Have Snyder's Tigers underachieved during the regular season? Yes. (Witness three straight sixth-place Big 12 finishes.) But he has a real knack for getting the lads to perform when it counts. Here's the breakdown of the Duke Disciples:

	Season	Record	NCAA tourneys	Deepest run
Quin Snyder	4th	66-38 (.635)	3 (4-3 record)	Elite Eight
Mike Brey	8th	148-74 (.667)	4 (2-4 record)	Second Round
Tommy Amaker	6th	79-79 (.500)	1 (2-1 record)	Sweet 16
David Henderson	3rd	36-28 (.563)	0	N/A

As you can see, Brey has the best overall record, and my tune might change if he were to take Notre Dame on a deep NCAA tournament run come March. (He certainly has a chance the way things are going so far this season.) And keep an eye on the above stats -- with the most important category on the far right -- because they'll determine which coach takes over at Duke when Krzyzewski retires. In my mind, whoever gets that job will end up being the most successful coach of the group.

No love for the College of Charleston? It's obvious you didn't stay up until 2:30 a.m. (EST) to watch the Cougars win the Great Alaska Shootout, or you would've seen one of the best displays of defense in recent history. Give some props to the Cougs!
—Michael Nelson, College Park, Md.

I live on the West Coast, Michael, so I got to see Charleston's win over Villanova live without staying up until the wee hours. And you're right: New coach Tom Herrion's Cougars put the clamps on Villanova right after the Wildcats had upset Michigan State. (Looks like I should have had C of C in my preseason Top 25 instead of Wyoming, which Charleston also beat in Alaska.)

Last week you named Georgia Tech and Minnesota as young teams with the potential to do some damage in March, like UConn did last year. What about UConn this year?
—Jay Pulaski, Kensington, Conn.

Good point, Jay, notwithstanding the Huskies' bizarre nine-point first half against UMass on Tuesday. Emeka Okafor is starting to show some offensive firepower that he was lacking a year ago, and while Ben Gordon isn't Caron Butler, he has stepped into the scorer's role just fine. Fortunately, Jim Calhoun shouldn't have to worry about his best player leaving after the season this time -- which means UConn won't fit the young-but-dangerous criteria next year. (Apologies, also, for stating last week that UConn didn't win the Big East last year. The Huskies tied Pittsburgh in the regular season and beat the Panthers in the Big East tournament.)

If you look at the Arizona program the last several years, the teams have been stocked with mid-level high school talent. Reggie Geary, Miles Simon, Michael Dickerson, Jason Terry, A.J. Bramlett, Luke Walton, Gilbert Arenas and Rick Anderson (to name several recent examples) were a step below McDonald's All-Americas and sometimes only modestly recruited. Does Lute Olson's staff simply have a better eye for evaluating talent, or is it better at developing talent?
—Luis Noriega, Tucson, Ariz.

Like Maryland's Gary Williams, Olson does both -- which explains why his teams have done so well over the years. His eye for talent is supreme: Arenas, for example, chose Arizona over Kansas State (!), and then was so good, so early that he was named MVP of the Preseason NIT his freshman year. As for player development, Olson's fanatical focus on fundamentals and instruction pay off, particularly when you see how many of his players thrive at the next level. Now that Olson is landing the very best recruits in the country (top-10 talents Ndudi Ebi and Mustapha Shakur arrive in Tucson next year), I'll be curious to see 1) if they stick around very long, and 2) if Olson has to use different motivational techniques with such elite recruits.

(BTW, after a host of reader complaints I promise never, EVER to call Olson's team "'Zona" again. Happy now? You guys are worse than soccer fans who don't like me calling the U.S. national team "the Nats.")

Will Michigan State bounce back from its early-season woes?
—Keith C., Lansing, Mich.

The Spartans may not be the Big Ten favorite anymore (hello, Indiana!), but they'll be fine. Adam Wolfe's injury has hurt, and as my pal Seth Davis notes, the Chris Hill point guard experiment hasn't gone very well. I still think Kelvin Torbert will come around, though, and I'm really intrigued by Erazem Lorbek, the sweet-shooting Slovenian big guy who one Big Ten assistant told me before the season would be a stud -- if he got playing time. Well, he's getting playing time, and judging by the presence of NBA scouts who've come to watch him, that assistant was right.

