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COVID-19 Illini Basketball

Everyone Hates a Spaz

After yesterday’s narrow victory over Michigan, a Buckeyes reporter asked Duane Washington to describe the feeling when a team’s “connected.” It’s the hot word of the 2021 season.

“There’s no words to describe that feeling,” said Washington. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

When Ohio State beat the Illini in January, we all lamented the open looks EJ Liddell got from the arc, and rationalized his 4-of-7 long-range shooting by explaining to ourselves that he’d only attempted three three-pointers through the Buckeyes’ first 13 games.

Yesterday, against an opponent known for its three-point shooting, the Illini made it look easy. And it’s not because Iowa doesn’t have a pivot-man who can shoot from long range. It’s because Illinois was a collective irritant on defense. They were the annoying kid who’s had too much sugar. They kept waving their hands and shouting. It’s irksome.

The best moment to underline this defensive gnatery was Andre Curbelo hovering over a fallen Jordan Bohannon. Bohannon still had control of the ball, but needed to get rid of it. Curbelo flailed his arms in all directions to prevent Bohannon from getting a good look at any potentially open teammate.

For a chico as relaxed as Andre Curbelo, it’s tough to say whether this frenetic energy can be readily called to action. Where did it come from? Belo credited coach Underwood in particular for being in his ass, and one wonders whether physical horseradish was involved.

“You just gotta do it every day. Dive on the floor. That’s what makes Illinois special, man. Those are the little things what make Illinois special. A lot of credit to the coaches, especially Underwood. He’s always on our ass about that. And what better moment to do it than now.”

David Craan / Illinois Athletics

In this specific instance, the energy probably came from within. Moments earlier, Belo got the thrill of turning defense into offense, stripping Joe Toussaint’s ball and taking it solo to the other end for a two-handed flush. No one would have had time to stop him, but it’s interesting that no one tried, either. Instead, Toussaint complained about a no-call. Bill Raftery had just observed the same complaint from Joe Wieskamp, who allowed Ayo an undefended breakaway dunk.

What is it that makes Hawkeye players lose focus, and complain to referees? Where do they get that from?

Contrast Chris Holtmann, who gave his team two simple instructions, as told by Duane Washington after the game: “You’ve gotta move on from everything that happened. Obviously we were up twelve, they got it to one.

“The last huddle we had — before we actually turned the ball over, for them to get another shot up on the rim — coach said ‘hey, forget about everything else. We have one job. We gotta score and get a stop. And you know, we didn’t score.”

Asked to describe himself, what kind of leader he is, Washington said “positive. A positive leader.”

Illinois fans will understand that Chris Holtmann comes from a new school of thought, more modern than Underwood’s Old School. They may recall that Holtmann was roommates with John Groce at that school.

Does Holtmann’s relentless positivity contrast favorably with Underwood’s horseradish? It seems like it’s two paths to the same goal: Inspiring a team to exert all available energy during every moment its opponent has possession of the ball.

Yesterday, the Buckeyes made Juwan Howard look like an idiot on the final possession. And they made Mike Smith look like Hassan Adams.

In five hours, we’ll know who brought the energy today.

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COVID-19 Illini Basketball

The Mood

On Thursday, Steve Helwagen asked Buckeyes guard CJ Walker if he’d consider returning for a sixth year. CJ said, essentially “you never know.”

On Friday, Chris Holtmann didn’t wait for a question. He said Walker will not return for a sixth year. “CJ will move on and professionalize. As many people know, he’s got a young daughter, and we’re fully supportive of that.” Holtmann then immediately switched subjects, to Kyle Young. He hopes Kyle will come back for another year.

The mood in the Zoom was somber.

Spencer Holbrook asked how Holtmann felt about his nomination as Naismith Coach of the Year. Holtmann looked at the floor. “Looks like they did their voting before last week.” It’s a realistic response. tOSU has lost three in a row. It must feel like ages since they’ve had mojo at The Schott.

Illini fans might look at Kyle Young as a tough, tattooed, bouncy ball of muscles and gristle. Holtmann certainly echoed those sentiments in his Senior Day preview. But Thursday’s Q & A with Kyle, when not pondering another year in Columbus, was about his frailty.

Contrast Giorgi Bezhanishvili’s pre-game Zoom. It doesn’t seem to have gone as viral as we, the participants, seemed to expect. (I think everyone on the call Tweeted, wrote or compiled something about his infectious mood.)

Perhaps lost in the bonhomie was the deadly seriousness of Giorgi’s intention to win a “naytional” championship. Giorgi keeps things loose, but there’s a 94 x 50 foot rectangle where he’s not always friendly.

IT’S GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME

The eternally optimistic Scott Beatty floated, in another recent Zoom, the notion that most teams are getting better this time of year. Brad Underwood did not assent.

In fact, this is the wheat from chaff portion of the season. The culling of the weak. Some teams are mentally weak and some are physically worn out. Ohio State seems, as of this morning, to be both of those things.

Does that mean Illinois will win this afternoon’s game? You don’t look to Illini Report for predictions or betting tips. Sports abstractions are a billion dollar industry, and you have plenty of places to read them. I’m just telling you about the people involved. Brad Underwood seems to be holding his team together while Holtmann’s falls apart.

Hawkeyes fans lament Fran’s February Fade, a seemingly annual tradition in Iowa City. This year, much of that talk can be attributed to CJ Fredrick’s ankle. But if you had to choose between mental and physical when diagnosing Iowa’s late swoons, you’d probably guess the former.

Cellvin Samsung has borne this reputation for decades. His 2002 Oklahoma squad scrapped and scraped its way to a Final Four. That’s his only trip. Since getting his first head coaching position forty years ago — and despite perennial high-rankings, media hype and avoidance of NCAA-oriented restraints; his teams routinely limp to the finish line.

