Here’s a bold statement: Wisconsin basketball’s frontcourt legacy isn’t just about talent—it’s about mentorship, grit, and a brotherhood that spans generations. And at the heart of this tradition now stands Nolan Winter, a player who’s gone from being the underdog to becoming the leader. But here’s where it gets fascinating: Winter isn’t just stepping into the spotlight; he’s carrying forward a lineage that’s as much about teaching as it is about winning. And this is the part most people miss—Winter’s journey isn’t just his own; it’s a reflection of Wisconsin’s unique culture of continuity and accountability.
Two years ago, Winter was the one getting schooled in practice, locked in daily battles with Steven Crowl, a fellow Minnesota native who was stronger, more experienced, and seemingly unstoppable. Those grueling sessions, though humbling at the time, laid the foundation for Winter’s rise. Fast forward to today, and he’s not just a player—he’s a representative of Wisconsin’s men’s basketball team, stepping into Big Ten Media Days with the weight of tradition on his shoulders. But Winter isn’t just a product of the program; he’s its embodiment, shaped by its values and committed to its future.
That loyalty runs deep. When asked about staying in Madison, Winter’s response was heartfelt: ‘It was huge for me to stay at Wisconsin. From day one, they showed me love and confidence, and I couldn’t see myself anywhere else. With guys like John Blackwell and Jack Janicki—my brothers—I wanted to be the Steven Crowl for the younger players, to show them what it means to be a Badger.’ It’s this sense of belonging, coupled with the city and the fans, that made leaving an impossible choice.
But here’s the controversial part: In an era where players often jump ship for greener pastures, Winter’s decision to stay feels almost old-school. Is loyalty a dying trait in college basketball? Or is Winter onto something bigger—a deeper connection to a program that values continuity over chaos? Let’s discuss in the comments.
Winter’s return couldn’t have come at a better time. With the departure of veterans like John Tonje, Steven Crowl, Max Klesmit, Carter Gilmore, and Kamari McGee, the Badgers needed a stabilizing force. Winter’s presence fills that void, especially in Wisconsin’s evolving European-style offense, which thrives on pace and spacing. Last season, he averaged 9.4 points and 5.8 rebounds on 56.4% shooting, while also knocking down 35.8% from three-point range. His skill set isn’t just a fit—it’s a perfect match.
But Winter’s rise wasn’t overnight. As a freshman, he averaged just 2.4 points and 1.8 rebounds in limited minutes. By his sophomore year, however, he started all 37 games, led the team in rebounding (5.8 per game), and topped the Big Ten in two-point percentage (71.5%). His breakout moments—like scoring 15 points on a perfect 6-for-6 shooting in his first start or grabbing 17 rebounds against Michigan State—weren’t just highlights; they were proof of his growth.
And this is where it gets even more impressive: According to Synergy, Winter ranked in the 99th percentile nationally on post-ups, 91st on putbacks, and 93rd on cuts. These aren’t just numbers; they’re a testament to his efficiency and basketball IQ. But here’s the catch: Can he maintain this level of play as the focal point of the offense? His added strength and improved physicality suggest yes, but only time will tell.
Winter’s game is a study in purpose. He doesn’t waste possessions; he moves with intention, creates angles with his feet, and plays within the rhythm of the offense. In an era obsessed with versatility, Winter’s greatest strength is his self-awareness—he knows he’s a floor-stretching big man who thrives on positioning and taking what the defense gives him. His ability to stretch the floor as a three-point threat, combined with enough athleticism to attack closeouts, makes him a unique weapon in Wisconsin’s system.
Of course, there’s room to grow. His perimeter game, particularly in pick-and-rolls and off-screen actions, still needs work. But let’s be clear: Winter’s role isn’t to be a creator; it’s to be a finisher. And with his athleticism and skill, there’s no reason he can’t expand that part of his game over time.
What’s truly special about Winter is his embrace of the mentor role. The same physical battles that once humbled him are now the lessons he’s passing down to freshmen like Will Garlock and Aleksas Bieliauskas. It’s a lineage that stretches back decades—from Mike Wilkinson to Frank Kaminsky, from Ethan Happ to Steven Crowl, and now to Winter. Each generation learned from the one before it, not just about footwork or positioning, but about what it means to be a Badger: accountability, toughness, and carrying a standard.
Here’s the thought-provoking question: In a sport increasingly dominated by individual stardom, is Wisconsin’s model of mentorship and continuity the key to sustained success? Or is it a relic of a bygone era? Share your thoughts below.
Winter’s offseason has been transformative, both physically and symbolically. Under the guidance of strength coach Jim Schneider, he’s added muscle, now weighing around 250 pounds. This isn’t just about looking bigger; it’s about being able to absorb contact and finish through it. As Coach Greg Gard put it, ‘You can’t go into a sledgehammer fight with a tack hammer.’ Winter’s maturation is evident in how he carries himself on the floor—more dominant, more willing to initiate contact.
Defensively, Winter’s growth will be critical. While he already defends the post at a high level (85th percentile), his challenge lies in improving when pulled away from the rim. His isolation and transition defense numbers indicate room for growth, but in Wisconsin’s structured system, that development curve seems manageable.
Offensively, Winter’s game mirrors Wisconsin’s evolution: a blend of old-school discipline and modern spacing. He can trail in transition, pick-and-pop from the top of the key, or back down smaller defenders. This versatility gives Gard the flexibility to play faster without losing the team’s identity. As Winter himself put it, ‘I think we’re going to be a very fun team to watch.’
One final point of contention: With the departure of assistant coach Kirk Penney and the arrival of Brad Davison, Wisconsin’s coaching staff is in flux. While Winter acknowledges Penney’s genius and the energy Davison brings, the question remains: How will this mix of continuity and change impact the team’s chemistry? Only time will tell.
Nolan Winter isn’t just trying to fill Steven Crowl’s shoes; he’s trying to extend the lineage, to be the connective piece between eras. The Big Ten will test that evolution soon enough, but one thing is clear: Winter knows the foundation he’s standing on. And if history is any guide, that foundation is rock solid.
What do you think? Can Winter lead Wisconsin to new heights, or will the pressure of carrying the frontcourt tradition prove too much? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments!
