After 88 Comes Zero

Phelps' commitment to the game is not difficult to fathom. Only a few years ago he was an acolyte, the freshman coach at Penn. The son of an undertaker, he speaks with a glib humor that belies his competitive self. "Listen," he says. "I can get you a good deal on a box." Still, there were tears in his eyes after his team beat Indiana this year. And at practice his approach is caustic.

"Get off the court," he snapped at a reserve earlier in the week. "You don't even know what day it is."

"I know how uptight he is about the game," said Brokaw. "I'm trying not to make mistakes so he won't holler."

The week began with Phelps in his office on Monday sorting through tickets that at the moment were more popular than rosary beads. On the wall was a framed piece of paper, the diagram of Clay's winning shot against Marquette. Notre Dame had shuffled off to a 1-6 start last season and that, following on the heels of a 6-20 year, had the faithful wondering if Phelps might make a better embalmer than inspirer. Clay's shot helped turn around the year, and the Irish went on to finish second in the NIT.

Although Notre Dame was scheduled to play Georgetown Tuesday night, the entire community was gearing only for UCLA. At the post office, a religious brother told Phelps: "Well, we've got the Jesuits Tuesday and God on Saturday."

This was the atmosphere Phelps had aspired to since he first knew success as a high school coach in Pennsylvania. He arrived at South Bend after a 26-3 season at Fordham, his only year as a head coach in college, but his fame had not preceded him.

"Trigger, would you like a drink?" asked a woman at his first South Bend cocktail party.

Phelps could have used plenty of drinks that first season. His team captain suffered a broken leg. Another guard had a bad knee and displayed the mobility of "Schultzie," Digger's three-legged pet dog. The team lost by 65 points to Indiana. Phelps, a big eater, took to drowning his sorrows in souffl�s.

Now, two years later, all that was over. "We're ready for UCLA," said the 32-year-old coach, who had even taken the precaution of having his team practice cutting down the nets. "For the first time we want our kids to go out and just play. UCLA is very simple. It's the Lombardi concept. They merely execute."

He planned a number of changes from his previous UCLA strategy. Switching to a man-to-man defense, he would play Shumate behind Walton to take away the lob pass. In addition, he wanted to keep the ball away from Wilkes, forcing the UCLA guards up on Walton's side of the floor, and he wanted to take away Walton's baseline move, obliging him to hook into the middle.