In April 2021, Mick Cronin reached the pinnacle of men’s college basketball. He was coaching the University of California, Los Angeles at the Final Four in Indianapolis.
Because of pandemic restrictions, most of the games that season were played in largely empty arenas. Nearly every coaching staff responded by ditching their suits and ties in favor of casual attire, reflecting broader trends in a global work force that was sitting through Zoom calls from the couch.
Mr. Cronin was no different. In the semifinal round of the N.C.A.A. tournament, he wore a dark pullover, golf pants and sneakers. But in the moments before U.C.L.A. faced Gonzaga, he had a crisis of conscience regarding that decision.
“You know,” he recalled thinking, “this is not how I dreamt I was going to walk out onto the court to coach in my first Final Four.”
It was at that moment, Mr. Cronin said, that he found himself longing for one of his suits from David August, the custom clothier, and resolved to wear suits again the next season.
“And I don’t care what anybody else does,” Mr. Cronin said of his thoughts at the time. “This just doesn’t feel right.”
In recent seasons, as N.B.A. coaches, without exception, have continued to go casual, there has been a trickledown effect across the basketball landscape. Quarter-zips are in. Suits are out.
“It’s easier to pack, for sure,” Willie Green, the coach of the New Orleans Pelicans, said recently.
But there are a handful of holdouts in men’s college basketball — and beyond — who have zigged away from pullovers and zagged their way back to bespoke blazers.
Consider Mr. Cronin, who, as one of his university’s highest-paid employees, believes that dressing up for games is “the professional thing to do,” he said. With his attire, he feels as if he is paying homage to John Wooden, who regularly wore a coat and tie while coaching U.C.L.A. to 10 national championships in the 1960s and ’70s.
“Many N.B.A. executives have privately shared with me how they wish their coaches dressed in at least a sports coat,” Mr. Cronin said. “And not just one — many.”
Within the global coaching fraternity, the N.B.A.’s decision to ensconce itself in the world of athleisure wear was a dramatic development. This was the same league, after all, that had celebrated Pat Riley as a style icon back when he was wearing Giorgio Armani while coaching the Showtime-era Los Angeles Lakers. (The league’s coaches later brokered a more formal deal with Joseph Abboud.)
But those days are long gone. And on a practical level, drifting away from suits makes sense.
“You feel much more comfortable when you’re not in a suit,” said Rob Paternostro, the longtime coach of the Leicester Riders, a team in England’s top basketball league. “You sweat a lot. There’s tension. You want to feel loose. But I do think that the coach who wears the suit, he commands a little more respect on the sidelines at times — from your own players, and maybe even from referees.”
Mr. Paternostro doesn’t always patrol the sideline in a suit, but he does when the moment calls for one. His players have caught on to the pattern.
“If the three-piece suit comes out, they know that this is a big game,” Mr. Paternostro said. “The tie comes out. The pocket square. The cuff links I got for my wedding.”
Mr. Paternostro’s wife, Sarah, who would prefer that he wear suits even more often, even worked out a partnership for him with the House of Cavani, he said.
Mr. Paternostro was influenced by two coaches from his playing days. As a teenager in Waterbury, Conn., he played at Holy Cross High School for Ed Generali, who was “always dressed up,” Mr. Paternostro said. And at New Hampshire College, which is now Southern New Hampshire University, Mr. Paternostro played for Stan Spirou, who had made an impression during the recruitment process.
“He looked straight out of ‘Goodfellas,’” Mr. Paternostro said, “and it really made a difference to me. I was like, ‘Man, I want to play for this guy.’”
When Dennis Gates, the coach at Missouri, was younger and dreaming of getting into the profession, he noticed that the coaches he admired always looked slick: John Thompson at Georgetown, Nolan Richardson at Arkansas, George Raveling at Southern California. Mr. Gates later worked at Florida State under Leonard Hamilton, whose sharp attire made a similar impression.
At Missouri, Mr. Gates sees it as a part of his job to hold himself to that same high standard, especially now that he may be a role model for other minorities in a competitive field.
“You’re not only representing yourself but others who are on the climb and want the same opportunities,” Mr. Gates said, adding: “Somebody’s going to see me for the first time. What impact will I have on them visually? And what impact will I have on them, not just with what I wear but how I act?”
It would be a mistake, though, to suggest that Mr. Gates has an expansive closet. In fact, he wears the same suit every game — a Super 140s style in Holland & Sherry wool from the Tom James Company — which he pairs with one of about 20 identical button-down shirts.
“If somebody decided to steal my suit, I’d be in trouble,” Mr. Gates said. “I’m just thankful for Tiger Cleaners. They get me right.”
Brian Nelson, a partner with the Tom James Company, measured Mr. Gates for his suit in 2022, shortly after he accepted the job at Missouri. Mr. Gates had finally decided to retire the suit he had worn for three straight seasons as the coach at Cleveland State, from 2019 to 2022.
“We went with a lightweight fabric because it was going to be a little more movable,” Mr. Nelson said. “With the handwork under the arms and across the shoulders, he’s still going to be able to coach and show some emotion without ripping the suit.”
Still, Mr. Gates said he would not describe himself as a “fashion guy.” At practice, he dresses as though he is about to do yard work, always in the same gray hooded sweatshirt, the same gray pants and the same gray sneakers.
“If I’m ever wearing anything outside of that, my players think something is up: ‘Coach, you got to go somewhere?’” Mr. Gates said.
Tad Boyle, the coach at Colorado, was also dubious about his own fashion credentials. But he dresses up for games — typically, a blazer and slacks for early in the season, and then a suit as Colorado grinds toward the meat of its schedule.
Like so many others, Mr. Boyle went casual during college basketball’s Covid season. But it felt like a fog to him, and he yearned for a return to normalcy. For him, that meant emulating the sartorial cues of his former coach at Kansas, Larry Brown, who favored tailored suits.
Mr. Boyle hardly feels as if he is making a statement. In fact, he lets his assistant coaches choose their game-day attire. (They typically go with quarter-zips.) But Mr. Boyle’s reasoning goes something like this: If he doesn’t dress up for the 30-odd most important nights of his year, when would he do it?
“It’s just going to be weddings and funerals and charity balls,” he said.
Not that he has sidestepped criticism. His daughter, Claire, says his pants are too baggy.
“I have to get down in a defensive stance occasionally,” Mr. Boyle said.