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Mike Vaccaro

Mike Vaccaro

Sports

The real stars of the NCAAs are worth all their stinking millions

HOUSTON — Coaches always tell you the same thing: This isn’t about them. It’s about the players. It’s about the kids. It’s about the — please bow your head solemnly here — the student-athletes, the most visible hyphen in basketball since the one that separated “Abdul” and “Jabbar.”

“We should never forget,” Mike Krzyzewski said early Sunday evening, “that the whole reason we’re here, all coaches, is because of the kids. And I’ve got great kids.”

Mark Few, whose Gonzaga Zags were vanquished by Krzyzewski’s Duke Blue Devils, 66-52 at NRG Stadium, said it even more succinctly, paraphrasing (subconsciously, we assume Coach Norman Dale): “I love these guys.”

Look, we have to assume they’re genuine. Few has a reputation for being one of the most beloved coaches among former players. Krzyzewski’s loyalties run deep, and he often seems on the verge of getting downright emotional whenever he discusses this group of Devils, which delivered him to a 12th Final Four berth.

But let’s be very clear about this: It isn’t about the kids. The kids are a vehicle. The kids are a channel. The kids are chess pieces. The coaches are the masters, because the coaches are the ones who stay year after year (as long as they move those chess pieces around proficiently).

We know this. We’ve known this. It just hits home a little more this year, when you consider the four men who will reconvene next weekend in Indianapolis, a gathering that will be known formally as the “National Semifinals” and everywhere else as the “Kentucky Invitational.”

These are the four, in order of career merit:

1. Mike Krzyzewski, Duke

Lifetime record: 1,016-310.
National championships: 4
Final Fours: 12
Annual salary: $9.7 million

2. Tom Izzo, Michigan State

Lifetime record: 495-198
National championships: 1
Final Fours: 7
Annual salary: $3.9 million

3. John Calipari, Kentucky

Lifetime record: 593-174
National championships: 1
Final Fours: 6
Annual salary: $5.5 million

4. Bo Ryan, Wisconsin

Lifetime record: 739-227 (including Division III)
National championships: 4 (all at Division III)
Final Fours: 6 (2 D-I)
Annual salary: $2.4 million

There are a couple of numbers that will strike you immediately. One is this: 2,843. That’s the number of victories these four men have assembled, a staggering sum. Another is this: Six, the number of national titles they’ve won, a number that swells to 10 if you add (as you should) the four Division III champions Ryan won at Wisconsin-Platteville. And there is this: 27, the number of Final Fours they’ve been to.

Staggering.

As is this one: $21.5 million.

As in their total compensation for 2014 according to the latest figures available, in a story by USA Today at last year’s Final Four (and you can assume that figure is a little higher this year).

And here’s the thing: that last figure would seem to jibe nicely with the ones that came before. In a profession that rewards ambitious achievers, that generates millions of dollars, it is both unsurprising that these four men reached the Final Four, and difficult to argue they aren’t worth it.

Yes: It is still the thousand-pound elephant in the room, the fact that as much as these millionaires praise their players, they still are utilizing their talents for the relative bargain of an athletic scholarship (not “for free,” as is popularly said; anyone who ever had to go pay a student loan understands that).

But in many ways, they are also the insurance policy the NCAA has for this gold mine of an event. As long as the same men are performing their jobs at the same level of excellence year after year, securing a preponderance of the talent and figuring out ways to squeak through the brackets, they are the stars.

They don’t want you to call them stars. They want you to focus on the players, on the kids, on the student-athletes, the highly affordable workforce. Without the players, sure, the coaches would be highly popular history teachers. Fair. True. But it’s also no accident the best guys tend to wind up on the final weekend year after year, too. It’s good to be the king.