Rebels coach Bill Bayno keeps a fast-break schedule

Steve Carp

Wednesday, Nov. 11, 1998 | 10:55 a.m.

It can be just as taxing as Le Mans. Marathons might be easier to handle. And be grateful there are only 24 hours in a day.

It may be easy to be Bill Bayno. But keeping up with the 36-year-old UNLV basketball coach is no day at the beach. Even if he's at The Beach.

His world is nonstop. An express train instead of the local. Even when he makes stops, such as to the men's restroom at the Thomas & Mack Center to heed nature's call, he has his cellular phone with him.

In fact, it's rare to see Bayno without a phone glued to his ear. It's part of his persona. It's also part of his success.

"You can get a lot done on the phone," he said in that raspy New York voice of his. "It's the great equalizer."

Equalizer to what? Eight instead of seven days a week?

You want to know what it's like to hang out with Bayno for 24 hours? Read on. And grab some fresh coffee, for it's a long, long day.

10 a.m. -- It had been a long night for Bayno. Not only did he put his team through a tough practice, but the annual Scarlet and Gray scrimmage had taken place. Adding to it was the appearance of John Calipari, Bayno's boss from his days at Massachusetts. The two had burned the midnight oil over dinner, swapping stories and getting a few basketball pearls of wisdom.

Bayno has been on the phone already, dealing with all sorts of things. A booster is trying to upgrade his season tickets at the Thomas & Mack and is asking Bayno for help. Milwaukee Brewers pitcher Scott Karl is trying to get comped into a show on the Strip, and he's a friend of a friend of Bayno's. A reporter from the school paper at Bayno's alma mater, Sacred Heart, is trying to line up an interview with him for a story he's working on prior to the Nov. 14 game between UNLV and Sacred Heart.

Between his office, his home phone and his cell phone, Bayno estimates he has 100 calls to return today. There's no way he's going to get to everyone. So he prioritizes.

"A lot of times, I don't get back to people," he said. "I just don't have the time."

11:35 a.m. -- Every day, Bayno clears his slate to meet with the local media. Some days, it's busy. other days, it's quiet. On this day, only one reporter shows and he pretty much has carte blanche with the coach.

11:40 a.m. -- Time to check in with trainer Dave Tomchek on the status of Bayno's injured players. His main concern is backup center Issiah Epps, who pulled a groin muscle the day before and didn't participate in the scrimmage. Tomchek's not picking up, so Bayno leaves him a message to call him back.

1 p.m. -- Bayno gets back to the booster, telling him he's willing to offer some of his own seats in a swap, if that'll make him happy.

"One of the toughest jobs is dealing with the boosters," he said after hanging up. 'They're so demanding. But they're important, so you try to do what you can."

1:05 p.m. -- Time for the daily staff meeting. Associate head coach Glynn Cyprien, assistants Greg Vetrone and Dave Rice and director of basketball operations Barry Rohrssen get comfortable in Bayno's office, as he begins talking about some of the plays Calipari gave him the day before.

Bayno's concern is whether Calipari's stuff might be too difficult for the Rebels to run effectively. Actually, the plays are very similar to what UNLV already runs. But the consensus opinion is to get the rest of the plays in the playbook and into the players' heads before adding something new.

Mostly, the talk is about different wrinkles for the offense, giving certain players more freedom. There's also a need to develop an offense that will work effectively against zone defenses. And while the opinions vary, no decisions are made.

1:45 p.m. -- Bayno is still waiting for a tape breaking down the team's scrimmage. He finally gets it, dissects it and points out the good and bad, much to the agreement of his staff.

2:40 p.m. -- The meeting ends. And while the assistants head downstairs to get ready for practice, Bayno stays behind to put the finishing touches on what the day's plan will be.

"We're going to throw some new stuff at them," he said of the offensive set he will put in today at practice. "I hope the new guys pick it up quickly."

In the 90 minutes he has been in meetings, at least 10 new phone messages were taken. He calls his girlfriend, Tiffany, to make sure he's where he's supposed to be after practice -- a benefit for a battered women's shelter.

His practice plan set, Bayno heads down to the arena floor. When told that the dialogue in the coaches' meeting was healthy, he said, "Yeah. But ultimately, I have to figure out how we're going to play."

3 p.m. -- The team meets in the locker room to review the tape from the scrimmage. It's a long film session.

3:37 p.m. -- Practice time. Usually, the media is barred from practice. But interviews are allowed prior to the start. However, nobody shows up. It's just the players and the coaches, which is the way Bayno likes it.

If you wondered why Bayno is so vocal in the games, it's because he coaches the same way on the practice floor. He's shouting instructions, encouraging some of the Rebels while chiding those he feels aren't putting out the maximum effort.

"Sprint to screen!" he exhorts during one drill. "Move! Move!" he yells during another.

Midway through practice, he calls a halt to the proceedings. He's not pleased with the effort.

"What? Just because a couple of NBA guys aren't here today means you're not going to go hard?" he says, referring to Calipari, the New Jersey Nets coach who was at practice the day before. "That's not going to work here."

The players heed the advice, and tempo dramatically picks up. Bayno puts in the new offensive set and the team spends about 20 minutes on it.

6:20 p.m. -- Practice ends on a much higher note. The effort Bayno wanted was there. And while it wasn't the best practice of the year, he acknowledges the second half of the workout was satisfactory.

"For a couple of you guys, there's $2 million waiting for you if you push yourself like that every day," he said, waving the NBA carrot in front of his tired players.

6:27 p.m. -- Back up to the office for a quick check of the messages. He's running late for the fundraiser for Shade Tree, the shelter which assists battered women and children. By 6:30, he's out the door.

