Bibby’s Doghouse Keeps Blocking His Team’s Path to the Penthouse

Another postseason game, another Henry Bibby life lesson, and the tuition keeps rising.

Last season, the USC coach benched David Bluthenthal in the first round of the NCAA tournament, leading to an embarrassing loss.

On Saturday, he pulled Desmon Farmer from the finals of the Pacific 10 Conference tournament, leading to a championship lost.

Two years, two strange moves, two weeping students who can’t understand how their season has just ended.

One hard-headed coach.

“Sometimes you lose something to gain something,” Bibby said after the Trojans’ 74-66 loss to Oregon at Staples Center. “I’m trying to help these kids learn about life.”

It’s a wonderful metaphor, the coach as teacher, the court as classroom.

But at this rate, Harvard is cheaper and a dunce cap is more lenient.

Farmer was the tournament’s hottest player, his team’s inspirational leader, he had scored 19 points in the first half while the Trojans played the Ducks even.

But twice during that half, Farmer had apparently pouted when he wasn’t thrown the ball and was benched.

Then, after Farmer missed his first four shots in the second half, he was benched again.

In all, he played only 28 of 40 minutes, many of them in brief spurts, yo-yo minutes that yanked with his mind.

He scored zero points in the second half. He missed two wild three-point shots near the end. He was enveloped in distraction, cheers when he entered the game, gasps and boos when he left.

Statistically, Farmer’s presence didn’t affect the Trojans.

Realistically, his absence finished them.

They had ridden the junior’s lopsided headband and goofy grin to a wondrous place where a victory would have landed a young 16-loss team in the NCAA tournament.

The “life lesson” in such a victory would have been enormous. The confidence gained would have been immeasurable. The groundwork for next season would have been strong.

But then the 21-year-old Farmer was pulled.

For acting like a 21-year-old.

Said Bibby: “I was not happy with Desmon’s performance; he was doing things not in the framework of the team.”

Said Farmer: “A couple of times they didn’t get the ball to me, I showed some emotion. Then, in the second half, he thought I was still sulking.”

Said Bibby: “Life here is not all about Desmon, it’s about our team.”

Said Farmer: “I really don’t feel like I was selfish. I felt like I just wanted to win.”

Bibby was stern. Farmer was disconsolate.

Bibby was resolute. Farmer was quietly grasping for answers, nervously running his hands up and down his legs as the media surrounded his folding chair.

Bibby strolled through the Staples Center tunnel toward next season. Farmer stopped there to cry.

“This is a lesson learned,” Farmer said softly.

But by whom?

Bibby’s methods have been applauded in this space for bringing order to a program that could easily slip into chaos.

He took over a program that had been to the NCAA tournament five times in 25 years. He has led it to three appearances in seven years.

With no campus gym, no solid recruiting base and a constant Westside shadow, Bibby’s hard way has been the right way.

But now that his grip is established, would it hurt to loosen it a bit? Especially during those times when that grip can strangle the very team he’s trying to mold?

“Can’t do it,” Bibby said.

Why not?

“I’m not like some giant program that can bring in great players every year; I have to build cornerstones. If I let something slip, then I’ve hurt what I’m trying to build.”

But if you had played Farmer with just a short benching and scolding, couldn’t you have won the game?

“And you do that and lose, everything you’ve worked for is torn down.”

But surely you knew this decision would hurt the team?

“We’re doing this not just for this year, but next year.”

Next year indeed could be special, if Rory O’Neil gets stronger and the Craven twins become more savvy and Jerry Dupree grows up and Desmon Farmer ... well, exactly what must Desmon Farmer do?

After all, last season he became the focal point in a similar incident when he was benched during an entire game in front of family and friends at Bradley.

Should he talk to Bibby, clear the air, fix his mind?

“I just don’t know,” Farmer said. “I know I was showing emotion, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready to play. That meant I was ready to play.”

It’s difficult for the kids to decipher their teacher sometimes, but they keep trying.

“Everything Coach does, he has a reason for doing,” O’Neil said. “Maybe you can’t see it now, but you’ll learn it down the road.”

Sometimes, at those moments when the Trojans are on the verge of something special, that seems like a very long road indeed.

I told Henry Bibby he was stubborn.

“Yeah,” he said. “And I’m right.”

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com.