Josh Hart is banged up. He’ll tell you all about it.
He’ll show you that mangled finger, explain that he’s suffering from nerve damage in his shooting hand. He’ll talk about his back pain and reveal, cryptically, that he returned earlier than expected from those spasms suffered in preseason.
Then he’ll get on the court and run around like the Tasmanian devil, a whirlwind of baseline-to-baseline action without much structure or predictability. Some days are discouraging, like Halloween in Chicago, where Hart was so miserable he sat on the bench alone — several feet away from the timeout huddle — with his face planted into his hands.
His game appeared broken. He looked depressed, despondent. He had to talk it over with coach Mike Brown, who is new to the Josh Hart Experience.
