Arms crossed, Dave Leitao stands at midcourt. In his tucked-in white polo shirt he looks exactly like one of the giant pillars holding up the front of John Paul Jones Arena, and he shows about as much emotion.
Leitao is single-handedly running the basketball team's daily practice in the bowels of an awkwardly empty building that magnifies every shout, grunt and hard foul as a dozen giants in matching Nikes try to kill each other.
On the "Blue Team" there are the big names (Singletary, Diane, Joseph) and a couple new bright spots in the Cavalier lineup (freshman guard Jeff Jones and freshman forward Mike Scott). The "Orange Team" is made up of the spoilers: Sammy Zeglinski, Jamil Tucker, Andy Burns, Jerome Meyinsse and Mustapha Farrakhan. Senior center Tunji Soroye is sitting out this practice, trying unsuccessfully to blend into the basket support post on the baseline. Senior center Ryan Pettinella is also injured, spending his time spinning his gears and going nowhere on an exercise bike.
Although there might be 25 people at various positions around the court, including the clipboard and towel-wielding managers, it's clear who owns the building. Leitao, pacing around the court, is directing every bit of the action like a conductor: with few words and an occasional short blast on his red whistle.
Even the tiniest tweet from Leitao, barely audible to anyone sitting around the court, can stop 240-pound men in their tracks and seamlessly restart a play. "Again. Again. Again. Again," Leitao says when he doesn't like how things are going. These words aren't necessary for players to gauge their coach's reaction, however. They just know.
"Tell me what's wrong with that," Leitao booms after a defensive miscue. "I know you're smarter than me!" No one answers. They run the play again.
After almost every rotation, the former Northeastern big man steps in to give some of his gruff, New England-accented wisdom. "Why are we banging into bodies all of a sudden?" he asks following a hard foul. After Diane overcommits on an outside shot with time expiring, Leitao pulls the junior aside. "With the shot clock down, the last thing you want to do is gamble," he says. "He'll make you pay if he makes that shot."
One person Leitao gives virtually no visible instruction to is Singletary. The All-American guard, without a doubt one of the smallest and quietest players on the floor, often checks his scoring impulse in favor of threading a fancy baseline pass or firing off a seemingly flat shot that is actually an alley-oop to a streaking Joseph.
When the 2007 ACC Coach of the Year does pull his golden boy aside, it's to remind him to shoot smarter. "You pass up one shot to take a more difficult shot!" Leitao exclaims. "You've done that about 15 times!" Singletary nods without a word.
The practice is a loud one, with players on the floor pointing out cuts, screens and defensive switches. Sophomore forward Will Harris is by far the most vocal on the court, on the sideline and even during the water breaks. The guy doesn't stop.
Still, everything about the exercise screams structure. With a single word, Leitao pulls his starters to center court, drawing up a play to run against the unsuspecting Orange Team trying to simulate the Syracuse defensive system the team will face Wednesday night.
Once the full-court drills are finished, everyone gathers on the baseline to watch some of the big men take free throws from the charity stripe. Although it's painful to sit through, the entire team is clapping. Whenever a shot is missed, everyone runs a sprint. They keep going until someone makes two in a row, which happens today on the second shooter. The practice ends at exactly 5 p.m., just as Leitao planned. After one last huddle, the team scatters.
To see Leitao run a practice is to watch a man with complete control over his team. Everyone from the manager running to get a new magic marker to the 6-foot-8 Meyinsse keeps one ear trained to the voice of their fearless leader. After preparing for their biggest home game of the young season against the Orange, it's no wonder players can tune out the decibels pouring from the student section and hone in on cues coming from the bench.
For his part, Leitao is at once involved and removed, imperial and accessible, vocal and silent. It's clear that behind closed doors, the man who once worked as a telemarketer and record store manager has earned his players' total respect. When Leitao stalks the sideline Wednesday night, orange tie knotted smartly around his neck, he won't need to tell anyone on the roster what is expected of them. They'll know.