“Without Cooper Flagg, Something’s Missing”: Duke Summer Practices Take a Different Turn as Post-Flagg Era Ushers in New Vibes

Something’s missing. That’s the quiet consensus echoing through Cameron Indoor as Duke summer practices get underway. The rhythm is still sharp, the intensity still unmistakable, the workouts still elite—but anyone who spent time around the Blue Devils last year can feel it. The moment you step into the practice gym, you know: it’s the post-Cooper Flagg era, and the energy has shifted.

Cooper Flagg was more than just a star recruit, more than the No. 1 player in the nation. He was Duke’s gravitational center. Practices pulsed with electricity when he was on the floor. Teammates elevated their games just to keep up with him. Coaches marveled at how he could anticipate plays three moves ahead. His voice, his presence, his competitiveness—they set the standard. Now, with Flagg gone to the NBA and chasing superstardom on the biggest stage, Duke is learning what it means to build an identity without him.

The effect is subtle, but powerful. There’s no longer the singular presence who pulled the entire practice toward him like a magnetic force. Instead, there’s a different atmosphere—less electric, more exploratory. There are players stepping into new roles, trying to figure out not just who they are individually, but who they are collectively. A team that once orbited Flagg now has to reinvent its own solar system.

In the absence of their star, veterans are speaking up more. Tyrese Proctor, once comfortable letting Flagg dominate the vocal leadership load, now directs traffic with new urgency. He’s louder. Sharper. Hungrier. His voice cuts through the gym, commanding attention in a way it never had to before. Jeremy Roach, back for another season with something to prove, has reasserted himself as the heartbeat of the squad. And Jaylen Blakes—quiet but respected—has emerged as a glue guy whose steady tone provides much-needed consistency.

The coaching staff, too, has had to adjust. Last year, Jon Scheyer could let Flagg’s instincts run free. The freshman phenom often saw the game as if from above, dictating tempo, switching matchups, even calling out opponents’ sets before they unfolded. That kind of basketball IQ is once-in-a-decade stuff. Now, Scheyer’s practices look more democratic. Instead of one player anchoring every drill, there are pockets of experimentation. There’s more trial and error. More teaching. It’s the kind of environment that demands patience—but could ultimately yield a more balanced team.

Freshmen who may have been content to follow Flagg’s lead now find themselves being asked to do more, earlier. Isaiah Evans, the wiry scoring wing with a smooth jumper, is no longer the secondary freshman story. He’s front and center, learning how to lead a break, fight through screens, and take contact on the way to the rim. Khaman Maluach, the towering big man from South Sudan, has quickly found himself the focal point of defensive schemes and pick-and-roll setups. They’re being tested—not just on skill, but on maturity. It’s baptism by fire, and Flagg’s departure has accelerated their timeline.

Even the way practices feel has changed. Last year, there was always a crowd—scouts, media, former players, influencers—drawn in by the Flagg Effect. Cameras rolled constantly. The gym often felt more like a live production than a closed session. This summer, things are quieter. Tighter. More internal. It’s about the work now, not the spectacle. And that, some insiders say, might be a blessing in disguise.

Because while the Cooper Flagg era was brilliant, it was also blinding. His talent lit everything up, but it also cast long shadows. Other players deferred, often unconsciously. Now, those same players are stepping out of those shadows. For someone like Caleb Foster, who had flashes of brilliance last year, this is a chance to rewrite his script. No longer Flagg’s backcourt companion, he’s taking the reins as a combo guard who can score, distribute, and lead. For bigs like Sean Stewart and TJ Power, there’s a new opportunity to control the paint and make their case for extended minutes.

Scheyer has made it clear: there are no guaranteed roles anymore. With Flagg gone, every position is up for grabs. That sense of openness is driving the most competitive practices Duke has seen in years. Every drill is a battle. Every scrimmage is a war. And without the safety net of a generational star, there’s a shared urgency that may ultimately forge a tougher, more unified team.

Still, there’s no denying what’s been lost. Coaches don’t say it out loud, but you can hear it in their tone. Flagg’s absence is felt. His game had a maturity beyond his years. His leadership was natural, never forced. He didn’t just raise Duke’s ceiling—he raised the floor, too. Teammates knew if they slipped, he’d be there to cover. If they hesitated, he’d push them forward. That kind of presence doesn’t come around often, and replacing it isn’t as simple as plugging in another five-star recruit.

There’s also a psychological adjustment. Last season, everyone knew Duke had a star who could carry them in crunch time. That knowledge breeds confidence. Without Flagg, Duke’s margin for error narrows. The team will need to execute more cleanly, communicate more consistently, and win with depth rather than stardom. That’s a different path to success—and one that’s harder to walk.

Yet, for all the challenges, there’s a strange optimism in the air. Maybe it’s because the pressure of the spotlight has dimmed. Maybe it’s because this group, stripped of its superstar, is learning how to trust each other in ways they didn’t have to before. Whatever the reason, there’s a hunger in this summer’s practices that feels real. Less about hype. More about heart.

Duke fans who watched every Flagg highlight might struggle to imagine this year’s team without him. But the truth is, this squad might be more than the sum of its parts. A team without a Flagg-shaped safety net could become more disciplined. More cohesive. More dangerous in the long run.

It all depends on how these players respond to the vacuum left behind. Will they rise to the occasion? Will they find new leaders, new stars, new identities? Or will the loss of a generational player prove too much to overcome?

Right now, it’s too early to say. But the early signs suggest that Duke isn’t mourning Flagg’s departure—they’re building something new in its wake. Something tougher. Something more collective. Something that could surprise people when the season tips off.

Because when Cooper Flagg was in the building, everything was possible. But now that he’s gone, everything is up for grabs.

And that might be the most dangerous version of Duke yet.