My obsession with college basketball began in 1986 when I was a high school sophomore.  For the four years leading up to that, I’d been living overseas as a military brat, where  “sports on TV” meant, pretty much, soccer, cricket, and the occasional special event on the Armed Forces Network.  By the time we got back to the states, ESPN had moved beyond their early days of softball and Australian Rules Football.  In its place was college basketball.  And lots of it.

Between girls and high school sports, I wasn’t ever home until late in the evening.  Problem, right?  Nope.  Those West Coast basketball games came on at the perfect time.  My routine became staying up until 1 and 2am every night watching the likes of UCSB, Loyola-Marymount, and of course… the University of Nevada – Las Vegas.

It wasn’t long before UNLV was my favorite team.  Jerry Tarkanian’s Runnin’ Rebels’ up and down style was fun to watch.  More than that, though, his teams had swagger.  From that ’86-’87 team with Gerald Paddio and Armon Gilliam through the ’90-’91 Larry Johnson-led juggernaut, those guys showed up, and acted as if there was no way they could lose.  I loved it.  The way I celebrated their National Championship is 1990, you’d have thought I was born and raised in Las Vegas.  A year later, as a soldier serving in Desert Storm, I cried – just a little – listening to the radio broadcast as Duke shocked the world and knocked my Rebs out in the Final Four.

Jerry Tarkanian died yesterday at the age of 84.  A small piece of my youth went with him.  RIP, coach.