That’s Boeheim. He’s a Syracuse guy. He comes from somewhere else. Upstate. He was born in Lyons, New York, a sweet and sleepy burg about forty minutes from Syracuse. Boeheim tells stories about going down to the soda fountain after his games in high school. His father was an undertaker. They had an embalming room directly off the kitchen.

He gives a Boeheim shrug at the memory of it. “The other side of the house was the funeral home,” he says. “At a busy time we’d have two or three bodies in the house and one would be in our living room.”

Would he just look at them? It feels like a lot to look at.

“Not really,” Boeheim sniffs. “We had to be respectful. You know.”
Towards the end of the feature, Coach B discusses the auto accident in which he struck a man on the interstate on his way home from a game last winter, and the man died.