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"And it doesn't always mean that you haven't
learned anything if the other team is better. If you
have a tough shooting night, does that mean you
don't know how to shoot? No, of course not."
It's only natural to "want" to know more about
Ryan, or anybody else, for that matter, who has dealt
with the loss of parents. His mom, Louise, passed
away in late December of 2012. She was 86.
But if the suggestion is that Bo Ryan is mellowing,
he will have nothing to do with it. "I don't think the
players would tell you that," he said. "First of all, I
don't know what it means."
Mellowing? You don't know what mellowing is?
"Mello Yello? Carmelo? What's mellow mean?" he
countered.
By definition, a person's character or demeanor
can mature and be softened by age or experience.
Soft, of course, would not be in his dictionary. But
what about reaching a peace of mind?
"I'm always at peace," Ryan said. "I'm like Alfred E.
Neuman. What, me worry?"
That was a reference to the fictitious cover boy for
"Mad" magazine, which peaked in the '70s.
"Do I look like I'm worried?" Ryan asked.
If he is, you wouldn't know it. The only time that
he drops his guard is when he's around his grand-
children. He's definitely at peace, then.
"They're at a stage," he explained, "where they're
taking in everything and you're trying to help them
understand what's around them.
"With young kids, whether they're grandkids or
kids at a basketball camp, you're trying to teach
them the right things."
Which he's doing at a more advanced level here
― "Because they have more deep-seated beliefs and
traditions by the time they're 18," he said ― with
Hayes and the rest of the "kids" on this team.
It's his Call of Duty. He's fond of saying, "I live
through them."
During Sunday's selection show, the players sat in
the front of the room while Ryan stood in the back.
He was well out of the picture when CBS showed a
live shot of the team's reaction to the seed.
Delighted by their measured response, knowing
the work is still ahead, he said, "We're all business."
They were living through him now.
DAVID
STLUKA