RALEIGH, N.C. — “You ready?”
Like there’s an alternative. It’s already 7:02 a.m. on a recent Wednesday — hours after Will Wade typically logs his daily miles — and although NC State’s first-year basketball coach is letting a visitor tag along today, he’s done delaying. Film to review, players to coach. “I could be having lunch by now,” Wade jokes, head down, clicking the run tracker on his phone.
As Wade’s activity app loads, it’s possibly the only time today, or any day, that the 42-year-old isn’t go-go-go. The second it chimes to life, he’s off: straight down the yellow divider lines on the road leading to NC State’s practice facility, his gray sweat-wicking Adidas shirt almost blending into the dawn.
Wade’s route and distance vary, but Wednesdays are typically his easy days. Two, maybe two-and-a-half miles around the brick-laden campus he now calls home. But these jogs aren’t just for cardio. Two turns in — once an early-morning jackhammer is out of earshot — Wade’s mind starts cranking.
Today’s stream of consciousness starts in a familiar place: the ACC, where Wade’s basketball journey began as a Clemson student manager, and where now, two decades and stretches of turmoil later, he’s landed a second shot at the high-major level and a six-year, $17.25 million contract. Wade’s basketball passport is well-stamped for his age — Chattanooga, VCU, LSU, McNeese — but this is always where Wade aspired to be. Not Raleigh, necessarily. Not a program with one conference championship since 1987.
But a place with history. A place at the highest level of the sport, with fans who care, who will fully embrace his unapologetic self.
A place he can win, in every sense.
“It had everything,” Wade says, “that we needed.”
And in Wade, NC State may’ve found what it needed, too. Wade didn’t have to convince every high-major school in America to give him another chance, after all. Just one.
Tomorrow… the Red Reckoning begins pic.twitter.com/HDaqVNbD9L
— NC State Men’s Basketball (@PackMensBball) November 3, 2025
NC State has been chasing Jim Valvano’s ghost for over four decades. Since Valvano’s penultimate season in 1988-89, only two Wolfpack teams have finished a season ranked in the AP poll. And over those same 36 seasons, NC State has cycled through more coaches (five) than Sweet 16 berths (four). The most recent, Kevin Keatts, even led NC State on a miracle Final Four run just two seasons ago — the program’s first since 1983, when Valvano’s Cardiac Pack won it all — only to let all that momentum slip through the cracks. After a 12-19 season, Keatts was fired in March.
“We just haven’t had sustained success,” athletic director Boo Corrigan says, “for a long time.”
But that’s why Wade’s here. His career .703 winning percentage is 10th among all active Division I coaches with at least 10 years of experience, just ahead of Houston’s Kelvin Sampson. In March, two years after inheriting a McNeese program that went 22-55 the two seasons prior to his arrival, Wade led the Cowboys to their first NCAA Tournament victory. He’s won postseason games at each of his past three schools, not to mention conference titles in the SEC and Atlantic 10. And, yes, he puts players in the NBA: Cam Thomas, Naz Reid, Tari Eason and so on.
“He’s won, a lot. Produces a lot of pros,” says five-star freshman Matt Able, who Wade flipped from Miami his first month on the job. “That’s all good stuff, right?”
Undoubtedly. But when you hire Will Wade, you get his baggage, too, even from three years ago. Wade spent a season outside of coaching, then the past two toiling in relative anonymity in the Southland, because of multiple alleged NCAA infractions at LSU, which led to his unceremonious ousting on the eve of the 2022 NCAA Tournament. (Wade eventually received a two-year show-cause penalty and 10-game suspension.) A federal wiretap infamously caught Wade lamenting a “strong-ass offer” he’d made one recruit — notably, in the pre-name, image and likeness era — that didn’t yield a commitment. And while the FBI’s investigation into college basketball corruption has come and gone, Wade remains one of the sport’s most polarizing figures.
Willy the Kid. The American Gangster.
“The perception of him is just this asshole, cheater, doesn’t care, bends the rules — when really, he just wants to win,” says senior guard Jordan Snell. “He’s grown from it. He’s learned from it. Obviously he’s not a terrible human being because he’s back at this level.”
Wade knows that isn’t a universal perspective, though. That, broadly, plenty of people still see him as an outlaw wearing a black hat.
“I’m not everybody’s cup of tea,” he says. “You don’t have to dance around it.”
Jogging along at a brisk 10:34 pace, Wade interrupts himself to say hello to an ROTC cadet walking to class. Then he’s onto another topic, spitting out stories between breaths.