Andre Curbelo, Jacob Grandison, Jermaine Hamlin (Illinois Athletics)

Is it a minor miracle that Underwood has this team improving, loose and confident in March? Or is it the major miracle of this season?

How much of the late season vitality should you attribute to wacky personalities like Andre Curbelo and Jermaine Hamlin? How much should you credit the toughness of Trent Frazier and Da’Monte Williams? What of Jacob Grandison, the guy you’d most likely describe as the team’s moral conscience?

Was the first Ohio State game the impetus for Brad to insert Grandison in the starting line-up? Brad didn’t phrase it exactly that way yesterday. He said the team was “discombobulated” and “searching for some things.” Perhaps Grandison’s quiet leadership has merely coincided with the mid-season relaunch. Maybe it laid the foundation.

If Illinois does win a naytional championship, books will be written about all these personalities and the confluence of their circumstances. If not, maybe it doesn’t matter.

As 3 PM central approaches, it’s nice to feel optimistic that Illinois is in the position to do something special.

Categories
COVID-19 Illini Basketball

Ayo’s nose

The question everybody’s asking is when Ayo will return. The question everyone should be asking is what Ayo will return.

Trauma changes people. It’s a fact of evolutionary biology.

Jason Heyward & Dickie Thon didn’t recoil from inside fastballs because they’re cowards. After he got hit in the face with a fastball, Heyward’s brain sent him a signal based on that learned trauma. Thon’s beaning changed the way he saw fastballs because an orbital fracture changed his depth perception.

It’s possible that Ayo will be exactly the same old Ayo when he returns, but it’s not likely.

Tiny physical changes can alter the perception, and consequently the muscle memory, that he’s developed since infancy. And then there’s the subconscious psychology of his trauma. The PTSD.

Again, Ayo doesn’t need to know that he’s been traumatized to be changed by the trauma. He can have all the confidence in the world, and still recoil, unconsciously, from contact.

We haven’t heard much about Ayo’s treatments, except that Brad Underwood used the word “doctors” rather than the word “doctor.” We can assume an otolaryngologist is involved. We should hope ophthalmology wasn’t necessary. But what about a Bad Memories doctor? The National Institutes of Health have studied drug-induced amnesia for at least a decade. If Ayo’s brain is rendered incapable of learning from his trauma, he’d be better off. You’d want Ayo to know that he can drive to the bucket without a tiny part of his brain telling him he’d better not.

If you’ve heard Brad answering questions about Ayo’s treatment, you’ll know it’s not worth asking whether any particular therapy is involved.

HDTV

It’s interesting that you & I knew about Ayo’s nose before Trent Frazier did. Or anyone else on the team for that matter. You’ll recall that Brad was nearly giddy after his first loss in 8 games. Trent seemed sincere in saying “he’s fine.”

They didn’t see the play from the angle we did. They didn’t see the replay. They didn’t see the Breslin Kliegs casting an unusual shadow from a swelling bulge.

I’ve attended zero games this season, so I’ve had little to write about. You saw it yourself. We’re in the same boat. There’s nothing I can tell you that you didn’t already know.

Because Illini Report is written for people who watched all the games and know all the details, the only thing I can share that’s worth your time is something I saw but you didn’t.

(I continue to report straight news for people who didn’t watch the game.)

You’ll notice, in the writing and questions from the Illini media pool, that journalists instinctively work this way. They ask about something that happened off camera, on the sidelines. Perhaps it involved reserve players on the bench, or coaches yelling in the tunnel. It’s something only they can tell you. It justifies the travel expenses. It’s the reason to read them, no matter whom else you read.

I can write about Ayo’s nose not just because I saw it on TV, but because I had my own nose smashed into my face, during a game.

It was the day Mitchell Brookins caught that long TD and Illinois beat Iowa 33-0. I headed the soccer ball, watched it sail away, and then saw Aaron Libman’s face as his tooth penetrated my nose. Dr. Robert K. Kuramoto fixed it surgically, but my nasal passages still keep me awake too often.

I was my team’s best player when that happened. Then everything fell apart. I was never able to slide-tackle again. I quit soccer, and started playing football, where they give you a facemask.

SORRY NOT SORRY

Let’s not pretend that Tom Izzo didn’t send his goons to pester, poke and ultimately batter the Illini. If Mady Sissoko weren’t playing to foul, he’d have defended Ayo’s drive with both arms straight in the air. That’s how the game is coached these days. So either Izzo is a lousy coach, or Sissoko hammered Ayo with both arms because that’s what he was told to do. (You’ll find, if you spend a week researching everything this author/commentator/social media participant has ever written, that superlatives about B1G coaches mention Beilein and Bo Ryan. It’s not an error of omission.)

If you’re like me, you were already frustrated — well before Ayo’s clubbing — from watching Sissoko bother Kofi Cockburn. There was nothing subtle about it. That’s why Kofi eventually snapped, and swatted Sissoko’s arm away — a moment which gleeful sadists among the Spartan fandom cited in bothsidesing the violence.

Brad’s spent a good portion of the past two weeks talking about Kofi’s patience despite the incessant pounding he puts up with. So far, nobody at conference headquarters has noticed.

If the Big Ten cares, it’s done nothing to deter the bludgeoning. So MSU continues to bludgeon. In the Spartans next game, Chris Holtmann watched in horror as Josh Langford tackled Duane Washington to prevent a game-tying shot.

Slo-mo replay showed the Spartans did it again on the subsequent play. Why allow a team to score if you can just knock them to the ground instead?

The bothsidesers will tell you that everyone does it. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it. And besides, what’s the big deal?

And then there’s the segment of the Michigan State fanbase that doesn’t merely rationalize Izzo’s brand of tackle basketball.

They celebrate it.