Back in the spring, Bill Curry and I were sharing lunch one afternoon, and when he let it slip that he had just finished writing a book, I could hardly wait until August, its publication date, because he told me it was about the 10 men who had shaped his life.

I have known Bill since he was the head coach at Georgia Tech back in the early 1980s, and, while I have been blessed with a lot more friendships down through the years than most people, I can state, quite unequivocally, Bill Curry is among the top 10 finest human beings I have ever known in my lifetime.

Back in the days, I covered his teams at Tech, Alabama and Kentucky. I've seen him nearly kill kids at practice and seen the very same kids come back later and call him the greatest influence in their lives. I've seen his players win championships and watched him when he's attended one of their funerals. Trust me, I know this guy real well.

Far better, the two of us have spent many hours talking about things other than football, so all summer long I've wondered which stars of the many stories he's told would be the "Ten Men You Meet in the Huddle" - the name of his new book.

So late last week I snuck away from a self-imposed exile due to another tough bone infection and the very minute I picked up a copy at Barnes & Noble, I immediately opened the table of contents because I was about to pop to know who the top 10 were.

I was shattered. As a matter of fact, as I drove back home, I almost cried because Bill Curry, who I figure I have such a great bead on, left out the one guy who above all others has made him the man he is today.

Oh, the ones he picked were awesome, and the stories on each will make you laugh and cry and hoot and holler and swear that you will get a copy of this book to every young athlete - no, to every young person, be they a boy or a girl - because the book has more life lessons than you can imagine.

The first one is his peewee coach Bill Badgett, who is labeled as "The Builder," then there is his college coach, the legendary Bobby Dodd, who Curry calls "The Philosopher." Next is his "General" - Vince Lombardi and his "Leader" - Bart Starr. Willie Davis, called "The Counselor," rounds out the first five.

"The Intimidator" is Ray Nischee, followed by "The Teacher," Don Shula, and "The Winner," Johnny Unitas. "The Coach" is Bubba Smith, and finally "The Muse" is George Plimpton.

And as glittering a list as it well may be, and what a story trove it is, none of that mattered as I drove home because, after all the years we've spent together and all the sandwiches we've shared, I know full and well the man he most adored - and who gave him his greatest lessons - was his daddy.

When I got home, I tossed the book in my chair rather than tear into it, as was my intention when I heard it was now available, and took a long nap instead, as heavy IV antibiotics are wont to make you do, but much later that night, I finally picked the book up again, and, starting from the front, came again to the Contents page.

This time I noticed way down past the bold type were names of the 10, and there was a postgame chapter titled "The Eleventh Man." The phrase is taken from Texas A&M's legendary "12th Man" story, which is where an unheralded kid bolts from the stands to help the Aggies carry on the fight.

I read the last chapter first and, yes, it was about a man who never played football, but, to cut to the chase, developed Bill Curry into the vessel that could best absorb the Dodds, the Lombardis, the Nitschkes and the Smiths in his 65 years of life. It was about the man he forever called "Pop."

It is Bill Curry at his all-time best. And I was glad I hadn't cried on the way home from the bookstore. You see, that way I still had enough tears stored up to handle the best tribute in the whole book as Bill writes about his father, who died just last year.

Trust me, this is one you'll savor. And this one you'll keep.

royexum@aol.com