Corrected 2/9/15 at 12:30 pm.

My guess it has something to do with the effective, if abominable, four corners.

Or, his nasal whine.

Or, watching those games back in the day, played at Carmichael Auditorium, with its quaint flip card scoreboard in the corner of the court, and having to watch the baby blue-clad North Carolina Tar Heels come back time and again.

Whatever, I’ve always thought Dean Smith to be kind of a pain in the ass.

I’d heard the testaments of adulation through the years, how much he’d done for this fellow or that organization, how he was universally revered by his proteges, who came back year after year to visit Chapel Hill wherever life had taken them. Despite all that, I have to say I haven’t understood the true measure of the man.

Given the torrent of respect, elicited on this day of Smith’s passing, I now do.

With the recruitment of Charlie Scott, he integrated the decidedly Dixie, severely Old South ACC in the 60s, whether the rest of the league still wanted Jim Crow playing pivot or not. Apparently it wasn’t just because the league’s first black, Smith (Charlie), could ball, for it is said Smith (Dean), from his first moments on the Carolina coaching staff, chose to worship on Sundays in a mainly black congregation.

Etc, etc.

I must assume that all the academic fraud of the university, for which there hasn’t been a bit of punishment yet, came after Dean Smith’s reign.

So, I guess I was wrong about Dean Smith.

I’m glad for that.

Dean Smith. Whiner. Innovator. Champion. Mentor. R.I.P.

* * * * *

Just how lengthy was U of L’s scoring drought last night against Virginia?

ESPN’s Rece Davis at the half: “Louisville hasn’t scored since the Metro.”

* * * * *

The Player of the Week has got to be St. Bonaventure’s Marcus Posley.

Yesterday’s stunning whoop de doo, up and under and over kiss off the glass for the winning layup over VCU at the buzzer was his second last chance winning shot of the week. He’d crushed Davidson mid-week with a runner.

Two walk offs in one week. Sweet.

* * * * *

Of course, the Bonnie fans stormed the court. And did so with considerable dispatch.

Another court storming was sited in Stillwater, where the T. Boone Pickens Cowboys came back in the second half to upset Rock Chalk Jayhawk.

Not that it matters, but I’ve changed my mind about court storming after wins. The phenomenon really has nothing whatsoever to do with tradition, or lack thereof. It has to do with the exuberance of youth, paint-covered bare chested frat boys and the coeds they’d like to know, using a W as an excuse to kick out the jams, and exorcise the stress of mid-terms and beer bonging.

It’s not rally about basketball at all.

* * * * *

For some reason, I’ve always had a kind spot in my heart for Purdue.

Maybe, because they played in the first game I ever attended, decades ago against U of L at the Armory.

Maybe, because of “Go. Cards. Beat. Purdue.”

Maybe, because the truth of Bobby Knight’s loathsome disingenuous nature was always starkly revealed in his out of control, immature hatred for the Boilermakers.

Maybe, because I always loved Gene Keady, despite, or perhaps because of, his $600/ week coiffing habit.

Whatever, I hoped to write a piece today how Purdue was surging itself onto the bubble.

Then they lost yesterday to Pitino the Younger’s Golden Gophers, who had been reeling since Big Ten play commenced.

Speaking of a former Louisville assistant whose team is topsy turvey. Kevin Willard’s Seton Hall Pirates have taken a dive, putting coach back on a hot seat.

* * * * *

Justin Anderson’s broken finger is a bummer.

Despite Lachlan McClean’s incessant homerism, it’s hard not to wish success on a team that plays the way the Cavaliers do. Tony Bennett is obviously the new Brad Stevens.

* * * * *

Syracuse has self imposed sanctions. No post season for Boeheim and the boys. Skeptics, noting the Orange weren’t going anywhere but Daytona Beach this spring anyway, are smirking.

Rumors of hidden drug tests have been circulating for years now.

Another possible cause for NC2A punishment is said to “have something to do with Fab Melo.” Who, Cardinal fans might recall, was a lock to matriculate on the Belknap Campus, until the morning of signing day, when his X-signed Letter of Intent was faxed to upstate New York, not Floyd Street.

* * * * *

My favorite student engagement in decades is Arizona State’s Curtain of Distraction.

It’s a glorious Grand Guignol of skits, a method whereby a curtain opens behind a foe’s basket when that opponent is shooting FTs, and, behind which, some deliciously sophomoric scenario plays out in hopes that the charity toss will end up somewhere other than through the twine.

* * * * *

I loved listening to Mark Jackson and Jeff Van Gundy announcing the Okie State upset of Kansas. They’re just so funny and engaging, while not taking themselves very seriously. While bringing an NBA perspective to the college game.

“You mean he can’t get a bonus?,” Van Gundy wisecracked one time.

Their play by play guy, cherub-faced David Flemming looks on adoringly at the more famous duo, like a ten year old who, despite it being way past his bedtime and that his mom would be really pissed if she knew where he was instead of in bed, gets to sit in on his dad’s poker game and listen to the dirty jokes.

Speaking of announcers, I’m constantly on the lookout for somebody I can declare, whether correctly or not, the most astute commentator on the air. That title is back in play since Jay Bilas thinks his perspective is papal, now that he’s perched at the top of ESPN’s experts’ ladder.

Kara Lawson is my choice. Here’s a former baller, who knows the nuances of the game, spots them and provides timely insight. Without preening. Without shtick.

Selection Sunday is 35 days away.

Let’s have fun.

— Seedy K