As the victories accumulated over the years, Jim Boeheim could have had almost any job in college basketball. He only wanted one. The job he already had.
Syracuse, N.Y., isn’t for everyone, but it was Paris for Boeheim. It was Maui. It was his own Greek island. Even if paradise came with piles of snow and leaden skies, they so perfectly matched the coach’s eternally gloomy countenance.
Spend a lifetime there? He couldn’t dream of going anywhere else. In a transient sport, Boeheim gave Syracuse an incredible gift of permanence.
