CLEVELAND, Ohio — When Cavs coach Kenny Atkinson changes defenses, opponents miss. When he empowers the end of his bench, players perform. At 54-10, riding another 15-game winning streak, Atkinson’s clipboard can’t miss.
But even Coach of the Year candidates need practice. And back in Brooklyn, long before Atkinson transformed the Cavs, the mad scientist faced a variable he couldn’t control: the press
The former Nets coach uttered 65 “Ums” during the first 7:30 of his introductory press conference back in 2016. Nervous?
“I was frightened,” Atkinson said before Wednesday’s 109-104 win over his old team.
The seven-year assistant had no scheme for this setting. Cameras, questions, correspondents. They don’t teach you these plays from the assistant’s chair. Only way to learn is to do, then stumble, then do again.
And hope you land where Atkinson is sitting today.
“The hardest thing about being an assistant in the NBA, you can’t really practice to be a head coach,” Atkinson said. “There’s no reps. I can’t go and simulate (like) a flight simulator.
“So you’re preparing as assistant. ... You just don’t have experience. You don’t have experience with the media. You’re not practicing press conferences, you’re not leading practices, leading meetings. And until you’re thrown into it, you don’t know. Man, that first year, I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Call this the prequel to Atkinson’s performance in Cleveland. These days, the coach considers himself more of a “manager.” The key to a coherent coaching staff, he said earlier this season, is delegation. Begin shootaround with a brief speech, then let your assistants run the show.
During his Nets tenure, though?
“I was a real coach,” Atkinson said in November. “I was really coaching the game hard, which is typical for a first-time coach. You’re trying to make sure every shootaround’s perfect, every practice is perfect.”
You’re also overpreparing, under adjusting. Cleveland’s gameplan changes by possession. But Cavs center Jarrett Allen, who played under Atkinson 1.0 for three seasons, recalls the Nets forming a set plan every night.
“... And no matter what, he was going to stick to it,” Allen said.
Perhaps Atkinson’s roster played a role in his strategy. Remember, those Nets produced one All-Star (D’Angelo Russell) during Atkinson’s first three seasons. Only three Brooklyn players aged 30 or older (Randy Foye, DeMarre Carroll, Jared Dudley) ranked top 10 in minutes during the same span. When a coach lacks established players, he keeps it simple. And simple suited Brooklyn well under Atkinson.
The Nets' defense improved during each of his first three seasons. They won 20, then 28, then 42 games. By Atkinson’s third year, Brooklyn made the playoffs with a rebuilding roster.
But of course, first rule of coaching: Success breeds more stress. The Nets parlayed one playoff appearance into two superstar signings. Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving arrived with astronomical expectations. And despite that pair playing 20 combined games in 2019-20, Atkinson took the fall for Brooklyn’s 28-34 start.
You read that right.
“... I was shocked when he wasn’t retained,” Heat coach Erik Spoelstra said last week. Spoelstra, AKA the best coach in basketball, appreciated Brooklyn’s culture. He noted that Atkinson’s players always improved.
Still, Nets president Sean Marks said Atkinson’s locker room craved a new voice. Maybe Durant and Irving wanted a coach they could control (eventual Nets coach Steve Nash lasted just over two seasons). Or maybe Atkinson wasn’t ready to manage star personas.
But amid each murky narrative lies one coherent truth: Cleveland Kenny needed the Brooklyn experience.
In a profession that lacks a practice gym, sometimes a gut punch is the perfect professor. And since Atkinson arrived in Cleveland, he’s spared no breath praising his post-Nets curriculum.
Clippers coach Ty Lue taught Atkinson to sneak playoff strategies onto the regular-season clipboard. Warriors coach Steve Kerr provided the perfect template for managing superstar egos. Atkinson couldn’t have culled either coach’s wisdom without suffering his own naivete.
Don’t accuse me of name calling. The coach said it himself: He didn’t excel as a manager until he struggled as a coach. He had to misread Irving and Durant before he could understand Donovan Mitchell. And Atkinson couldn’t recite his redemption arc without the “Ums” that began it.
Reminds him of an old industry adage:
“... They always say, the second time around, you’re a better coach,” Atkinson said. “For me, it’s not even close. I’m much more comfortable in my own skin.”