NAME DOESN'T SAY IT ALL.

Byline: GERRY GITTELSON

Rocket Collins is a straight-up guy, but the name is misleading. The Valencia High boys' basketball coach prefers the slow life, and it's been that way since he was a star player for The Master's College (then called L.A. Baptist) in the mid-1970s.

Back then, Collins was a 5-foot-7 phenom who could dunk - unheard of at the time. But for him, most of life's excitement was only on the basketball floor. A simple, peaceful man, Collins forever has valued serenity more than anything else.

``The biggest night of the week was Sunday nights,'' Collins recalled. ``We'd all go to Bob's Big Boy and get a combo for $1.99. That might not sound too exciting, but for us college kids who weren't working, it was great.''

Collins thinks the biggest difference from his generation is life's pace - ``Cell phones, pagers, the Net, society is so quick nowadays,'' he said - and he thinks today's high schoolers might be maturing a bit too fast for their own good.

``When I went to Master's, there was a 10 p.m. curfew, 11 p.m. on weekends I think, but it wasn't even a big deal,'' Collins said. ``Most of us didn't even have cars, and in Santa Clarita there wasn't anything to do after 10 anyway. Curfews didn't affect my lifestyle.''

Collins is old-school, so he stresses old-fashioned values at Valencia. He's quick to point out he's much more interested in developing character than winning section titles.

``I still work out by myself for an hour every morning and do tai chi, which is a form of martial arts involving slow meditation,'' said Collins, who will be 50 in September. ``I think that relaxation and peace sets the tone for the whole day. As far as being a coach is concerned, I don't think I've had to really get on the kids more than two or three times all season. ... I tell them don't swear and they don't swear.''

Collins is more John Wooden than Bobby Knight. And like both of those legendary college coaches, Collins wins, too. Valencia entered the week with an 18-4 record after finishing 13-13 during Collins' first season a year ago - the most dramatic improvement of any boys' team in the region.

Of course, Collins isn't going to point out such a development. He's on such an even keel, probably the last thing in the world he thinks about is whether his team is winning more games than last year.

This is a man who has lived, worked or coached in Santa Clarita for the past 28 years, and he has few worries or unkind memories.

Perhaps Collins' biggest regret was the failure of his marriage, and that was 10 years ago.

``That hurt because I felt I supposed to uphold certain values,'' he said tightly. ``It wasn't a messy divorce, just not a good match.''

At the time, Collins' daughter and son were in grade school, and they then stayed with their mother in Canoga Park. Collins since has dedicated his life to teaching and coaching. A former assistant at The Master's and Canyon High, Collins was thrilled when he finally landed the head-coaching gig at Valencia in 2001. He also works at the school full time as the campus supervisor, a job he takes seriously.

``My job is to make sure the place is safe, and I think we do a pretty good job for a school with 3,000 students,'' Collins said.

But Collins is more than a security guard. Students, including nonathletes, are drawn to his confident inner peace, and his job has evolved into part supervisor, part counselor.

``The kids come to me with their problems,'' he said.

Collins must know what it's like when insecure youngsters compare their insides to everyone else's outsides. In college, he was one of just two blacks on campus, but he swears he never felt like he didn't belong.

``I was just me, so that's the person people got to know - the real me,'' Collins said. ``Everyone just looked at me as Rocket Collins, and that made me feel good.''

Ah, back to the name Rocket. He got the handle as a teenager in Texas when he was running laps around the gym and jumping up to grab the rim at every basket - the coaches told the players to touch the backboards - and the name stuck.

``Some people have known me for 15 years and don't know my real name is Robert,'' he said.

So athletic was Collins back in his prime, he could high jump 6-4 and run the 100-yard dash in 9.8 seconds.

After graduating from L.A. Baptist, he pursued basketball for a short while - ``At one point I was playing in six leagues,'' he recalled - but soon settled into a normal life after getting a job at a new amusement park called Magic Mountain.

``Back then the most thrilling ride they had was the Revolution,'' he said.

And like the Revolution, Collins' life kept spinning back to Santa Clarita. He's been here almost three decades.

``I would never be anywhere else. It wouldn't feel like home,'' he said.