Mickey And The Columbos: How Chicago Grew Mike Krzyzewski Into Coach K

CHICAGO — Before the Cameron Crazies came along, there was the Columbos. Before the 13 Final Fours, the five college basketball national championships, and the three Olympic gold medals, there were childhood schoolyard victories in every sport imaginable. And before there was Coach K, there was Mickey.

For Duke basketball coach Mike Krzyzewski, the homegrown Hall of Famer, the road to everything he has ever known is rooted in Chicago. The path has taken him from his working-class Polish neighborhood on the city's near northwest side to college basketball’s mountaintop. But before any of the game plans for any of his 1,202 victories were hatched, before any of his five NCAA titles were captured, and before any of his 42 Blue Devils teams were constructed, the lessons — both taught and learned — began with those who have been there from the beginning. And it's the same group who will be there when the legendary journey ends this weekend —win or lose — in New Orleans.

The Columbos who remain are now —like their most recognizable member and Duke's basketball coach — all in their mid-70s. Some of them get around better these days than others, but all of them remain loyal to the group just the same. Dennis Mlynski, who has always been better known as “Moe.” is now, like his best friend, Krzyzewski, 75.

And Moe, like the rest of the Columbos, has remained close over the years with Krzyzewski, who will establish a new NCAA record for men's Final Four appearances when the Blue Devils make their 13th trip this weekend starting with Saturday's national semifinal against archrival North Carolina.

Yet, as Krzyzewski prepares for one final coaching curtain call in what will be his final pursuit of yet another national championship, he will not stand alone. He will, as always, be surrounded by the love of his life, Mickie, his daughters and their families, and the ever-present supporting cast of former players, assistant coaches, friends, and longtime admirers who have seemingly never left his side.

But then, there will be the Columbos, who, to this day, hold a special place of prominence at Krzyzewski's table of influencers — because, at his core, Coach K is a Columbo. And as has always been the case, once you're a Columbo, you're a Columbo for life.

The Columbos look different from how they once did. But more than 60 years after they met in the schoolyard of Christopher Columbus Elementary in Chicago’s Ukrainian Village neighborhood, they remain close. They have forged their own career paths, raised their own families and lived their own lives. They are, in their own ways, all successful — and as has always been the Columbo Way, when one of them succeeds, they all succeed, which is always cause for celebration.

That, of course, brings them all back to Coach K and New Orleans, whether it be in person or camped in front of their living room TV. They will gather either in the body or in spirit one more time, praying for victory for Krzyzewski — although they all realize that this time will be different just because it's the final time the master coach will work his magic.

While Moe Mlynski has always been the glue that has held the group together, Mike Krzyzewski — college basketball’s all-time winningest coach more than six decades after he left the schoolyard — has always undoubtedly been the leader. Krzyzewski has always referred to his teams as his "guys" — and God knows, the Columbos were no different.

"He knows how to get the best out of his guys," Mlynski told Patch in a telephone interview this week. "He’s different — I can tell you that. There are a number of people on this earth that are really different. And he’s one of them."

Mickey Krzyzewski, as he was known then and remains to some now, was always the organizer. He was always the team captain, choosing sides for 16-inch softball, basketball,

and football games in that beloved schoolyard. He was always up for a game, no matter what it was, and knew his fellow Columbos were always up to play along. When his friends sat on the schoolyard steps, Mickey was always the one to develop a game plan and, like now, always found a way to get his guys to follow his lead.

Mickey was always with the plan and the vision, much as he has for each of his teams at Duke. At times, perhaps like some of Coach K's college players at Army and Duke, the Columbos couldn’t see the forest through the trees. There was the time when Mickey signed his team up for a 16-inch softball league in which teenagers would compete against teams made up of 20- and 30-somethings.

But whether the Columbos knew it or not at the time, there was always a reason for every decision Mickey made.

“You’d say, ‘Mike, what the hell is going on?” and he’d say, ‘It will make us better,’” Coach K’s childhood friend Len Bryle told Patch in a telephone interview this week. “We’d get murdered by these guys and Mike would say, ‘Come on, we can do this. It will make us better.’”

Toughness and grit defined the old neighborhood the Columbos called home. The tough kids didn’t go around picking fights, Columbo Dennis "Ruby" Wrobel said, but everyone knew how to stand their ground and put in the work necessary to get the job done. Work ethic and determination had been instilled in the Columbos by their parents — factory workers and everyday blue-collar wage-earners all of them — who took pride in where they were going and where they believed their kids could go if they lived by the neighborhood's code.

Krzyzewski’s parents, Bill and Emily, were no different. Both Polish immigrants, Bill, who opted to change his name to Kross, operated an elevator at the Willoughby Tower while Emily worked as a cleaning woman at places such as the Chicago Athletic Club, teaching Mickey the value of an honest day’s work from the family's modest apartment on Cortez Street.

The Columbos were all like that. They had no choice, and so when it came to growing up together, everyone lived and played by the same rules. It’s a lesson Krzyzewski never forgot from the day he left for the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, where he played point guard for fellow Hall of Fame coach Bob Knight and where discipline and a no-excuse lifestyle weren’t just expected but a requirement. The toughness was always there in the old neighborhood, but Army represented the next logical step.

“Army shaped his sense of responsibility — that you never blame anyone else for failure,” college basketball chronicler, author and Duke alum John Feinstein told Patch this week. “As a plebe, there were only three acceptable responses, ‘Yes, Sir,' ‘No, Sir’ and “No excuse, Sir.’ (Krzyzewski) lived by that ‘No excuse, Sir’ (mantra).”

