I’m thrilled, just thrilled, to announce that I’ve signed a contract extension to stay at UCLA through the 2014-15 season. It’s a real honor to be able to stay on here in Westwood, even after three straight Final Fours, given the way things started out here. And yes, before you can ask … they did right by me with the figures. I’ll be financially secure while remaining a Bruin, and that’s very comforting for my family and me.

But, frankly, $2 million a year was just frosting on the cake. Rich, delicious frosting to be sure, but that wasn’t why I signed the extension. I could get money coaching on the street. (And I have!) But what really made this deal special for me, as a native Californian, was that UCLA showed that they truly want me to feel like a part of the community here in Los Angeles.

And offering me my own gang - well, that was just a special, make-you-feel-at-home offer I couldn’t refuse.

And you know, about damn time. Fourteen years of coaching tough man-on-man defense, and no one knew until now that what I really wanted was to supervise tough man-on-man violence? What, I wasn’t tough enough? Come on now. So, seriously, to Dan Guerrero and everyone at the Athletic Department - thanks for making this happen.

I guess the only thing we need to work out is a gang sign. This is new territory for me - I’ve been a leader of young men before, but they were always wearing uniforms, so I didn’t need a special symbol to differentiate my boys from everyone else. Hm. Let’s try a few out.

Oh, this is the money sign. Come on, who wouldn’t love this? ‘W’s with each hand to show who the winner is. [hears murmurs from press corps] What do you mean it’s already taken? Jesus Christ, I gotta start listening to more hip hop.

Not bad, not bad - definitely unique, though it might be tough to see from a distance. Just need to gently holding the thumb, pointing just so between the primary and second knuckles on my right … DAMMIT, KID, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? YEAH, YOU IN THE BLUE. HOLD THE THUMB AND POINT. DON’T JUST … ah, dammit, this isn’t gonna work. I need something that the dumbest 12-year-old in West L.A. can sign so I don’t accidentally shoot them in the face.

DONE. Simple, clear, and this way my boys when to come home to talk to Daddy Ben.

OK, good, good and productive day here, guys. I gotta go recruit.