Remembering Rick Majerus, college basketball's clown prince Everyone laughed at the line. Majerus repeated it often, always smiling, always getting a big laugh. And then he went off to a hotel room somewhere to brood about basketball and wonder if he would die young. "I've already beaten the odds by still being here," he said a couple of years ago when he was coaching at Saint Louis, the final stop on his coaching odyssey. I promised my mother I wouldn't die before she did. Getting this team to play better is my number two goal. Keeping my promise to my mom is my number one goal. He did both. His mom died in August 2011 at the age of 84. The following winter, her son won 26 games at Saint Louis and took the Billikens back to the NCAA tournament for the first time since 2000. But his health never stopped being an issue. Majerus swam almost every day. When he was on the road, he would find a pool and get in for an hour. When his team played in Hawaii, he walked into the Pacific Ocean and swam for an hour. As much as he loved food, he tried to watch his diet but readily admitted it was a constant battle. To the public, Majerus came across as the classic funny fat guy. He had a one-liner for almost any situation. But there was nothing funny about him when it came to basketball. He was obsessed with the game and with figuring out ways to win. He was as politically aware as anyone in sports. As a teenager he accompanied his father to the civil rights marches in Selma, Ala., and never forgot the experience. He could talk about serious issues as easily and eloquently as he could toss out one-liners, but most people chose to focus on the funny side because it was easier that way. He started his head coaching career at Marquette, his alma mater, where his record was a respectable 56-35 but not up to the standards set by the legendary Al McGuire. After that, he had wildly successful stints at Ball State, Utah and Saint Louis. There was a trip to the national title game at Utah in 1998, a game that produced a loss to Kentucky and nightmares that Majerus said never stopped haunting him. He left Utah for health reasons, worked for ESPN, took the job at USC for five days and left for health reasons, went back to ESPN and then spent the last six seasons at Saint Louis. "This job is perfect for me," he said shortly after arriving. I'm at a place that I think has great potential and I can get in the car whenever I want to and be in my mom's driveway [in Milwaukee] in under five hours. Majerus was always funny, in victory or defeat. When then-Kentucky coach Rick Pitino suggested before his team met Utah in the 1996 Sweet 16 that the Utes should be favored, Majerus shook his head. "If you put the two of us in a sumo ring I'd crush him," he said. On the basketball court, I think we're in trouble.