Feinstein added: "The two things that determined who (Krzyzewski) became were his background growing up in Chicago and going to Army ... but coaching is always what he knew he wanted to do, and I think it started with the Columbos."

More than 60 years later, Krzyzewski remains true to his roots. No matter how many victories his Duke teams have amassed, no matter how many championship seasons he has navigated, Krzyzewski has never lost sight of who made helped shape him into the person he remains.

The fact that Krzyzewski has remained true to himself and the values he learned in the neighborhood where he attended Archbishop Weber High School isn’t lost on those who have stayed along for the ride. Krzyzewski has never made himself out to be more important than anyone else, because that's not how his parents raised him.

“He’s said to me, ‘Moe, a lot of the stuff I’ve done over the years is just stuff from the schoolyard and just growing up,” Mlynski said. “Having fun, discipline, respecting other people — that’s how we grew up.”

Added Bryle: His attitude was always, “I grew up in this neighborhood and that’s how I will always be. ….In today’s world, I think (loyalty) is great quality. Some people start little and get big, and you never see them again. This guy, he’ll do anything. He doesn’t have to, but he just does it…that’s just kind of who he is.”

Over the years, the frequency with which the Columbos gathered changed as career and family responsibilities became bigger priorities. But when the group managed to reconnect, it was as if time had stood still and old friends remained old friends. Krzyzewski remained part of that although his in-season coaching schedule didn't allow him to return to Chicago as much as maybe he would have liked, especially after his mother died in 1996 at age 84.

But in some ways, Mickey always seemed to be there in spirit whether it was for one of the Columbos' weddings, wakes, or just a get together when the group would gather to relive old times. In homage to one of Coach K's favorite sayings, "If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, Muhammad must go to the mountain," the Columbos on occasion traveled to North Carolina, where Duke plays its home games at Cameron Indoor Stadium.

Earlier this season, a small group traveled to Durham for the Blue Devils' game against Florida State for what would be Coach K's final home victory. His guys from the old neighborhood knew the routine. They'd wait for about 40 minutes after the buzzer sounded, and Krzyzewski would walk into a private room where his old buddies had been sequestered in order to get a few minutes with their old schoolmate.

"He'd come into that room and after two or three minutes, it was like we were never away," Coach K's childhood friend Larry Kusch, who was known as "Twams," told Patch this week.

He added: "He never forgot anybody, that's for sure ...but he's a pretty humble fella to still be associating with us old guys that he's known for 66, 67 years — that's something pretty good about him. But it's because he's grounded."

Remaining true was something Krzyzewski learned from a young age from his parents. Along with the value of hard work, he was told to respect those around him and to never forget those who had always been by his side. He has done that in myriad ways whether it be by sending an autographed copy of a book for a retirement gift or making his way over to see friends who don't get around as well as they used to.

But the fact Coach K remains true to the Columbos is appreciated in ways that go deeper than many friendships because, in some ways, Mickey's friends say, their relationship represents so much more.

"In retrospect, we had nothing, but we had everything because we had the kids in the schoolyard," Kusch said. "Every day was a good day because we had each other, and you could always count on that core group of guys to be there."

Now, they will again there be there for Krzyzewski as he prepares for either the final one or two games of his coaching career. While many of the Columbos will watch the Final Four from home, Moe and Twams will watch from the stands as they have so many times before. The occasion makes for a melancholy Moe, whom Krzyzewski served as his best man and is the godfather to one of his daughters. Moe sometimes marvels how at 75, Coach K manages to appear to look so fresh although Moe knows how much of a toll coaching has taken on his best friend over the years.

Kusch, meanwhile, has been a firsthand witness to all five of Duke's national championships as well as two of their Final Four losses. Kusch now looks at his good buddy Coach K and likes to think he has followed the neighborhood rules of playing by the rules, respecting others and working hard during his lifetime in the same way Krzyzewski has throughout his own career at Army and Duke.

The rest of the Columbos fall in the same line and, in their own way, will hope for two more victories and a sixth national title for their fellow Columbo. But even if Duke should lose in Saturday's national semifinal against the Tar Heels, rather than celebrate once again on Championship Monday, they know that will remain linked with their old pal Mickey from the old neighborhood in ways that run deeper beyond wins and losses.

They look forward to the day when once Coach K's final season has ended and he has gotten a chance to breathe, the Columbos will again reunite just like the old days.

They will come from various parts of Chicago and the surrounding suburbs and, when time allows, the leader of the group — then retired — will get the Columbos back together and do as they always do, reliving the good old days. Although they are now older, it will again be like nothing had ever changed from the day that they gathered for a grainy black-and-white photo behind Moe's garage — an image that is displayed as part of the Coach K section of the Duke Sports Hall of Fame in Durham.

They will again be linked together forever linked by a comfort level that Kusch likens to a familiar, worn-in pair of slippers — because once you're a Columbo, you're a Columbo for life, no matter who you are.

"It’s like we’re all one," Wrobel said this week. "I’d like to think there’s some of Mike in me, there’s some of me in Mike, there’s some of Moe in me, there’s some me in Lenny and I’m in Lenny. It’s just sharing our lives together.

"But we never thought of any of us being bigger or better than anyone else — that’s how we were.”

That's how they will remain.