Farewell to Ryan Nembhard, Gonzaga’s maestro takes a final bow

Ryan Nembhard was never supposed to come to Gonzaga. When he entered the transfer portal after two standout seasons at Creighton, all signs pointed to Arizona. His older brother, Andrew, had been a Zag—sure—but it was Arizona head coach Tommy Lloyd who had recruited him there, and it seemed only natural Ryan would end up a Wildcat.

But Nembhard chose Gonzaga.

It was a stunner. One of the best passers in college basketball, a heady (if undersized) floor general with elite vision, was headed to Spokane. To say it was a welcome surprise doesn’t quite capture it. For fans already reeling from the news about Graham Ike’s commitment earlier that same day, it was a coup.

It took just a few weeks for Ryan to get fully up to speed with Gonzaga’s system, but from that point on, Ryan Nembhard delivered—playmaking, leading, directing traffic like he’d been running Mark Few’s offense for years. It was shocking to see a player suit up for the Zags and make the team their own so quickly and so decisively. But “quick” and “decisive” are probably also the two best words one can use to describe Ryan.

Ryan’s highlight reel of head-spinning dimes is impressive, certainly. For me, though, the moment that defined Nembhard’s time as a Zag came late this past season, in the fire of the NCAA Tournament. After a blown defensive rotation and a questionable foul call, tempers flared. Houston was pressing. Gonzaga was unraveling. Graham Ike—emotional, frustrated, and seconds from drawing a costly technical—looked like he was about to snap. It was among the most tense and anxiety-inducing moments of an already extremely anxiety-inducing season up to that point.

Then Ryan came flying down the floor. The smallest guy on the court threw himself in front of the biggest.

Ryan grabbed Graham by the jersey, and screamed—full volume, eyes locked—right into his face. The message was unmistakable: Get your head back on straight. We’re not losing it now. From there, Ike took the game over and did everything he could to get the Zags back within striking distance. Nembhard with the assist, once again.

Everyone on the floor saw it. The coaching staff saw it. Every fan watching could feel it: this was Nembhard’s team, and he was going to hold it together by force if he had to. He wasn’t just the point guard—he was the pilot. People liked to call him “the straw that stirs the drink,” but that never quite fit. He wasn’t just stirring something that was already there—he was holding this team together, flying it straight through turbulence. Two moves ahead. Never rattled. Always aware.

Junior Year: 2023–2024

For years, Gonzaga has run one of the fastest and most complex offensive schemes in the country. It’s built on timing, space, and a point guard’s ability to see everything before it happens. And in his first year in Spokane, Ryan Nembhard somehow made it look routine.

Despite stepping into a brand-new system, he averaged over 35 minutes per game in his first year in Spokane, directing traffic from tip to final buzzer. He posted 12.6 points, 4.0 rebounds, and 6.9 assists per game in his junior year, finishing with 243 total assists—sixth-most in the nation. His 3.0 assist-to-turnover ratio underscored just how efficient he was, even while handling one of the most demanding roles in college basketball.

There was the 20-point, 10-assist performance in the West Coast Conference Championship against Saint Mary’s. The 12-assist showing against Kansas in the NCAA Tournament, where he carved up one of the most athletic defenses in the country. Game after game, he made Mark Few’s offense his own—rarely flashy, never rattled, always in control.

Nembhard didn’t arrive at Gonzaga as a mystery. He’d already proven himself at Creighton. But in year one as a Zag, he stepped into one of the toughest point guard jobs in the country—and left no doubt who was in charge.

Senior Year: 2024–2025

Before the season began, the expectations for Ryan Nembhard were already sky-high. In previewing the year, I wrote:

“If we—perhaps recklessly—imagine a comparable leap for Ryan, we could be looking at a stat line of 15+ points, 8+ assists, and 38% shooting from beyond the arc as well as an assist-to-turnover ratio of roughly 5-to-1. These numbers would represent one of the best single-season performances by a point guard in program history.”