The numbers game: Last call

Guess I should have listened to Bobby Hicks of Oklahoma City, who responded to reader Jeff Lewis' parlor game ranking the best college players by uniform number (post-1985) with a good point: "I can't believe you are even trying to remember numbers of guys." Neither can I, Bobby. But I got us into this mess, so before we do this one last time (and I mean last; don't even think about sending me any more suggestions), a couple of notes:

0: Drew Gooden (over Jerome Moiso)
00: Tony Delk (over Eric Montross, Greg Ostertag and Benoit Benjamin)
1: Jared Jeffries [Keith Hudson of Memphis points out that Anfernee Hardaway wore No. 25 in college because no players were allowed to wear No. 1 at the time.]
2: Dennis Hopson (over Dajuan Wagner) [Nice argument from Bill Tippie of Hilliard, Ohio.]
3: Juan Dixon (over Allen Iverson) (A bunch of you pointed this one out.)
4: Larry Johnson (over Chris Webber and Kenyon Martin)
5: Ed Cota (over Jason Kidd and Baron Davis) [Taylor of Boston points out that if the NBA doesn't exist, Cota has to be taken over Kidd. Put Davis in the same category.]

10: Rod Strickland (over Mike Bibby, Kirk Hinrich, Tim Hardaway, Sam Cassell and Mookie Blaylock) [Good statistical rationale for Strickland over Bibby from Mike Adam in Chicago.]
11: Bobby Hurley (over Jamaal Tinsley)
12: Steve Alford (over Kenny Anderson and Anderson Hunt)
13: Glenn Robinson
14: Jeff Hornacek
15: Matt Harpring (over Lou Roe and Vince Carter)

20: Gary Payton (over LaPhonso Ellis, Damon Stoudamire, Sherman Douglas and Allan Houston)
21: Tim Duncan (over Marcus Camby)
22: Jason Williams (over Jim Jackson, Lionel Simmons, Randolph Childress and Damon Bailey)
23: Steve Francis (over Chris Carrawell and Harold Miner)
24: Jamal Mashburn (over Johnny Dawkins, Bobby Jackson and Shawn Respert)
25: Danny Manning (over Penny Hardaway)

30: Kerry Kittles (over Bo Kimble, Scotty Thurman, Billy Owens and Kenny Smith) [Reader Emmett Fitzpatrick of Chicago likes Kittles; so do I, but barely.]
31: Shane Battier (over Ed O'Bannon, Reggie Miller and Pearl Washington)
32: Christian Laettner (over Sean Elliott, Stacey Augmon and Joe Smith)
33: Grant Hill (over Shaquille O'Neal, Alonzo Mourning, Antawn Jamison and Hersey Hawkins)
34: Len Bias (over Reggie Williams, Ray Allen, Corliss Williamson and Paul Pierce)
35: Danny Ferry (over Armon Gilliam and Chris Jackson)

40: Calbert Cheaney (over Joseph Forte)
41: Glen Rice
42: Elton Brand (over Brad Daugherty, Jerry Stackhouse, Walt Williams and Pervis Ellison)
43: VACANT [Jason D'Amico of Pittsburgh points out that Ellison wore No. 42 instead of 43.]
44: Hank Gathers (over Derrick Coleman, John Wallace and Keith Van Horn)
45: Raef LaFrentz (over Chuck Person)

50: David Robinson
51: Michael Doleac [Thanks to Pete Wheatstraw of Durham, N.C., and Wade Vandort of Bellevue, Wash.]
52: Terry Mills (over Samaki Walker, Todd Fuller, Eric Piatkowski, Chucky Brown and Brad Miller)
53: Pat Garrity (over Jerome Allen and Stanley Roberts) [Good suggestion on Garrity from Jim Walsh of Washington, D.C., Dan Cichalski of Cliffside Park, N.J., and Scott Hesse of Auburn, N.Y.]
54: Horace Grant (over Rodney Rogers) [Wade Vandort rings the bell again!]
55: Dikembe Mutombo

Station break: One random thing

On DVD: The Celebration (1998). Thanks to everyone who supplied me with the official Web site for Dogma 95, which tells me that I'll need to see 30 more films to run the table after picking off The Celebration -- a mind-blowing Danish movie by director Thomas Vinterberg that begins in the gentile mode of a family reunion and turns increasingly shocking as the movie proceeds. The 'Bag highly, highly recommends this -- it's almost as good as I Come in Peace.

WATN

Sorry -- we're still trying to get an official 4-1-1 on former Missouri star Derrick (Band-Aid) Chievous. In the meantime, where in the world is the former buzzer-beating Arkansas player U.S. Reed?

Separated at Birth

Maryland's Steve Blake and the Erik Per Sullivan, the youngest kid from Malcolm in the Middle.
—Tim Dillon, Denver

SEPARATED AT BIRTH? Blake Sullivan

BYU's Travis Hansen and Eminem.
—Jake Barney, Clearfield, Utah

SEPARATED AT BIRTH? Hansen Eminem

Raymond Carver contest revived!

