"Zack wants me to run," Harrell said. "I told him I'd need a cab to go that far."
So, he watches the players run.
"Some players need a pep talk," Rosen finally says when the running is done.
The winning players never need a pep talk.
Teams are made in the winter. Players who make those teams what they will become are made in the summer.
There will be no basketball in the Palestra this day. Volleyball nets are on the court. It's a bit sacrilegious, but even basketball cathedrals have multiple uses in this age.
"One of the freshmen asked when they are going to turn the air conditioning on," Harrell says. "They didn't tell him that part when they were recruiting him."
The Palestra had been so hot the previous week that even the true believers like Rosen were told to stay out. The ability to breathe remains important.
Rosen wheels the dirty laundry across the floor to the washing machine behind the stands where Gov. Rendell sits for most home games.
Rosen pauses to speak with rising sophomore Dau Jok, telling him: "It's all a process, you are better than you were 6 months ago."
With that, he is off with longtime teammate Darren Smith to Weightman Hall, the classic building that overlooks Franklin Field and has an upstairs basketball court. It is 10 a.m.
Rosen, as old school as it gets, starts with the Mikan Drill, side to side making layups, first right, then his natural left. A few younger players are in the gym, one with a T-shirt that reads: "Hustle beats talent when talent doesn't hustle." Six cones are deployed as the players dribble from one end of the court to the other. It is a nice warmup, but cones don't move.
The players retreat to several baskets in paired shooting. Rosen rarely misses. Herb Magee is not necessary here.
