What’s it like watching Dan Hurley lead UConn to the title game

INDIANAPOLIS — Let’s begin with a query. What’s the point of providing Dan Hurley with a courtside seat? The man barely requires a small table. In fact, he could probably make do with just a paperclip. This is because the low stool meticulously positioned by the NCAA beside the UConn bench for Saturday’s Final Four semifinal against Illinois held nothing more than a single sheet of white paper: the Huskies’ tactical blueprint. And even that only rested there briefly between Hurley’s constant retrievals – reviewing it repeatedly – before it inevitably became half-crushed and discarded as UConn nearly squandered a late advantage against the Fighting Illini.

To observe college basketball’s most energetic, expressive, and consequently, most polarizing men’s basketball coach for an entire game leaves one feeling much like that crumpled piece of paper: utterly exhausted.

Nevertheless, Dan Hurley commands unavoidable attention.

His initial profanity, for the official record, erupted at the 55-second point. This wasn’t 55 seconds left in the game, but rather 55 seconds after tip-off. At that moment, he turned to one of the three-person officiating team – it’s pertinent to recall that Hurley had been in the news just a week prior for “head-butting” a referee following UConn’s Elite Eight victory over Duke – and demanded, with considerable volume, “What in the f— was that?!”

From that point onward, Hurley incrementally intensified his engagement with the referees. His initial concentration was on Ron Groover, who had officiated four UConn matches in the regular season – with three of those contributing to the team’s total of five defeats. Hurley’s primary outburst was aimed at Groover, challenging his team’s opening foul. Groover requested he moderate his behavior. Hurley persisted. Groover leveled a stare. Hurley persisted further. Groover faced him directly. Hurley then lifted his hands in capitulation, stating, “Yes, I understand. I’ll settle down.” A shared chuckle followed.

The “calm down” gesture, delivered with both hands, recurs frequently in interactions between Hurley and those tasked with maintaining order. He shouts. They signal with their hands. He quiets down. Briefly, at least.

As the officiating crew rotated through their standard positions, each taking a turn stationed directly before the UConn bench, the Huskies’ coach shifted his attention to every one of them.

Addressing Marques Pettigrew: “Marques, are you serious? Is that the kind of call we’re making at this point?”

Settle down.

To Paul Szelc, the official who bears a striking resemblance to Groover and who gently tugged Hurley’s trousers to indicate he had strayed across the midcourt line into Illinois’ half. “Seriously, Paul. I’m aware of the boundary!” Settle down. Then, glancing at his feet. “Ah, heck. Alright. Yes, it’s right there.”

Here’s an interesting turn of events, however. For every instance the coach was told to “calm down” by an official, he gave that same directive to his own squad at least five times more frequently. Following a timeout, he grasped guard Solo Ball, delivered the two-handed pushing motion, and instructed, “Stay calm. This is your opportunity.” Ball promptly sank a 3-pointer. Intent on overcoming Illinois in a traditional half-court battle, Hurley reiterated “calm down” whenever chaos ensued and the impulse emerged to expedite the strategic plan – the one on his stool – rather than adhere to the deliberate execution.

“People view the online snippets and assume it’s constant madness,” clarified UConn forward Alex Karaban, who referenced an instance late in the first half where he received the two-handed gesture and subsequently – indeed, composedly – made a 3-point shot himself. “Yet, he excels at keeping us focused on the present. Executing our strategies and playing our style.”

During UConn’s matches, Hurley’s sideline performance can likewise be categorized into distinct maneuvers: a succinct collection of signature actions.

One is The Thinker – a posture reminiscent of Rodin’s sculpture, with chin resting on hand. Unlike the bronze figure, however, Hurley typically keeps his mouth agape, perpetually poised for an outburst.

Then there’s the Deep Inhale, where he draws air forcefully through his nostrils, and the Exaggerated Exhale, where he expels breath from both mouth and nose simultaneously, akin to a brahma bull, as witnessed in the final moments leading into a media timeout. He circled his huddling team completely and punctuated the Exaggerated Exhale with a resounding “F—!”

His signature bodily contortion is “The Force User,” employed as he endeavors to project his physical intent onto the basketball court – particularly when his squad is battling for a defensive rebound. He executes subtle jerks and twitches of his shoulders and face, complemented by a sequence of small knee bends, much like Luke Skywalker attempting to telekinetically retrieve an item from a distance purely through bodily motions.

