How John Beilein’s coaching tenure with Cleveland Cavaliers crumbled so quickly: Chris Fedor

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- The Cleveland Cavaliers’ decision to hire head coach John Beilein after an extensive search this past summer was lauded by many.

One opposing general manager “loved” the choice, even saying “Koby Altman may have knocked this hire out of the park.”

There was logic behind the move. Everyone had the best intentions. Beilein possessed many of the characteristics the Cavs wanted in their next leader. He had rebuilt programs before, perfect for a team still sifting through the rubble after LeBron James’ second exit in 2018. Beilein had a well-earned reputation as a player development guru, regularly turning unheralded recruits into first-round picks -- a skill needed within an organization laying its foundation through the draft. He had instilled cultures, built a Hall-of-Fame career on interacting with youngsters and crafted an elegant offense that seemed ideal for today’s NBA.

In some ways, he was just like the many other candidates the Cavs were interviewing.

But there were always two variables that made Beilein’s hire an enormous gamble: His age (Beilein was 66 when he took the job) and the massive college-to-the-pros leap that few have been able to make.

Both played part in this rapid demise.

Late Wednesday afternoon, the Cavs announced that Beilein resigned as head coach but will retain an undetermined role within the organization.

“He’s a 67-year-old coach trying to interact with 20- and 30-year-old NBA players,” one player told cleveland.com. “We’re all professionals. Can’t treat us like college kids. Just disrespectful for grown men."

Early warning signs

The eye-rolls started months ago, back in the summer. Beilein got his first taste of NBA life in Salt Lake City, the first stop on Cleveland’s two-city summer league tour that ended in Las Vegas. It wasn’t the full experience, of course.

Beilein was in shorts and a polo. He wasn’t matched up against other NBA head coaches, trying to win the game of chess. These games didn’t count. Rookies Darius Garland and Kevin Porter Jr. weren’t even dressing because of injuries. Ante Zizic was only there to climb mountains, get a head start on learning the systems and work on his game under the watchful eye of some of Cleveland’s new assistants. Beilein was essentially coaching Dylan Winder, one of three first-round picks, and a handful of other invites fighting to prove they belonged. Very few would be on the roster come October.

Beilein tried to do things his way. The only way he knew. After all, that style -- refined over 41 years -- made him one of the most successful college coaches ever. Staying true to himself, he focused on fundamentals -- demanding players make passes with the seams, spin the ball the right way and pivot properly. There were many college elements, including the terminology he used and a “rah-rah” approach that doesn’t typically work in the NBA.

Despite being in the altitude, the practices were regimented and long. Each two-a-day session went more than two hours. The losing team, according to players, had to do pushups. It was full speed, tiring and repetitive, with Beilein throwing a lot at guys in such a short time.

Players were gassed by the final game in Salt Lake City.

Some of the other Cavaliers veterans showed up during those two weeks to work, watch, hang out, support and observe. Cedi Osman. Larry Nance Jr. Jordan Clarkson. Tristan Thompson. A few believed they were seeing early warning signs, wondering about Beilein’s strange methods and if they would continue into training camp and the regular season. But guys were willing to give the newbie coach a little latitude to find his way. At least one player felt Beilein would make changes around NBA guys, especially given some of their past success. Plus, if oddities worked and led to desired results then why not try something new?

Ahead of -- and during -- training camp, the unconventional tactics continued. Guys scoffed when asked to do the Mikan Drill -- typically a youth basketball exercise. Others were initially caught off guard by a black line lasered onto the basketball to help with shooting mechanics. Drills were named after breakfast foods (pancakes, waffles, donuts). Some play calls, sets and positions were renamed as well. Beilein often barked instructions that preceded his condescending tone about having one of the league’s worst records last season and a historically bad defense. Both statements, of course, were true, but players took still offense.

“It was a militaristic approach,” one source said. “Completely unnecessary.”

As much as jumping into the NBA was a culture shock to Beilein, the same could be said about the players trying to adapt to him. Love called Beilein a throwback, said Beilein reminded him of John Wooden and spoke openly about how Cleveland was starting to give him flashbacks to college. Turns out, not in a good way.

The first few weeks of the Beilein era ended on a sour note. After the preseason finale, following a second consecutive 20-point loss to a Boston team which left its regulars at home, the reality of this brutal task seemed to hit Beilein harder than Thompson’s elbow after the two celebrated a long-distance shooting drill in practice that week.

