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Hubie Brown sits at the center of the huddle, magnet board on his knees, fists clenched by his sides. On this November night, his Grizzlies are down eight in Portland, late. "All right now, stay after it, stay after it," he says urgently, red-faced. "Here we come, here we come." His fists are shaking now. "You're jamming them. Keep working, everything's going to be all right. Keep working. It's there for us!"

He's preacher, teacher and father. His young players, every one of them looking straight at him, are true believers. They break the huddle, fists in, calling out "Twenty-four!" in unison, as in 24-7, as in Open All Night.

The spirit of revival is alive in Memphis, folks. Jerry West was the start of it, but Hubie is the heart of it. From the players who arrive two hours early on game night to get in some extra shooting, to the guys selling peanuts in The Pyramid who walk the aisles shouting like the coach on the sideline, everyone is a Hubie man.

Everyone, including that vaguely familiar dude with the tattoos. Hey, didn't he used to be ... ?

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