DUKE HIT HARD AS EDRIC COWARD STAYS IN NBA DRAFT: Blue Devils Lose Key Transfer Target While Spotlight Turns to Kentucky Star Otega Oweh
The news hit Durham like a thunderclap: Edric Coward, the highly sought-after Washington State transfer and defensive juggernaut, is not coming to Duke. After months of speculation and hope that the versatile forward would bring his rugged, two-way game to Cameron Indoor Stadium, Coward has made his decision. He’s staying in the 2025 NBA Draft. For Duke, it’s a massive loss—a blow not only to roster depth but to the team’s national title aspirations. For college basketball, it’s a moment that shifts the spotlight elsewhere, most notably onto Kentucky’s rising star Otega Oweh, who now may shoulder more national attention than ever before. In a summer already filled with seismic NIL moves, coaching changes, and portal chaos, this decision has immediate and far-reaching ripple effects.
Duke’s plan was simple: rebuild the core around returning talent, add in one elite freshman wing, and land Coward to secure the defense and versatility needed to survive March. Coward had emerged as a modern college basketball gem—an upperclassman with an NBA-ready frame, a defensive menace who could guard four positions, and a transition scorer with the swagger and toughness Coach Jon Scheyer covets. In a tournament landscape where one or two gritty possessions can determine legacies, Coward’s presence was supposed to be Duke’s ace in the hole. His decision to remain in the NBA Draft strips the Blue Devils of that luxury, and now a team that looked like it was reloading may be forced to reassess its identity entirely.
To understand how much this changes the calculus for Duke, consider where Coward fits into the modern game. He’s 6-foot-7, 225 pounds with a 7-foot wingspan. His defense on the perimeter is surgical. He averaged nearly two steals per game and was often tasked with shutting down the opposing team’s best player, regardless of position. That’s the kind of switchability and motor Duke desperately needed alongside its younger wings and scoring guards. While the Blue Devils have raw talent in abundance, what they lack now is the kind of hardened, no-nonsense leader who can guard, rebound, and make the dirty plays that don’t show up on highlight reels. Coward had all of that. He would’ve been the counterweight to the flashier talents like Khaman Maluach or Isaiah Evans. Without him, Duke becomes far more top-heavy, and much more reliant on youthful polish in a conference where experience still reigns.
The implications go beyond roster mechanics. Duke was not just counting on Coward’s production but also the cultural tone he would’ve set. In a locker room full of one-and-done hopefuls, Coward would’ve been the anchor—someone who knew the grind, who could lead by example, who’d played at elevation and in packed Pac-12 gyms, who’d battled elite guards and willed his team to wins. These are the guys you need in March. These are the players who hit the floor for loose balls in Sweet 16s and break full-court presses in Elite Eights. They don’t flinch. That’s what Coward brought. His absence leaves an emotional and intangible void that no freshman, however talented, can quickly fill.
From Coward’s perspective, the choice makes sense. His stock has risen sharply in pre-draft workouts. Scouts have raved about his lateral quickness, mature frame, and defensive IQ. In a draft short on elite two-way wings, Coward’s plug-and-play appeal is obvious. He may not be a lottery pick, but he’s a first-rounder in waiting who could land on a playoff team that needs wing depth. His decision speaks to the increasing reality of the NBA’s valuation of defenders and role players. Gone are the days when only scorers made the leap. Coward is betting on himself, and it’s hard to argue with his logic. For Duke, however, this is a rare instance where a player saying “yes” to the pros feels like a “no” to their championship blueprint.
In the vacuum left by Coward, the spotlight now shifts elsewhere. Specifically, it tilts toward Lexington, where Otega Oweh is quietly becoming one of the most intriguing figures in college basketball. The Kentucky guard was already pegged as a breakout candidate, but Coward’s exit from the college scene elevates him to new heights. Oweh now becomes the most NBA-ready perimeter stopper still on a college roster. His mix of speed, strength, and downhill aggression fits the modern mold—and he’s doing it all at one of the most visible programs in America. What Coward was expected to bring to Duke—defensive disruption, transition scoring, physicality—is already in Oweh’s wheelhouse. And now, with less national clutter in that particular archetype, Oweh’s value and profile grow immensely.
Kentucky will lean into that. New coach Mark Pope has made it clear that Oweh is not just a role player—he’s the beating heart of their backcourt. And now, with Coward out of the college picture, Oweh’s ability to set the defensive tone and impose his will physically could be the single biggest asset in Kentucky’s pursuit of March glory. If Coward had committed to Duke, they would’ve had the defensive edge in a projected Elite Eight clash. Now, the advantage tilts back toward Lexington. That’s how quickly things shift in today’s college game.
This also further tightens the margin for Duke. There’s no margin for missteps in the portal anymore. Every elite contender has talent, but what separates champions from disappointments is depth, chemistry, and veteran poise. Duke was close to that formula. With Coward, they would’ve had an elite stopper, someone to neutralize Oweh or RJ Melendez or Ja’Kobe Walter in tournament settings. Without him, they’ll need to cobble together a defensive identity from younger, less proven wings. It’s not impossible—Scheyer is a rising star in the coaching world for a reason—but it raises the difficulty level significantly.
More pressingly, it now puts pressure on other role players to expand their games. Tyrese Proctor, already an established creator, will need to become a more vocal defender. Caleb Foster must take on tougher assignments. And whoever wins the minutes at the four spot—be it Sean Stewart or a developing freshman—will have to adapt to a much more physical style of play, since Coward is no longer there to soak up that physical burden. These aren’t small asks. They are season-defining pivots.
From a national perspective, Coward’s decision also redefines how we view Duke’s ceiling. Without him, they’re still a top-10 team, but they’re no longer the safe bet to reach the Final Four. The elite tier—Kansas, Baylor, UConn, even Houston—has older wings and more tested defensive systems. Duke still has the firepower, still has the NBA lottery talent, but March rarely crowns the prettiest team. It crowns the grittiest. Coward made Duke gritty. Without him, they’ll need to find that edge elsewhere, and fast.
For Kentucky, this is a chance to pounce. Oweh is primed for a national breakout, and his path to postseason stardom is clearer than ever. His frame, his hunger, his fearlessness—they all mirror what Coward brought to the table. And in a season where the national narrative is craving veteran guards with big-game potential, Oweh might become the face of that movement. His battles with Proctor, with UNC’s Elliot Cadeau, with Tennessee’s Zakai Zeigler—they’ll be box office. But more importantly, they may be defining. The best wing in college basketball might not wear blue and white in Durham. He may be in Lexington instead.
None of this is to suggest that Duke’s season is derailed. Far from it. Scheyer still has a roster packed with NBA-bound talent. He still has the ACC’s deepest guard rotation. He still has the mystique and pressure of a program built on titles and expectations. But this moment marks a fork in the road. Without Edric Coward, Duke must now reinvent its defensive identity, redistribute its physical edge, and rely more heavily on less tested pieces. It’s not an impossible task—but it’s no longer a foregone conclusion.
In the end, Coward’s choice echoes the broader themes of this era. Players are empowered. Decisions are personal. And college basketball is living in a state of constant flux. One player’s decision can ripple across programs, conferences, and narratives. Duke felt that today. The title hopes aren’t dead—but they’re dented. And now, across the border in Kentucky, Otega Oweh might be the one rising in the vacuum left behind.
