Category Archives: Tom Crean

Bob Knight, Indiana Hoosiers, Indiana University, Jeff Meyer, John Beilein, Michigan Wolverines, NCAA College Basketball, Rick Pitino, Tom Crean

All Apologies


The head men’s basketball coach at Indiana University is, to put it mildly, unpredictable on the sidelines.
He stomps his feet. He shakes his fists. He berates officials. He screams. He teaches.
He’s not wearing a red sweater.
 
No, Tom Crean isn’t Bob Knight – but he’s closer than you think. In fact, that much was evident following Indiana’s intense-laden, 72-71 victory over Michigan in Ann Arbor on Sunday.
Moments after a hold-your-breath final 20 seconds, moments after Jordan Morgan’s tip bounced around and around – but not in, moments after IU captured their first outright B1G regular season championship since 1993, there was another moment: Crean confronting current Michigan assistant – and former Indiana assistant – Jeff Meyer.
And Crean couldn’t stop himself from saying something.
“You know what you did!” Crean shouted. “You helped wreck the program! You helped wreck our program!”
He ran away with a grin that can only be described as half Cheshire cat, half Grinch Who Stole Christmas.
It was rebellious, it wasn’t entirely classy, yet given the circumstances, it wasn’t entirely unforgivable.
As a member of Sampson’s Indiana staff, Meyer had made impermissible phone calls to recruits, calls that along with Sampson and fellow assistant Kevin Senderoff, would put the storied program on sanctions that would nearly break the Hoosiers. Crean was hired, as has been documented, not knowing the full content of the allegations and sanctions and went to work with what might resemble a JV roster in the B1G. There were two walk-ons who’d scored a combined 36 career points.
Crean’s first season, 2008-09, the Hoosiers were 6-25. Six and twenty-five. Worst in school history. The following season, 2009-10, IU went 10-21. In 2010-11, 12-20.
Forget last year’s 27-9 Sweet 16 team. Those three seasons in basketball purgatory don’t ever leave you. They stick and stay – a funk that’s not easily removed. And it’s the anger behind those 66 beatings in three seasons that built up and came up Sunday on the court at Crisler.
It didn’t just boil over – it was directed at a person who played a large part in helping facilitate those 66 losses in three seasons. Following the game, Michigan coach John Beilein commented on how Michigan would always conduct themselves with class and how Meyer helped build Michigan basketball “brick by brick” since arriving in 2008 – just months after leaving IU and being a part of a staff that destroyed it brick by brick.
Coaches can sometimes act like the kids they coach. Tom Crean is no different. This may surprise many outside of Hoosier Nation, but Tom Crean has become somewhat unpopular. He cut down the nets last week after a loss. He’s getting into people’s faces, smirking and possibly enjoying some of these wins a bit too much. He’s brash.
He’s also not changing a thing. And in the process, he’s prepping his team for the NCAA Tournament. Indiana won that game with three timeouts just sitting on the table. They played through the missed free throw, the Zeller lay-up and the frantic final seconds without calling for a huddle. Crean’s players know what to do – which is an unbelievably good quality come tournament time. You never know when you’ll be out of timeouts with 30 seconds to play and trailing by four.
Indiana won ugly Sunday, trailing most of the game. The Hoosiers looked poor in losing, at home, to Ohio State on Senior Night. As I said last week, these are college-age kids and you can’t predict how they will play. But Tom Crean is coaching really well. And Hoosier fans are hoping these last couple seasons are the rebirth of another era.
It’s not. It’s the start of a new one.
Crean is not Bob Knight. He’s not throwing chairs or attacking his players. You know who Tom Crean really is? He’s Rick Pitino circa 1992-96 at Kentucky.
After the nightmare Kentucky went through in the late 1980s, Pitino had to rebuild that storied program, same as Crean, from the ground up, without star recruits. The Wildcats went 14-14 in 1989-90. And when Kentucky started winning again, Pitino enjoyed it, relished in it and made sure you knew it.
He started dressing his players in crazy uniforms, they responded with crazy games – like the legendary 31-point second half comeback against LSU in 1994. The roster began to fill with NBA-quality players who wanted to play for a fiery, intense guy like that. After that Duke loss in the 1992 regionals, Kentucky went on to play in the Final Four in 1993, 1996, 1997 and 1998 (without Pitino, but with his players), winning national championships in 1996 and 1998.
Indiana could be primed for a run like that, and the Hoosiers could become insufferable to the rest of the nation. With another stellar recruiting class coming up, Indiana is back and isn’t going away again anytime soon.
And neither is Tom Crean.
Do we wish these coaches wouldn’t do embarrassing things? Certainly. Then again, coaches like Pitino and Crean are the only ones bold enough to take on challenges like Kentucky and Indiana have faced and deal with the humbling losses.
Crean defending the program, unleashing a mocking tirade on a former assistant who, in a way, put him and the school through hell for three seasons of beatings, is more defensible that so many other coaches actions – most notably the actions of the man who Crean will be measured against, Knight.
Knight and so many coaches get caught up in discussing and taking controversial stances on things outside of what they know, which is little besides college basketball.
This was different – and it’s not something Crean should apologize to Meyer for.
We’ve become a little overly PC on the apologies. We apologize – and demand apologies for – nearly everything. We’re offended by the action, but we can also become offended if the apology doesn’t suit our ridiculously high standards. Was it sincere? Did they mean it?
Why don’t we just stop and examine what exactly demands an apology? Why can’t we deal with letting conflict exist? So Crean doesn’t think much of Meyer and his recruiting practices. Who cares? It’s overshadowing so many other stories from this game, this weekend. Last Wednesday, people wanted Crean and IU to apologize for cutting down the nets in their own building.
Why do we care? And why do we care to the point that we need to hear “I’m sorry.”
All these apologies. Ugh. I like a stern handshake, a vigorous pat on the back, a deep, lingering look directly into someone’s soul through their eyes. It’s the Michael Corleone “Fredo, I knew it was you!” moment. And it’s OK. People are allowed to not like one another – it’s what makes something a rivalry, which is now sorely lacking in sports because, well, everyone likes everyone so dang much.
If Crean wants to apologize for representing Indiana University poorly in a public setting then fine. If Crean feels like he should set a better example for his players, then fine. Apologize all over yourself, Tom. But Crean shouldn’t apologize to Jeff Meyer. Jeff Meyer should be apologizing to Tom Crean, to Indiana University and it’s fans.
If Crean continues on this path, no doubt he’ll have other things to apologize for.
Like winning. A lot of winning. 
I guess, in a way, he could be a lot like Bob Knight. 
And it’s the one thing he won’t ever need to apologize for. 

