FanHouse JayWright

In an effort to talk about something college basketball-related other than scandals in the summer, let's talk best current coaches. We'll attempt to order the top 25 current coaches in the nation. This is about the present and the future, not the distant past. What a guy did in the mid-90s doesn't matter near as much as the direction his program is currently headed. Past pedigree also matters, to an extent. For the perfect mix of past accomplishments with present achievement and a paved road for future success, look no further than the man atop the list.

PHILADELPHIA -- Dante Cunningham pays attention. He watches basketball. He knows who the good players are, the ones getting all the attention. He's well aware of what North Carolina's Ty Lawson has been doing -- ACC Player of the Year, front-runner (so far) for NCAA tournament most outstanding player. Cunningham is impressed. But he's not scared.

He's been watching Ty Lawson play his whole life.

"As a friend, I'm proud of him for what he's doing," Cunningham said of Lawson on Wednesday, at Villanova's final practice before departing for Detroit and the Final Four. "But as a competitor, I have to sit and understand that he has gotten better. I mean, obviously. He's one of the better players in the country. And we're going to need a great game plan to contain him."

PHILADELPHIA -- Detroit's Ford Field is the place where Villanova's NCAA tournament ended last year, with a Sweet 16 loss to eventual champion Kansas. The site of this year's Final Four, it's the place where the Wildcats' 2009 tournament will end as well. This time, they're hoping they can win a couple of games before that happens.

This time, they think they'll be better prepared for the unique challenge of playing a basketball game in a converted indoor football stadium -- in particular the unusually long walk from the locker room and a raised floor that apparently shakes a bit when you play on it.

BOSTON -- If you felt a shiver or tingle Saturday night, a quaking in your solar plexus, it's because you witnessed an epic basketball game, one of the virtuoso classics of March or any month. I mean, did Bill Raftery need oxygen afterward? This was destined to finish with the boldest, loudest exclamation point possible, given the 15 lead changes, palpable tension and Big East-style physicality in the building.

It was just a matter of who, what and when.

And then, in a magnificent flash, it happened. That the moment would belong to Scottie Reynolds, the embattled Villanova guard, made it grander. In enemy gyms, jerky kids with no lives actually chant, "Scottie doesn't know," which might be intended as a Euro Trip reference but almost certainly is meant as a savage reference to how Reynolds was put up for adoption as a baby by an 18-year-old single mother. He never has met the woman, although, with the urging of his adoptive parents, he has done investigative work and figured out who she is. He's waiting for a good time to call her.

BOSTON -- Tubby Smith is much too dignified to laugh out loud, or LOL in the text-message age. But for all the abuse he took at Kentucky during a decade that was absolutely dreadful -- a national championship, a 263-83 record, an NCAA tournament appearance every season, just horrendous stuff -- who could blame him if he wanted to giggle to himself Friday?

Seems the bluegrass has turned to fertilizer in Lexington.

BOSTON -- He looks like a chew toy, or something out of a puppet show. His dreads flop over a headband that would stand out more prominently if not for a midsection best described as doughy. His name is Levance Fields, and sometimes, he'll drive you to exasperation with reckless dribbling into traffic and corkscrew jumpshots heaved for no apparent purpose or reason.

BOSTON -- He looks like a chew toy, or something out of a puppet show. His dreads flop over a headband that would stand out more prominently if not for a midsection best described as doughy. His name is Levance Fields, and sometimes, he'll drive you to exasperation with reckless dribbling into traffic and corkscrew jumpshots heaved for no apparent purpose or reason.

College basketball coaches are a weird bunch. They are control freaks who are media savvy and live in an isolated world of hoopdom. But what if they weren't coaching? What would they do? Who would they be?

The blog CatsandBeer.com attempts to figure that out to hilarious results:

• Bo Ryan, Wisconsin: Evangelist
• Bob Huggins, West Virginia: No Frills Hired Muscle
• Darrin Horn, Western Kentucky: Guidance Counselor
• Roy Williams, North Carolina: Fried Chicken Restaurateur
• Bruce Pearl, Tennessee: Angry TV pitchman
• Ben Howland, UCLA: Landlord
• Tom Izzo, Michigan State: The Chief
• Bill Self, Kansas: Wisecracking plumber
• John Calipari, Memphis: Electrical Engineer
• Rick Barnes, Texas: Struggling farmer
• Jay Wright, Villanova: Man about town
• Bob McKillop, Davidson: Everybody's grandpa
• Sean Miller, Xavier: Man who'd say "bubbie"
• Tony Bennett, Washington State: Excited Mormon
• Trent Johnson, Stanford: The Tree
• Rick Pitino, Louisville: Wiseguy/Scott Baio body double