Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

Duke is such a cool school. I suppose this is something UCLA and Duke have in common as they approach today’s much-anticipated game of basketball at Pauley Pavilion. UCLA’s fans are so totally mellow, nine out of every 10 have absolutely no idea where in the world Duke University is located, or whether it was endowed by John Wayne or named after Patty.

Inasmuch as they are so far apart, spiritually as well as geographically, I believe it is high time that the student bodies of these two coolest of schools get to know each other somewhat better.

I know, for example, that there is a popular misconception in Duke’s acres of North Carolina that the majority of students at UCLA are taking courses in How to Land a Juicy Part on a Daytime Soap Opera and that the first thing a UCLA woman does when she is awakened in the morning is change the last letter of her first name from a “y” to an “i.”

I also happen to know that the general feeling in Westwood is that anybody who matriculates at Duke must not have had the air fare to fly over to the more entertaining side of the country and that the first thing a Carolina woman does in the morning is ask her parents to again explain why her name is something like Curly Sue or Goober Ann.

And UCLA’s basketball fans want to know if Christian Laettner and Bobby Hurley really did defeat the University of Nevada Las Vegas fairly and squarely at the 1991 NCAA Final Four, or if the Vegas guys had already lost the game when they stepped out of some swindler’s hot tub.

Anyway, that’s my job today. To erase these erroneous notions forever.

In a minute or two, I will move along to provide more details about the fine Bruin and Blue Devil basketball teams that found themselves ranked 1-2 in the nation for much of this season. As you know, Duke happens to be college basketball’s defending champion, while UCLA is college basketball’s defending pantheon of the gods.

But first, a stroll around campus.

Duke is situated in a lush green setting in Durham, N.C., one of several towns in the vicinity named after families or corporations that for centuries have been hazardous to our health. Today, the university contributes to mankind’s physical well-being with the renowned Duke “rice diet,” with which fat people can reduce their weight by half and end up with guest shots on Oprah Winfrey.

Academically, Duke’s credo, more or less, is: “Another day, another scholar.” Nobody stupid need apply. Athletically, Duke has America’s funniest home fans, a mascot who’s a devil in a blue dress, a basketball squad with a pedigree and a distinguished coach with a surname, Krzyszewski, that sounds like a sneeze.

Mike Krzyszewski is polite, witty and smart, with only one hang-up, that being his compulsion to domineer the minds of his pupils. Although Duke prides itself on its scholastic endeavors and maturation process, Krzyszewski has been known to castigate both the student newspaper and cheering section for daring to express thoughts contrary to his own.

Maybe it’s his Army background. When the coach’s best player, Laettner, a bright young man who has been around, was asked after winning the NCAA regional tournament last season how he felt about Duke’s upcoming game with UNLV, Krzyszewski cut him off and forbade Laettner to answer, not giving the player enough credit to have the ability to speak for himself without potentially endangering the all-important pregame strategy.

This is the same Laettner who had enough aplomb to handle himself as an underclassman when visited in the locker room by the noted Duke law-school alumnus Richard M. Nixon, who, as any UCLA alumnus can tell you, is that guy they made that Robert Redford/Dustin Hoffman movie about.

Laettner is so good, Duke already has retired his number. It should be fascinating to see him going nose-to-nose against Don MacLean, who is so good, he already has scored more points than Kareem Abdul-Jabbar or anybody else who ever played for UCLA.

Duke’s lineup also includes Hurley, a wonderful little playmaker who is the approximate size of an NBA player’s radio. The Blue Devils also have California deserter Cherokee Parks, a superstar of tomorrow whose only worry is that he might be protested by American Indian groups demanding that he change his name to Bill or George, anything but Cherokee.

The game is no longer the clash of the titans it once was, now that opponents ranging from Wake Forest to Notre Dame to USC have demonstrated the vulnerability of Duke and UCLA. Yet this contest also could turn out to be a preview of the 1992 national championship game, and hey, what a truly cool game that would be.