Embarrassing.
That was the trigger word. Last Thursday, a reporter asked Penny Hardaway if he was embarrassed after his Memphis Tigers’ latest disappointment, an eight-point loss to SMU that left the team — once ranked 9th in the country — 9-8 for the season. The fourth-year basketball coach forgot about the lights, cameras, and recorders, and let it be known how he felt.
“Stop asking me stupid f*****g questions about if I feel like I can do something. … I’m coaching really hard, my boys are playing really hard. I’m not embarrassed about nothing.”
It was hard to witness, knowing Hardaway’s stature in this town. Since taking the job in March 2018, Hardaway has brought dignity and composure to almost every public appearance. He’s been angry, frustrated, impatient. His teams, to date, have under-performed. But he’s kept himself together under a spotlight no other Memphian would welcome. That composure cracked last Thursday. [Hardaway apologized via Instagram on Friday, at least “to my school, to the players and to our fans.” No mention of “this media” that stirred him so the night before.]
Consider the word embarrassing and its association to Hardaway in the context of basketball. This is a man who, as a player, performed in the NBA Finals, All-Star games, the Olympics. Rarely was he embarrassed in sneakers and shorts on a basketball court. He took up coaching a decade ago and did nothing but win at the middle school and high school levels. There was nothing embarrassing about winning three state championships at East High School. (The James Wiseman controversy surfaced later. Depending on your view, that qualifies as embarrassing for either Hardaway or the NCAA.)
A revealing detail about Hardaway’s angry reaction to the “embarrassing” question: It came after he said this: “Right now, we aren’t fighting hard enough. This isn’t a Memphis team.” This isn’t a Memphis team. Those five words are the equivalent of … embarrassment. One standard (Hardaway’s personal success, now connected to the historical success of the Memphis program) exceeds the current standard, enough for the coach to disassociate his current players with the very brand (the University of Memphis) they represent. If Hardaway isn’t embarrassed, he wouldn’t want to acknowledge the other emotion his comments suggest: shame. “My boys are playing really hard” … but against SMU, at least, they aren’t a Memphis team?
A Memphis team showed up at Tulsa Sunday, the Tigers erasing a 13-point halftime deficit to win their first game on the Golden Hurricane’s floor since 2012. Memphis played shorthanded again, with DeAndre Williams, Landers Nolley, and Jalen Duren all nursing injuries. Star turns from Tyler Harris and Josh Minott off the bench were enough to beat the American Athletic Conference’s cellar dweller. Hardaway could, metaphorically speaking, catch his breath and say all the right things about a road victory.
The coach’s job will likely grow heavier, because the current team (now 10-8 and 4-4 in the AAC) is a long shot for the NCAA tournament. Missing the Big Dance would make it eight years in a row, half of those on Hardaway’s watch. His comments last Thursday night were Hardaway’s first confession that he understands and feels the pressure of history on his beloved alma mater. It was the rare chance for those who watch, analyze, and discuss a hometown hero to see and hear what that hometown hero thinks from his own perspective.
Athletes — and coaches — are rarely their best in front of cameras after a loss. Penny Hardaway will surely have better moments (and better press conferences) in the days to come. The best athletes are able to forget poor outings and regain peak performance. An embarrassing press conference? Coaches and communities as attached as Hardaway and Memphis forget those, too.
