It has been a good week of practice, and the late-Friday afternoon walk-thru at Camp Randall is no exception. Alvarez knows how to take the temperature of his team. Even during the low-stress walk-thru, Alvarez can sense that the Badgers are relaxed, but attentive.

After all, there is so much in play this weekend: Alvarez's home farewell … Senior Day … the possibility of a January bowl game (the Capital One Bowl is a done deal if the Badgers win) … a chance at an undefeated home record … the possibility of a 10-win regular season … an opportunity to dazzle visiting recruits.

When he first arrived at the UW football offices in 1990 the place reeked of cigarette smoke, thanks to secretaries with a nicotine jones. There was one phone line. The ghastly carpet could qualify for an AARP card. And the ceilings were higher than a goal-post upright.

So shortly before Alvarez departed for a recruiting trip, he ordered the ceilings lowered, the carpet replaced, the phone lines multiplied and the smokers subtracted. Of course, he did this without any approval from UW officials.

When Pat Richter, newly hired as the school's athletic director, later mentioned that the unauthorized changes had caught some administrators by surprise, Alvarez said, "What are they going to do, fire me?"

You should see the place now. Alvarez's office, which overlooks the field, is the size of the Honeymoon Suite at the Bellagio. The rest of the facility is state of the art. In all, Alvarez's 116 career victories (and three Rose Bowl wins) rescued the UW athletics budget and prompted $109-million worth of cosmetic surgery on Camp Randall, which was built in 1917. Fire him? Wisconsin officials want to bronze him.

You need a year's supply of name tags to identify all the people at Alvarez's house. His wife Cindy stirs a pot of spaghetti for their grandchildren. Friends fill the kitchen and family room. Alvarez finds a grandson to hug, then settles into a chair.

A dozen roses stand at attention in a vase on a kitchen counter. Penn State sent them. And of the four Big Ten schools the Badgers traveled to this season, only at Penn State was announcement made at the stadium acknowledging Alvarez's impending retirement from coaching.

Downstairs in the finished basement, on top of a black Kenmore microwave, is the game ball from Alvarez's first victory at Wisconsin -- a Sept. 15, 1990, win against Ball State. And nearby is the game program from his debut game -- a Sept. 8, 1990, loss to Cal.

Alvarez is home less than an hour. He slips on his red sportcoat and heads to the Kohl Center, where the Wisconsin hockey team is preparing to play Colorado College. Alvarez pokes his head into UW coach Mike Eaves' office and then, on his way out of the arena, ducks into the Colorado College locker room.

A student manager drives Alvarez to a downtown Madison hotel for a quick appearance at the National W Club, where former UW letterwinners are here for a silent auction fundraiser. Alvarez makes a brief speech and then informs the crowd, "We're going to see 50 Cent in a movie. That's my favorite actor, guys."

His athletic director duties fulfilled, Alvarez rejoins his team at a local movie theater. Alvarez, 58, probably wouldn't have picked, "Get Rich or Die Tryin', as his movie of choice. But he finds a seat near the top row and guts it out as 50 Cent (Alvarez pronounces it, "Fif-ty," not "Fid-dy.") makes cinematic magic (my favorite part was when 50 Cent's character, Marcus, had to have his mouth wired shut; not that you could tell the difference). On a bench outside the theater doors is defensive coordinator Bret Bielema, who is busy looking over Xeroxed photos of formations.

At movie's end, Alvarez and the Badgers board charter buses back to the team hotel. They go directly to a meeting room, where Alvarez delivers another brief speech. He reminds them of what's at stake in Saturday's game, of the need to be physical and to start fast, of the debt they owe to the Badgers' 16 seniors. And then he asks if any of those seniors have anything to say.

One senior talks about his father who died of cancer and implores his teammates to appreciate these moments in life. Another senior thanks his teammates for treating him like family. "I love y'all. I appreciate y'all. If y'all need anything, call me." Another senior says this has been the best year of his life. And another senior tells the underclassmen: "I thought this would last forever. I love college football. That's all I want to do, is play. Not many people in this life get to do this."

Someone in the video department has put together a list of Wisconsin's preseason goals, and then added a scene from, "The Untouchables," where Robert DeNiro, as Al Capone, talks about teamwork while twirling a baseball bat. DeNiro is no 50 Cent, but he's not bad.

After the video, Alvarez slips through the lobby, down a hallway, up one flight, and into a room where pizza is served. Assistant coaches start filing in for a BS session.

Shortly before noon, Alvarez walks to another meeting room for a church service, Father Mike Burke presiding. It is the fastest mass in recorded history: starts at 11:57, done by 12:17. Burke, by the way, wears a red stole, complete with the famed Flying W insignia.

Bruce Carroll, a UW Police detective assigned to the Badgers game-day detail for the last six years, walks next to Alvarez. Alvarez changes into khakis, a white, long sleeve mock turtleneck, and red and white sneakers. He walks out to the field to check the wind. That way he can tell his captains which end of the field to defend after the coin toss.

A huge banner hangs from the balcony outside Alvarez's office. Thanks Coach. Job Well Done, it reads. White hand towels have been distributed to fans bearing the same slogan. Less professional is the paint job on the chests of three students: We Love Barry.

Alvarez returns to the locker room, and then back to the field, where camera crews record his every move. He chats with Iowa coach Kirk Ferentz. As game time approaches, he walks toward the tunnel and into the locker room for his last pregame speech at Camp Randall.

"I want to start fast," he says. "I want to play fast. This is the last time we're together here. Play our best ballgame, guys. Enjoy it. Take it all in."

Wisconsin starts fast, taking a 10-0 first quarter lead. At halftime, UW is up, 10-3. Bielema walks to the center of the locker room and yells, "Thirty more minutes of fun. Thirty more minutes of being together."

"Listen up, everything we've done boils down to 30 minutes of football," he says, his voice breaking. "We've talked about finishing. Let's finish!"

There will be no big finish. Passes are dropped. Opportunities are lost. Iowa scores 14 points in the third quarter and adds another field goal in the fourth.

Ferentz hugs Alvarez near midfield. The student section chants Alvarez's name. A stage is erected at midfield and Alvarez, his family, and assorted dignitaries take their place on it. The Badgers and the UW staff stand nearby. Big Ten commissioner Jim Delany offers the most eloquent tribute when he says Alvarez is honored "not for what he's done, but how he's done it."

When he finally returns to the locker room, Alvarez again calls his team together. "That's the last time we'll play at this field together," he says.

He is trying to control his emotions. He outlines the schedule during the Badgers off week. He updates them on the bowl situation. And then he gets to the essence of it all.

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