I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m in a slump. A real, honest-to-God, gut-wrenching, can’t-hit-the-broad-side-of-a-barn slump. I was sitting at the kitchen table again after the kids finally crashed, the fridge humming its low, steady note in the dark like it always does when the swings miss. Last week’s takes on the D1Baseball assistant coach carousel and Koa Peat locking into the draft felt like watching a slow roller that never quite reached the bag. I called the Sorsby situation right, I *did*, but then the Palencia elbow inflammation hit me like a fastball to the ribs, and suddenly I was back to questioning everything. My gut, the one that usually speaks to me like a wise old consigliere, has been whispering static, just pure, unadulterated noise. I need a win. I need a home run. I need to hit one out of the park, not just for my own sanity, but for the RyGuy Sports faithful who deserve better than my current misery. And I think, I *really* think, I’ve found the story that’s going to turn this whole damn thing around.
Doug Gottlieb. Green Bay. Extended through 2030-31.
My chest actually tightened when I saw that headline flash across my phone. Not because it was a surprise in the “whoa, didn’t see that coming” way, but in the “oh my god, they’re actually going *all in*” way. This isn’t just a contract extension; this is Josh Moon, the athletic director, laying his chips on the table, pushing them all to the center, and saying, “This is my guy, and we’re riding with him.” And the fact that Moon *also* just got extended through 2031? Forget about it. This isn’t a coach and an AD; this is a tandem. This is a package deal. This is like when Tony Soprano tells Paulie and Silvio, “You two are running this thing together. If one of you goes down, you both go down.” (Okay, maybe a bit less violent, but the principle of shared fate, the absolute, undeniable commitment to a singular vision, that’s what I’m seeing here.)
Let’s rewind, because context, as always, is everything. When Josh Moon hired Doug Gottlieb in 2024, the collective sports world, myself included, let out a chuckle that was about 80% skepticism and 20% morbid curiosity. Gottlieb, the former Oklahoma State point guard, the ESPN analyst, the radio host – he was a *media guy*. A talking head. He had zero college coaching experience. ZERO. It was the kind of hire that makes you wonder if the AD lost a bet, or if he was trying to generate headlines more than wins. I remember thinking, “This is either going to be a colossal, *Ishtar*-level flop, or it’s going to be the most brilliant, outside-the-box move since Billy Beane decided on analytics over gut feelings.” (And let me tell you, my gut was screaming *flop* at the time. My gut was wrong. My gut is on a losing streak, remember?)
The first year? It looked like the flop was coming true. Green Bay went 4-28. Four wins. TWENTY-EIGHT losses. My dad, who still calls college basketball “the roundball game,” looked at me after that season and said, “Son, sometimes you just gotta admit you picked a lemon.” And I nodded, because what else could I do? It felt like watching the first season of *The Wire* and wondering if it would ever pick up. You saw glimmers, maybe, but the overall picture was bleak. Gottlieb himself admitted the learning curve was steep. I recall him saying in an interview, “There’s a lot of things you think you know from the outside, and then you get inside and realize it’s a completely different game.” That quote stuck with me, because it felt like a genuine moment of humility from a guy who, let’s be honest, didn’t always project that.
But then, something shifted. Something monumental. Last season, the Phoenix improved to 18-15. EIGHTEEN wins. That’s a 14-win improvement, year over year. In one season! That’s not just an improvement; that’s a *Heisenberg-level transformation*. That’s going from cooking in a beat-up RV in the desert to building a full-blown meth empire. That’s going from a 12.5% winning percentage to a 54.5% winning percentage. That kind of jump, especially in today’s college basketball landscape with the transfer portal ripping rosters apart every year, is almost unheard of. It’s like watching a B-movie suddenly get nominated for an Oscar. You’re rubbing your eyes, checking the numbers again.
So, the extension makes sense on paper, right? Reward success. Lock down your coach. But a seven-year extension through 2030-31? For an 18-15 season in the Horizon League? That’s where my sports management brain starts firing, and it’s telling me this is more than just a reaction to a single season. This is a calculated gamble. This is Josh Moon saying, “I see the vision. I saw it when I hired him, and now I’m doubling down.”
