LOUISVILLE, Ky. (WDRB) — How do you say goodbye to a legend?

You never feel like you’ve done enough, that much I know. Today, as Louisville prepares to say goodbye to Denny Crum, heaven help us.

Crum helped change the trajectory of the University of Louisville. He changed the way the city of Louisville felt about itself. He wasn’t perfect. Who of us is? But he had a good heart. And goodness, could he coach.

Over a half-century in Louisville, he gave more than he got. A lot more. It’s about more than 675 basketball wins, or a pair of NCAA Championships or a half-dozen Final Fours.

Denny Crum Hall

Hall of Fame Louisville coach Denny Crum, center, with longtime friends Judy Cowgill and Sam Rechter at the dedication of Denny Crum Hall on Sept. 29, 2022.

We all know we can find his name in the rafters. In the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. But I’ve watched all of these honors and tributes since his death last Tuesday, my own included, and I feel like something is missing.

Sometimes, to tell the biggest stories, you need to look at the smallest gestures.

My neighbor, Rich Martin, told me a story that he’d been told about Crum taking the team to a Boys & Girls Club in Louisville. They handed out Louisville basketballs. A handful of kids said they wanted Kentucky basketballs. Crum got wind of it, made a phone call, and the balls showed up a little bit later.

A little thing. A big man. Bigger than a rivalry.

Or there’s my childhood friend Jeff Miller. I’m sure Crum didn’t know I sat next to this young man, a special needs student, all through junior high school, arguing basketball with him and our bus driver, Dude Payton. I lost touch with Jeff after those years. But decades later, in an out-of-town care facility, he was visited by Crum. The coach, that guy in the rafters and Hall of Fame, made the trip to see him, stayed and talked, and brought a Louisville warm-up suit. Jeff never forgot it. He was buried in it when he passed away in 2017.

A small gesture. A big heart.

Or there’s Kevin French. Showed up to Crum’s radio show with a black basketball to be signed. All anyone had was a black marker. Don’t worry, Crum said. Grabbed his umbrella. Went out into the pouring rain. Rifled through his car, and the 2-time NCAA champion coach came back in dripping, but with a white marker. Signed the ball.

A small thing. Great generosity.

WDRB’s own Candyce Clifft admitted she was a bit star-struck when she saw Crum in the WDRB studio during her interview at the station. After joining the staff, she became friends with Susan Sweeney Crum, and when Candyce gave birth to her first child, Susan and Denny brought a casserole to her house. But they did more than that. They sat with friends of Candyce and her husband who had come in from Tennessee. They couldn’t believe that “the” Denny Crum was there, and that he was sitting and talking to them. Sitting and listening to them.

Just a little token of kindness. But something people will carry forever.

When Crum arrived to sign Wiley Brown in little Sylvester, Ga., Brown was gone fishing. When Wiley got back, he was ready to talk basketball. All Crum wanted to talk about was fishing. It wouldn’t be the last time Brown was ready to talk basketball, and Crum instead talked about life.

“I was raised without a father, myself,” Brown said a few months back. “I was raised by 2 strong women, my mother and grandmother. My father wasn’t there. Coach has always been a father figure to me.”

Phil Bond was trying out for the U.S. team in the Pan-American games in 1975, and went to the coach, John Thompson of Georgetown, after a drill to tell him that the way they were running that particular defensive drill wasn’t how Coach Crum had his teams do it.

“John Thompson stopped practice and said, ‘OK guys, we’re going to do it this way, because this is the way Coach Crum does it,’” Bond remembered, smiling. “That’s a true story.”

Little drill. Great respect.

For those who wish to pay their respects, Crum’s viewing is at Southeast Christian Church from 11 to 2. His funeral begins at 2, with Bob Russell officiating. The burial is private.

Tonight, at the KFC Yum! Center, U of L is hosting a Celebration of Life, to feature Junior Bridgeman, Wade Houston, Darrell Griffith and others offering tributes.

Over the past several days, we’ve all tried to do our best to give Denny a sendoff worthy of his life.

Denny Crum and Susan Sweeney Crum

Denny Crum and his wife, Susan, at the dedication of Denny Crum Hall on Sept. 29, 2022.

But in the end, I think, those who will tell the story of Denny Crum are those who know it best – the people of Louisville. Crum’s passing was of some note nationally. But it is a big deal here, where he coached, and lived, and stayed. Like so many, he wasn’t from here, but he became one of us.

At his last big, formal event, the dedication of Denny Crum Hall last fall, Crum didn’t speak. But he did interact with fans. After the ribbon cutting, he slowly made his way into the large common area, sat on a couch, and smiled, posed for pictures, sat with people young and old. Those last images, Crum with students, Crum with fans, Crum with his community, were fitting.

Even without speaking, he made connections.

I keep thinking of a story related to me sometime during Crum’s final months. On a particularly lucid day, he piped up and asked his wife Susan if she had the car keys. Yes, she had them, she said, but why in the world did he need them?

“We need to go to Cabelas,” he answered.

“What do we need from Cabelas?” she asked.

“A LOT,” came the response.

Crum knew this much – he was getting ready for a journey. What he might not have known is that he already had all the provisions he would need.

In any event, he made a richer life for this city, and many of its people, whether it was by the thousands, or one at a time.

And now, it's time to say goodbye. I suspect a good many of us do not feel up to it. I also know that as a city, we are.

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