NOTE: The blog has been updated to accurately reflect that Meyer was never found guilty of major violations, but was part of the coaching staff that did. Meyer was cleared by the NCAA having committed minor infractions relating to phone calls and the NCAA found at the time that they paled in comparison to Sampson and Senderoff.

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1987, Assembly Hall, Bob Knight, Calbert Cheaney, Damon Bailey, Digger Phelps, Gene Keady, Indiana Hoosiers, NCAA College Basketball, Steve Alford, Tom Crean

This is (the new) Indiana


What I’ve learned in all my years watching college basketball is this: it is lacking all logic and rationale and cannot be explained.
So many inexplicable things happen, defeat snatched from the jaws of victory and vice-versa. Buzzer beaters, blown leads, comebacks, brain freezes. What makes sense, what looks good, depth, balance, defense, offense, can all change radically within a week, a road trip or even a game.
But we all know why. These are just kids.
They have classes on the History of Southern Cooking, bowling, Advanced Triple Trigonomics and the Economic Impact of the Sudan on Western Civilization. In one semester. They eat their weight in Cookie Crisp and don’t gain a pound. They stay up all night and sleep half the day. They may or may not shower regularly.
And they are going to be as perplexing to us, especially while playing a game, as they are to themselves all the time. In college basketball, perfection is rare, predictability even more so – that’s why it’s called March Madness, after all.
Indiana basketball cannot be rationally explained, either.
Why is it so important to fans that Indiana University basketball return to a place of actual relevance and championship contending status? Why is this night, Senior Night against Ohio State with the outright B1G title on the line special? Why is this important?
Does “it just is” suffice for those questions? No? OK, well, that’s a shame, because that’s kind of the best answer. We don’t even really know what a “Hoosier” is – and it’s a good time to mention it’s 2013.
But that’s the best answer because, really, it would simply take too long to explain Damon Bailey, 1976, Martha the Mop Lady, Calbert Cheaney, Brian Evans, Alan Henderson, Scott May, the Abernathy twins, Branch McCracken, candy-striped pants, The Shot, Alford, Darryl Thomas, The Rim Recker, Greg Graham and his brother from another mother Jeff, Evans arm sling, The Chair, The Sweater, The General, A Season on the Brink, 1987, 1981 and the missed opportunity in 1993, Haston, Guyton, Lyndon Jones and Jay Edwards, Uwe, Kent Benson, Steve Green, Mike Woodson, Keith Smart, Isiah, The McGlocklins, Laz, Chuck Marlowe, The Indiana Classic, The Hoosier Classic, “Socks, Shorts, 1-2-3”, Bracey Wright, Joby Wright, McGinnis, Buckner, Wittman and really, a hundred other moments, names and games.
What we have is a grassroots style of support for a game long entrenched in the fabric of the state. From high school to college to pros, we live and breathe this stuff. In 1998, the state’s high school athletic sanctioning body, the IHSAA, changed the format of the state tournament to multiple class basketball and it was nearly Armageddon. The backlash is still going on, somewhat. People still talk about it.
But you have to understand how deep the roots are. It’s tribal.
Counties of four, five and six schools, like the six or seven that surround Indianapolis, are deeply rooted in rivalries between schools of diverse enrollment and socio-economic class. It’s 1990 Duke-UNLV or 1992 Michigan-Duke, in a way. Then, there’s Marion County, home of Indianapolis and home to a hoops hotbed. The City and County championships are legendary.
Every game is March Madness in Indiana high school basketball. At least it was. I played in both the final single-class tournament and the first multi-class tournament. It felt like they were trying to find a way to make the small schools feel important, but we already did. A sectional championship might as well have been a state championship. It meant that much.
