NEW ORLEANS — It came for him as it comes for all of us, that line of zeroes, sudden as a scream. The minutes became seconds, and the seconds became fractions, and then the void arrived.
The most anybody can hope for is to see it coming. Now, here it was, high above the hardwood, framed against a cavernous dome, the clock counting down its final moments on a lonely figure below.
It came for him as it often does, on its own terms, without sentiment, or glory, or any hint of regard for mortals’ best-laid plans. Sitting on a stool at the far edge of the Superdome’s elevated court, Mike Krzyzewski heard the buzzer sound, and he rose to his feet to leave.
“I’ve said my entire career that I wanted my seasons to end where my team was either crying tears of joy or tears of sorrow,” college basketball’s winningest coach would say later, “because then you knew that they gave everything.”
He got everything he wanted, except the final score. North Carolina’s epic 81-77 win over Duke in Saturday’s national semifinals was more than just Krzyzewski’s final game as coach. It was a culmination, a 40-minute distillation of a 47-year career, a testament both to the program he’d built and the reality that confronts any builder. However great your talent, however great your game plan, there are nights where the other guys will be better.
This was one of those nights. Perhaps it was fitting that North Carolina was the opponent. Under Krzyzewski, Duke had faced its archrival 97 previous times, but, somehow, never in the NCAA Tournament.
The two teams seemed determined to make up for that omission in their collective record, engaging in a back-and-forth battle that featured 12 ties and 18 lead changes, rarely affording the Superdome’s 70,000+ crowd a chance to breathe. Early in the second half, North Carolina seized a 47-41 lead. But that set the stage for a 10-2 Duke run, which then set the stage for back-to-back North Carolina three-pointers, which were quickly answered by two Duke buckets.
For the final 10 minutes, that is how it went, Duke freshmen Paolo Banchero and Trevor Keels exchanging heavyweight blows with North Carolina sophomore Caleb Love. When the final media timeout arrived with 3 minutes, 32 seconds left, the count was even, 67-67.
“I think it reached a level that you would expect,” Krzyzewski said afterward. “Those kids from both teams played their hearts out. I mean, the crowd was standing most of the game, I think. It was a heck of a game.”
And maybe it ended as it should have. With one of the youngest teams Krzyzewski has ever coached missing three free throws in the final 47 seconds. With a player who’d wanted a scholarship offer from Duke draining a three-pointer with 25 seconds left to give the Tar Heels a four-point lead. With the Blue Devils giving Krzyzewski one of his finest seasons — only six Duke teams have ever won more games — and also a reminder of the limitations of coaching.
Love’s dagger aside, the two most pertinent plot points in the game’s closing seconds were trips to the foul line. First, sophomore center Mark Williams missed a pair of free throws that could have given Duke a 76-75 lead with 46.7 seconds left. Then, with 10.4 seconds remaining and North Carolina up, 79-76, Keels was at the line with a chance to guarantee his team a game-tying possession, only to miss the second free throw. Love answered by sinking both of his attempts, essentially sealing the win.
Even without the missteps down the stretch, Duke was not assured of victory. With them, they at least offered Krzyzewski a chance to do one last little bit of coaching. Walking up the tunnel as the Tar Heels rejoiced behind him, he stopped to console a despondent Keels, drawing him in for a hug.
“I had a locker room filled with guys who were crying,” Krzyzewski said. “And it’s a beautiful sight. It’s not the sight I would want. I’d want the other. But it’s a sight I really respect and makes me understand just how good this group was.”
Success comes with trappings that includes a big old target for the cynics. Throughout a weekend that was billed as the grand finale to Krzyzewski’s storied career, you could hear the snickers from the grandstands, the cries of self-aggrandizement. Yet the ultimate judge of a man’s legacy is the permanence of what he builds. However you feel about Krzyzewski’s persona, or his methods, or the institution that employs him, it is impossible to question the behemoth he has built, or the principles at its foundation.
“It’s always been my dream to play for Duke since I was a little kid watching it on TV,” Keels said. “When I got the offer and I committed, I was all in. I knew it was a brotherhood, but I didn’t know it was this type of level. Everybody’s family. Everybody wants what’s best for each other. Everybody loves each other.”
When you’ve built a program whose stakeholders regard it in those terms, do the critics really matter?
“I’ve been blessed to be in the arena,” Krzyzewski said toward the end of his postgame news conference. “And when you’re in the arena, you’re either going to come out feeling great or you’re going to be in agony, but you always feel great about being in the arena. I’m sure that’s the thing when I look back that I’ll miss. I won’t be in the arena anymore. But, damn, I was in the arena for a long time. And these kids made my last time in the arena an amazing one.”
Just past 11 p.m. CT, more than an hour into his retirement, Krzyzewski strode down a makeshift hallway and into the basement concourse of the Superdome. He ushered his wife, Mickie, past a line of photographers and joined her in a waiting golf cart.
“Maybe you can superimpose a sunset,” he cracked as the cart pulled away from the crowd.
A few seconds later, he was gone.
