Monday, April 7, 2003 | 11:15 a.m.
Ron Kantowski is a Las Vegas Sun sports writer. Reach him at [email protected] or (702) 259-4088.
I've always believed that the biggest difference between college basketball and pro basketball is that college basketball is interesting and pro basketball -- at least until about the second round of the playoffs -- is not.
The second-biggest difference is that in college basketball, the coaches are the stars, not the players. With the possible exception of Phil Jackson, NBA coaches are pretty much interchangable. That's because the NBA coaching ranks are like the Hotel California. You can check out anytime you'd like, but you can never leave.
Look at George Karl.
In the college game, it's the players who basically are secondary, if for no other reason that they only are big men on campus for four years (mid-major conferences) or fewer (anywhere else).
For every Nick Collison or Kurt Hinrich, who stayed four years and will lead Kansas into tonight's NCAA championship game in New Orleans, there are about dozen Carmelo Anthonys, the precocious Syracuse freshman, whose college days are numbered, perhaps even in single digits.
Put it this way: If Anthony plays four years at Syracuse, it will be the biggest upset to occur at the collegiate level since John "Bluto" Blutarski was removed from double secret probation at Faber College and went on to become a U.S. Senator.
The talents of Collison, Hinrich and Anthony notwithstanding, they wouldn't be able to turn the spotlight away from their coaches tonight if one of their frat brothers were manning the controls.
Forget about the 10 guys in semi-short pants running up and down the Louisiana Superdome floor. This one is about the two guys in neckties and sports jackets working the sidelines.
Jim Boeheim and Roy Williams. The two winningest active coaches in college basketball. A couple of guys who have been there, been there, been there, been there, been there. But never done that.
Between them, Williams (3) and Boeheim (2) have been to the Final Four five times before this year, and to the Final Two three times. But it's becoming the Final One that transforms coaching icons into coaching legends.
Ray Meyer? Coaching icon. Al McGuire? Coaching legend.
Rick Majerus? Coaching icon. Dean Smith? Coaching legend.
Everybody knows that Bob Knight and Mike Krzyzewski, one of his many proteges, can coach. But ask the guy on the street, and he'll probably tell you that Jud Heathcote and the late Jim Valvano knew nearly as much about the X's and O's.
Heathcote's best coaching job probably was at Montana, because you don't have to roll up a program in your fist to look like a basketball wizard when Magic Johnson is your point guard.
Valvano's master stroke in the 1983 championship game was ordering his North Carolina State Wolfpack not to move its feet, but to hack its Houston counterparts across their arms. If the Cougars make their free throws, who knows? Valvano may have gone on to become the next Terry Holland.
No doubt about it, Jimmy V. is to be commended just for getting the long shot Wolfpack into the title game. But let's be honest. If the best play you can diagram with the national championship riding on the outcome is a 35-foot jump shot, maybe, just maybe, you were every bit as lucky as you were good.
Not that it matters, of course. Valvano's place in history is secure, because Lorenzo Charles was in the right place at the right time on a chilly Monday night in New Mexico 20 years ago.
"They won it ... on the dunk," were the words Billy Packer used to describe that One Shining Moment, perhaps the ulimate shining moment, that will forever be linked with Final Four lore ... and/or Pontiac Excitement.
As a college basketball fan, I'm hoping that somebody wins tonight's game on the dunk. Or on a driving layup, short jumper or long 3-pointer with time running out. Heck, even a missed free throw with 4.6 seconds to play will suffice.
But one way or another, one thing is certain, and it's that another coaching legend will be born tonight. This one is about the two guys in neckties and sports jackets working the sidelines. Jim Boeheim and Roy Williams.
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