6:35 p.m. -- Bayno used to drive a Cadillac, as per the perks which come with being the head basketball coach at UNLV. But he has switched to a Toyota, as he has become a spokesman for Cliff Findlay's dealership. Look for Bayno pitching Tercels, Camrys and Land Cruisers on TV soon.

"This is better for me," he said, sliding in behind the wheel of a brand-new Avalon. "I'm like the worst driver in the world. I'd hate to ding up a Caddy, though I'd hate to ding up a Toyota, too."

No sooner does he pull out of the Thomas & Mack lot, the cell phone rings. It's someone trying to line up tickets for a show. Bayno says he'll see what he can do. By the time they wrap it up, Bayno has arrived at The Beach, where the fundraiser is being held.

"This is an important cause to me," Bayno said as he parks next door at Piero's, where he'll later be part of a birthday dinner for one of his friends. "These people do great work and anything I can do to help, I will."

Bayno is involved in several charity endeavors. He has thrown his support behind the Boys and Girls Club, the Save The Youth Foundation, the I Have A Dream Foundation and is active in the Coaches Vs. Cancer project.

"I'm privileged to be the coach of the Rebels because it's a high-profile position and maybe the kids will listen to me when I talk to them," he said. "I think it's important that we help the kids."

6:50 p.m. -- Bayno hits The Beach. There's probably close to 200 people at the nightclub and Bayno immediately is recognized and hustled up to the podium, where he will help with the awarding of the raffle prizes.

Tiffany was one of the organizers of the event and she has clothes ready for Bayno to change into. "Nah," he said. "I'll just go like this."

"This" is a UNLV basketball T-shirt, a pair of Nike khaki shorts and sneakers. It wouldn't matter if he was wearing a tux. He is warmly received by the many women in the audience, and he gets through the presentation of prizes with no problem.

After the drawing, Bayno sticks around to schmooze with the guests. He signs autographs, jokes around and appears to be having a good time. He was impressed with the turnout.

"It's a cause I believe in," he said of helping women and children in distress.

7:25 p.m. -- Bayno heads for Piero's, where his friend Doc Wiener, is celebrating his birthday. But first, he checks in with Piero's owner Freddie Glusman, who, as if on cue, begins needling Bayno. Which is a good thing. For if Glusman doesn't like you, he ignores you.

"You're killing me, Freddie," Bayno said after one of Glusman's wisecracking remarks. "But I love you anyway."

Bayno goes off to dinner. Glusman says, "He's a good guy. He's doing a good job."

For a guy who is former UNLV coach Jerry Tarkanian's best friend, that's a heck of an endorsement.

7:48 p.m. -- Bayno takes a break from dinner. He has to speak to the dad of one of his recruits. The banter is easy and light. He ends the conversation smiling, a good sign.

10:15 p.m. -- The long dinner party was a much-needed break from business. As Bayno leaves the restaurant, Glusman promises he'll show up at a UNLV game this year and sit behind the Rebels' bench. He has four prime seats on Gucci Row, but he hasn't used them since Tark left.

"I still have 'em," he said. "I just sell 'em."

As Bayno waits for valet to deliver his car, he tells Glusman he's welcome any time at the Thomas & Mack.

10:30 p.m. -- A long day winds down with more phone calls, a little tape-watching.

Bayno has been known to indulge in the Las Vegas nightlife. He used to patronize the Rio's nightclub so often, people were calling it "Club Bayno." But he limits his clubbing to the off-season, when friends drop in. When basketball season arrives, he's pretty much a homebody.

Finally, Bayno falls asleep at 2 a.m. After bragging how he sleeps better these days thanks to an improved diet and exercise regimen, the old insomniac in him keeps Bayno up to the wee hours.

"It's your fault," he said the next day, laughing. "You're telling me about my old habits and it got me thinking."

8:50 a.m. -- Bayno has a haircut appointment. He already has been up for over an hour, talking on the phone.

It takes nearly 25 minutes to drive from his home in Spanish Trail out to the edge of Summerlin. And when he gets to the salon, the guy who cuts his hair regularly is a no-show.

When asked why he would travel all the way to Summerlin to get a haircut, Bayno said, "My head is lopsided and he knows how to cut my hair."

But the haircut will have to wait. He was going to try the salon over at the Desert Inn, but the person he trusts with his hair isn't there, either. So he heads to the Thomas & Mack instead, to try to get some work done.

9:50 a.m. -- There are plenty of messages to return, bills to pay and schedules to double-check. His daily schedule is prepared for him, by Rohrssen and his secretaries, Annette and Mary Lou.

"It's all about itemizing," he said. "You've got to prioritize what needs to get done immediately and what can wait."

But basketball and the team always comes first.

"That's always at the top of the list," he said.

10:45 a.m. -- Bayno calls former Rebel Warren Rosegreen to see how he's doing. Rosegreen, who played for UNLV from 1995-97, is playing professionally in Korea. But when Bayno gets through, nobody at the other end speaks English. And since Bayno's Korean is a bit rusty (actually nonexistent) he doesn't get to talk to Rosegreen.

11:40 a.m. -- With no local media stopping by, the reporter from the Sacred Heart school paper gets Bayno to himself. They talk for 20 minutes and Bayno tells him, "I'm glad I can help out the alma mater."

Noon -- Time to get that all-important haircut. By the time Bayno returns to the Thomas & Mack for the 5 p.m. practice, he'll have a new 'do, he'll have swung by to chat with a booster and he'll have squeezed in a workout at the Sporting House.

"There's so many things to do," he said. "I just wish I had more time."

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