A SPORTS STORY

With the passing of John Wooden this week, I recalled a story told to me by a friend and verified by his wife. I hope I can do the tale justice.

Back in the 80's, St. Louis hosted an NCAA Regional Final. Coach Wooden brought his UCLA Bruins to the Arena. My friend and his wife were in attendance having purchased a nose bleed seat. Without a view of much of anything.

Somehow he and she maneuvered their way down to the floor seats. Coach Wooden had his back to my buddy when he reached the third row. An usher was on the move to check my friends' seats, but he was screened from the floor. My bud acts as if he's talking to Coach Wooden and says, "John are these the seats?" He then nods and allows his wife to go in front of him and sit down.

When the usher turned around, sure enough Coach Wooden was looking in the direction of my friend who by then was seated and ready to enjoy the game. There they watched the UCLA team reel off another victory.

Of course, he no more knew Coach Wooden than the usher, but with chutzpah and luck, they sat there undisturbed the whole game. Like Yosarian in Catch-22, when I heard the story, I let out a respectful sigh and whistle.

I haven't talked to my friend, Mr. DeBoer since the Wizard of Westwood's demise, but I know he thought of the Coach's appearance in St. Lou. And how he wasn't the only winner that night.