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Dawg Days

Updated: November 2, 1999, 10:26 AM ET
By Gene Wojciechowski | ESPN The Magazine
Sure, he cried. Cried every day for a month. Cried like one of the five grandchildren he cherishes a million times more than his 1995 national championship ring. Cried because he thought he had betrayed his family, which, if you know Jim Harrick, is like saying he boils puppies for fun. This is a guy who prides himself on being the Styrofoam coach: non-biodegradable, indestructible. He's the belligerent knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Slice him, dice him, catch him lying about a $1,085 recruiting dinner, and he sneers, "Just a flesh wound." Watch him self-combust at UCLA. Listen as he does a Bobby Cremins-like yes-no-yes thing at Georgia. No matter how much he alienates, exasperates and infuriates, Harrick survives. Hell, does better than survives. Flourishes.

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