Now take that, let it age a few years. Let the lived and lost dreams of former players, coaches, cheerleaders and fans permeate.
In Bloomington, they have five national title banners swaying softly in an oddly shaped building that can get very, very loud. It’s loud because it’s filled to the brim with diehard fans of the game. A former high school star sits next to a former high school cheerleader next to their parents, who went to every game, drove every trip for AAU games in Fort Wayne and Evansville when they lived in Batesville, Rushville or Jasper.
Nature vs. nurture? How about both.
In Indiana, this basketball stuff goes deep and it’s like a cult. Nearly everyone did have a basketball goal and dreamed of taking the last second shot. Magnetic – and usual – personalities like Bob Knight, Gene Keady and Digger Phelps ran the state for nearly 30 years. They brought in the local boys, the hometown heroes we had watched through puberty and made them men – championship men. Some went on to the NBA, others just back to their hometown. But all basically legends.
Knight himself was a force of nature, and when he slipped and finally lost it, it was like a giant falling. The crash left collateral damage, bruising the school, the state, the game, our tribes. And as often happens when eras end, there is a hangover, a decay, a funk. Then, to make matters worse, Kelvin Sampson started using a cell phone. Those hometown heroes started leaving the state.
When you don’t have a deep connection to your high schools and your counties, when specialization in sports during this era means fewer kids participating as they get older, when your state divided by enrollment, when your legendary college coaches retire (or get removed) and some hotshot comes in from out of state, you lose your bearings a little bit.
The thread of the fabric unravels.
But just like with most things in life and in history, with proper attention and care, things can be repaired or made new again. These things just take time. It took the right guy – someone like Tom Crean – to fully submerge himself in the process of not just picking up the pieces, but building a new foundation from scratch.
It was good that Steve Alford knew all these years what many couldn’t see: IU didn’t really need him. Oh, they wanted him. What a story, right? The prodigal son returns. To do what exactly? Just winning would never have been enough. He would always be compared to Knight. He’d be living moment to moment, with no joy, dying with each loss, with each recruit he didn’t get. He’s better off building something new in New Mexico than trying to relive the past in Bloomington.
No, Indiana needed Tom Crean, someone without history here, but someone with passion for the history of the state and obsession for basketball, not the other way around.
Truthfully, honestly, full restoration may never occur – it’s just a different time, both in the state and the sport. We might never see the dominance of Indiana basketball again for an extended period of time, just like we might never see the level of obsession again.
Think of it as the new Hoosier Hysteria. It’s realistic, slightly tempered, built better for the modern age, with a nod to history. We like Tom Crean, but he hasn’t consumed us, blinded us as Bobby did. And yes, that’s a good thing. It shouldn’t matter if Knight wants to come back – for the first time since he left, the program is bigger than he is.
It’s the name on the jersey, not the coach on the bench.
Does Indiana, now after regaining credibility, being ranked No. 1 most of the regular season and capturing the school’s first B1G title in years need to win it outright tonight? Does it need to win the NCAA Tournament this year to fully return to glory?
Does it matter?
Sometimes to appreciate where you are, you just have to realize where you’ve been.
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basketball, Bobby Plump, Gordon Hayward, Indiana Hoosiers, Indiana Pacers, Larry Bird, Milan, NBA, Purdue, Tom Crean

This is Indiana…do we still ball?

