Bob Wojnowski: Tom Izzo not giving up the fight anytime soon for Michigan State

ATLANTA — Tom Izzo is furious. Not all the time, and not as often as he once was. But he’s furious because the fight never stops.

He hates the part involving transfers and money and playing time and player agents and player entitlement. That part gives him pain and pause.

He loves the part involving feisty practices and physical defense and overnight film sessions and player relationships. That’s the part that keeps him going.

Izzo is 70 and still going after 30 years as Michigan State’s head coach, a Hall of Famer in his 27th consecutive NCAA Tournament, in his 16th Sweet 16. He has the Spartans in position for a ninth Final Four, with another scrap Friday night against Mississippi. Then possibly a scrappier scrap against Auburn or Michigan.

He spent several minutes Tuesday ranting about the idiocy of the NCAA, and like many, he probably could do a symposium on the topic. The transfer portal opened Monday — a ridiculous and arbitrary date — and 750 kids reportedly jumped in, while 16 programs are preparing for the biggest games of the season. Izzo called it “disgusting” and referred to the portal as the “urinal,” and if you ask him privately, he has a few more vivid descriptions.

The current climate in college athletics has helped drive out several legendary coaches — Jay Wright, Mike Krzyzewski, Tony Bennett, Roy Williams, and even Izzo’s football buddy, Nick Saban. Izzo figures it will drive him out soon enough.

But not until he’s done fighting.

“I do enjoy the fight, and I do enjoy the stubbornness of trying to do it not the same way,” he said Tuesday. “If people don't think I can change with the times, I've changed with the times. If people think I'm gonna adjust to the principles, it'll be a cold day in hell.”

I asked if he still enjoyed his job as much, especially during this season of revival, with the Spartans winning the Big Ten. Izzo is brutally, blessedly honest, and he rails on social-media influence and refers to the scourge of the “Double Ds — distractions and dirtbags.”

“Do I enjoy it as much?” he said. “No. Because every day there’s a problem. These parents and agents have gotten out of control. It’s usually the money, or they think their kid should be playing more so he can get more money.”

And yet, he’s put together one of his most cohesive teams, with nine to 10 players in the rotation, unstained by raging egos. His best player, Jase Richardson, is as selfless as a budding star can be, and when he shot 1 for 10 against New Mexico, he thanked his teammates for bailing him out.

So if you’re wondering, no, Izzo isn’t ready to leave any time soon. Instead of retiring, he’s repairing. He had hip replacement surgery last spring — “I was in pain for five years” — and said it’s one of the best things he’s ever done. Asked if he’d exit in glory if the Spartans won the national title next month, he harumphed.

“Nope,” he said. “It would be reenergizing. And it would make me believe I still can get through to these guys in this time whenever everybody else is telling them something different, so many lies.

“I’m gonna retire when I want to retire, unless they want me out. Or unless I can’t put up with the bull----. It’s either gonna be health or this stuff gets too ridiculous, and it’s getting close. I think I’m better off at 70 than a lot of guys are at 60. I’m more energetic because I’m stubbornly pissed off at the way things go in my profession.”

He bounces around the court as easily as ever, although he does admit to toning down one element. As he walked off after a recent practice, I told him he didn’t seem to yell as much.

“I don’t have as much to yell about,” he said with a slight smile.

Not on the court, he doesn’t, with a 29-6 team. He used to serve on committees to help devise guidelines for the sport’s shifting dynamics, and he’s mostly given that up. Coaches must bow to the NCAA monolith, and also the court system that decrees freedom and pay for players.

Izzo isn’t necessarily opposed to either. He’s opposed to the absence of clear rules regarding NIL and player movement. When the Spartans returned from Cleveland after beating New Mexico Sunday night, he said one of his players was contacted about transferring. He said another received a threat, likely from a gambler, another issue bubbling below the surface.

“I tried to fight the fight, then realized there's no winning the fight,” Izzo said. “We'll see what happens in the long run. It's just something I'm not worrying about anymore. I'm just going to worry about my little Spartan team and see what I can do with them, and it's served me well.”

Because he’s passionate and charismatic, he often gets pushed to the pulpit, and sometimes willingly leaps to it. But every time he does, he feels he’s taking time away from his current players, which is why he’s angry about questions regarding the portal.

He has adjusted, to a degree. He signed two portal players, Frankie Fidler and Szymon Zapala, who are contributors this season. But hunting for transfers while teams are still playing?

“I think that's insane, it's disgusting,” Izzo said. “Kids gotta do what they gotta do, but they're really not doing what they gotta do. They're doing what their parents or their agents are telling them to do.”

Izzo has changed in subtle ways, sometimes reluctantly. He admits he doesn’t push some players as hard, and regrets they don’t improve because of it. He wishes he could be as animated as ever on the sideline, but the cameras catch the images, not the intent. He even wishes he could put helmets and shoulder pads on his players as he did years ago for a rebounding drill.

“It’s the thing they come back and love the most,” Izzo said. “It was so great. It was fun. If I did it now, I’d get fired.”

He may be wiser, but he’s not softer. On the podium in Cleveland, his players were asked for a word to describe their coach.

Jeremy Fears Jr.: “Furious.”

Jaden Akins: “Experienced.”

Tre Holloman: “Winner.”

Jase Richardson: “Motivated.”

Izzo is bemused and occasionally bothered by the obsession with how much he yells. To him, yelling is coaching and caring, and as long as the player understands it, there’s no problem. And they understand it because Izzo spends enormous amounts of time working on player relationships.

Jason Richardson played on Izzo’s 2000 national championship team and eagerly told his son what to expect.

“One of the first things he told me was, you're going to get yelled at, but he still loves you for the person you are, and not what you do on the court,” Jase said. “I was waiting for my turn to get yelled at when I first came here. It took me like three, four months to finally get yelled at. I don't know why, but I was kind of excited, like, yeah, he's finally getting on me.”

That will never change. And no matter how many critics suggest Izzo calm down and embrace a more free-flowing style — pressing all over the floor, firing 3-pointers — he repeats the mantra “defend, rebound and run” and shows up in the Tournament every year.

He’s outlasted a lot of them, which is amazing when you think about it. He doesn’t exactly have a stress-free job, and says he sleeps between three and six hours most nights.

Briefly in the middle of the conversation, Izzo turned slightly dark. He recalled the volatile five years when the Larry Nassar scandal roiled MSU’s campus, and as the face of the university, Izzo got sucked into it. At the same time his team was struggling — 41-38 in Big Ten play — he fielded questions about something he wasn’t remotely connected to.

“That f----- me up; it knocked me every which way,” Izzo said. “I didn’t even know the guy. I feel like I lost — between that and COVID — five years. I’m getting those years back.”

Making up for lost time, another motivation. Just like chasing that second national title and other historic milestones. Longevity and consistency are his badges, the marks of a legend.

Izzo said he models his approach after Saban, who coached at MSU from 1995-99. Saban was told he’d never adjust. But he kept getting elite talent and had Alabama quarterbacks flinging the ball around, winning championships. A year ago, Saban finally capitulated, retiring at 72 to a new life in commercials (hilarious ones, by the way) and TV.

“I grew up with Saban,” Izzo said. “Like me, sometimes he's not the happiest guy. I love him. I think he's the best because our job is to push people to do things they don't even think they can do.”

Izzo bends a bit but he’s not giving in, or giving up. He’s battled too long and come too far to abandon the next big fight. When it’s time, he plans to go down winning, and swinging.

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