"K-R-Y-Z-E-W-S-K-I."

If you know anything about college basketball, or even basketball in general, you certainly recognize the legendary Coach K from esteemed Duke University. 

I say that with disdain because they've made an obnoxious habit out of embarrassing my once invincible Syracuse Orange -- 2003 National Champions and NIT Cellar dweller for seems like an eternity.

Coach K is retiring this year. There's a good chance Duke will make a good run in the NCAA Tournament, the one we used to go to all the time.

So I thought it'd be a good time to retell the story of how I busted his balls and he busted mine.

Back in to 2011 I was freelancing at Chiat/Day. They had a sudden project come up. They got budget approval to shoot a documentary with all the Division 1 Basketball coaches for the NCAA's Standup to Cancer Foundation. 

Even then I knew it was a good cause.

Many of the premier coaches in the game would be in Las Vegas scouting new talent at the Adidas 64 Super Tournament of something or other. Sure the coaches wanted to check out the high phenoms, but the cynical part of me says they also wanted a weekend away from their wives to scout the talent at the many surrounding generous gentlemen's clubs. 

"What's your name?....Briffany?....that's a pretty name."

In any case, we set up a run-n-gun little interviewing studio on the far end of the mammoth array of basketball courts and popped in each coach for a short perfunctory interview.

"I'm against cancer."

"My mother in law had cancer"

"We got to fight this with 110%."

" Cancer is bad."

"Do you have any Diet Pepsi?"

That's some high level journalism.

I didn't write any of those lines, nor did I elicit anything incisive from the coaches. I just did the gig and took the generous check. But as mentioned earlier I did get to yank Coach K's chain.

When he sat down, I asked him to say his name, where he coached and the proper spelling of his name. That was for the graphic art department so they could get the chyron's straight. 

But Coach K didn't take it that way. He thought I was busting chops because his name is spelt so different than the way it sounds. Mind you, I'm sure he's had his balls broken over this for all of his 68 years.

I laughed and said I need you to spell your name for the graphics department. Can you repeat it slowly?

Then he bolted up from his chair, and shouted, "Who's this friggin' asshole you got interviewing me?"

Well, it turns he can give as good as he gets. I turned whiter than rice and thought he was gonna walk out. He let the tension rise until the room felt uncomfortable. Then he smiled, turned to me...

"I really had you, didn't I?"

Yeah, Coach KRYZEWSKI, you really did.