Vividly recall sweating through our first long, slow line of the day, right after leaving the gym … still in civvies, with suitcase in hand and a bewildered expression. After ten or so minutes of the start-stop-start-again shuffle, the tall guy in front of me, clearly bored, turned around, stuck out his hand, grinned, and said, “Mike Krzyzewski, Chicago.” You would not believe the responses I still get telling this, “Guess who I met first at West Point?” story.
