GLASTONBURY, Conn. — It’s mid-afternoon on a Sunday and, from the front of Dan Hurley’s house, you can turn around and look clear across Connecticut. Over Manchester, over South Windsor, over Enfield, all the way to Massachusetts. Hundreds of miles. In the distance, the horizon line is cut by national parks in Vermont. Hurley once told a recruit that the view reaches all the way to Canada. Dan Hurley says lots of things.
This house? It’s up there. For a state that isn’t all that topographically interesting, Minnechaug Mountain, roughly 10 miles east of Hartford, has an elevation of about 700 feet. On this particular weekend, the first of March, the sky is as blue as a robin’s egg, but it is still damn cold; cold right down to the marrow. And really windy.
The doorbell bongs. You wait. You wait a beat longer. You push it again.
Now, as a rule, no one wants to peer into someone else’s home. But sometimes there’s no other choice. So you press the edge of your palm upon the glass of an ornate front door, lean your forehead forward and glance around. Nice house. You can see straight through some cozy, inviting spaces, all the way to the backyard. And there he is. Dan Hurley, shuffling aimlessly, carrying a log. Feeling a buzz rumble from underneath, you watch as he removes a glove, reaches into the pocket of his UConn basketball parka and pulls out a phone.
“Where are you?” he answers.
“I’m here. I’m standing in front of your house.”
“Oh. I’m in the back just f—ing around. Come through the gate.”
It’s an off day, except for Hurley meeting early with his staff, reviewing film of the previous day’s win over Providence and, after Mass, watching film of the Huskies’ next opponent — Marquette.
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