Placeholder while article actions load
The last time Rick Carlisle wore a suit to work, the world was about to shut down.
It was March 11, 2020, and Carlisle was the coach of the Dallas Mavericks. That night, news began to spread that the NBA was suspending its season due to the coronavirus pandemic. His would be the last game on the NBA schedule for months.
When basketball came back, it didn’t look the same.
To the dismay of fashionistas everywhere, Carlisle, now with the Indiana Pacers, and his male and female peers in the NBA coaching ranks have swapped their formal attire for golf shirts and long-sleeved sweaters.
“At one point, two or three years ago, the head coaches’ vote would have favored suits,” said Carlisle, president of the National Basketball Coaches Association. “Now he overwhelmingly favors polo shirts and quarter-zips.”
Just look at what the pandemic has caused. In Before Times, most of the NBA coaches had a locker room deal with Men’s Wearhouse and a master tailor, Joseph Abboud, to customize their suits. Now, they’re styling themselves as if they’re about to hop on Zoom at any moment: a sweater with a quarter-zip undone, a pair of pants presentable only because the camera may accidentally lower, and a pair of rubber-soled sneakers. His new look is glamorous enough to pass for a high school administrator; They can probably design an ATO play and proctor an ACT exam at the same time.
They’ve been dressing like no one is watching since the league restarted in July 2020. Those games were held inside empty gyms, and the bubble atmosphere called for more relaxed attire. At the start of the 2020-21 season, the Comfort Advocates had grown in number. And while normalcy in sports, or what was left of it, has returned, NBA coaches still eschew the old formality of their wardrobes. Not only are the suits being removed; they are losing the tradition of dressing like caring adults.
Theirs is pandemic chic. Polyester haute couture and pants without wrinkles. And it makes me long for the days when the NBA bench showed a touch of class.
I miss pocket squares and checkered sports jackets. My kingdom for the rare sighting of an “LV” monogrammed tie dangling from a coach’s dress shirt who appreciates understated yet classic luxury. Shoot, at this point, can we just bring back the days of collared shirts?
It was then that the NBA coaches followed a code. The league required coaches to wear dress shirts and sports jackets to games. But wearing mandatory outfits for 82 games can be expensive, so in 2008, the NBCA brokered a deal with Abboud and Men’s Wearhouse to provide at least 10 free custom looks to coaches who wanted them. However, that partnership expired two years ago, just around the same time coaches agreed to start wearing matching polos in the bubble.
“He looks good,” Carlisle said Wednesday before donning a gray quarter-zip for the Pacers’ game against the New York Knicks. (Tom Thibodeau and his staff chose a lighter shade for his outfit, closer to dirty water gray.)
“You have the entire coaching staff, the training staff, the strength and conditioning staff all dressed the same on the bench,” Carlisle continued. “To me, it looks great. So I certainly see the merits of staying the way we are, but it’s going to be a year-over-year conversation with the league to see how it goes next year.”
As much as Carlisle tries to defend the casual, there’s a reason ZZ Top never sang: “All the girls are crazy about a Dri-FIT polo.”
These are well-paid, professional adults who serve as front-line leaders of major organizations. They should dress like this. Or if you don’t appreciate the fuss, take my friend Jerry Brewer’s suggestion: Dress like your winning percentage. If you’re in the tank, wear cut off jeans and flip flops because nobody really cares about your gear. But if you’re the best in the conference, you better get something out of Ted Baker.
Remember when Pat Riley wore Armani and Chuck Daly rocked Hugo Boss? Although his 1990s New York and Detroit teams, respectively, would slap you in the face, at least the coaches looked good. It seemed they were in control. Smooth, even. Cheering on the sidelines and teaching future generations that a suit can say a lot about a man.
And what suits can to mean both men. The champagne-soaked suit Carlisle wore when the Mavericks won the 2011 championship remained in his closet until eight years later, when he dusted it off to wear again at a street naming ceremony honoring Dirk Nowitzki. But there’s no reason to keep the black quarter-zip jersey worn by Mike Budenholzer during the Milwaukee Bucks’ 2021 title celebration. He could pull that out at any time: for a January game at Charlotte, a quick run to Home Depot, wherever.
But Carlisle, God bless him. He may endorse his teammates who prefer play clothes, but the biggest mentor in his life, other than his father, was Daly. Carlisle still has a love for suits.
“Deep down, because of my relationship with Chuck and the traditional aspect of the game,” he said, “I’m a suit guy.”
NBA coaches may think they dress to be comfortable and comfortable, but they are actually crying out for help. Because they, too, are trapped in the purgatory of casual-dressing fashion, day after day in bland leisurewear, from which very few of us can escape.
Just like NBA coaches, we used to dress for the occasion. But nearly two years into a global pandemic that has dramatically upended the life we used to know, those of us who still work from home have redefined what business attire looks like. One consisting of an old pair of sweatshirts and a college hoodie. One who shouts: I woke up like this. Not really. I literally got out of bed.
In their own way, NBA coaches have also embraced a new normal in professional attire, one that prioritizes officially licensed uniformity over individualism. Every time they zip up those sweaters, they’re losing a bit of tradition. Every polo shirt packed for a road trip is an affront to style expression. These trainers need a fashion intervention. So, for Daly’s sake, please, gentlemen, put on a suit.
Source: www.washingtonpost.com