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Same old story: Chaney comes up short
By Brian Murphy
Special to Page 2

Perfect. Monday at work, no interest in pleasing the boss, and Tiger on the hand-held. Nothing like a little well-placed Sunday lightning at TPC Sawgrass to give me some Monday morning Eldrick on NBC.

Shoot, man, beats Leeza Gibbons.

So I'm firing up for Tiger vs. Vijay vs. Chuck Wepner -- er, uh, Jerry Kelly -- when what I need is a trip to the Water Cooler. What I need is to lay some Tiger-related wagers with that dude from accounting, the guy with the mullet who wears the knit tie. Unless it's Friday. On Fridays, the guy with the mullet wears the piano tie.

It's all good, this late March in my American sporting life. Opening Day a week away. Final Four this weekend. The Masters right around the corner. What could be better?

I turn the corner under the fluorescents to see John Chaney, leaning on the Cooler, top button undone, necktie loosened to his chest, hooded eyelids covering eyes gazing downward, cup of H-two-oh in his paws ... that could be better.

"John Chaney!" I say, taking a bite out of my morning Philly cheesesteak. "The only coach who looks like his school's mascot!"

Chaney doesn't react to my wise-ass remark. He looks forlorn. He looks down. He looks like a 69-year-old man who has lost another Regional Final.

I feel like an idiot. Like another white, suburban-raised fool; just another child of comfort who can never know John Chaney's world.

"You want some water, Murph?" Chaney asks in a tone barely above a whisper.

"Do I have to show up at 5 a.m. to get it?" I say, attempting a softshoe. I am still trying to cheer the man up. I figure making a joke about Chaney's ridiculously disciplined practice times will do the trick.

Chaney smiles weakly.

Hey, it's a start.

"You know, it's tough," Chaney says in that rasp, and I get chills thinking what it would be like to hear that rasp order me to run lines at 5:45 in the a.m. "You've got a group of young men, they work hard, they play the game right, they make a run ..."

His voice trails off. I know what he's talking about. Temple was what was right about this tournament. Sure, it's great that Lute Olson's season of heartache is ending in reward. And Tom Izzo's Michigan State team plays lovely ball. And Coach K? Well, shoot, man. He's like John Wooden, only on color TV.

"I hear you, coach," I say. "The matchup zone. The small-school spirit. The love of defense, man!"

Of course, while my sentiment is real enough, I can't wait to get back to the hand-held at the desk. I figure Tiger is on 11 by now.

I pour a Dixie cup for Chaney. I pat him on the back. I straighten his tie. I wink.

"You 70 next year?" I say.

He nods.

"You're the best damn almost-70-year-old basketball coach I ever saw," I say. "And I'll take Temple in my bracket next year, too."

"Yeah?" he says, hopefully.

I pause. "I mean, at least until the Regional Final," I say.

Finally, Chaney smiles. And for that, I dedicate this weekend's List of Five to the Great Owl himself:

1. Drew Henson says "Play Ball!"
I know Mel Kiper works for this establishment. I know you all love the NFL. I know you all like to gamble, and sit on your asses all day Sunday from September through January. But I'm here to tell you one thing: $17 mil, or no $17 mil, Drew Henson made me proud to be an American this weekend. Choosing ball over the corporate NFL. Saying, "I've spent my spring and summer evenings doing the thing I love, playing baseball." You couldn't get that in "The Natural." Too sappy. And it's real, man! The kid loves to play ball. Why aren't there more like him? As Foghorn Leghorn said to that little egghead bird that he tutors, "There's something kinda ... I say, there's something kinda . .. ewwwww ... about a boy who doesn't play base-ballllll."

2. Bobby Knight is back
The guy's full of malarkey. He's full of himself. His red sweater over his gut makes him look like a vine-ripened tomato. But you know what? He graduates the kids. And his teams play defense. I don't know this for sure, but I'd bet John Chaney likes a lot of the stuff Bobby Knight does. So I'm not here to bury the guy. Only to wish he stays away from grabbing 18-year-old punks who probably need to be grabbed, because our society doesn't like it. The grabbing, I mean. Meantime, if Bobby K. stays cool, I wish him all the best. At least until he plays Temple in the Regional Final.

3. Jerry Kelly: The Greatest Golfer Ever
This guy makes Joe Durant look as ancient as Old Tom Morris hitting a feathery with a tree stick. He's funny. He's fearless. He is taking on Tiger, and he may not win, but he's having a hell of a time trying. He came out of a Port-A-Potty on No. 8 Sunday, and the gallery went nuts. He raised his arms like Rocky Balboa. The gallery cheered more. He checked his zipper. It was cool. Then he took a bow. You don't want this guy to finish birdie-par-birdie to win it all at Sawgrass? Then you, my friend, have no heart.

4. Michelle Kwan, the Total Package
What, we can't do figure skating here at the Cooler? Hey, I think she's cute. So sue me. Plus, she dropped an exultant f-bomb at the end of her routine over the weekend. A figure skater swearing like Bobby Knight in traffic? Cool by me. Way to go, kid.

5. Gary Williams: Final-Four Bound
Look. I went to UCLA. My Bruins faced what is essentially the same Maryland team last year in the tourney, and boat-raced them. Now Gary Williams is a genius. I don't know the guy, but guys who cover him don't like him. Plus, every time I see him, I think Jeremy Irons plays him in the movie. Jeremy Irons from the von Bulow flick, too. I don't know. I just can't rally behind the guy. Especially when my man, John Chaney, is going home. Have a cheesesteak for me, Coach C. And we'll let Coach K take care of business with the Terps.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Monday Morning Water Cooler" every week for Page 2.