He's one of the most polarizing and successful coaches in college sports. Love him, or hate him, Hurley has become the face of college basketball. The two-time defending national champion coach is maniacal in his approach, leaving many to wonder why he is the way he is.

As Jeremy Schaap reports for E60, it's a persona decade in the making stemming from something that weighs heavier than any win or loss: his family name. Having known and interviewed Dan, his brother Bobby, and their father Bob Sr. for three decades, Schaap provides an unmatched level of access and insight into the Hurleys' world—one shaped by basketball royalty, intense expectations and personal battles.

Dan Hurley's father was a high school Hall of Fame basketball coach in New Jersey and his brother Bobby was a two-time national champion at Duke, still holding the NCAA record for most assists in a career. Dan would grow up in that shadow as "The Other Hurley."

After what he called a failed playing career at Seton Hall, Dan took the path of his father and began coaching. He would rise through the coaching ranks but not without some mental health struggles, including panic attacks that he speaks openly about to E60.

Now with back-to-back championships under his belt, Hurley finds himself on a quest for three straight, something that hasn't been done since the days of John Wooden.

On February 16, 2024, directly in front of an E60 camera, the heart Pollard was born with 49 years earlier took its last beat, after it was extracted from his chest cavity. Ten days prior, the 11-year NBA veteran, granted full access to E60 as he was admitted into Vanderbilt University Medical Center's ICU with advanced heart failure. The task was to document a story to which nobody, not even Pollard's doctors, knew the ending.

For months prior to that, Pollard had been waiting for a new heart. More than most people, Pollard and his family understood the process—and the stakes. When Pollard was 16, his father Pearl collapsed and died from heart failure—after waiting in vain on the transplant list. "Poison" Pearl had been a star basketball player himself, at the University of Utah—and, like his son, Pearl was a big man, nearly seven feet tall, which made finding a heart for him nearly impossible.

As Scot speaks openly about with Schaap, Pearl's death was the defining moment in Scot's life, filling him with anger and fueling his desire and fierceness on the court. At the University of Kansas and then in the NBA, he stood out for his competitive drive. Now, what he wanted most was to see history not repeat itself, to live, to be present for his wife and children.