Many thanks for all the submissions in response to our contest question, "Who is the Raymond Carver of college basketball?" And the winner of the grand prize (the 'Bag's copy of the Jay Bilas/Dolph Lundgren action classic I Come in Peace) is ... Piers Marchant of Philadelphia (please send us a snail mail address to claim your prize, Piers), who writes:

Mulling over my options (Larry Brown? Nah, too successful; Jim Valvano? No, too sentimental) I think I have your man. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Jerry Tarkanian. Carver loved to write about people whose biggest issue was their inability to articulate their problems. Many of his characters arrive at their conclusions almost entirely by chance, through little conscious soul-searching of their own. He liked losers, sure, but more to the point, he liked sad people who had suffered at the cruel hands of fate and couldn't even describe to us the ways in which they were lost.

Sure, Tark won a title, but even that was highly questionable (scandals, hot-tubbing with known gamblers) and the next year he lost to a bunch of do-gooders who managed to vanquish "evil" for all the crusty upper class. Order was restored again.

Tark eventually moved on to the NBA, where he lasted barely a third of a season, and seemed so thoroughly confused and out of his element that everyone -- even his biggest detractors -- felt a little sorry for him, as if they were watching their elderly grandfather trying to surf the Internet without the computer even being turned on. From there, back to college and the same sort of yin/yang, success/scandal ratio, just on a much smaller scale.

Tarkanian was famously cantankerous with authority (the NCAA, most obviously) but loved his players, clearly and absolutely, even if he wasn't aware of what they were doing much of the time. He munched on a towel to relieve stress, and always looked sad and wistful with his hound-dog eyes, sunken deep into their sockets. He resembled nothing quite so much as a punch-drunk prize fighter who had lost his only chance at a title many years before.

I think he's definitely Ray material.

Second place goes to loyal reader Jeremy Radcliffe of Houston (the setting for I Come in Peace), who even kept within the 100-word limit while nominating "some career D-III coach in the Midwest" with this exxxxxcellent Carver parody:

During practice he was thinking about her again. The girl across the court who had smiled at him during that game against State a few years ago. He tried to picture her in his mind but couldn't remember the color of her skirt. He felt tired. Coach ______ looked up just in time to see his starting guard dribble the ball off of his foot. He leapt up and shouted at him. "God dammit, Johnson! A bad shot is better than a turnover!" He eased himself back on to the worn wooden bleacher, rubbing his forehead. He needed a cigarette.

And finally, thanks to Michael Lang of San Leandro, Calif., who writes:

As I see it, the Raymond Carver of college hoops would have to be someone who brings depth and meaning to the mundane. In that case, my nomination is anybody who has had to sit through a Temple game. (No offense. Great coach, good teams, dreadfully boring.) This is largely based on my enduring a coma-inducing Stanford-Temple tilt at the Pete Newell Classic a couple of years ago. Here goes.

Brick (with apologies to Ben Folds)

"I want one of those popcorn bricks. You know, the pink ones."

My wife talked absently, without turning her head, as if mouthing a secret to herself. It was 10 minutes into the first half and nobody had scored. Pepe Sanchez had hit the front of the rim twice. Diana had tuned out three minutes after tipoff and was watching a fat man in a blue Carolina jersey as he tried to carry a tray of beers up the steps. He would take a couple of steps at a time, until the beer started to sway out of the cups. Then he would stop, right himself, catch his breath and take off again.

"I'll go get it for you." Mark Madsen missed a putback and fell on the floor. I didn't move to get up.

"No, that's O.K., I was just thinking out loud." Diana sat up as the fat man's beer threatened to topple over. He caught it in time and stopped to rearrange the tray. She sat back.

Stanford scored on two Art Lee free throws before halftime to go up by three. I told Diana the game was probably over. She said it was OK and I should just stay and watch the rest of the game if I wanted to. I told her thanks and kicked the seat in front of me.

"I think those beers are all for him." The fat man was sitting two rows in front of us. There was an open seat on either side of him and he set the tray of beer down on the one to his right.

"Maybe he's just waiting for his friends," I said, but didn't really believe it.

"Maybe."

Temple was down by five in the third quarter when Mark Karcher's 3-point attempt grazed the rim and drifted out of bounds. The fat man was gone. He hadn't been back since halftime and Diana stared at his empty seat. There was still no one in the seats next to him.

"He's definitely by himself," she said.

We left early, with Stanford up 15-9 and Pepe Sanchez still scoreless. I stopped on the way out and bought Diana one of those pink popcorn bricks. She ate it as we walked out and seemed happy.

I let her in the car and took a bail bonds flyer off the windshield. Before I got in, I looked across the lot and saw a fat man in a blue Carolina jersey. He was climbing into the passenger seat of an old Bronco. The driver was a thin Filipino with a Cal hat. There was someone in the backseat.

"He wasn't by himself. I just saw him."

"What?" Diana turned to me, surprised.

"He's with two other guys. I saw them get into their car." I backed out.

Diana didn't say anything for a while. She stared out the windshield as we headed out of the lot. Finally she sighed and turned to look out the window.

"I knew it."

Have a great week!

Sports Illustrated senior writer Grant Wahl answers your college basketball questions every Wednesday. Click here to send him a question.

 

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