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In saying goodbye to coaching, Villanova’s Jay Wright showed a side of himself few got to see

A teary-eyed Wright was something we haven't seen, and his show of emotion at his farewell news conference said a lot about him — and his legacy.

Outgoing longtime Villanova head coach Jay Wright is teary-eyed while he speaks during a press conference announcing Wright’s retirement and the hiring of Kyle Neptune at the Finneran Pavilion in Villanova on Friday, April 22, 2022.
Outgoing longtime Villanova head coach Jay Wright is teary-eyed while he speaks during a press conference announcing Wright’s retirement and the hiring of Kyle Neptune at the Finneran Pavilion in Villanova on Friday, April 22, 2022.Read moreHEATHER KHALIFA / Staff Photographer

Before Jay Wright’s retirement press conference Friday morning, before he showed a side of himself that he had rarely revealed in public, there were two everlasting sequences, recorded on television cameras and sure to be played and replayed as long as there are people who are curious about Wright’s career at Villanova, that seemed to capture the essence of the man and the coach.

Sure, there were the crisp and spotless suits and the easy manner with the media and the 520 victories and two national championships. Yet these sequences, these quick flashpoints, were every bit as revealing as his 21 years on the Main Line. They happened 15 days apart during the 2016 NCAA Tournament. You might have seen them.

In the first, Villanova had just routed Iowa in the round of 32 to advance to the Sweet 16 for the first time since 2009. Over those six intervening years, the Wildcats had lost in the first or second round five times, including the year before as a No. 1 seed. Wright had downplayed each of those losses. Not that they didn’t bother him. Of course they did. But this was the NCAA Tournament, and Wright would point out that the NCAA Tournament is about luck and matchups and factors that are out of a team’s control, and what mattered most was that the program in the main was strong and successful. But after that Iowa victory, with his players already in the locker room at the Barclays Center in Brooklyn, Wright charged in, screaming in joy and pumping his fist. The frustration of losing early in March was real, despite Wright’s insistence otherwise, and there was his true reaction to having the burden lifted off his back.

» READ MORE: Jay Wright’s retirement stunned college basketball. The circumstances explain why he did it.

The second sequence was subtler. In the ‘16 championship game, when Kris Jenkins released the 24-foot jump shot that would win the Wildcats the national title, Wright mouthed the word, “Bang.” His placid facial expression never changed — no smile, nothing — as Jenkins’ shot went in and bedlam erupted around him. He threw his arms up in a what-can-you-do gesture, hugged his assistant coaches, and walked to the North Carolina bench to shake Roy Williams’ hand. It is held up as the consummate example of Wright’s coolness, his implacability — a moment when he appeared capable of defusing a bomb without breaking a sweat.

Those were key moments in understanding Wright in full, his public image and the person he was behind closed doors. But the formal announcement, in the rotunda of the Finneran Pavilion, offered something new, a glimpse of Wright that only those closest to him generally got to see. We have seen Competitive Jay. We have seen Smooth Jay. We had not seen Weeping Jay. We did Friday.

No less than five times, he reached the brink of breaking down. It was a testament to how much his decision to retire — which he finalized between the end of Villanova’s regular season and the start of the Big East Tournament — had weighed on him. How much joy and stress of that closing month — the Wildcats’ run to the conference tournament championship and the Final Four, seven straight victories that kept pushing back the announcement — had both invigorated and exhausted him. How much his tenure at Villanova had meant to him.

“The greatest thing for us is just to be …” He swallowed tears as he spoke. “… the coach at Villanova. Accolades or winning games is not as big as just being the coach at Villanova.”

Us. We. He used those words over and over, referring to himself and his wife, Patty. Before the news of Wright’s retirement broke Wednesday night, there were just four people who had known of his plans: him, Patty, Villanova athletic director Mark Jackson, and Justin Gmelich, the chairperson of the university’s board of trustees. When the Wildcats beat Creighton in the Big East Tournament championship game, the Wrights and Jackson locked eyes on the court, each of them marveling at the outcome, at the ideal ending.

“It was always the next game,” Wright said. “‘OK, we won, but what is our team going to be like next year?’ It was always the next thing, the next thing. Madison Square Garden was unbelievable …” His voice cracked. “... for me and Patty. “‘Cause we love that.” He was crying now. “At the end, we looked at each other on the court. ‘Can you believe this?’ We know it’s our last time, and we won this? It’s unbelievable.”

His family and friends and assistant coaches and players had been privy to these moments before, private occasions when Wright could drop his guard and let in those he trusted most. He was never closed off, of course, but as he said again Friday, he was aware at all times that he represented Villanova basketball, the university, and the program and everything they encompassed. That was why he hadn’t announced his decision during the season, he said, why there was no farewell tour. It would have taken the focus off his players and put too much of it on him. Even Thursday night, at the team’s annual banquet, he had insisted that any mentions of his retirement be kept to a minimum. At one point during the banquet, Father Peter M. Donohue said, “I’m so grateful it has been such a slow media week here.” And everyone in the Pavilion laughed. But that was as far as anyone went in paying him any homage.

Now Friday’s press conference was finished, and there was a gaggle of reporters around Wright. And one who knows him well asked: Have you thought about your legacy?

“I swear, I really don’t care about it,” he said. “You guys” — and here he was choking up again — “you guys have been good. It’s not like anybody’s killed me here. And I know I’m not perfect, so if you show them some of my weaknesses, good. You guys have been good about what we’ve done. It doesn’t affect me either way. I kind of like it when somebody says, ‘Yeah, you didn’t do this well’ because it’s worse when somebody treats you like you’re this god when you know you’re not.”

» READ MORE: Jay Wright says he’s fully retired from coaching; Kyle Neptune’s ‘dream’ comes true with Villanova

It was a profound and insightful thing to say, particularly as his emotions were overwhelming him again. Twenty-one years at Villanova, and he would cut your throat to beat you, then leave you feeling better with a smile and a warm handshake. He didn’t big-time anybody. He was competitive. He was cool. And in the end, he was a softie. On the day he officially became ex-Villanova coach Jay Wright, even the media made him cry.