walking toward another trophy, a bit of controversy tagging along behind, and down deep, he didn't give a tinker's damn about what anyone else thought of any of it.
There have been so many games for Jim Calhoun, and so many fights, and so many curse words that needed to be shouted in the direction of a player who wouldn't do right or a ref that couldn't see right or a basketball that wouldn't bounce right. He has coached more than 1,200 games now, and every one of them is written in his face.
He has been so many people through so many viewfinders, Calhoun. Coach. Grump. Champion. Cheat. Mentor. Bully. Bulldog. Tyrant. Comedian. Saint. Sinner. Survivor. He has taken some lumps, and given some out.
Along the way, every now and then, Calhoun has had a night such as this.
For Calhoun, this had to be the finest moment in a career that has provided a few.
After all the games, all the years, he got to wave a national championship trophy in the face of his critics. What could be more fun?
Give Calhoun credit for this. He figured it out. This was his third title, but his best coaching job. With three freshmen and a sophomore starting, with a ninth-place finish in the Big East, with his name in headlines throughout, he found a way to guide his team to a title. He turned Kemba Walker and the Teen Titans into champions.
Monday, his team managed to out-underdog Butler in a 53-41 win. This time, UConn's defense smothered the Bulldogs (Butler hit only eight of its first 52 shots from the floor) This time, UConn ruled the boards. This time, the Huskies played in that feisty, defiant mode of their head coach.
All in all, a pretty good final act, which makes you wonder if it was indeed Calhoun's final act.
This might have been it for Calhoun, you know. If you have ever seen Calhoun stalk a sideline, it may be difficult to imagine him no longer there. But he is a month from his 69th birthday, and he has survived three bouts of cancer, and even his friends are telling him this might be the time to walk away.
Calhoun admits that he thinks about it. He once told his wife that he would retire at 50. ("I lied," he said.) He has just had his knuckles rapped by the NCAA for creating "an air of non-compliance." His reputation has taken a pounding.
So why not leave?
But this is Calhoun, basketball's cantankerous uncle, and the more you think about it, the less it sounds likely. The guy likes a fight too much to walk away. He likes getting in the last word too much to walk away. He likes winning games like Monday night's too much to walk away.
"I would think (walking away) is a legitimate question," Calhoun said. "I don't know if I look battled today. Maybe I do. I didn't sleep very much. But 10 years ago, I was on a plane with Dean Smith, and Dean said, 'Don't ever make a decision on your basketball future right after a season. Give yourself some time, space and distance and then make a decision.' "
In other words: Don't push me.
As much as anything, that's Calhoun's legacy. He has led a don't-push-me life, and he's had a don't-push-me career. Even now, he tells the story of coming home from baseball practice at age 15 and hearing that his father had died. He remembers getting up at 6 a.m. to pump gas, and working in the candy factory, and in the quarry, and in the shipyard. He came up the hard way, not like all of these young coaches who look like law students.
"I never mind the underdog role," Calhoun said. "I guess it's the story of my life."
Still, he won, more than 850 times. Three times, he has won national titles. He kicked in the saloon doors the Hall of Fame. He pulled UConn into the big time. He has more tournament wins than John Wooden. He has as many titles as Bob Knight. He has sworn as often as the U.S. Navy.
For all of it, the world cannot decide on Calhoun. Even now, with his career in twilight, he is not far from the shadow of Nate Miles, a former UConn recruit who says Calhoun was fully aware of all of the rules that were broken in his pursuit.
"What others say, A, it depends on who it is," Calhoun snarls. "B, what they're saying and how much validity it has. C, how they're chasing the dead horse. Do I hear it? Yeah, I do, because that's who I am.
"The bottom line is we can all survive what we need to survive if we know who we are. One thing I'll guarantee you, I know who I am. I know what I've done in 39 years of coaching. Have I made mistakes? Yes. Do I have warts? Yeah, I do. But I'm comfortable with who I am."
There are those who are less comfortable, those who think he should be stronger on details and not so much on defiance, and that Calhoun is the wrong guy to determine the whether the horse lives on. There are those who think Calhoun should stop clubbing the world with the chip on his shoulder.
"I don't know what chip you're talking about," he said. "When I read about myself, I don't know who they're talking about. You know I'm on the board of the Eugene O'Neill Theater. You know there's a Calhoun Cardiac Center where they raised $7 million for me? You know I'm an avid bike rider, that I've run 12 marathons?
"But the edge I've maintained. I would hope you never lose your edge. If you went to Roy Williams or Mike Krzyzewski, if they don't fear failure more than they seek success, I'd be very surprised."
Think of him how you will. With Calhoun, there is truth to them all. When Calhoun walks away, if he walks away, there will be a lot of different footprints leaving the gym.
A lot of different trophies, too.