This is Indiana.
Where we apparently don’t care about professional basketball.
If you are from Indiana like I am, you know there is very little we take more seriously and keep close to our heart than basketball.
Hoops may not have been born here, but it is where the game is played and followed with an unbridled passion, one that others (like New York, Chicago, Kansas and North Carolina) imitate but can never duplicate.
We are Hoosiers. We are “I love you guys.” We are the Milan Miracles, Bobby Plump, Hinkle Fieldhouse, IU, Purdue, red sweaters, Bobby Knight, comb-overs, Gene Keady, thrown chairs and Digger Phelps. 
We are Chrysler Fieldhouse, where Wooden was born and raised, The Wigwam, Big O, The Undefeated Season of ’76 and “The Shot.” We are The Big Dog, Damon Bailey and Steve Alford. 
We are Larry Bird. We are Slick Leonard. We are “Boom Baby”. We are 8-points in 9 seconds and a choke sign to Spike Lee in Madison Square Garden. We are still engaged in a 15-year battle over single-class basketball.
Basketball is who we are. Or maybe it was who we were.
This is Indiana (no, really, this is Indiana).
And right now, this is kind of pathetic.
Our numbers are dropping in high school basketball attendance. You can blame class basketball, but then again, you can’t. We’re kind of excited about the revival of Indiana University under Tom Crean, but they just locked up a stellar recruiting class and the only way I heard about it was through IU fans on Facebook. If this were 1992, people wouldn’t shut up about it.
And Purdue fans – is there such a thing right now? – are as quiet as a field mouse. Purdue and Indiana used to not only matter nationally, but they were what this state thought about most. Butler made the NCAA title game two straight seasons – the second time without sensation and Brownsburg native Gordon Hayward – and people were excited for about 10 minutes.
Speaking of Hayward, have we forgotten about this kid? You know, the one that hit a crazy game winner in the 4A state championship game, then led Butler to the title game his sophomore year and now is an outstanding young NBA player for the Utah Jazz? Where’s his book? Where’s his cult following? He did what Bailey and Alford couldn’t do – stand out in the NBA – and I don’t see anyone under 15 wearing his jersey to school.
What the hell happened to us? What happened to rusty rims hanging from barns, dirt courts and old men in coffee shops? My parents (IU fans) and their best friends (Purdue fans) couldn’t even watch games together because they were afraid of what they might say. Now? Purdue and IU rarely come up in conversation.
What the hell is wrong with us? We’re dying a painful basketball death here in Hoops Holy Land and everyone seems to be shrugging their shoulders.
The biggest case in point: the Indiana Pacers.
After years of complaining (including from me) about the dynamics of the team, how they (or RonMetta WorldTestapeace) ruined the great shot they had in 2004, the strip club shootings, the gun charges, well, they at least have been getting it right lately.
After giving the Chicago Bulls all they could handle as a spunky 8-seed in last year’s playoffs, the Pacers secured the 3-seed this year, clearly their best regular season in nearly a decade. They are young, fun, filled with talented players who work together as a team. They feature a hometown kid, George Hill, and have likeable players and hard workers all over the roster. They are ran by Larry Bird. This is the quintessential “Indiana” basketball team – fun, likeable, fundamental, hard working.
And they had the second-worst attendance in the NBA this season. Frankly, the Pacers attendance has been in the dregs of the league for over 10 years.
This is not about a small market. We fill up Lucas Oil Stadium just fine – even during a 2-14 season.
Win or lose, we just don’t come to Consec…er, Bankers Life Fieldhouse.
I could go on and on about how great it is in the Fieldhouse, what a value it is (and I’ve done that in previous columns over the years), but we’re just not listening. We just don’t care. And that, my friends, is what scares me the most.
The Pacers are about to take on the Miami Heat in Round 2 – an epic affair and what could prove to be the best series in the Eastern Conference and we’re acting like it’s a kindergarten soccer tournament. We’re losing our identity. Or as R.E.M. once said, we’re losing our religion.
I know there are so many things different about 2012 than there were about the 1980s and 1990s; our options are far greater. The Pacers are not the only “game in town” when it comes to entertainment and sporting options anymore. We’re a busy lot, with much to do and places to go. And that’s fine, really. It’s a sign of the times.
Now we could dissect how it’s easier to go to eight Colts home games than 20 or so Pacers games. But the cost is probably the same. And yes, it’s an expensive night out for a beer and a hot dog, but you tell me what isn’t expensive these days.
Just tell me what’s happening to us? Was it truly the Malice at the Palace? Was it a loss of trust? General disinterest? Are we know a football town? A football state? I can’t believe it. I know Peyton Manning was here, orchestrating one of the greatest runs in NFL history – but football and basketball season collide for but a brief few months.
Maybe we’re just not cut out for the NBA here. Even when the Pacers were rolling in the 1990s, it was nothing like the Colts “Blue Fridays” at workplaces around central Indiana. Maybe it’s the length of the season. Or for some reason the dichotomy of how NBA players are perceived by our Midwestern culture. Maybe it’s because college basketball has always mattered here more than professional basketball and people only have enough energy to fully engage in one team.
Yet, really, none of this matters. These “reasons” and excuses are just that – reasons and excuses. They don’t speak to the heart of the matter – that this is Indiana. Basketball is in our blood. We live and breathe it.
Or at least we used to.
We are in danger of losing this team one day, sure. (And it will be oddly amusing when people who never went to games begin to complain.) But more important, we’re in danger of losing our essence, our character and our culture if we don’t snap out of this basketball funk we’ve been in.
This is Indiana.
And if we’re not careful, they’ll be talking about how we once balled. 
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