This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2004, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Danny Brown and Jerry Sloan have been friends for years - ever since they bid against one another during a southern Illinois estate sale and hung around afterward to talk about what fun the morning had become.

Brown knows Sloan.

Brown also knows how fate has rocked his friend's world.

"People ask me all the time, 'How's Jerry? How's he doing?' " Brown said. "What I tell them is this: 'He's good. He's staying busy. . . . It's remarkable how he's held up.' "

Jerry and Bobbye Sloan were high school sweethearts in McLeansboro, Ill. They had been married 41 years before she died in June - six months after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and only weeks after Jerry Sloan completed his 16th season as head coach of the Utah Jazz.

"She was such a fighter," Brown said. "She hung right in there. But toward the end, well, it was real tough."

Through the ordeal, Jerry Sloan nursed his wife with tenderness that belies his rough-and-tough reputation. A boyhood friend, David Lee, witnessed it.

"One time this summer," he said, "Jerry didn't leave the house for two weeks. He just stayed with Bobbye and took care of her the best he could."

After his wife's death, Sloan passed the time working on his farm in McLeansboro.

"It was good for him," Brown said. "Clearing brush, working on his tractors - that was good therapy."

But the work stopped at dusk.

Said Brown: "Jerry told me - when he went back to the house at seven or eight - that was the toughest time because that's when him and Bobbye used to do stuff together."

Brown never doubted that Sloan would return to coach the Jazz, mostly because he knew that's what his wife wanted.

"I think what's set in Jerry's mind is a lot of stuff Bobbye put there," he said. " . . . She told him to go forward, and that's what he's doing."

The daughter: Kathy Sloan Wood worries about her father.

She lives in Omaha, closer to him during the Jazz season than her brother or sister, but still 90 minutes away on SkyWest.

"You know how he is," Wood said. "He puts on that game face sometimes. So we're not really sure how he's doing. People in the Jazz family that I talk to seem to think he's doing well. And in the conversations we have on the phone, he seems to be holding up. But there are certain times . . . "

Wood pauses and takes a deep breath.

"There are times," she said, "when you know it's not easy."

Wood works for a pharmaceutical firm in Nebraska. Her brother, Brian, is an emergency room doctor in Indianapolis. Her sister, Holly, is a junior high teacher and coach in suburban Chicago.

All have reacted to their mother's death - and their father's torment - a little differently. "I'm the oldest," Wood said, "and I'm probably doing the worst. ... It's just been very, very hard. Every single day is a struggle. It's hard not to constantly think about my mother and father and not get upset."

Wood draws comfort from the fact that Jerry Sloan is still coaching, where "his second family" offers much-appreciated support.

"I know my dad," she said. "If he didn't have basketball, he would be going stir crazy. He loves the farm, but winter time down there is not like the summer. . . . With basketball, he has a routine and he has people around him who really enjoy him and care for him."

Since her mother's death, Wood has followed in her footsteps, becoming an activist for cancer victims and their families.

She has helped organize a local fund-raising event that starts during the Jazz's season opener Wednesday night and continues through November, which is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month.

About 50 volunteers will roam the Delta Center during each game and seek donations for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network (Pan-CAN).

"Spare change, whatever," Wood said. "We're asking the wonderful Jazz fans for any help they can give us" in the fight against one of the most unrelenting forms of cancer.

The co-worker: Mark McKown is the Jazz's strength and conditioning coach.

"I think coach Sloan still has some [difficult] moments," McKown said. " . . . I think he's getting better. But Bobbye was such a huge part of his life, and you just don't fill that void in a day or a week or a month."

Prior to training camp, McKown and Sloan drove from McLeansboro to Salt Lake City. In previous years, Jerry and Bobbye Sloan made the trip.

"I think it was a little bit tough on him," McKown said. "I think it brought back a lot of memories."

Along the way, Sloan and McKown stopped in Omaha to visit Kathy Wood and her family.

"It was ridiculous," she said, laughing. "They stopped for about an hour and then Dad said, 'We've got to get going.' That was the whole visit. . . . I thought, 'Maybe he doesn't like the way I keep house.'"

The coach: For Jerry Sloan, last season was the most difficult he has endured.

This one will be the loneliest.

"I think I'm doing OK," he said. "It seems to get better as time goes on. Everybody told me that's what to expect. . . . I'm just trying to get along."

Sloan, 62, nearly quit coaching last year, after his wife was diagnosed with the cancer. Instead, he ended up juggling the roles of caretaker/confidant to his wife and NBA coach who drove his young team beyond all expectations.

"I thought about quitting, but Bobbye wanted me to stay with it, and I'm glad I did," he said. "If I wake up tomorrow and and feel it's time to get out, I'll get out. I don't want to be a burden to somebody, or be in the way. If I'm not able to do the job - or don't feel like I can - I'll leave."

Sloan has endured some gut-wrenching times. But nothing compared to last season.

"It was one of the toughest things I've ever experienced," he said. "But she was going through things that were a lot tougher. Her battle was much more difficult."

Through it all, Sloan's children made the difference.

"They were terrific," he said. "They were always there for me and their mom. They still have some tough times with it. But they know it's our ballgame now and we have to step up, get through it and move on."

Sloan maintains the two homes he shared with his wife - the farm in McLeansboro and one in Salt Lake City. "Everything is pretty much the same," he said, "except Bobbye is no longer there."