You want Ben Howland to lighten up, want him to smile just a little and crack wise or maybe sometimes sit courtside during games like Phil Jackson -- calm as a stone, peaceful, hardly reacting to anything at all.
But we have to face facts. Howland isn't built that way. Angst should be his middle name. The big worry is that if he were to lose the sideline shouts and grimaces and unrelenting nature, he'd also completely lose his edge.
And where would UCLA basketball be then? Not where it is now. Suddenly, the 15th-ranked Bruins are 19-4 and among the hottest teams in the nation. They've ripped off four straight wins, each game taken by a whopper margin, the latest coming Saturday when they dismantled Notre Dame, 89-63.
This was a game in which everything went right for UCLA. The offense flowed. The defense remained stout. At halftime, "Coach said to play like it was zero-zero," Jrue Holiday said.
Zero-zero? The score was UCLA 46, Notre Dame 30 -- and truth be told not even nearly that close.
You'd think that maybe in a game like this, the famously controlling, ever-obsessive Howland would take a deep breath, relax, decide to spend the second half sitting, maybe even allow himself something approximating a real smile.
In fact, the Bruins' coach was so worked up during Saturday's entire blowout -- an extremely boring game if you like competitive matchups -- that the action he provided on the sideline was as good as anything happening on court. Probably better.
Looking like a dour, black-suited undertaker, Howland prowled, scowled, scolded and basically coached his derriere off, with not a moment's slip, even when Notre Dame was down by what seemed like 56 points. It's Ben Howland's way -- and again, it's working.
"You can feel the passion, feel the energy," Holiday said of his coach. "When he tells you something that you did wrong, with that mad look on his face . . ." He grimaced, as if having a flashback.
Maybe Holiday was thinking of the start of the second half. By then, the game was essentially over. But when Darren Collison clanged a jumper, I focused my binoculars immediately on his coach. Howland bent over slightly, stamped a foot, locked his jaws and tugged his coat, a nervous tic. His face had the look of someone suffering through flu on a very hot day. He let out a bellow: "Damn!"
Soon, Alfred Aboya, having one of the best games in his four seasons, made a turnaround jumper.
