Ron Kantowski marvels at UNLV coach Lon Kruger’s civic-mindedness

Tuesday, Feb. 12, 2008 | 2 a.m.

Remember that “Seinfeld” episode where Kramer puts a severed little toe on ice in a Cracker Jack box and foils an armed robbery attempt on a city bus and then jumps behind the wheel when the driver faints and continues to make all the stops because the passengers keep ringing the bell?

“You’re Batman,” George Costanza told his eccentric pal.

That reminds me of Lon Kruger.

I have yet to see the UNLV basketball coach drive a bus to the hospital so somebody’s little toe could be reattached. But the part about making all the stops? I have seen him do that.

Coaching the Rebels is a full-time job, but if there’s a sporting event, speaking engagement, charity appearance, lodge meeting or ice cream social (as long as it’s fat-free vanilla — doctor’s orders after his heart bypass surgery) that might benefit from his appearance, he’ll find a way to get there.

One of these nights, I’m sure I’m going to look up in the sky and see Kruger’s media guide picture silhouetted in a beam of light across the cloudy evening sky.

The Lon Signal.

How else can he get to all the places he gets to and still coach the Rebels to two dozen wins every year?

I swear I’m not making this up: During the holidays, Wofford was playing Bethune-Cookman at the Orleans when the only people in the arena were the coaches and players, somebody who played the national anthem on a kazoo and two sports writers who need to get lives as soon as possible, when who should come strolling in but Kruger. Actually, there were two Krugers; Lon’s son Kevin had tagged along.

Lon was disappointed to discover he had missed the early game featuring the team from Texas-Pan American, his first head coaching stop. He had planned to be there but church ran long, the guest speaker at the Kiwanis Club had called in sick and King Tut was up to no good, so he was running a little late.

“If the rest of our coaches got out into the community as much as Lon Kruger does,” one university system regent told me, “UNLV would have a lot fewer problems.”

What’s really cool about Kruger is he doesn’t do it for the recognition, couldn’t care less about the acclaim. I remember covering a Rebels NCAA tournament game in Tucson and watching Lute Olson, the Arizona coach who had just returned after winning his first- and second-round games at another regional site, wait patiently under the stands for a timeout so that he could make a grand entrance in front of the hometown crowd.

Kruger’s just the opposite. He’s likely to slide in the back door and find a spot in the bleachers in the corner of the gym — which is just where he was at a recent Bishop Gorman boys basketball game. And then there are those quiet trips to St. Rose hospital, where he’ll visit with heart surgery patients, and comfort them, and tell them they’ll be back on the practice tee in no time, because look at him, he was lying in the same bed just a few months ago.

He’s even nice to sports writers. Most coaches close the doors when the media show up to watch practice. Kruger thanks you for coming.

After the Louisville game in November, I was standing in a back corner of the interview room, chatting with a friend, when Kruger spotted me. The Rebels had just lost by double digits, yet he made it a point to come over, shake my hand and wish me a happy Thanksgiving.

I told him to give Aunt Harriet and Alfred my regards.