Coach Mike Woodson Confronts Myles Rice About Alcohol Concerns During Game

Coach Mike Woodson Confronts Myles Rice About Discipline During a Critical Game

The tension in Assembly Hall was palpable. The Indiana Hoosiers were locked in a fierce battle against a top-ranked opponent, the scoreboard tight, the crowd roaring with every possession. But amid the chaos on the court, Head Coach Mike Woodson’s focus had shifted entirely to one player—Myles Rice.

Rice, the Hoosiers’ star guard and a redshirt sophomore with sky-high potential, was playing far below his usual standard. His movements were sluggish, his decision-making uncharacteristically sloppy. Twice already, he had been stripped of the ball, and his defensive reactions were half a second late—a lifetime in high-level basketball.

During a break in the action, Woodson called for a timeout. The team huddled, catching their breath, but Rice knew the conversation heading his way wasn’t about tactics. The coach’s eyes locked onto his, and with a calm yet commanding presence, Woodson gestured for Rice to step aside.

“Look, Myles,” Woodson began, his voice low but firm, ensuring the conversation stayed private despite the crowded bench. “I need you to be honest with me. What’s going on out there? You’re not yourself. You’ve got the talent to dominate this game, but your focus isn’t here tonight.”

Rice hesitated, wiping sweat from his brow, avoiding eye contact. But Woodson wasn’t the kind of coach you could sidestep.

“I heard what happened last night,” Woodson continued, his voice sharper now. “The drinking. The late hours. This—right here, what I’m seeing on the court—is the cost. You’re letting your teammates down. You’re letting yourself down.”

Rice’s face tightened. He knew the truth hurt, but it was undeniable. The night before, he’d made poor choices, celebrating a win too hard, convincing himself he could shake it off by game time. Now, his body wasn’t responding, and his mind felt fogged, his sharp instincts dulled.

Woodson leaned in closer, his voice more measured. “You’re better than this, Myles. I didn’t bring you here just for your talent—I brought you because you’re a leader. Because you have the heart of a champion. But right now? You’re giving me half of what I know you’re capable of.”

Rice nodded, swallowing hard. The words stung, not from harshness but from truth. He knew the weight he carried for the Hoosiers. His teammates looked up to him, the crowd expected greatness, and his performance tonight wasn’t just hurting the scoreboard—it was hurting his reputation as a professional-caliber athlete.

“You’ve got two choices, son,” Woodson continued, voice unwavering. “You can keep coasting, playing like this, or you can lock in. Play with purpose. Show this crowd who Myles Rice really is. But this—this drinking, this lack of discipline? It stops now.”

The horn sounded, signaling the end of the timeout. Woodson placed a hand on Rice’s shoulder. “Prove me right, kid.”

As Rice returned to the court, something shifted. His focus sharpened, the fatigue replaced by sheer determination. On the next play, he stole the ball with lightning reflexes, driving coast-to-coast for a powerful finish that ignited the crowd.

Discipline had been questioned—but greatness was still within his reach.