You know Mike Woodson, head coach of Indiana men’s basketball.
But do you know Mike Woodson, owner of the prestigious neighborhood “yard of the month” award? That’s right, Woodson is a yard guy and now we’re able see that yard in all its well-kept glory.
The yard, clean and pristine, requires no description.
This, clearly, is the most well-maintained yard in the Big Ten Conference, other yards shy away at its presence. But how do coaches like Fran, Izzo and others treat their yard? Let’s discuss.
Underwood’s yard is probably a weird case, there’s probably room for some sort of hand-to-hand combat ring to simulate the Pizza Hut parking lot brawls of his youth that he brings up whenever he gets the chance.
Whenever Illinois loses a recruit Underwood probably speeds home to absolutely wail on some punching bag setup in the backyard. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a clause in his contract that pays for new punching bags when he inevitably breaks the old one.
On paper, the yard looks great. He got all the right mulches, seeds, flowers, etc. from all over the world that the garden publications have been raving about for the last few summers. Sure, the centerpiece is an old, outdated cement birdbath, disfavored for its lack of mobility these days, but Brad is sure it’ll work for him.
When it comes time to execute, the yard is a mess. Weeds everywhere, flowers not blooming, dead patches of grass. Everyone wonders what they were excited about in the first place when it’s all said and done.
Lots of tumbleweeds. They make Champaign feel like home.
Fran openly admits that he’s a pizza and Mountain Dew kinda guy, so there is absolutely no yard to speak of here.
It’s one of two extremes: overgrown and requires a machete to traverse the landscape or completely barren with a crater in the middle.
Fran wants a nice yard, and when you want something done right, you can’t trust strangers. His large sons have been tending the garden since birth, but Fran has never actually seen it because he’s ejected from the yard for arguing with his family before all the work is done.
Fran’s yard is from the future. No grass or shrubbery to speak of just sleek, sleek aluminum.
Willard is still new to the realm, so there’s not much to go off of here.
That being said, it’s Maryland so there’s probably some sort of crab setup with a stash of Old Bay somewhere.
Crabgrass. That’s all I got. Probably also whatever leafy greens terrapin turtles eat to survive.
Willard’s yard is a modest plot of tall fescue. He offered the kids next store walk-on spots in exchange for mowing (nobody wants to play for the Terps).
Izzo’s yard is strange upon first glance. Tons of stone statues resembling high-end recruits who simply vanish without a trace after having Michigan State in their top three.
Crystal balls had them leaning for schools in the ACC before they disappeared.
Just be careful that you avoid any and all eye contact if Izzo himself enters the yard, lest you too become a part of it forever.
I’m going to venture a guess that Izzo’s yard looks terrible, since he expects his reputation and resume to do the yard work for him at this point.
It was once among the best in the conference, the nation even, but now he responds to adversity in his garden with a pouty look and passive aggressive comment in the post-summer presser.
Izzo uses the Spartan Stadium Kentucky bluegrass blend on his front lawn. He grows nothing but roses in the garden.
Purdue fans insist, day after day, that Painter’s yard is superior to that of former Indiana head coach Archie Miller after the former went on a spree of “Indiana yard of the month” awards in the late 2010s.
They don’t mention that Painter’s yard, well perfectly fine for the state of Indiana, then fell to superiorly-gardened yards from Texas, Virginia, Kansas and even a small rooftop garden from New Jersey in national competition or other yards from conference foes beforehand.
Those same fans have yet to realize that Miller is gone and there’s a new lawn king in town.
Actually the most terrifying yard on the face of the planet; Painter’s yard is full of all the 7+ footers of years past who could not make it in the NBA and now function as towering garden gnomes.
He’s clearing a plot for Edey to be the main attraction soon. I’ll tell ya what though, they keep the pests away!
Painter’s yard is out of control. The dense, overgrown grass is littered with poké balls. He’s been trying to catch the final evolution of the Haas-Haarms variety of big for a few years now. May God have mercy on us all when he finally does.
It’s fine, but Jim Harbaugh is always there like an Oblivion NPC ready to talk about tradition or whatever.
Howard actually doesn’t have a yard because he doesn’t want to buy property in Ann Arbor that would be too hard to sell when he gets an NBA Head Coaching opportunity.
It’s nice, Howard keeps it in good shape so it’s always market ready, but he barely spends any time in Ann Arbor.
Greg Gard not only doesn’t have a yard, he doesn’t own a home.
Gard sleeps in the managers office of a local Madison-area Culvers, taking recruits and current players there after practices to shove, elbow and kick their way to the front of the line to prepare for conference play.
Gard isn’t trying to score any points with the judges on his yard. In fact, it’s almost entirely composed of fences to keep people/animals/reasonable officiating out.
He doesn’t care if guests like what they see, so long as they leave hurt and with the impression that Gard’s yard is not worth visiting.
Just google “Greg Gard house”. If you told me he lived in that grain silo I would totally believe you. Brad Davison owns the barn in front.
It’s small, out-of-date and he has absolutely no interest in updating it anytime soon or making the atmosphere any better.
It also completely fills with fans of the other team whenever Northwestern plays home games against conference foes, but that’s what you get for being in Chicago I guess.
It was good once, which is all Northwestern needed to see to make Chris Collins gardener for life.
Classic North shore suburban yard. Ferris Bueller cut through it once!
You’ll drive by Hoiberg’s place, but you’ll never see the yard. It’s there, and occasionally you get a glimpse of something that looks nice, but you never look too close.
To you, the yard just isn’t there until it gives you a reason to take a look. The one thing keeping it around and well-kept is a buyout to rival Archie Miller.
All the other members of the neighborhood all wonder whether Fred is really a member of the HOA or not. He’s never done anything significant with it, but tears up the whole yard every year to re-sod with grass from other places.
He lives next door to Scott Frost. On Sunday afternoons in the spring you can find the two of them chatting it up on the property line, both wondering why Nebraska-grown grass just isn’t cutting it anymore.