[OK, he's not a football coach, but I couldn't resist.]
Coach Calipari requested that I meet at room 273 in the Budget Host Inn off of I-75 outside Kingston.
After making my introduction and saying how much of an honor it was, I asked, "This is an interesting place for an office, but can we check out your house later?"
"House?" he said.
Coach Cal rummaged through the unmade bed and repeated, "Keys, keys, keys, where are my keys?" for a few minutes, then asked if I've ever suddenly gained 15 pounds over a period of less than a week.
"No, coach, would you need me to put on weight to play forward?" I asked.
"No, no, this is for a...friend of mine," he said, "who needs to look heavier for an ID. Adult stuff. You wouldn't understand."
We prank-called Rick Pitino from the hotel phone for an hour ("I do this great impression of Hubie Brown. It confuses him,"), ordered Chinese takeout and watched a Twilight Zone marathon.
"You want to order anything on pay-per-view?" he asked, flipping the greasy remote to me and licking his fingers. "I think they got the Royal Rumble on this weekend. We can write it off as an athletic expense."
Calipari told me Ric Flair used to be a personal friend, but that "we haven't spoken in a few years."
"I hope he's doing OK."