On all those long northern California drives to the games Bill Van Gundy was coaching, he and his boys would talk basketball until they imagined themselves someday behind the wheel. They would be in the locker rooms and behind the benches, in the coaches' offices while the tapes played.

Surely, Stan Van Gundy and his younger brother Jeff dreamed, as boys do, if not of last-second shots, at least of triumphantly raising arms, suit jackets flapping in front of the bench, as champions in their father's profession.

The stories of Jeff Van Gundy diagramming plays in crayon while the other kids scribbled happy faces are exaggerated. He was certainly out of diapers before he drew his first pick-and-roll and probably was on to solid food, and maybe even kindergarten.

He was well into the fourth grade when Bill Van Gundy had brain surgery to remove a tumor, and Jeff took over the scouting. When he was cut from the Yale basketball team, he immediately planned his transfer to community college not only to play but also eventually coach.

He imagined himself in the profession he revered most, as a coach.

And then his life exceeded his imagination.