Former OU coach Kelvin Sampson has found a home among the tradition-filled, intense Indiana faithful

BLOOMINGTON, Ind. -- Indiana coach Kelvin Sampson unlocks the door to his "favorite view on campus," walks out onto the south loge of Assembly Hall, soaks in one of college basketball's shrines and remembers the day it hit him.

"It was right before Thanksgiving, a Sunday afternoon. Three o'clock game against Chicago State. I walked in here and saw 17,600," he said of last Nov. 19. "I kept looking for the bald spot (in the stands). Sunday afternoon, Chicago State, 17,600.

"I told my wife, 'Now I know what Bob Stoops felt like.' "

The last eight of his 12 years at Oklahoma, Sampson saw Stoops become as much icon as football coach. One year into his reign in Bloomington, Sampson is lavished with similar star treatment.

He takes a couple guests for a look at the Hoosiers' old fieldhouse. Inside, a student who had been shooting 3-pointers comes to a sudden stop and stares slack-jawed at the coach in the crimson mock turtleneck.

Sampson drives past Yogi's Grill and Bar, which fans pack two hours before his weekly radio show. A team manager drops him off at the door right before the show starts to keep the delirium to a minimum.

Sampson rolls off campus, past Kirkwood Avenue with the storefront windows displaying T-shirts which read "SAMPSONITE" and "got kelvin?" There's even one in the shade of Sampson's blue game-day shirt, complete with breast pocket and red tie.

He drives another four miles, to a wooded, gated corner of Bloomington, and now Karen Sampson takes over the tour. The couple's new home features an IU basketball court designed into the driveway in front, a swimming pool, hot tub and Koi pond out back, and a basement with a red-felt pool table, red lockers in the bathroom, red-and-white striped candles on the mantel and an entertainment center console (black, not red) stacked from floor to ceiling.

The most prized possession of all?

"Peace," Karen said as she gazes from the back patio into the couple's wooded acreage.

They're not in Oklahoma anymore.

Healing the wounds

"Dad had a cocoon there," said former Sooner Kellen Sampson. "His best friends were his neighbors. He lived two minutes from the gym."

He could take the family to IHOP or On The Border for an undisturbed bite to eat. In Bloomington, the food is carried out and brought home.

He could leave Lloyd Noble Center with a wave, then drive home and pick up the mail on his way in. In Bloomington, Karen was followed home after the first exhibition game.

No harm is meant. It's simply worship in a place whose heroes play college basketball the so-called right way, and win in doing so.

This was the Hoosiers in their first go under Sampson last year. They went 21-11 and advanced into the second round of the NCAA Tournament by being much more willing than able.

"I thought he kept the group unified, on the same page as far as defensive mentality and things like that," Justin Quick said from behind the counter at Campustown, an apparel store on Walnut. "He got the seniors motivated, and they weren't even his players. I was happy -- I think that's a common perception."

"He's brought a lot of energy back to the program that was somewhat missing under Coach Davis," said John Hobson, senior vice president with the Indiana Alumni Association. "It's the first time in a long time we went undefeated at Assembly Hall. It was our highest finish in the Big Ten Conference in several years. He had a very strong first year."

Over at Kilroy's Bar N Grill on Kirkwood, Mary Kilgore said: "I know a couple of the players, and they really like (Sampson). They respect him. The students love him."

"He cares about the students, not just the team," said Michelle Nero, a freshman from Schererville, Ind. "He's against the way the university is taking students that sit in the bleachers and moving them up (to Assembly Hall's balconies). He wants them to be on the court like they should."

In the aftermath of Mike Davis' four-year detour toward mediocrity, Sampson's maiden season was a lot to cheer about. Fans started coming to Assembly Hall in those blue novelty T-shirts. Most were students, but not all.

"I had letters from old ladies that didn't like the blue at first," Sampson said. "They went, 'We're not Kentucky. Our school color is red.' Then a month later, they're showing pictures of themselves in a blue shirt and red tie."

One successful year is enough to sand down a lot of rough edges, even 550 illegal phone calls' worth.

"It wasn't strong criticism, but we got some when Coach Sampson was hired -- that we should have never hired somebody that violated NCAA rules," Hobson said. "But he has been very open about pledging to run a clean program, to the press and to the public, and that criticism has waned."

Said Sampson, who the NCAA penalized and admonished a month after taking the Indiana job for his role in OU's recruiting violations: "Time tends to heal wounds."

It also tends to take the strangest twists.

Plenty of history

One year after leaving a program with no national championships, Sampson works in a building where the first thing you see are huge framed glossies of Indiana's five national title teams. He coaches in an arena where the first thing you notice are five huge red national title banners. He sits in an office that once belonged to Bob Knight, college basketball's all-time winningest coach.

The room is cramped and messy, with worn red carpet that gives away the fact it's been in use since Assembly Hall opened in 1972. You look around, see pictures of Quannas White and Eduardo Najera, a 2002 Final Four poster, Hollis Price's jersey, and you can't help but think of the space Sampson once had in OU's sprawling, sparkly Bob and Ann Coleman Center.

You can't help but think of the space he had to be a coach, and a neighbor or a diner as well, in his old home, all while Stoops sucked up all the adulation. You can't help but wonder if it's worth trading up to the big-time.

Then Sampson tells a story: "I was in a town the other day called Huntingburg, Ind. I was with the AD. A guy's going to donate furniture for our new (practice and workout) facility, so we went down to have lunch with him. The guy's father started on Branch McCracken's 1940 national championship team here. He and his wife came along to have lunch with me. Eighty-six years old.

"You realize how much pride these people take. They stick their jaw out and they clinch their teeth. They're so proud of their basketball."

They seem pretty proud of their basketball coach. The students love him, the die-hards appreciate him and the players and alumni respect him.

It's not so bad, being the big man on campus.

"Is there a shadow here? Sure. But there should be," Sampson said. "This is a great job. It's a special place."

Guerin Emig 581-8355
guerin.emig@tulsaworld.com