You Be The Coach is not the first parlor game based on college
basketball. Before it, there were Trivial Pursuit (about the
quest for an NIT championship), Sorry! (created by former
Illinois coach Lou Henson's barber), Risk (contes-tants try to
chat with Bob Knight), Clue (in which referees try to get one),
Life (in which sportswriters try to get one), Monopoly (about
the John Wooden years at UCLA) and charades (about the Jim
Harrick years at UCLA).
With that in mind, You Be The Coach was originally developed as
an NBA board game called Hubie The Coach. But the box-cover
photograph of Hubie Brown frightened little children.
So, You Be The Coach lets you be the coach of a Division I
college basketball team. The game's object (like its subject) is
simple: Players try to advance through the season to the Final
Four in Indianapolis and win the national championship. Bear in
mind that at the Semester Break, each contestant must roll the
die and divide by two to determine his or her team's grade point
average. And to win the title, a contestant must reach the final
square on an exact roll of the die. (In both cases, an academic
adviser may be appointed to help you with the math.)
Oh, and before you start, you need to provide a single die and
small game pieces (e.g., a coin, a thimble, Texas coach Tom
Penders). Good luck!
December 2, 1996
At Midnight Madness, flying cheerleader lands on your shooting
guard. He is O.K. but the guard will be out for a month. Go back
You beat Kentucky in Great Alaska Shootout. Gain Eskimo-mentum.
Congratulations! You win home opener against St. Leo by 55
points. Advance two spaces.
Sorry! You lose home opener to Athletes in Action. Go back to
Your team craps out in Atlantic City Invitational, but gaming
commission approves your slot-machine license. Stay where you are.
Snow forecast causes you to cancel game against St. Joe's, but
weather in Philly turns out to be sunny and 50[degrees]. Back
up three spaces.
Your senior center gets picked up for shoplifting at a 7-Eleven.
Go back one space. His freshman replacement is 7'11". Advance
Billy Packer hooks you up with the Buckler Challenge in France;
your jet-lagged team loses first two games after return to U.S.
Go back six spaces (and fall six spots in AP poll).
At Maui Invitational, tyrannical academic adviser felled by bad
poi. Advance one space.
Semester Break: Roll die and divide by two. This is your team
grade point average. If 1.5 or over, take another turn. If not,
lose a turn.
You win first three conference games, all on the road. SI
arrives to do cover story: Enjoy publicity bonanza, move up two
spaces. Then cover jinx hits: Move back three.
You toss chair at practice. (Alas, she is chair of the English
department.) Go back to Start.
Mock turtleneck rash hospitalizes coaching staff, forcing team
manager to take over. He beats Dale Brown and LSU by 20. Move up
NCAA discovers your assistant bought recruit a Happy Meal: Move
back one space. NCAA fails to discover you bought him a Range
Rover: Move ahead five.
Blue-chip recruit you sent 2,000 letters to signs with State U,
his mailman's alma mater. Move back three.
Rodmaniac power forward's nose-piercing infection turns his
schnozz gangrenous, matching his hair but setting you back two
Shirtless fans, breathless coeds and cheerleader pyramids: You
win conference tournament. Jump ahead two places on road to
March Madness and roll again.
Shirtless fans, breathless coeds and cheerleader pyramids:
You're busted on a morals charge. Lose your wife, your courtesy
Lexus and your next turn. (Take the NIT bypass.)
You complete mediocre season but copyright residual-rich phrase
"on the bubble." Lose one turn.
Kmart wants to dress you. Jud Heathcote wants to hairdress you.
Life is weird. Go back one space.
Phone call congratulates you on selection to NIT. Police
negotiator talks you off ledge. You are out of the game. Slide
into basketball hell.
Armani wants to dress you. Starlets want to undress you. Life is
good. Stay here and enjoy the scenery until your next turn.
Bad news: You open against No. 1 seed in West. Good news: It's
UCLA. Advance two spaces to round of 32.
Bad news: Your run-and-gun team faces Ivy League champion. Good
news: You have Get-out-of-Yale-free card. Advance four spaces
to Sweet 16.
Your team hits two technicals and a buzzer-beater after other
team calls a timeout it didn't have. You tell press afterward,
"Give some credit to the players, too." Advance four spaces.
No one shows up for your postgame press conference; you make
mental note to wash "lucky shirt" worn in eight straight games.
Lose Degree deodorant deal and one turn.
Victory! You earn $50,000 bonus for reaching Final Four (plus
$5,000 if any of your players graduate). Advance one space.
National champions! You say on CBS, "I'm just happy for the
kids." Next day, you sign lucrative deal to coach the New Jersey