New York (AP) – Lou Carnesecca, the excitable St. John’s coach whose outlandish sweaters became a symbol of his team’s sparkling Final Four success in 1985, has died at age 99, just weeks shy of his 100th birthday.

The university said it was informed by a family member that Carnesecca died at a hospital on Saturday surrounded by his family. St. John’s said Carnesecca “endeared himself to generations of New Yorkers with his wit and warmth.”

Carnesecca was a treasured figure in New York sports in his day, and his affection for “Looie” never waned in a city that had little patience for its players, coaches, executives and owners.

He coached St. John’s for 24 seasons over two stretches – hosting a postseason tournament each year – and became the face of a university whose campus arena in Queens would eventually bear his name. A statue of him was unveiled ahead of the 2021/22 season. When Carnesecca was once asked to describe St. John’s in a question-and-answer session with the school, he said, “home.”

It was his home where he coached St. John’s for 18 20-win seasons and 18 NCAA Tournament appearances. It was his hometown, where he finished with a record of 526-300 and notched 30 wins in 1985 and 1986. And it was his home where St. John’s became part of the founding of the Big East Conference.

He was a three-time coach of the year in a league founded in 1979 and quickly established himself as one of the best in the country. His players in those early years in the Big East included Chris Mullin, Mark Jackson and Walter Berry.

Carnesecca coached St. John’s to the NIT title in 1989, even though by that point the tournament had long been a poor cousin of the NCAAs. He was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame in 1992, the year he retired.

“I never shot a basket,” he said during his introduction, forgoing a sweater for a smart suit. “The players did everything. There can be no game without players.”

He was an old-school coach who specialized in the fundamentals. And all the while, Carnesecca was a whirling, energetic presence on the sidelines, arms flailing, legs flailing, shirtsleeves flying, curled up in despair over a missed shot or an agonizing decision. But his antics never crossed the line into chair-throwing rage.

Carnesecca was simply consumed by his players, the love of a game was deep within him, a life spent in schoolyards, run-down gymnasiums and large arenas. He loved the “smell of sweat” and the “feeling of burning rubber” when sneakers hit a painted floor.

He remained the consummate gentleman in a sport populated by outsized egos, bitter recruiting wars and the relentless pursuit of the next assignment. Mike Tranghese, a former Big East commissioner, once called him “our soul and our conscience” and “one of the giants of the game.”

Carnesecca never made himself too famous. He always believed that a difficult loss should never stand in the way of a glass of Chianti and fettuccini with Bolognese sauce. He held seminars around the world, making friends and raising toasts wherever he went. He was there with a kind word and a witty joke in his breathy, gravelly voice. His family tree goes back to Tuscany, but he could keep up with the best Borscht Belt comics.

“I don’t know if there’s anyone else who coaches like him,” longtime UConn coach Jim Calhoun once told the Hartford Courant. “Even if people hate the Big East, no one hates Looie. If you like basketball, you like Looie. If you like kids, you like Looie.”

Luigi P. Carnesecca was born on January 5, 1925 to Italian immigrants. He grew up in Manhattan’s East Harlem neighborhood, living above his father’s grocery store and deli. He took his legacy seriously and cheered on New York Yankees like Tony Lazzeri and Joe DiMaggio.

After a stint in the Coast Guard during World War II, he became a coach at his high school – now basketball star Archbishop Molloy. In 1958, he accepted an assistant position at St. John’s, his alma mater, where he had played baseball but not college basketball.

He worked under Joe Lapchick for eight seasons, and the legendary coach’s lessons of humility and hard work stayed with him for a lifetime. Carnesecca later passed on to Mullin some advice he had received from Lapchick: “Today a peacock, tomorrow a feather duster.”

“I learned more from Coach Lapchick clearing his throat than I could have learned at any other clinic,” Carnesecca said.

He succeeded Lapchick in 1965 and the 20-win seasons quickly piled up. But even after five years, Carnesecca was not immune to the siren song of the professionals. He coached the New York Nets of the American Basketball Association for three years, and Rick Barry was one of his players.

Years later, during a 1982-83 season in which his St. John’s team finished 28-5, Carnesecca reflected on the pressures of college coaching and his time in the ABA.

“I lost 50 games as a professional coach – that was pressure,” he said. “I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. My mom could coach this team.”

His stay with the professionals didn’t last long. Carnesecca knew this wasn’t his natural habitat. He said he could only give the same halftime speech so many times. In 1973 he returned to St. John’s.

Successful seasons followed in quick succession, even though his city was no longer the draw for recruits of past generations. The best high school players moved to college campuses with gleaming arenas and didn’t need the commercial pull of New York to burnish their brand.

When asked why he didn’t broaden his base when looking for players and venture beyond his city’s five boroughs, Carnesecca knew he had plenty of talent in his neighborhood. He pulled a subway token – now a relic of past generations – from his pocket.

“That’s my recruiting budget,” he said.

In the 1984-85 season, Carnesecca and St. John’s conquered New York, harkening back to a time when schools like City College and NYU played a role not just in New York but throughout college basketball. The Redmen – their nickname was changed years later to the “Red Storm” – played tough, exciting games in a packed Madison Square Garden against the Jim Boeheim-coached Syracuse teams, the Rollie Massimino-coached Villanova teams and the John Thompson-coached and Georgetown teams led by Patrick Ewing.

Then the saga of The Sweater took shape. Over the years, Carnesecca repeatedly recounted his astonishing entry into the fashion world like an embellished family story.

Essentially, St. John’s was preparing for a road trip to Pittsburgh in January, and Carnesecca was under the weather. The building would be drafty and his wife said it would be good if he wore a sweater. He found one given to him by an Italian basketball coach. It was a brown sweater with wide turquoise stripes. It never made it to the pages of GQ.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it?” said Carnesecca.

Doesn’t matter. Mullin hit the game-winner at the buzzer and the coach had his lucky charm. He stuck to the sweater. Along the way, St. John’s ended Georgetown’s 29-game winning streak and rose to No. 1 in the rankings.

But there were also two lopsided losses to Georgetown during the 16-2 sweater run. He put it away, his luck running out on the sweater. He then went to the NCAA tournament wearing a tan snowflake number. St. John’s defeated Southern, Arkansas and Kentucky before a win over North Carolina State in the West Regional final sent Carnesecca to the Final Four.

“When I go to my grave,” he said, “I will remember this.”

St. John’s traveled to Lexington, Kentucky, along with two compatriots from the Big East – Georgetown and Villanova – and Memphis. St. John’s edged Georgetown in the semifinals and trailed 32-28 at halftime. But the Hoyas pulled away and won 77-59, with Mullin leading by eight points.

“I think we tried everything,” Carnesecca said of Georgetown, which lost to Villanova in one of sports’ greatest finals.

After his retirement, Carnesecca was succeeded by a parade of coaches at St. John’s, including Mullin. Even in his 90s, about three decades without a coaching career, Carnesecca made his way to the Garden when the Red Storm were there. His gait may have been cautious, but his mind and intellect were quick, and the crowd roared as the giant screen swung toward him. The coach was at home.

“It will be very difficult to put the ball down, but the time has come,” he said upon retiring at the age of 67. “There are actually two reasons. I still have half of my marbles and I still have a wonderful taste of basketball in my mouth.”

The school said Carnesecca is survived by his wife of 73 years, Mary, as well as his daughter Enes and son-in-law Gerard, as well as a granddaughter, a niece and a nephew, and his extended family.