When these two get together, it’s never the same old story

Two of my favorite old people are Bill Dwyre and John Wooden. They offer so much encouragement -- both seemingly doing their best work after turning 90.

The two old guys came together this week for the Wooden Classic, the Dwyre Classic just not having quite the same ring to it, and it would probably have to be a tennis tournament in that event, so no one would show up.

Both marry the first gal they set eyes on, Wooden’s sweetheart, Nellie Riley, dying 23 years ago, but the coach keeping their bedroom and condo today just as it was when she was alive. And just as neat, because it was important to Nellie.

Dwyre sweeps his honey off her feet while they are in kindergarten together in Sheboygan, Wis.

Jill Jarvis is still with us, so Dwyre continues to shell out money to buy whatever it takes to decorate and upgrade their home because that’s what Jill demands.

Wooden is known as one of the most successful basketball coaches of all time, while Dwyre might be remembered as a great sports editor for a newspaper -- as long as someone explains to the next generation just what a newspaper was.

It has been 33 years since Wooden coached his last game, reinventing himself as motivational speaker and living inspiration. It has been 200 stories or so since Dwyre risked it all, asking to step down as sports boss to begin anew as the columnist most likely to land in the newspaper back by the tire ads.

Turns out he’s a visionary, the tire ads disappearing and the eighth page of the sports section becoming the sixth page, but all his own.

Both men love to write, all right, Wooden the philosopher and poet, Dwyre the only scribe in America still giving us regular epistles on boxing and horse racing.

People approach Wooden now and almost always tell him, “You look good, Coach.” No one ever says that to Dwyre, but as Wooden says of those who tell him he looks good, “liars.”

Dwyre has been working on Wooden’s obituary for the last decade, and that’s fine with Wooden’s family.

“He’s just preparing what must be done when Daddy joins my mother,” says Nan, Wooden’s daughter. “Daddy’s ready for her too. He wants to be with her.”

It will probably be Dwyre’s best writing, because it won’t have anything to do with boxing or horse racing.

Dwyre has tremendous respect for Wooden, Wooden deep affection for Dwyre. Wooden also admires Abraham Lincoln. I believe Dwyre went to school with him.

Dwyre admires Jim Murray, Murray once writing of Wooden, “You meet him and you’re tempted to say, ‘All right, what did you do with the pitchfork, John?’ You can smell the hay if you close your eyes.” It’s poetry.

There are gymnasiums and schools named for Wooden. Most folks misspell Dwrye.

They have a life-size statue of Wooden in Martinsville, Ind., but with someone else’s head attached.

“When they were transporting it, the head broke off,” says Nan, “and so they stuck someone else’s head on it. It’s not Daddy. Daddy went to Martinsville and the girls’ basketball team was in the gym and one girl said, ‘There’s John Wooden,’ while another girl said, ‘It doesn’t look like him at all -- look at the statue.’ ”

Dwyre lost his head, some say when it came to hiring someone to write on Page 2.

UCLA beats DePaul in the Wooden Classic, everyone coming to their feet near game’s end to pay homage to Wooden. It’s chilling. Wooden tries to lift himself from his wheelchair, but it’s too much, and he’s overcome with emotion -- covering his eyes. Dwyre leaves the arena, and calls to say so -- so someone will know he’s gone.

A minute to go Saturday, and Tyler Trapani takes the court for the first time in his UCLA career -- his great-grandfather getting another memorable moment 98 years into a life filled with them.

It’s all about the kids. Dwyre and Wooden share an enduring kinship with the developmentally disabled and Special Olympics, Wooden seeing the challenges tossed in front of Cameron, his 15-year-old great-grandchild, Dwyre embracing his own son Patrick for the last 38 years.

Wooden speaks to a group of Special Olympics athletes early Friday at the Honda Center and then joins Dwyre that night for the Wooden Classic Coaches Dinner to benefit Orangewood Children’s Foundation and the Special Olympics.

As part of the festivities, Dwyre receives the second annual Pyramid Award for embodying so many of the qualities that Wooden treasures in life. It really is a lifetime achievement.

“Patrick’s best friend and toughest critic is his mom, who has fought every day of her life for every ounce of normalcy,” Dwyre tells the dinner audience, shifting the attention to his kindergarten pal.

A year ago the award was given to Rafer Johnson, Olympic decathlon great, who played three years for Wooden back in the day. On Friday, before being thrown out of the Honda Center by Coach Ben Howland so his team might prepare for DePaul without distraction, Johnson talks about the work Dwyre and Wooden have done to make this a better community.

“Special people,” he says while insisting he really does know who Dwyre is.

Back at the banquet, for the next hour or two Dwyre speaks, or so it must seem to the folks in attendance. He talks of Wooden’s sense of commitment, his thanks for what the Special Olympics mean to so many, and his own son.

He mentions the seizure Patrick suffered at a Special Olympics meet, and another participant, Theresa, holding his son’s hand when he came around. “It was love at first sight, and it remains so to this day,” he says.

Dwyre goes on and on, because it’s a lot like one of his columns, finally concluding, “You are here because of the legacy of John Wooden and because that legacy brought you here tonight, the Special Olympics can continue to exist.

“Also because of the Special Olympics, Patrick can have somebody hold his hand after he’s had a seizure.”

It’s a great night, all right, two old men together and reminding everyone it’s never too late to make a difference.

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t.j.simers@latimes.com