Another is “The Scorch,” where the coach retracts his lips, baring his teeth as though he’s just consumed a ghost pepper. He folds his arms across his chest. His hands are clasped behind his back. He performs a two-thumb check of his belt loops. His hands are in his pockets, accompanied by a gaze of incredulity. His hands in his pockets with a subtle shrug directed at a player; we might label this the “Seriously, man?” Furthermore, there’s a hands-in-pockets bounce.

Given recent revelations regarding his predilection for wearing the identical, well-worn lucky suit on the sidelines due to superstition, all those gestures involving his belt loops and pockets seem to court the risk of a wardrobe mishap.

“Indeed,” Hurley confessed post-game, after changing from his dress shirt into a Huskies T-shirt, “I’ll need to locate a tailor here in Indianapolis.”

In an astonishing sequence midway through the second half, Hurley compressed two minutes of actual game time with 96 strides, a single small jump, six single-finger gestures, two instances of two-handed calming signals, and a 30-second crouch beside his stool, all while consuming water from two cups and consulting the play sheet seven times. When he eventually rose, he did so with such vigor that he almost propelled himself backward from the court into the lower bench section.

“We collectively monitor him, given this elevated playing surface,” UConn freshman guard Braylon Mullins remarked with a chuckle.

At the start of the second half, Mullins made an ill-judged one-handed shot from the baseline, which he missed. His coach responded with a gesture we’ll term “The Last Resort”: an exasperated two-handed rub of his bald head. Mullins, despite scoring 15 points, faced shooting difficulties throughout the latter half and prompted “The Last Resort” on several occasions. With 6:36 left in the match, after Illinois narrowed the Huskies’ advantage to six points and the predominantly orange audience energized Lucas Oil Stadium, Mullins failed on another poor shot, succeeded by a potential UConn fast break that resulted in a turnover, and then a poorly missed layup by Ball.

It was then that the “Last Resort” hands departed his head to toss the play sheet into the void between his unoccupied stool and the UConn bench. Yet, just like the perpetually refilling water cups beside the stool and Hurley’s eyeglasses that invariably reappeared on it, the sheet of paper also returned.

(An aside: Regarding his eyewear. They appear to be reading glasses. At 53 years old, requiring them would be logical. However, he didn’t wear them when consulting the play sheet, and while he did use them for looking downcourt, there were instances where he abstained from using them for distance viewing, and conversely, sometimes wore them to read the sheet, leading to some confusion.)

His staff only needed to physically hold him back on one occasion. By Hurley’s standards, this constituted a successful evening. This occurred with 12 minutes left, when UConn center Eric Reibe entered the game and promptly committed his third foul for an illegal screen.

“HOW IS THAT EVEN CONCEIVABLE AT THIS MOMENT?” Hurley roared.

“Coach,” his assistants, much like the officials, urged, “settle down.”

The concluding 43 seconds encapsulated a medley of every behavior observed from Hurley throughout the game. An inhale. An exhale. A sudden movement. The hand gestures. A repeated admonition to his squad to calm down, emphasizing “No fouls!” He notably, ahem, gestured at each player individually.

At 14.5 seconds remaining, the coach again experienced a gentle pull on his auspicious suit. The game concluded mirroring its commencement. An interaction with Groover, who was discreetly gripping the back of the coach’s jacket to prevent him from straying again. Hurley prepared for an exaggerated reaction but instead glanced at his feet, then at the official.

“Appreciate it, Ron.”

A critical steal by Huskies forward Jayden Ross in the final seconds secured the victory and UConn’s third advancement to the national championship in four seasons. Even prior to the clock reaching zero, Hurley was seen embracing Illinois coach Brad Underwood (who, it should be noted, made extensive use of his stool). Hurley then hugged every Illinois player, making sure to engage each one with direct eye contact.

Hurley confidently made his way to the opposite end of the court, waving at the UConn supporters, momentarily ceasing his gum chewing to poke his tongue out at a CBS camera – hold on, he was chewing gum the entire time?!

Ultimately, he grabbed Mullins and – get ready for it – bumped heads with him, mirroring his action with the referee after Mullins’ game-winning shot against Duke just a week prior. This triggered a cascade of boos. A torrent of boos. And consequently, a surge of smiles.

“Are they expressing disapproval of the head-butt?” Hurley inquired, fully aware he was featured live on the stadium’s large screen. “I’m unsure what they’re booing about.”

Indeed, he knew. They were booing him. And after the television cameras ceased filming, before trotting over to exchange embraces with the parents of his players seated behind the bench, he faced the crowd that was jeering.

His exact words? You can undoubtedly guess.

“Oh, settle down.”