Jimmy Patsos bursts through the doors and starts working the room like a politician, shaking hands and patting backs. This room happens to be a gymnasium, and there's never a doubt about the man responsible for bringing everyone together.
Patsos, the Loyola men's basketball coach, wears a dark blue jacket, no tie. He's 40 years old, yet his name draws more cheers from the student body than any player's. After turning around the school's program with a two-year finger snap, he has given Loyola reason to talk about the postseason again. That's why they're chanting Jim-my! Pat-sos! Clap-clap-clapclapclap just as the show begins.
From the opening tip, though, everyone can tell that something is different. The game has started, yet the volatile coach remains seated. He watches the action move back and forth, a pensive look on his face.
"I can get them only so far," Patsos says later, explaining this eerily calm demeanor. "They have to take it the rest of the way. They're the ones who have to play and who have to want to play."
His team builds a lead - 13 points at one point - but Patsos' usual antics are nowhere to be seen. He doesn't leap into the air, isn't barking at the officials, doesn't wave his arms as though he's trying to catch flight. Something is different.
The opponent, Canisius, mounts a first-half comeback, eventually tying the score at 30. Patsos calls a timeout with 3 1/2 minutes to go in the half and looks as if someone just slipped fresh batteries into him. The old firecracker inside is fighting to get out.
This is a man who grew up in Boston, studying Rick Pitino at Boston University, Jim Calhoun at Northeastern, Gary Williams at Boston College and Bill Fitch with the Celtics. And then he spent 13 years as an assistant at Maryland under Williams, a passionate leader whose flame rarely flickers. "Yeah, I learned a lot from Gary," Patsos says with a laugh.
Energy and fire
It's a delicate tightrope. Any coach who fancies himself a motivator wants to light a fire under his players without scorching their spirits. This night's calm was inspired by an epiphany of sorts.
After a game last month, Shane James, one of Loyola's two seniors, told Patsos that he couldn't take the yelling, that it wasn't helping him and he was thinking about leaving the program. "I made a deal with him," Patsos says. "If he plays better without it, then that's the way to go. If you can't play being yelled at, then why should I be yelling?"
