Open (barn) door policy

 Tom Izzo is the winningest men's basketball coach in the history of Big Ten, but he is also a man with a push broom trying to keep sand off a beach. He's a man trying to close the barn door before the horse gets out, oblivious to the fact the horse is long gone.

Choose your metaphor. One size fits all, pretty much.

I say this because the other day Izzo got all exercised about a couple of college hoops signings which, if there's actually the word "college" in college hoops anymore, seemed a blatant violation of NCAA rules. If, in fact, there's actually the word "rules" in "NCAA rules" anymore.

What happened was, a former four-star recruit named London Johnson announced he would be taking his talents to the University of Louisville, and another young man named Thierry Darlan announced he was headed to UC-Santa Clara. Problem is, both players' previous address was the NBA's G-League.

Which means they're both professionals. Which also would seem to violate the NCAA's stipulation that anyone who'd played professionally was no longer eligible to play collegiately.

Izzo, old-schooler that he is, says that's wrong. And of course he's right. And of course he's wrong, because ... well, because the sand is already on the beach, and the horse is already gone.

It fled the moment the NCAA lost in court in the Ed O'Bannon name, image and likeness case, which led the NCAA to grudgingly allow its student-athletes to cut name, image and likeness deals with companies eager to promote their products. This led to the universities essentially setting themselves up as brokers for these deals, which essentially meant they were paying the players, only not really.

Which led to the NCAA throwing up its hands and saying, "OK, fine, we'll let schools pay their student-athletes, since they're pretty much doing so already." This means big-boy college football and basketball is now as professional as the pros, if not more so.

It is, in fact, a lawless frontier in which players are free to wander from school to school  in search of the best deal. This is because of a transfer portal the NCAA won't regulate for fear of losing in court again. Call it, in deference to that metaphorical horse, the organization's Open Barn Door policy.

And Tom Izzo hates it. Hell, every old-schooler does.

"Someone is going to say, 'Well, if they go pro and it doesn't work out, they should be able to come back," Izzo complained the other day. "Well, what about the freshmen you recruited there? That's somebody's son and he thinks he's got himself a good place, and all of a sudden, shazzam, they ... bring a 21- or 22-year-old in (from the G-League).

"To me, it's ridiculous. It's embarrassing, and I love my job. I don't respect my profession, and I don't respect whoever is doing that. Whoever made those decisions because they're afraid a lawyer is going to sue them, sooner or later, you've got to fight the fight."

Except they've already fought that fight. And lost. Repeatedly. And that's why the NCAA is violating its own regs about allowing pros to be Joe College.

Because, let's face it, Joe College already is a pro. And the NCAA started down that road the first time some bastion of higher learning threw seven (or eight) figures at one of Tom Izzo's coaching brethren.

That didn't happen because Coach was a crackerjack history teacher. It happened because  Coach had a reputation for stacking Ws, and Ws mean revenue, and revenue is what makes the world go 'round -- even at dear old Alma Matters U.

"Maybe I'm a dummy, but I'll never agree to that stuff," Izzo railed the other day.

Sorry, Coach. That horse has left the barn, too.