UConn is so good that Dan Hurley can keep his cool on the sidelines. well mostly

HOUSTON — He muttered just one audible F-bomb in 40 minutes, using it as an adjective as he yelled a play to his team. He was so aghast at her lingual blunder that he covered his mouth as if his mother had just heard him swear for the first time. He didn’t call a timeout as a 20-point lead evaporated to just eight and the building felt like he was starting to lean enough to make things a little awkward. He didn’t call a break either when, after his team corrected the initial panic, he stung again a bit, the lead narrowing to just 10 points.

Instead, after Miami Joseph Bensley He nailed a 3, Dan Hurley pressed his palms in front of him and did the most incredible thing. He said very quietly to his University of Connecticut team, “Relax.”

The evolution of the new, mild-mannered Hurley is old news, the diffusion of the Huskies’ humane tempest into a more manageable beast is widely discussed and dissected. He wears a brown beaded bracelet on his right wrist. In places that follow such things, the brown beads are said to represent Mother Earth and thus have a grounding effect on a person. Hurley does yoga, listens to meditation podcasts and has been known to light a candle in his office.

This, however, is not about the new Zen of the madman. It goes far beyond searching within or finding inner peace, and hits the sweet spot a coach craves: Dan Hurley has a team he can trust.

That’s not the same as having a very good team, although Hurley does, too. It’s about knowing that the players understand: him, themselves, the expectations, the scout, the game plan, the nuances, everything. Not perfectly, because no team can reach that nirvana, but well enough that Hurley no longer has to micromanage them. He can relinquish control a bit and know that things will most likely work out.

His instincts showed right here on Saturday night, the huskies eliminating Miami’s latest threat en route to a 72-59 victory, the latest in a five-game series of NCAA Tournament domination that has sent UConn to a national championship date Monday with san diego state. In a season where the common theme has been that no team is great, UConn has made a very good impression over the last three weeks, outscoring their opponents by an average of 20.6 points per game and holding them all below of 40 percent. shooting from the ground. The Final Four game scorecard should hang on a wall somewhere: eight players in the score column, 19 assists on 28 baskets made and a 41-32 rebounding advantage, not to mention the stifling defense that limited the hurricanes at 32. percent shooting from the ground.

Hurley watched the last few seconds go by in complete peace, enjoying a hug with his son, Andrew, who came in for a moment of trash, as a group of energetic fans made their way to the court railing to chant “Dan-ny Hur- law” to his coach.

It’s certainly a far cry from what they were saying about their manager in January, when a 14-0 start unraveled amid six losses in eight games, and a team reunion after an ugly defeat at Seton Hall. Many questioned Hurley’s game, decision-making and, above all, his intensity, wondering if he was making it impossible for UConn to reach its full potential. Internally, no one shared that concern.

The thing is, fans may find Hurley’s histrionics performative; his players don’t. They do, in fact, feed on it. sad newton, who says he comes from a “screamer” family, was unfazed by Hurley and, in fact, welcomed the criticism. “It gives me energy,” says the senior guard. “I needed that. I knew I did it.”

More specifically, UConn needed the shot. As talented as these Huskies are, they are a combination of new parts (Newton, Alex Karaban, Donovan Clingan, joey calcaterra, Nahim Alleyne) and old parts in new and bigger roles (Andre Jackson Jr., jordan hawkins, Adam Sanogo). They needed to figure it out, and the black hole they seemed to be heading for was, in fact, a computer that calculated, not unraveled. “We experienced a lot in the month of January,” says Hurley. “It’s a battle-tested team, and I’m comfortable enough with the stuff and the guys that I know we can handle it.”

By the time Selection Sunday rolled around, UConn had won six of its last seven and was in such a secure position that Hurley felt comfortable enough to score again. “I think he’s definitely relaxed in this tournament,” says Karaban, who came out of the national semifinal with eight points, nine rebounds and two assists. “You can tell that he is more comfortable with us. We earned their trust.”

Let’s be clear. Calm Hurley is still many people’s version of an erupting volcano. He gets it naturally and genetically, his dad isn’t exactly one to suffer basketball fools. He, too, will never be confused with Jim Larrañaga, who spends the entire game with his hands in his pockets, more like a man debating whole or skimmed milk than directing a national semifinal.

Hurley set up his small raised court stool as a mini-office, carefully placing his two NCAA-approved glasses underneath, while placing a paper with notes and plays on top, and never sat down.

It’s fair to argue, even, that his excessively chewed gum and hands clasped tightly behind his back absorbed a good deal of his tension. And she had some outbursts. She yelled, “Run!” when his team opted not to in transition, and he said with a clear lead to Calcaterra, “Joey, keep it simple,” after Calcaterra nearly fumbled. He made the officers work hard, wrapping his arm around Roger Ayers’ neck so tightly at one point they looked like two brothers coming out of a bar trying to hold each other up. He got a stiff arm from Doug Sirmons when, at the start of a timeout, Hurley started in Simons’s direction only to be told: “Don’t start with me.” He waved his arms frantically from time to time, and at one point yelled almost as if he had a burp spasm, “Heyyyyyy…. free throw bounce,” pushing his elbows back as if he were positioning himself for his own imaginary box.

But he was tame by Hurley’s standards, the heartbreak never reaching the magnitude of the game. The only real outburst came after Karaban hit an and-one to increase UConn’s lead to 12, 66-54. As the referees blew the whistle, Hurley spun around in his dress shoes, clenched his fists, tensed his arms at his sides and let out a guttural scream, his face temporarily frozen as if he were dubbing Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” He waved his hands at the crowd, asking them to turn up the noise even more.

Four minutes later, with his team’s victory assured and his interview with CBS over, Hurley walked to half court, greeted the fans and blew kisses in the direction of his wife, Andrea, before turning to head to the locker room. with a wide smile. wide in his face.

The image of Zen, yes, but more of a man who knows he has a team he can trust.

(Top photo: Gregory Shamus/Getty Images)