A workout in the Jim ...

As the 2006 NCAA basketball tournament was turning into history, we picked a Here for it ... a man who was neither player, official, mascot, nor big-name coach.

He was a small-name coach with a huge talent, and had been born, raised, and learned to play and coach within a 20-minute subway ride from where this is being typed (with two index fingers).

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As the coach of the George Mason University basketball team, Jim Larranaga, may not have been John Wooden, but, for the present, he wasn't too embarrassed to let himself be called the Cinderella of March Madness.

And why not? Though he didn't have any high expectations for his team, he did have an incredible tournament run, reaching the Final Four.

No question about it. Jim Larranaga was the George Mason team and deserved all of the accolades bestowed upon it. His team had looked great, played great (knocking off Michigan State, North Carolina, and Connecticut along the way), and had everyone cheering for them.

That included us though we had to wait until the final scene to get the tap on Larranaga.

We have to thank TV for that. We had kept our set going after the game and we were there long enough to catch a marvelous production number. It was Larranaga saying goodbye to his players before leaving the building.

Larranaga, a tall, well-put together mature man, addressed his kids circled in front of him. He stood there quietly and spoke softly without striving for any kind of dramatic effect.

"Before leaving this dressing room, I would like you to know how proud I am of you. Of how you played the game with everything you had, but cleanly and with great discipline.

"I could sense that all of our fans, your school, your families, and the public felt exactly the same thing.

"I want to thank you for all that and I'll be waiting until we can all get together again. Have a great spring and summer, and I'll be waiting for you next fall."

SID CICHY, WINNER ...

This may be a hard thing for America to believe, but we were around when the National Federation was born and all those great pioneers in high school sports started coding the rules, organizing the state athletic associations, and nurturing the brilliant young administrators who could lend so much intelligence and power to NFHS down through the years.

It was early in this period that we began befriending the young lions of the NFHS, like C.W. Whitten, H.V. Porter, Cliff Fagan, and a surprising number of others from all parts of the land.

One of these giants was a coach/administrator from Fargo, ND named Sid Cichy. We had always recollected the name but not the accomplishments.

In fact, it wasn't until the big man passed away last January that we were able to put together a list of Clichy's fabulous achievements--thanks to a eulogy in the NFHS News:

"Sid Cichy posted a lifetime record of 226-137-4 as the football coach at Shanley H.S. (Fargo, ND). In his 30 years as a teacher, AD, Assistant Principal, and football coach, he won 16 state championships, went unbeaten 12 years, and won 53 games between 1964-69.

"In the final six years of his life, he won the state championship every year and compiled a winning streak of 32 games."

His proudest feat?

"Having all five of my sons make my teams and play for me."

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PLAY IT ON A FLUTIE ...

An aging but still engaging athlete named Dough Flutie ruined any chance we had for a happy new football year by announcing his retirement from the NFL last spring.

Until his farewell address, Doug had definitely been one of our favorite athletes over the past 21 years.

Our romance started with that legendary Boston College-Miami game, "The Miracle in Miami," on November 23, 1984 when he connected with Gerard Phelan for the winning touchdown. Every time we hear the expression, "Hail, Mary," we think of Flutie and the closing seconds of that game. The time Flutie threw what was probably the greatest forward pass in the history of football.

Remember it? Boston College was trailing by four, 45-41, with the ball near midfield. Everyone on the planet knew what was coming, and Doug did not disappoint.

He took the snap, the players started running crazily around, and Doug, calmly (as we recall) circled back a little, buying time and waiting for a receiver to get open, let fly. The football made its way downfield, a 48-yard jump ball in the end zone that some-how landed in the arms of Phelan, giving B.C. a 47-45 win. We thought that the ball had to have traveled 70 or 80 yards.

That was the beginning of the Flutie legend. He spent the next 21 years of his life in three different professional leagues: The USFL, NFL, and CFL.

He did great things on the football field, some nice little things on TV, and did a great humanistic thing by organizing a foundation for autistic children (The Doug Flutie, Jr. Foundation For Autism, in honor of his son who is affected by the disorder).

As you'd expect, Flutie has a million friends. One of the best of them is the head coach of the New England Patriots, Bill Belichick, for whom Flutie played last season.

On Jan. 1, 2006, in Flutie's last game, the Patriots had just scored a touchdown to cut the Miami Dolphins' lead to 25-19 with 6:10 left to play.

Flutie had been standing next to Belichick on the sideline, and the coach decided to send him into the game to try the extra point.

The center snapped the ball to Flutie who proceeded to bounce the ball around the 10-yard line and then booted it right between the uprights.

It was the first drop kick in an NFL game since 1941!

AL's WELL THAT ENDS WELL ...

We knew Al McGuire well enough to understand that he was one of those bright, fascinating people with a wild and crazy lifestyle.

We always thought it would take an Ernest Hemingway and a thousand pages to get McGuire's psyche down in print. We couldn't believe that a writer named Gene Wojciechowski from Wheaton, IL (birthplace of Red Grange) would someday do it in just 2 1/4 pages!

His story appeared in ESPN The Magazine and it turned us on immediately. Maybe because it was the first time we had ever heard McGuire say anything laudatory about his profession.

In brief:

"McGuire died last Friday in the wee hours of age 72. And even though he had never let basketball define him as a person, he understood the imprint he made."

"'The best thing to happen in my lifetime was that I'd be allowed to be called 'Coach.' And that it would be non-negotiable.'"