“We’ve got a lot of obstacles right now that we have to somehow use them as stepping stones,” Beilein said at the time. “I think almost everything right now. We were doing a lot of skill development and we still have to do some of that, but there’s so many things in the NBA. To guard defensively. Our timing. We’re trying to change like on the run because we’re realizing some of the things we’re doing, people aren’t adapting to it quick enough, so we have to change a little bit.”

It was only October. Zero games into the regular season. No real losses on the resume. And yet Beilein, an admitted perfectionist, was struggling.

That night, one member of the front office called Beilein to explain that the NBA season is a marathon; that Beilein’s perceived finish line wasn’t the regular season opener in Orlando on Oct. 23 but rather April 15 -- the last game of the season. He was trying to get Beilein to recognize that the hodgepodge roster would change throughout the season and the pieces needed to compete on a nightly basis weren’t yet in Cleveland. It was early in the rebuild and there was no sense in lamenting a lack of talent, length, shooting, athleticism, rim protection and the many other factors that pointed to a grueling upcoming season where something barely north of 20 wins would be considered a success.

“Good thing he didn’t use the word orange”

Depending on which player is asked, Beilein’s verbal slip-up inside a makeshift film room at The Shinola Hotel in downtown Detroit, across from owner Dan Gilbert’s Quicken Loans headquarters on Jan. 8, was either the unofficial ending of Beilein’s NBA career or just another ridiculous blunder in a season dotted with them.

At the end of the 45-minute film session on the team’s “off day,” Beilein accidentally called players “thugs” instead of slugs -- the word he says he intended to use in hopes of driving home his point about them not playing hard enough. Beilein called management and players that night, trying to make amends and wanting to explain what happened. He began shootaround the following morning with an emotional apology inside Little Caesars Arena, hoping the show of remorse would allow everyone move forward. Some did. Others did not.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t use the word orange,” one player said, referencing what he believed to be a convenient way for Beilein to come up with a more acceptable word that rhymed with “thugs” in his explanation. “He was never going to come back from that in this league.”

Another downplayed it.

“Wasn’t a big deal,” the player said.

Collin Sexton chimed in after the game in Detroit, admitting that Beilein called players slugs “all the time."

“Because we slow. It’s all good,” Sexton said. “We knew what he meant, so just blown out of proportion.”

The Cavs took the issue seriously. General manager Koby Altman was at the Auburn-Vanderbilt matchup when it happened and immediately left. He needed an explanation. Other members of Cleveland’s front office, who were in Detroit for the trip, held meetings with players, coaches and the many involved to get a feel for whether the team could move forward. Altman cancelled a portion of that scouting trip and hopped on a plane to Detroit, wanting to be there in person and get an honest sense of where the team was at.

The Cavs, sources say, considered firing Beilein over the incident. Some around the league believed that was going to be the end result. But everyone determined it wasn’t necessary.

The Cavs rallied in the face of that adversity and beat the Pistons and Denver Nuggets in back-to-back games. It seemed, for the moment, that Beilein had regained his footing and the Cavs were back on solid ground. That was only temporary. Things kept getting worse -- on and off the court.

Losing taking a toll

After those two surprising victories to open the longest road trip of the season, the Cavs lost 13 of the next 14. Their second win during that horrible stretch didn’t come until Feb. 12 against the awful Atlanta Hawks, the final game before the break.

As the losses piled up and the Cavs tumbled to the bottom of the Eastern Conference, the common question among players was straightforward.

Why aren’t we better?

Many were around in 2018-19 when the Cavs suffered through an injury-riddled season and finished 19-63. That record, they believed, was justifiable. Kevin Love played just 22 games. Thompson had two lengthy stints on the injury report. G-Leaguers and Two-Way guys were eating up big minutes out of necessity.

So, how was it that a more talented roster was getting clubbed by double digits almost nightly? How was it that the guys in the locker room were having less fun than last year? Why was belief fading even with youngsters Sexton, Garland and Porter showing flashes?

The answer, to them, was simple. It was Beilein.

In some ways, he was the easy target, the college lifer who didn’t belong and hadn’t done enough to prove himself. Many weren’t empathetic enough to the natural growing pains that were always coming for a first-time NBA head coach. Last season, Sexton was the outcast, often drawing the ire of teammates because he didn’t know how to play and kept making the same mistakes. In other ways, Beilein’s inability to adapt, inconsistency in relating to players, unwillingness to listen, take suggestions and treat guys as pros was at the root of the frustration, making it difficult to fully buy in.

