This misery-inducing memoir of a narcissist, misogynist, and borderline psychopath chronicles the egregious abuses and heinous behaviors of Geno Auriemma, head coach of the UConn Huskies women’s basketball team and architect of the first WNBA farm team. The rambling, 300-page rant is awkwardly voiced in the present tense with a tone of impunity, laden with expletives and full of vindictiveness.
Auriemma badmouths other coaches, gloating about routs and blowouts. Enabled by impotent athletic directors, he mentally, emotionally, and physically abuses players, forcing them to bend to his will, endlessly taunting them, and making them play hurt. In typical braggadocio fashion, he boasts of his power over players with blatant hints of sexual abuse, such as the creepy pillow talk and kisses with “Dee” and the outrageously inappropriate shower scene. He revels in the misfortunes of those who chose to play at other schools or didn’t put out for him, vilifying the women who refused to be abused. Some of the worst abuse is aimed at assistant Chris Dailey, who is his favorite punching bag—often on the sidelines in front of the entire bench in plain sight of the referees on national TV. Yet his victims and apologists continue to defend him. Taurasi’s Foreword smacks of Stockholm syndrome, and MacMullan’s Afterword apologia wins a Pulitzer for BS.
Geno is a story about winning at all costs, including all sense of moral decency, told by an insufferable lout and consummate victim who insists on inflicting his internal torment on others, often just for sport. The NCAA truly made a deal with the devil by letting Auriemma routinely violate rules in exchange for developing the first WNBA farm team. Someday, one of the players or assistant coaches will muster the courage to break the code of silence (omertà) and tell the real story behind the pretense of “perfection.” Until hell freezes over, Geno is unlikely to be the pentito.