Jon Scheyer’s Strategic Patience Pays Off as Duke Basketball Supports Cedric Coward Through Thoughtful NBA Draft Decision Process
Duke basketball has long been recognized for developing talent both on and off the court, with its rich history of grooming players for the NBA. Under the leadership of Jon Scheyer, the Blue Devils continue that legacy, with a modern twist. In the latest example, Scheyer and the Duke program demonstrated a strategic and supportive approach in guiding transfer forward Cedric Coward through the uncertainty and weight of the 2024 NBA Draft decision process—a move that reflects both evolving dynamics in college basketball and Scheyer’s maturity as a head coach.
Cedric Coward’s journey to Duke was already an interesting one. A standout at Eastern Washington, Coward had quietly built an impressive résumé in the Big Sky Conference. With his versatile skill set—solid perimeter shooting, strong defensive instincts, and a basketball IQ that belied his mid-major roots—Coward was on the radar of scouts, even if not yet projected as a lock for the NBA. After entering the transfer portal and garnering interest from major programs, Coward eventually committed to Duke, giving Scheyer another weapon in a growing arsenal of experienced, hungry players.
But before Coward officially suited up for the Blue Devils, there was the lingering question of his NBA Draft status. Like many players who’ve tested the draft waters in recent years, Coward entered the process not necessarily with the intent of going pro immediately but rather with a desire to receive critical feedback on his game, areas for improvement, and potential draft position. It’s a common move for players looking to better assess their future, but it puts both the player and the college program in a somewhat precarious position—especially for high-profile programs like Duke that rely heavily on roster clarity to maintain national championship aspirations.
This is where Jon Scheyer’s approach stood out.
Scheyer didn’t pressure Coward one way or the other. Instead, he and the Duke coaching staff prioritized transparency and patience. They offered Coward the resources needed to make the most informed decision possible, including access to workout feedback, NBA team evaluations, and the experience of Duke’s player development and analytics staff. Importantly, they gave him space and time.
Sources close to the program indicated that Scheyer met frequently with Coward throughout the process, not just to talk basketball but to discuss life goals, long-term ambitions, and the reality of what entering the draft in 2024 might look like versus staying at Duke for another year and improving his stock. Coward’s status as a new transfer added an extra wrinkle: he had not yet fully immersed himself in the Duke culture, yet he was treated with the same level of respect and commitment as any long-tenured Blue Devil.
This emphasis on relationship-building rather than transactional coaching is quickly becoming a hallmark of the Scheyer era. While Mike Krzyzewski famously led with intensity and structure, Scheyer’s style appears more collaborative. It’s not softer—Duke remains a highly competitive and disciplined program—but it’s adaptive, reflective of modern athlete sensibilities and the fluidity of the transfer portal and draft landscape.
While Coward weighed his options, Duke quietly planned for both outcomes. The coaching staff continued recruiting and adjusting its lineup models while expressing no public concern over Coward’s status. Internally, they were confident that Coward would recognize the potential of what Duke could offer—not just in terms of team success but also personal development. For a player like Coward, with one foot in the pros and one in college, that trust was vital.
Ultimately, the decision to withdraw from the NBA Draft and commit fully to Duke for the 2024–25 season was Coward’s. But it was a decision influenced by the environment Scheyer had created. Rather than feeling rushed or boxed in, Coward had room to explore his future. And in the end, he chose the Blue Devils.
From a purely basketball standpoint, Coward’s return to college—and specifically his addition to Duke—has major implications. He brings veteran poise to a roster that blends elite freshmen talent with seasoned transfers. His ability to play multiple positions and guard a variety of roles makes him ideal for Scheyer’s positionless, movement-heavy offense. Coward isn’t just a plug-and-play piece—he’s a potential difference-maker who could elevate Duke’s national title hopes if he continues his upward trajectory.
Moreover, his presence sets a tone for others navigating similar paths. For Duke, having a player like Coward who’s already tasted professional consideration but chose to bet on another year of development sets a precedent. It tells recruits and transfers alike: this is a place where long-term careers are built, where the NBA is a goal but not the only definition of success, and where growth—mental, physical, and emotional—is prioritized.
Scheyer, for his part, emerged from this situation with growing respect. In a year where many coaches have expressed frustration with NIL, the transfer portal, and early draft entrants, Scheyer took a different approach. He embraced the complexity. He didn’t bemoan the lack of control. Instead, he doubled down on what he could control—culture, relationships, development, and communication.
That mindset could be why Duke continues to thrive in this new era of college basketball. While the program remains rooted in tradition and excellence, it is also evolving. The days of four-year stars are mostly gone, and the one-and-done model, while still relevant, is no longer the only path. Players like Coward represent a third way—a path of transfer mobility, measured decisions, and a blend of experience and aspiration.
It’s easy to overlook how delicate these situations can be for coaches. One misstep—a bit too much pressure, a poorly timed comment, or even a perceived lack of support—can cause a player to feel alienated or bolt for the pros. Scheyer’s balancing act with Coward wasn’t just about landing a player. It was about building trust in real time, before the first practice, before the first game, before any wins had been logged together.
Coward’s return to college doesn’t guarantee Duke a championship. But it does offer the Blue Devils a unique advantage: a mature, motivated player with something to prove, ready to bring his all to one of the most competitive environments in the sport. And for Coward, Duke offers a platform, a structure, and a spotlight that few programs can match. If he excels in Durham, he’ll not only improve his NBA stock—he’ll also sharpen his leadership and understanding of the game under one of the rising stars in coaching.
In the larger picture, this moment is part of a broader shift in how college programs operate. The lines between college and pro are increasingly blurred. Players aren’t just athletes—they’re brands, businessmen, and future professionals managing long-term arcs. Coaches can no longer simply recruit and play; they must mentor, advise, and collaborate. Scheyer’s deft handling of Coward’s draft exploration may seem like a quiet offseason win, but it’s emblematic of the modern game’s demands.
Looking ahead, Coward’s decision to stay could influence others. Prospective transfers and future NBA hopefuls watching from afar will see how Duke handles its business. They’ll notice how Scheyer treats players not as commodities but as partners in a shared mission. They’ll see a place where exploring the draft isn’t punished or discouraged, but rather embraced and discussed with honesty.
That kind of culture attracts winners. And it’s one more reason why Duke, under Jon Scheyer, remains not just a powerhouse—but an evolving blueprint for how to do things the right way in an increasingly complicated world of college basketball.
