Montville — Snowflakes were falling, punctuating the cold and wind last Friday night, as patrons in their haphazardly parked cars schlepped through this idyllic campus, whose oasis, the gym with the basketball court bearing Jere Quinn’s name, filled.

The fitting backdrop for this mystical and fulfilling place brimming with synergy between its mission and geography: back to basics amid the serenity that allows it. Except this is basketball night at St. Thomas More. No serenity here. Not with The Great One pinballing in and out of his seat, coaching every morsel from every moment.

Jere Quinn: The Great One. More than 1,100 wins now in this pastoral paradise that Quinn calls “a lifestyle.” And even though Jere Quinn creeps toward 70 now, his metaphorical fastball, often aimed at the chin, hasn’t lost an inch.

“I live around the corner from here,” Quinn’s friend Mike Gray was saying from the bleachers. “Cold night. Could have stayed home. But I come to watch Jere. He’s the show.”

Indeed. Quinn coaches in spasms. Seated to standing; standing to seated. His voice, particularly in times of perturbment, could overpower a chainsaw. To remind again: He’s 68. Nothing left to prove. National championship banner on the wall. Master educator. Hundreds and hundreds of players sent to play in college. Some to the NBA.

“I still like the kids and they keep me young,” Quinn was saying from his office, where there’s no wall space remaining, what with all the photos of alums and coaching accolades plastering them. “I keep learning from the kids. They educate me. They’ve given me more than I've ever given them. I think I still have something I can offer.

“I think if I ever lose the passion, then I’d give up the position. I owe it to the kids to coach them as hard as I coached kids in the 70s, 80s, 90s, single digits and teens. I think kids still want to be coached. They can handle structure. And I think they actually thrive in it.”

Like the player he admonished a few weeks back for not playing hard enough. Quinn reminded the young man that his efforts, or lack thereof, would be on film, available for any college coach to see. And what would coaches think? That’s the fastball under the chin.

“I coach each play. I tell the kids not to look at each game as the end goal,” Quinn said. “We’re going to play 35 games and if we get to the playoffs, hopefully 40. You'll have some good days, you'll have some bad days. There'll be some tough times. Tough times come and go but tough kids are here to stay. They'll transition their toughness into something else, whether it's being a head of a school or being a lawyer or a professional basketball player, which we've been lucky enough to have.”

Quinn personifies Billy Joel’s line late in “Piano Man,” where they sit at the bar and put bread in his jar and say “man, what are YOU doing here?” Make no mistake: Jere Quinn could coach basketball anywhere. At any level. Passionate, relatable, insightful. But he’s always done it at this institution where he’s become an institution. Why? Because he likes it here. The grass isn’t always greener. Ironic, this. Especially if one considers the transfer portal’s effects on college sports now.

“Prep school is not just coaching. It's a lifestyle,” Quinn said. “The grandkids think this (the campus) is our own home. When the kids want to come to see Judy and I, it’s not in our house. It’s only at St. Thomas More. They can ride their bikes, go to the gym, play tennis, meet the students and eat in the (cafeteria). Retiring from a place like this is retiring from a whole way of living. And I'm just not ready to do that yet.”

Not that anyone would blame him. The transfer portal’s shotgun marriage to Name/Image/Likeness has made coaching harder. Even for the institutions.

“The whole world has kind of gone off on a little tangent with all the different NIL (deals) and allowing kids to transfer in the portal,” Quinn said. “So what used to be us as the priority — everybody recruiting prep schools — has changed. Now they’re college kids in the portal first.

“We've always tried to be 100 percent honest with these kids. But now you have to be more honest. The opportunities are fewer, but there will be opportunities. And you just have to be ready to grab it.”

The Chancellors of 2023-24 have but two losses. They are ever entertaining, almost as much as their coach. Cincinnati-bound Tyler Betsey and high school junior London Jemison may leave here as good as anyone else Quinn’s ever coached.

“At the end of the day,” Quinn said, “they’re all college players and I expect them to play like college players defensively and offensively. I have a pretty good skill of reminding them. I think they appreciate it.”

But then, Jere wouldn’t be Jere without a parting shot at … himself.

“We have two losses,” Quinn said. “One, we’re up 15 in the first half. The other, we’re up 16. Clearly, I must give great halftime speeches.”

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro