Bo Ryan-era basketball officially took root in the past week, with the Badgers losing two close contests to 2001 NCAA Tournament teams Georgia Tech and Temple.

How do I know?

Yeah, there were players circulating the ball in Ryan’s up-tempo Philly-street-style offense, enabling opportunistic players like Travon Davis, Devin Harris and Freddie Owens to cash in and put up big numbers.

Sure, the mix of man-to-man defenses and zone changed the complexion of games, setting the path for curious droughts and furious comebacks. But that isn’t why the Badgers’ program is Bo’s.

The ball rotation may happen a little bit faster now, there may be a few more reckless shots, but the general principles of movement and delay are similar to the point-a-minute teams Dick Bennett coached since six years ago.

The box-and-one that failed to contain Lynn Greer — but may have kept the game close by shutting down the rest of the Owls — is not all that different from Bennett’s pack defense.

So what’s the deal? Does Bo really know Wisco, or is the 2-5 record really indicative of the job coach Ryan has done thus far?

There is an answer, but I’ll help you out with a little perspective before I drop any clarity bombs on the foggy future of UW basketball.

Coaches’ jobs are full of challenges. In today’s world — especially the geranium of college sports — those challenges have to be dealt with deftly, and swiftly, or it costs them those jobs or even careers.

Bob Davie didn’t exactly deal with his problems head on.

The erstwhile head of Notre Dame football led the Irish to a handful of sub-par seasons and one stellar one. Okay, okay. One 10-3 campaign that ended with a distasteful lost to Oregon State in the Fiesta Bowl.

But for Davie, a single year of success to dangle in front of the Notre Dame alumni was not enough to save his post after a dismal performance the next season. Some argue that nothing could have saved the coach; that he stepped into a noose the moment he stepped into South Bend.

Really, what Davie did was misunderstand the challenges he would be facing. Not like Jim Tressel who, sensing the underground gyrations that shook Jon Cooper out of Ohio State, promised to beat Michigan and followed through.

Davie’s problems ran much deeper than the ND athletic director or the board of alumni. He was haunted by the ghosts of Old Notre Dame, only all he heard were echoes calling for his head. He was unable to establish a winning tradition suitable to South Bend, and the girth of Catholic-Americans whose shadow overlooks Our Lady’s hallowed ground.

For coaches like he and Oregon’s Mike Belotti, the only opponents seem to be the world’s vices. Belotti and the Ducks think the NCAA is out to get them, after the most recent BCS standings were released. He can’t quite figure out how his No. 3 Oregon squad can be ranked fifth in the BCS, eliminating the chance the Pac-10 champions will play in the Rose Bowl, even if No. 2 Tennessee loses.

Davie and Belotti could take a few notes from Bob Knight, whose problems are mostly self-constructed.

Now Knight, he confronts his challenges every step of the way, except when Dick Vitale is around. In a series of ESPN interviews last week, Vitale repeatedly built hoops through which Knight easily jumped to avoid the questions Vitale was pretending to really ask.

Knight’s pretty slippery for such a direct man, and the only ones to peg him yet have been IU’s Clarence Doninger and Sam Houston State. So, apparently, his head-on style hasn’t cramped his career all that much.

Which brings us back to Ryan. To have any kind of career in Madison, seemingly, he needs to defend himself against the jeers and expectations from those outside of — but close to — the program. He needs to prove his style can win, and bring back the respect for Wisconsin basketball that propelled questionably bubble Badger teams to NCAA tournaments the last few years.

But for poor Bo, the situation is a little more complicated, because Bo longs so much to be a hard-nosed coach like Knight or Jon Chaney, who Ryan faced Monday night.
Ryan preaches his tough nature, honed by years on the playgrounds of Philadelphia.