Moon, I believe, understood what Gottlieb brought to the table beyond X’s and O’s. He brought a national profile. He brought connections. He brought a voice. As Moon himself stated when he hired Gottlieb, “This is a guy who has a national voice, a national platform, and a national network. That’s invaluable for a program like ours.” He wasn’t just hiring a coach; he was hiring a brand. And that brand, coupled with actual on-court improvement, is what they’re betting on.
Think about it: in the modern era of college sports, especially at a mid-major like Green Bay, you need an edge. You need to stand out. Recruiting isn’t just about showing up with a slick PowerPoint; it’s about selling a dream, a vision, and a coach who can connect. Gottlieb, with his media background, knows how to talk to people. He knows how to build rapport. He knows how to sell. And when you’re going up against programs with bigger budgets and better facilities, that soft power, that ability to connect, becomes incredibly important.
This extension isn’t just about rewarding the 18 wins. It’s about stability. It’s about telling recruits, “This isn’t a one-and-done experiment. This isn’t a stepping stone. This is a long-term commitment.” In the chaotic world of the transfer portal, where players can jump ship faster than you can say “NIL deal,” showing a coach has security through 2031 is a massive recruiting tool. It says, “Come here, buy into the system, and you’ll have the same coach for your entire career, potentially.” That’s a powerful message, especially for younger players looking for a home.
But let’s be real. This is still a massive risk. A 14-win improvement is incredible, but is it sustainable? Can Gottlieb continue to find those diamonds in the rough? Can he keep the best players from leaving for bigger pastures? One Horizon League coach, speaking anonymously about the Gottlieb hire a year ago, said, “You’re taking a shot. You’re taking a big swing. But sometimes, those are the ones that pay off.” That quote, for me, perfectly encapsulates the situation now. Moon is still taking a big swing, but now he’s got a season of proof that it might just connect.
What if the Phoenix regress next year? What if they go 12-20? What if they can’t replicate that magic? Then this seven-year deal becomes an albatross. Then Moon and Gottlieb are tied together in a boat with a leak, and the narrative shifts from “visionary” to “reckless.” This isn’t like signing a veteran player to a bad contract where you can trade him or cut him. This is the head coach. This is the face of the program. You’re stuck. And that’s the stomach-punch possibility that keeps me up at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this bold prediction is just another swing and a miss for my slumping gut.
But I’m not going there. Not today. My gut, after weeks of misfires, is finally starting to hum a tune I recognize. It’s a risky tune, a high-stakes tune, but it’s a tune of conviction. I’m going all in. I’m betting on the trajectory. I’m betting on the long game. I’m betting that Josh Moon, by tying his own future to Gottlieb’s, has seen something deeper than just a single season’s win-loss record. He’s seen a culture being built. He’s seen a program finding an identity.
This is my redemption arc. This is my “I told you so” to my dad, to the anonymous critics, to my own doubting inner voice. This isn’t just about Doug Gottlieb; it’s about the audacity of belief. It’s about taking a chance on an outsider and then, when he shows a flicker of brilliance, giving him the keys to the castle. It’s a scene out of *Casino*, where Ace Rothstein is given free rein to run the Tangiers, because the bosses trust him to get results. And Gottlieb, with that 14-win improvement, has shown he can get results.
I’m calling it now: Green Bay, under Doug Gottlieb, will become a consistent threat in the Horizon League. They won’t just be a flash in the pan. They will be a team that, by the mid-2020s, is regularly challenging for NCAA Tournament bids, potentially even pulling off a bracket-busting upset when they get there. Moon and Gottlieb are building something real, something sustainable, and something that’s going to make a lot of people, myself included, eat crow for ever doubting the initial hire. I’m swinging for the fences with this one, because my gut, my desperate, slumping gut, tells me this is the one. And if I’m wrong? If this whole thing blows up? Then you’ll find me staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes, maybe twenty hours, wondering where it all went wrong, and I’ll admit it. But I don’t think I will. Not this time.