It’s on a “shortcut” through a dormitory parking lot, around a sand volleyball court, that Wade addresses things unraveling at LSU. How he’d pick fights, sometimes unnecessarily. How he saw everything as black and white. How he’d burn bridges almost without thinking, like a horse with blinders who can only see its destination — and not all the mud getting kicked up behind it.
“There’s a time for that,” Wade adds, “but that time isn’t every day.”
When Corrigan began his search for Keatts’ replacement, Wade was already high on his list. Yet Corrigan still describes his first official interview with Wade — in mid-March, inside the private airport terminal in Houston — as a “feeling out” meeting. His chief priority going in? Whether or not Wade would take accountability for how things ended at LSU.
“It could have gone off the rails at any point,” Corrigan says. “‘It wasn’t my fault, it was legal, everyone’s doing it.’ Irrelevant. What about you? What have you learned?”
Corrigan needed to know Wade was serious. He knew, for instance, that Wade prefers to wear a polo and shorts, so when the coach showed up in a full suit, that checked a box. Corrigan was also impressed by Wade’s research: on the program’s investment, fan base — and even shortcomings.
During his many preliminary calls on Wade, Corrigan made a point of phoning people outside his normal circle: those who knew the real Wade and had worked with him. Most vouched for Wade, saying he wasn’t like how he’d been publicly portrayed. A vocal minority crucified him, Corrigan said, often with colorful language. But the one thing everyone Corrigan spoke with agreed on? “He’s a really good coach,” Corrigan remembers. “That was universal.”
So Corrigan kept coming back to LSU. To what, if anything, Wade had learned after living through the wreckage of a mess he’d made.
Wade’s response?
Here’s where I made mistakes. I was arrogant. Hubris got the better of me.
“He owned everything,” Corrigan says. “To see someone who’s had success the way he’s had success be humbled, and talk about his family, and talk about his friends, and the effect that it had on a lot of his relationships? That’s a pretty raw conversation.”
An interview scheduled for an hour took two and a half. Wade’s matter-of-fact speech is a turnoff to some, but Corrigan appreciated the candidness. Before everyone broke for barbecue, Corrigan asked Wade what he’d do if offered the gig.
“He said yes before I actually finished the sentence,” Corrigan says, grinning. “Pretty good sign.”
Wade wasn’t just into NC State because it was a high-major. While NC State’s two national championship banners, from 1974 and 1983, are a little dusty, they’re nonetheless there.
He also saw NC State as a cultural fit. For a native Tennessean whose mom was a principal, there was something appealing about a land-grant institution with an agricultural focus. And for someone who’s never afraid to ruffle a few feathers, what better than to shake things up within a 30-mile radius of blue bloods Duke and North Carolina?
“It’s like I’ve told them,” Wade says. “You guys are my best chance, and I’m your best chance. So let’s see if it works. If it don’t work, then hell, we can move on.”
Over a decade ago, when Wade was a hot-shot young coach at Chattanooga, a friend issued him what he now calls “a mental challenge,” to run, no matter the distance, every day for an entire year. Why not try? The days he traveled were tricky — flights, driving to visit recruits — but Wade developed a habit of running first thing whenever he landed somewhere. “Kind of keeps me going,” he says. Before Wade knew it, he’d hit a year, then two, then five. No exceptions, no missed days. During the 2021 NCAA Tournament bubble, when Wade could hardly leave his hotel room, he even stepped out a straight path in his room, then jogged it back and forth until his tracker hit a mile.
“I don’t know the exact number of days,” he says, “but it’s 10 years plus whatever since January 1.”
Wade’s habit of making up his mind up and sticking to things also applies to his basketball philosophy. Wade’s never been someone who bought into culture, or brotherhood, or the idea that he’s such a schematic genius that he could compensate for having less-talented players.
“Culture’s a bunch of bulls—,” Wade says. “Us as a staff and what we do, we can probably get them three to five percent better. But the rest of it’s what they’ve got coming in. All that other stuff’s just buzzwords, and overrated, and makes everybody feel good about themselves.”
As he went about accumulating talent at NC State, he first checked under the proverbial hood of the existing roster. He asked assistant general manager Patrick Stacy, who previously developed a basketball analytics company, to run the players through his software.
Stacy’s Jam Basketball Intelligence (JBI) spit back that an unexpected player accounted for about a third of the Wolfpack’s total team score: rising sophomore Paul McNeil Jr., who had more DNPs (seven) than double-digit scoring games (four). Wade, naturally, was intrigued. Then he actually sat down with McNeil, who grew up in underprivileged Rockingham, N.C., and had recently gone home to visit.
“I realized I don’t know what I would do (without basketball),” McNeil remembers telling Wade, “so I know how much time I’ve got to invest into that, because I don’t want to be lost in this world. … Basketball is my life.”
