Tarkanian generated fierce loyalty

Freddie Glusman, maybe the toughest restaurateur in town, had just finished his birthday lunch at the Las Vegas Country Club.

He should have felt like celebrating — he’s 78, after all — but couldn’t quite pull it off. His best pal had died, and the loss showed on Glusman’s Vegas tan face.

The end was no surprise. Former UNLV basketball coach Jerry Tarkanian, who was 84, battled a full-court press of medical maladies in recent years with the same level of tenacity his best teams displayed on the hardwood. But the clock runs out for every man.

That doesn’t change the ache even in a tough guy’s heart. The irascible Glusman, a Vegas survivor who witnessed the “Casino” era, has the raspy voice of a carnival barker. As the proprietor of Piero’s, he has managed to succeed for decades in one of the most competitive restaurant markets in the country.

Mention Tarkanian, and he slips easily into the past. They met back when Glusman ran the Sporting House athletic club and the Rebels were looking for a place to practice. In those days, the Sporting House was a crossroads of members of the Vegas sporting life. Casino bosses, bookmakers, showgirls, you name it. Everyone was there.

When Glusman took over the restaurant that had once been Joe Pignatello’s Villa d’Este, Tarkanian became a fixture. When he wasn’t on the court, he was holding court at Piero’s.

“I should have called it Jerry’s Place because he ate there every night for free,” Glusman said.

Then he paused a moment, and it was easy to tell he would trade a lot just to see Tark come through the door one more time.

Tarkanian engendered fierce loyalty in his friends. His teams were so entertaining and so successful that he swiftly became a marquee name in a town bursting with showroom celebrities. Frank Sinatra and Don Rickles came to his show.

For the true believers, the Rebels offered a great story line: Jerry Tarkanian in the role of Father Flanagan giving the dead-end kids the break of their lives.

The Rebels played hard for many reasons, not the least of which was their affection for the sad-eyed court strategist who had given them a chance to wear the uniform.

“The players respected and loved Jerry,” Glusman said. “He took the street kids. He tutored them. Lois tutored them. Daughter Jody tutored them. They were one happy family at UNLV.”

Everyone had an opinion about Tark’s Rebels, but as long as they won in big bunches, the critics remained silent. His mounting run-ins with the NCAA eventually tested the community’s patience, and his blowup with UNLV President Bob Maxson and key boosters was a sad political “Peyton Place” that cost him his job after 19 seasons.

His friends never flinched. They knew their pal Tark, forgave all shortcomings and defended him at every turn.

His teams reached four Final Fours, won the 1990 NCAA championship and set a tempo no others could match.

Tarkanian coached more than three decades at the Division I level and never — not once — had a team with a losing record. His Rebels made banner headlines with their offense, but it was their defense that wore opponents to a frazzle.

The fact it took a mighty lobbying effort from family and friends to get Tarkanian’s name added to the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 2013 is a testament not only to the pettiness of the NCAA but to the level of acrimony he engendered in college basketball’s governing body.

The fact he eventually won a $2.5 million settlement from the NCAA didn’t help patch things up.

“He should have been in the Hall of Fame a long time ago, but the NCAA was against him all the way,” the unabashedly partisan Glusman said. “The NCAA was always after Jerry.”

They saw each other for the last time just a few days ago, and Freddie snapped a photo: Two pals from the old Las Vegas sharing a laugh.

“Jerry and I were close,” Glusman said, his voice catching. “I was around him more than anyone. I think I spent more time with him than Lois did. I’ll miss his friendship. He was a great person. I can’t say enough about him.”

With that, tough guy Freddie Glusman shed a tear.

John L. Smith’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Email him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 702-383-0295. Follow him on Twitter @jlnevadasmith.