DAN HURLEY’S TRIUMPHANT JOURNEY EQUIPS HIM FOR A SEISMIC FUTURE
His Connecticut players relate to his life struggles — he quit basketball in college, amid alcohol issues and depression — and gritty perseverance will be necessary in an industry of volatile change
It will require a determined, demanding cuss of a coach to survive what’s ahead in college basketball. The unknown is murky and scary, which explains why Mike Krzyzewski is doing Aflac commercials and Jay Wright is laughing at Charles Barkley’s malaprops and bad jokes.
The transfer portal is a vessel for social climbers, defectors and quitters, capable of rejuvenating a program and just as quickly gutting it, with some of Florida Atlantic’s players contacted as the Owls were answering “Who?” NIL collectives work only if donors are more interested in hoops than King Football, not commonplace, and if payments don’t poison team chemistry. The NBA’s decision to retain the one-and-done rule would seem to help, except many elite teens don’t want to spend a year on campus, preferring salaries in the G League or incubators in their home countries.
Who knows if Dan Hurley ever returns to a stage inside a football stadium to raise a national championship trophy, cap backwards, pounding on a mockup of a victorious bracket, confetti pouring from the roof? “You can’t make me cry in front of all these people,” he said to Jim Nantz, who called his 354th and last NCAA tournament game Monday night. Who knows if Hurley even returns to a Final Four? Weren’t the trolls trying to fire him weeks ago? But moving forward in a volatile industry, when success depends on who’s running a program and his influence in keeping players around for the long term, a life survivor like Hurley is best equipped for a seismic future.
He preaches tough love and, somehow, his players embrace it amid entitled times. He revived a blueblood, Connecticut, and delivered the program’s fifth title since 1999 — more than Duke, Kansas and Kentucky. And he has experienced a personal journey relatable to any young athlete, quitting basketball as a high-profile collegian because he couldn’t cope with burdens — pressure as the son of Bob Hurley Sr., the guardian angel of Jersey City and maybe the greatest of high school coaches, and the brother of Bobby Hurley, a legendary college point guard and Duke icon. His players know he battled alcohol and depression at their age. They know he found his way back to the sport he loves and let basketball guide him.
“I know I’m not here if I didn’t have to deal with that adversity,” said Hurley, finally validated as a champion in a regal roundball family. “I’m not here if I didn’t have tough people who raised me, a tough older brother, people who helped me with adversity in my life and how to battle back from it.”
The players respect his wisdom. And they listen. “It energizes me,” senior guard Tristen Newton said. Let Hurley charge onto the court during a timeout and voice harsh messages, as he did when inferior but pesky San Diego State trimmed a 16-point deficit to five with 5:19 left. Let him say at halftime, up by a dozen, “We should be up 20. We missed at least three layups.” But they also know he pats them on the head when he’s finished, then wraps them in tight hugs, one after another, when the buzzer sounds and UConn is the champion. Their coach is a bridge from a more authoritarian day to a 21st century where a commanding voice must have a coat of caring. Unless they’re lying, his players didn’t think this moment was possible when the Huskies weren’t ranked in the Associated Press preseason poll.
Dan Hurley knew. That’s why he took the job in 2019. Self-belief is why he was cutting down a net in Houston, the 76-59 result on the scoreboard. “I’m proud of how we’ve gotten here,” Hurley said. “This was pre-portal. It was pre-NIL. Back then, you had to develop a culture, develop young players. A recruit had to believe in your vision. You couldn’t necessarily purchase it. We built the program. And we’ll continue to do it the same way.”
Traces of Jersey City, more hardscrabble in his youth compared to today’s high rents and penthouse views of Manhattan, are heard in his voice and visible in his sideline emotions. He’s oozes intensity. “You’ve got to have the stomach. You’ve got to have the toughness, the self-belief as players and coaches to want to put yourself in a situation where if you’re not getting to Final Fours and not competing at the top of the Big East that you’re failing,” he said. “It’s a lot easier to coach at places where making the tournament is enough. But for me, when you grow up in the way I grew up, you want to go and challenge yourself all the time.”
If the Hurley watchword is tough, let’s not sugarcoat the narrative. He was the black sheep of the family, the one who heard booing fans chant “You’re not Bobby!” during his struggles at Seton Hall. He could have quit on life the day he gathered three of the team’s beat writers in a local bar — where else? — and said he hated basketball and was going away for a while. Decades later, a tunnel and a second state line away, they chant, “Danny Hurley!”
In Storrs, where football is a Big East afterthought, NIL money will flow. The portal will be busy, too, now that the bluebloods have been rendered less royal by the new ways of doing business. In truth, no one knows where any of this is going. You thought Gonzaga had it figured out? Thrashed by UConn in the West Region final, coach Mark Few is as confused as anyone. “These might be some of the greatest challenges we’re facing with the portal and NIL and just lack of direction and rules and regulations,” he said.
Wouldn’t the men’s Final Four be a monstrous event again — and not lagging behind a women’s extravaganza that drew 10 million viewers for LSU’s drubbing of Iowa, Angel Reese’s excessive taunting of Caitlin Clark, and Kim Mulkey’s garish outfits — if Victor Wembanyama played for, say, Duke? Especially when recent highlights from the French league confirm that he really is an “alien,” as LeBron James described him? But what once was the perfect sports gathering, a four-week stroll through high drama and youthful passion, no longer is recognizable. If the TV contracts weren’t signed through 2032, generating $1.1 billion annually, I’d question how much time was left on the tournament’s life clock. Is the NCAA actually serious in recommending the field be increased from 68 teams to 90? Yep, unfortunately. A dying organization wants a bigger money grab while it’s still around.
All references to “college” should be struck from the vernacular. “One Shining Moment” is the grin when someone else is depositing a big check. As new NCAA president Charlie Baker said in an Associated Press interview, “I think one athletic director said that the only truth about NIL is that everybody lies.”
So here we have Hurley, positioned to build on his first title … or to fall from the perch. “When you grow up in a household that me and Bob grew up in with my dad, it was constantly striving, and it’s always the next thing,” he said. “You put that type of pressure on yourself. I couldn’t give a s–t about people trolling or being critiqued. It’s part of the business, and we all have a job to do.
“They buried us before the season. Then they buried us at the midpoint. We played with that chip on the shoulder. We knew the level we could play at, even through those dark times.”
The chip has carried Dan Hurley through 50 years and agonizing storms. His perseverance was highlighted by Nantz in his final celebration scene. “The one thing I learned through all of this is, everybody has a dream and everybody has a story to tell,” the poetry man said. “Just tried to find that story.”
Few stories were as potent as his last one.
###
Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.