That wasn’t just welcome determination; it was a non-negotiable for every player Wade was recruiting. Hearing that, Wade decided to trust the computer and see what untapped potential McNeil had.
Voila: McNeil is NC State’s second-leading scorer, at 20.3 points per game. If that holds all season, it would be the most by any Wolfpack player in almost a decade.
“We want guys that are resilient,” Wade says. “Guys who have overcome some things.”
NC State’s mantra of building a strong foundation stems from that same mentality. It’s why there’s a pile of cinder blocks in the practice gym, with a few Sharpies lying beside them. Asked about that unusual arrangement, Wade flashes his trademark grin. Between gasps on a short uphill, he explains that NC State’s players sign a cinder block every day of practice that meets their standard. Similarly, in the hallway just outside the practice gym, an electronic screen flashes not-so-subtle images of lighthouses during hurricanes.
“We’ve gotta be so strong,” Wade says, “that when the storms come, we ain’t moving.”
Wade prioritized winning experience when building out his roster. Point guard Tre Holloman (Michigan State) and Terrance Arceneaux (Houston) went deep into the NCAA Tournament. Ven-Allen Lubin (UNC), and Quadir Copeland and Alyn Breed (McNeese) won a game in it.
Paul McNeil Jr., left, and Darrion Williams are leading the Wolfpack early this season. (Nicholas Faulkner / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)
And then there was NC State’s top target: Darrion Williams, an All-Big 12 honoree at Texas Tech who hit the game-winning shot in the Sweet 16. Williams went through the NBA Draft process, but decided on another college season. He whittled his choice to Kansas, with two-time national champion Bill Self as coach and top-three recruit Darryn Peterson incoming, or NC State, a hodgepodge of transfers culled by a coach three years removed from the high-major level.
“I was a little nervous about coming for a first-year coach, but he assured me that he’s coming to win,” Williams says. “He wants to win now.”
Wade knew that Williams — the ACC Preseason Player of the Year, who’s averaging a team-high 21.7 points per game, plus six rebounds and 4.7 assists — was the type of transcendent talent he needed. But he also knew a player of Williams’ caliber wouldn’t come cheap. Part of Wade agreeing to come to Raleigh was the Wolfpack committing to upping its NIL investment from last season, when it was near the bottom of the ACC. When landing Williams suddenly went from pipe dream to possible, Wade called Corrigan one day and told him he needed more resources.
“I’ll never forget, I met him that morning at like 10 o’clock,” Wade says. “By 3 o’clock in the afternoon, he called me back and was like, ‘Will this work?’ And I said, absolutely. That’ll work.”
The day Williams called to say he’d picked NC State, Wade and his staff did their best to play it cool over FaceTime.
“But the second (Williams) hit end (on the call), the whole place erupted,” offensive coordinator Adam Howard remembers. “Like ‘The Wolf of Wall Street,’ when he’s hitting himself in the head. We were that fired up.”
After a detour to avoid the never-ending construction on NC State’s campus, then a quick jaunt through the school’s famous Freedom Expression Tunnel, Wade’s Wednesday morning run finally hits its home stretch in fitting fashion: passing Reynolds Coliseum.
The building, at the peak of NC State’s heyday, was one of the most storied venues in the ACC and beyond. (Today, to accommodate larger crowds, the Wolfpack play at the nearby Lenovo Center.) As Wade darts through traffic onto a sidewalk parallel to Reynolds, he peeks to his left at the massive structure, the one in which Valvano rose to college basketball immortality.
Cue the quiet part. The thing many in Raleigh have come to believe, but few want to articulate out loud, lest it jinx them.
The comparison.
“For years, people have — whether it be on the inside or outside — compared us to Duke, UNC, the other ACC schools,” says defensive coordinator Brandon Chambers, who’s been with Wade since his LSU days. “Coach comes in here with this bravado: This Jimmy V, modern-day, I don’t care (attitude). We’re gonna do what we do. And I think NC State fans needed that.”
After one final crosswalk, Wade slows to a stop, right at the bottom of the hill leading up to NC State’s practice facility. He promptly clicks off the tracker: 2.34 miles down. Perfectly respectable for an easy day. Wade always stops at the same place, giving him time to catch his breath on his walk back to his office.
A few minutes later, Wade’s back where he started: feet away from his cherry red Chevy Tahoe, parked in its reserved space outside the facility. He ducks inside, then into his office. He fires off a few texts, responses to messages he got on his run, before grabbing a red towel for a quick post-workout shower.
Then, before he closes the door to his office and world, Wade turns back one last time with a toothy grin — the kind that makes you wonder if you’re in on a secret.
“I’ll be around.”
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