Beilein tried to make some changes. He shortened film sessions and practices. He cancelled a few shootarounds. He tweaked his offense and rotations. He made a concerted effort to repair some fractured relationships. Around the midway point, he wasn’t the same harsh commander from early on. Things weren’t as college-based. But it was too late. Beilein arrived with the college stigma. He needed to earn trust early on, erase any preconceived notions. Instead, he was too strict and over the top from the beginning. Even during a surprising 4-5 start and a successful first road trip that featured some needed team bonding in Washington D.C., New York and Philadelphia, players didn’t seem thrilled about the team’s overall direction and weren’t connecting with their head coach.

In December, players anonymously attacked Beilein, griping about him not being prepared for the NBA and running tedious, unproductive film breakdowns. Love spoke about not having fun and disengaging.

In January, Love, who clearly wanted to be traded, had a verbal dispute with members of the organization over the handling of a fine. Love asked out of a game against Toronto, pounded the bench and was hit with a $1,000 penalty a few days later. That night, hours after the chat with Altman and others, Love had an on-court blowup at the end of the first half against Oklahoma City. Had Beilein been in college, he would have benched Love for that immature outburst. In the NBA, with the team’s best player, Beilein opted for a different, healthier approach.

Love later apologized. He has owned up to his poor behavior.

“We have to look at ourselves in the mirror,” Love said. “Definitely myself. I’ve been a s---head at some points in the season and let the losing get the best of me.”

Enough is enough

Privately and publicly, Beilein kept uttering the same mantra: “I’m here for a reason. I knew what I was getting into when I took this job."

Only he didn’t. He couldn’t. People don’t know what they don’t know. There’s a difference between knowing and comprehending. There was nothing that could’ve prepared Beilein for the NBA. Because there’s nothing like it.

Sure, he coached teenagers in college, similar to the talented pair -- Garland and Porter -- Beilein was trying to mold in Cleveland. But college kids aren’t professionals. College kids aren’t millionaires with brands. College kids have to listen. If they don’t adhere to the program’s guidelines, they either won’t play or don’t last. In college, Beilein was the face of the program, the most powerful voice. He could do things his way, without any pushback.

The NBA is a player’s league. Always has been, always will. It’s not about Xs and Os, strategy and schemes. It’s about managing personalities and egos, connecting and communicating. It’s about blending accomplished champions with first- and second-year players, all ages and demographics, trying to strike the right balance when it comes to guiding them all. It’s about listening more than commanding.

Cleveland wasn’t Richmond, West Virginia, Canisius or Michigan -- programs Beilein lifted to new heights. He couldn’t operate in the same manner. A relentless 82-game schedule meant less time for teaching, correcting minor details and full-court practice runs.

Even the arrival of All-Star center Andre Drummond, who provided a short-term distraction, couldn’t make everything better.

The NBA -- and the many layers to it -- became too much for Beilein.

There were countless signs pointing to this early exit. The whispers started months ago. The misery was written all over Beilein’s face. People close to him were growing concerned about the short-term struggles having a long-term impact. Following a blowout loss against the Golden State Warriors, Beilein admitted that every loss was hitting him hard. He couldn’t even answer whether players were still buying into him as coach. He sequestered himself in his office and took extra time before heading home that early February night. He looked answerless, broken. According to sources, part of his season-long struggle has been tied into the resignation of his son, Patrick Beilein, from Niagara University under difficult circumstances that haven’t been fully revealed. That happened in October.

Even though players who spoke with cleveland.com over the last few days were “shocked” by the timing of Beilein’s departure, thinking it would happen at the end of the season, if at all, both Beilein and members of the front office believed Beilein had already coached his final game by the time everyone left for the All-Star break. It just wasn’t revealed until Wednesday, when Beilein said farewell in a powerful face-to-face, eye-to-eye, man-to-man address. Then, J.B. Bickerstaff, beloved by players and staff members, took over.

In the end, Beilein couldn’t teach the way he wanted. He couldn’t be the coach the Cavaliers thought they were hiring in May. Losses weighed heavily while wins were nothing but short-lived relief.

Beilein always wanted this test. He worked toward it. He was in the running for the Detroit and Atlanta openings in previous years. But the idea of being in the NBA never matched the reality. Just like the idea of hiring Beilein made sense in theory -- until everything that could go wrong did and the foundation crumbled quickly.

In 41 years as a college coach, Beilein was never fired. That streak remains intact. The early exit was his own decision. Perhaps he can cling to that.

After just 54 games into this NBA journey, Beilein is walking away as head coach, leaving behind millions that remain on his lucrative contract. It’s his way of admitting the NBA isn’t for him.

He finally got the answer he always wanted.

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