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DÉJÀ U
Luke Winn
March 11, 2013
THE HURRICANES HAD NEVER BEATEN A NO. 1 PROGRAM, NEVER BEEN IN CONTENTION FOR A TOP TOURNAMENT SEED AND NEVER WON AN ACC CHAMPIONSHIP BEFORE THIS SEASON. SO WHY DOES ALL THIS SUCCESS FEEL SO FAMILIAR?
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March 11, 2013

Déjà U

THE HURRICANES HAD NEVER BEATEN A NO. 1 PROGRAM, NEVER BEEN IN CONTENTION FOR A TOP TOURNAMENT SEED AND NEVER WON AN ACC CHAMPIONSHIP BEFORE THIS SEASON. SO WHY DOES ALL THIS SUCCESS FEEL SO FAMILIAR?

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Larranaga is playing tennis again. Dual hip-replacement surgeries allowed him to pick the game back up after a 10-year hiatus, and he gets in a quick match at Riviera Country Club before meeting his wife, Liz, for a dinner date in the clubhouse. "How'd it go?" Liz says. Jim shrugs. He is not offering up numbers. "I broke a good sweat."

Their route to a table is accompanied by smatterings of applause from club members. The Riviera is a two-minute drive from the Hurricanes' campus, and alumni appreciate that basketball is thriving at the U during a dark time for football. The Canes had beaten Virginia 54--50 in a thriller the previous night, and the NCAA's notice of allegations in the Shapiro scandal dropped this morning. A Miami alum older than Larranaga compliments the coach for handing out doughnuts to students waiting in line for tickets. When Larranaga asks how the man is, he replies, "Well, we're both here, and that's the most important thing, right?"

The dinner conversation centers on how, exactly, Larranaga got here. The Michael Jordan fantasy camps he worked in Las Vegas following Mason's Final Four run created connections. In Vegas his Cuban ancestry had helped him strike up a friendship with Jose and Jorge Mas, two Cuban-American millionaires from Miami who participated in the camp. Jose would later put in pro-Larranaga calls to members of Miami's board. And at the camp he co-coached a team with Doc Rivers, who vouched for him during the hiring process.

Larranaga also explains what loosened his ties to George Mason. In March 2011, his friend Alan Merten, the school's longtime president, announced plans to retire, and Larranaga told his wife that it "might be a sign that we should look around too." He had been petitioning athletic director Tom O'Connor for a better deal—Larranaga believed his assistants were "grossly underpaid," and Shaka Smart's new, $1.2 million-per-year deal at league-rival VCU dwarfed Larranaga's $525,000 base salary. The Hurricanes interviewed Larranaga on April 11 and made their offer 10 days later: a contract reported to be worth $1.3 million per year for five years. Mason didn't formally counter until Larranaga was in the airport that night, ready to board his flight to Miami. By then, his mind was made up.

I ask what would have happened had Mason offered a better deal, more quickly. He ponders the question and says, "It would have been like, Do I want to stay [at George Mason] with a great contract ... or hope that I might get an offer in a week from Miami? I'm a pretty conservative guy, so...."

Liz stops him there. "That's too hypothetical," she says. "Anyway, it worked out for the best."

This is true. The assistants got paid. Miami is having a dream season. Liz played golf today, and she finally got Jim to Florida. They owned a vacation house in Sarasota, which she loved to use while he was at Mason, but ... "I could never get him down there. He never had the time."

As a kid in the '50s, he had the time. The annual Larranaga family vacation, as he tells it, was a long-haul drive from the Bronx. They would stop in Kissimmee to visit his mother's sister, then continue on to Key West, where his father, the son of a Cuban immigrant, had been born and raised. They would take the old Route 1 through Miami, and one time, about 18 miles south of the university's campus, they stopped at a strange attraction called the Coral Castle. The legend was that a 5-foot Latvian immigrant, defying laws of physics, had sculpted the structure out of blocks of limestone, many weighing several tons, as a tribute to an unrequited love. He put a hand-carved sign outside that read, YOU WILL BE SEEING UNUSUAL ACCOMPLISHMENT.

This is Jim Larranaga's return trip. After dinner he and Liz walk out into the twilight, on a path alongside the golf course. Small children are rolling down an embankment near the putting green, letting out small whoops of joy. Near the driving range, grade schoolers play pickup soccer, darting around divots and through pools of lamplight. "Could you imagine," Liz asks, "having this as a kid?" The setting is an idyll, like something they closed their eyes, visualized and tricked themselves into believing was real.

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