Jim Alexander: I will go on record as saying that I like a lot of what Mick Cronin does as UCLA’s men’s basketball coach. His standard is unyielding, he (usually) seems to have his players’ undivided attention, and he upholds the tradition that John Wooden established in Westwood, albeit at a higher volume. (And, by today’s coaching standards, he’s a snappy dresser.)
But there are times …
Mick sort of stepped in it the other night, after Minnesota upset the Bruins (and denied Cronin his 500th career win, which seems neither here nor there given that Mick supposedly didn’t even realize he was on the verge of a milestone until his dad, Hep, pointed it out to him). But after that loss, in which the Bruins blew a 17-point lead, Cronin pointed fingers at his players – sarcastically suggesting that they were “so poorly coached” that they ignored the scouting report on Minnesota’s Dawson Garcia, the Big Ten’s leading scorer, and complaining that they were too worried about their volume of shots.
And he even ripped the fans for their reaction each time the Bruins missed a free throw – and they missed a bunch, 10 of 15 in the second half. From Aaron Heisen’s story: “Our crowd’s mind is on the wrong stuff,” Cronin said, vocally mimicking the groans that echoed throughout Pauley Pavilion during his post-game press conference. “They make it worse.”
Mick, Mick, Mick … maybe it’s not the crowd that had its mind on the wrong stuff. And I don’t know what the Bruins’ normal practice protocol is, but perhaps some extra time at the free-throw line during the week wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not to second-guess or anything, but …
All of that said, UCLA is still in a decent spot: 19-8 overall, looking at a No. 6 seed in the NCAA Tournament if ESPN’s Bracketology is to be believed, and 10-6 in a rugged Big Ten, one game back of the top four and the coveted double-bye in the 15-team conference tournament, with four regular-season games left. Although two of those are in the Midwest, at Purdue (11-5 in conference) and at Northwestern (4-11), and the Bruins are 1-5 in games played in the Eastern and Central time zones this year. Maybe it’s best if Mick concerns himself with fixing that rather than how the home crowd reacts.
Mirjam Swanson: Preach, Jim! Ha.
It’s fascinating, actually, watching it play out every season. There comes a point, about midway, where Cronin cooks his guys and it gets everyone’s attention and makes everyone wonder if THIS is the time he loses his team, because you’re not supposed to be able to blast a team like that these days …
Just a month ago, after Michigan walloped the Bruins at Pauley Pavilion: “We’re soft… I have to run on the court to get guys to play hard… and it’s every day and I’m tired of it. I have the most energy of anybody at practice every day. I’m upset with everyone in that locker room, my assistant coaches and my players … I don’t need to do anything, I almost got 500 wins! I’m only 53. You’d think I’m coaching the Lakers, it’s a joke … the truth of it is, it’s really hard to coach people who are delusional… we got guys who think they’re way better than they are. They’re nice kids; they’re completely delusional about who they are.” And he went on and on. You can watch it yourself.
So, OK, where to start with that?
First of all, he totally knew he was closing in on 500 wins.
Secondly, hands down, dude is the best quote in L.A. They really don’t make ’em like Cronin anymore, coaches who just speak their minds unfiltered.
But that’s probably for good reason, if you ask other people who follow the sport closely, like longtime college hoops analyst Jay Bilas: “I don’t think that’s what accountability looked like. That, to me, looked simply like blame. … when you talk negatively about your players, what you’re really doing is seeking comfort because your teaching is struggling.”
Naturally, a couple games after Cronin’s rant, the Bruins stopped struggling and won seven straight and eight of nine, before their most recent loss to Minnesota, where not only his players, but the Pauley crowd got it.
Which, yes, is so richly ironic – the uber-critical, put-you-publicly-on-blast, saber-toothed taskmaster critiquing a crowd’s vibes as not being positive enough? Only Mick Cronin, man.
Take away the pampered athlete part of it. Take away the modern coaching philosophy that you never or only very rarely call out a member of your team publicly; even if they do it in private, they’ll protect them in the open. But think about leadership more broadly; personally, I’ll always prefer to work for a boss who takes accountability, who isn’t looking to scapegoat me – fair or not – when something goes awry.
And yet. And yet.
Cronin is who he is. And he does have almost 500 wins. And no, I don’t always particularly like watching the Bruins’ style of ball, but history tells us what’s going to happen next: His players and his coaches and his crowd are going to step up their games.
How far that prodding and ridiculing and criticizing can take a team, I don’t know. But everyone who shows up to play or work for Cronin – or to root for his teams or to cover him, for that matter – knows who they’re going to get. So in that respect, you can’t say he doesn’t deliver. Or that it doesn’t actually translate on the court; the Bruins are 134-61 on his watch with one Final Four appearances and two trips to the Sweet 16. Vibes wise, it could be worse, even if it could be better.
Jim: This may be apropos of nothing, but as we were Audibling this morning, MLB Network was replaying Game 5 of the 2024 World Series (and I can’t get enough of watching the top of the fifth, even after seeing it in person and in real time last Oct. 30). And it’s worth noting that another noted Bruin, Dave Roberts, has the exact opposite personality of Cronin – if he roasts his players, it’s behind closed doors – and he’s baseball’s most successful manager, the opinions of a certain segment of Dodger fans aside. (And by the way, where’s his contract extension??)
OK, on to the next issue: The NBA All-Star Game is headed our way in a year, to be played in the Intuit Dome. Two questions: Will we recognize it? And will – or should – the public care?
