CHAMPAIGN - Illini head basketball coach Bruce Weber is on one side of the room, resplendent in his silver suit and starched, pale orange shirt. People mill near his side.

The Big Ten Conference's Jim Delany, perhaps the most successful commissioner in the history of college sports, works a crowd on the other side.

Scattered in between are assorted University of Illinois head coaches, Director of Athletics Ron Guenther, Mark Silverman, president of the Big Ten Network, and university Chancellor Richard Herman.

But the crowd parts, and the buzz ripples through the large room when word spreads that Lou Henson has entered the building. "Look, here comes Lou!" someone gasps.

And in he walks, a bit jittery in one leg these days, but radiant flashing a broad smile, a full arsenal of one-line wisecracks putting everyone at ease and, as always, with wife Mary by his side.

It's remarkable really, but 75-year-old Lou Henson, Illinois' basketball coach for 21 seasons until 1996, is more popular than ever these days, having attained legendary status in Champaign not so much for his accomplishments as a coach, but more for the dignified way in which he has handled the past 11 years.

Lesser men have had their legacies stained by bitterness, bruised egos or regretful remarks made by a one-time king who no longer holds the keys to the kingdom.

That would have been both easy and understandable for Henson, considering it was not entirely his idea to step away in 1996. But all the factors that conspire to say "it's time" (age, record, recruiting, fan enthusiasm) indicated the moment had arrived. So rather than fight the suggestion, Henson understood the greater good of the university and graciously agreed to "retire."

Not once did he kick and scream, as other coaches have done, burning bridges and ending the still-strong affection that remained for a coach who took Illinois to the 1989 Final Four.

No, instead he endorsed the arrival of Lon Kruger, then conceded to the still-burning urge to coach by returning to New Mexico State in 1997, stepping in at first as interim head coach and suggesting a salary of $1 a month just to see if he could get the program back on track.

Pretty good bargain for New Mexico State, which Henson had coached to the Final Four in 1970. So pleased was the administration they told Henson they were keeping him on in 1998 and paid him a real coaching wage to prove their appreciation.

Several years later, Henson contracted cancer, non-Hodgkins lymphomia, and he battled it the same way his Illini teams had defended - all out, all the time. Finally, in 2005, just 21 victories shy of the 800-win plateau, he decided his health would not let him continue. So he retired for good.

"I expect my players to give 100 percent or they come out of the game," Henson said at the time. "I can expect no less of myself.

"So, because I am physically unable to give my all, I am taking myself out of the game."

And with that, he said goodbye.

When Illinois celebrated its basketball centennial in 2005, Henson returned to campus, despite a debilitating bout with viral encephalitis. Perhaps because he'd been away, perhaps because people appreciated his gallant battle with cancer, fans cheered his every move.

When he'd been coaching, there were plenty of times when fans expressed their frustration at a disappointing loss. Then blamed Henson more times than not. But in the end, they never discarded their affection for him.

So this July, when Henson announced that his cancer had returned after two years in remission, the collective fan base cringed.

"I knew, with my kind of cancer, it would probably come back," Henson said matter-of-factly this week. "So I'm undergoing chemotherapy, and we'll take care of it."

That's it, nothing more. Just a smile, a twinkle in his eye and his reassurance that everything will be all right.

Henson's up before 5 a.m., eats his morning bowl of oatmeal and plays golf most days, sometimes not even finishing nine holes. But he's out there, swinging in the sun, convinced skilled health care and eternal optimism will treat him well.

He and Mary will stay in Champaign until November, then head to their second "winter" home in New Mexico.

"I might be around for a few basketball games," he said.

Illinois basketball conducts its practices behind closed doors these days, but Weber has made sure Henson knows he's always welcome. And, on occasion, Henson has turned up at the Ubben Basketball Complex to watch the players compete.

"I never second-guess a basketball coach," Henson said. "I know how tough that can be.

"Now, football is another thing. I always second-guess the football coaches."

He's laughing now, loudly, and it's contagious. Those within earshot are laughing, too.

When he stands to walk away, heads turn and the buzz builds once again.

"Look, there goes Lou!" an admirer says.

I always figured I'd remember Lou Henson for 21 eventful years as Illinois' basketball coach. And although that won't go away, I understand now my admiration is for his personal grace, his dignity, and a sense of humor that has never been discouraged by the toughest challenges life throws at a man.

Mark Tupper can be reached at mtupper@herald-review.com or 421-7983.