And here’s a third question: Is it time to blow the whole thing up? Especially since All-Star Saturday, the one part of the weekend that was traditionally interesting and entertaining, just seemed so stale. I mean, when a G-League guy keeps winning the dunk contest because none of the big names want to participate, you’ve got issues.
The contrast was especially pronounced this year because of what the NHL did with its midseason break. Out went the All-Star Game, another one in a contact sport that became a travesty because players wouldn’t extend themselves. In came the 4 Nations tournament, and that Saturday night game between the U.S. and Canada in Montreal was riveting TV, and a ratings winner. Among the reasons: All of the geopolitical stuff between the countries leading up to it, three fights in the first nine seconds – which in hockey is sort of akin to clearing your throat – and riveting, all-out competition between these traditional rivals, many of whom play alongside each other during the NHL regular season.
(And the intensity with which that game was played bodes well for tonight, when the same teams meet in Boston for the tournament championship. It’s appointment TV, and while I’ve got another assignment tonight, you can bet I’ll be recording it.)
But that doesn’t answer the question: What to do with the NBA’s erstwhile Midwinter Classic? They’ve tried choosing up sides. They tried mini-games in a tournament format this time and that didn’t really seem workable. They could imitate the NHL and go to a USA vs. the World format, but there’s no guarantee players would play (read: defend) any harder in that format than in any of the others.
The more I think about it the more I’m convinced: End the game, work on fixing All-Star Saturday (by, say, convincing more All-Stars to actually participate), and make Sunday the championship game of the NBA Cup tournament.
What did you think of the weekend, and what would you do with the format?
Mirjam: Honestly? I don’t care about the NBA All-Star Game. And, really, neither should anyone else. Because it’s over. The more they’ve tried to “fix” it, the worse it’s gotten. Let’s just let it go.
I’m actually bummed it’s coming here to L.A. next year, because I was planning on not paying attention. But now I’ll have to, I guess.
Which means we’ll have to document and report on whatever 30-second clip with whatever internet celebrity goes viral, because that engagement is about all the NBA can trumpet from its lost weekend.
If I ruled the world, I’d say let’s have the whole vote, midseason, an all-star progress report that players can put on their résumés … and then everyone go take a much-deserved and clearly much-preferred break before the stretch run of the season (when there will be real intrigue in how and whether a new-look team like the Lakers jells as the playoffs approach).
And if my kid wants to watch Mr. Beast videos, he can watch them without me.
Jim: Mirjam, I think you won the week with that Mr. Beast line.
And hey, maybe that’s the problem with college football spring games: Not enough TikTok or YouTube influencers hanging around. The concept of the annual open scrimmage – which would draw regular-season sized crowds in the sport’s most fanatic locations – may be passe, in part because some coaches are worried that others will scout their spring games and then poach their best players in the early-summer portal. That’s yet another bit of fallout from what has become the wild, wild west atmosphere of college sports.
Nebraska and Ohio State have scrubbed theirs. USC did the same, and while the Trojans never drew the same crowds to theirs as the other traditional college powers, it seems like yet another sign of irretrievable changes in the sport, the type that have old alums (and, presumably, big donors) aghast.
The larger issue, the ease of the portal and the perpetual chasing of the NIL bag, could be solved in all sports by accepting what the universities have vocally resisted – making the players employees and insisting on signed contracts, especially with the schools themselves poised to begin profit sharing distributions once the House v. NCAA settlement is approved. We’re already far enough down the road that there’s no going back to the old days of playing for the glory of old State U.
(And does anyone in college sports still use the term “student-athlete” with a straight face? Take a look at the Big Ten basketball schedules, and all those days on the road, and then try to tell us that academics is a priority.)
Football spring games? One more bit of collateral damage.
Mirjam: All. Of. That.
College football, especially, is basically a glorified minor league anymore. And all the rich traditions – the part of it that makes college sports magical and meaningful – are eroding rapidly. So, yes! By all means, let’s introduce contracts, at the least.
Because when Ohio State ditches its spring game when it draws 80,000, 90,000, 100,000 fans regularly because it’s afraid of other programs poaching, then that’s unfair to a loyal and supportive fan base who obviously likes when its team is winning but shouldn’t have to sacrifice such an established spring tradition just in case another program spots someone to try and poach.
Different at USC, of course, where the Coliseum doesn’t exactly fill to the brim for the spring scrimmage. But still, that Lincoln Riley’s team would follow suit so totally tracks. This is a coach who last season forbade reporters from watching players stretch before practice on game weeks; there’s no way he’d want to offer the world a sneak peek at his roster – with its 14th- or 17th-ranked best class of newcomers – until the last possible second.
The stronger the cloak of opacity, the better for a Trojans football team that was once the toast of the entertainment capital of the world.
I suppose they’ll come up with a new way – in the spirit of the NBA All-Star Game?! – to try to entertain fans in the spring. But still, it is too bad when traditions like this evaporate, even if it’s just a fact of life.
Because there’s value in drumming up enthusiasm among a fan base (especially one that might be frustrated or dispirited by recent results). There’s value in rewarding those people who invest their money and time and attention into your program. There’s value in the dress rehearsal, something rewarding for players about showing out for a day in spring after all the grinding in secrecy. There’s especially a value for younger players, as Riley himself has noted last season: “You just can’t replicate this for these kids. You’re playing in the Coliseum for the first time. You’re playing what kind of feels like a college football game for the first time. A lot of it, for them, it’s getting that first one out of the way. You could tell early those kids were trying to find their footing and settling in, and then all of them showed up and made some plays at the end.”
There’s valuable in the invaluable.
But, apparently, not enough.