It seemed an absurd expectation, but then, somehow, he went out and did it—minus the scoring—but with even more playmaking precision than anyone could have predicted. It wasn’t just the best season a point guard has had in program history, it was one of the best seasons a point guard has had in recent college basketball memory.

He led the nation in assists this year with 9.8 per game, finishing with 344 total—31 more than the next closest player, and in one fewer game. It was the fifth-highest single-season assist total in college basketball history. His assist-to-turnover ratio climbed to 4.86, an absurd number given the speed and complexity of Gonzaga’s offense.

His scoring dipped slightly to 10.5 points per game, but the efficiency went up. He shot 44.6% from the field and 40.4% from deep, a massive jump from his junior season. He was more aggressive getting to the rim, added a mid-range floater, drew more fouls off the bounce, and got even sharper as a pick-and-roll initiator.

The highlights spoke for themselves: 19 points and 10 assists against San Diego State in the Battle 4 Atlantis. A career-high 16 assists against USF on March 1. And in the NCAA Tournament, against top-ranked Houston—the best defense in the country—he put up 10 points and 11 assists. Until that game, no player had dropped more than eight assists on Houston all season.

He drove to create. He punished overhelp. He saw passing angles that didn’t exist until he made them real. And while the stat sheet shows the occasional turnover, many came from passes so sharp and perfectly placed that the recipient simply wasn’t ready to catch them. It’s hard to control balls that arrive sooner than physics would seem to allow.

He was like an autopilot setting for one of the fastest and highest scoring offenses in the country. The pace held. The decisions made themselves. Every trip down the floor, the ball found Nembhard—and from there, it usually found the right route to the basket.

Ryan’s Legacy

Ryan Nembhard played like a coach’s son—because he was one. You could see it in the way he moved, the way he communicated, the way he thought the game a half-second faster than everyone else. He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t flashy. But he was always in control.

He was poised in the huddle and poised in front of a microphone. Never too high after a win, never too low after a loss. In postgame interviews, he spoke with the same calm and clarity he brought to the court. He deflected praise, took ownership when things went wrong, and always redirected the conversation back to the team.

That steadiness defined him. No matter the pressure, no matter the opponent, Nembhard was a constant. The kind of player coaches build entire systems around. The kind of player teammates trust without hesitation. The kind of player who doesn’t just run an offense—he anchors it.

In two seasons, he played over 2,000 minutes for Gonzaga. He finished with 587 assists, top-five in program history despite playing just two years. But the numbers only tell part of the story. What made Nembhard special wasn’t just what he did—it was how much better everyone else looked when he was doing it.

He now joins the ranks of Dan Dickau and Nigel Williams-Goss as one of Gonzaga’s most impactful transfer guards. He wasn’t the same kind of scorer as either Dickau or NWG, but as a passer, a floor marshal, and a decision-maker, he was in a league of his own. The Zags will almost certainly never have a passer quite like Ryan Nembhard again.

And yet, outside the Zagosphere, his brilliance often went unnoticed. He wasn’t even named a finalist for the Bob Cousy Award—a baffling omission that only underscores how underrated and underappreciated his game remained on the national stage. Those who watched him nightly knew better. They saw the full picture: the control, the craft, the consistency.

Mark Few is not one for hyperbole. And when he calls Ryan Nembhard “the best point guard in college basketball,” he’s not overselling anything.

Now that he’s gone, Gonzaga’s offense may look a little less automatic—for a time. That’s not a knock on what’s next, but a testament to how uniquely gifted Nembhard was at making everything hum.

Fortunately, the Zags had the foresight to prepare. Braeden Smith, the Colgate transfer and Patriot League Player of the Year, has been redshirting behind Nembhard all season—learning the system, absorbing the details, watching one of the best to ever do it in a Gonzaga uniform. It’s hard to imagine a better apprenticeship. While no one expects a carbon copy, Smith steps into the role with experience, poise, and the benefit of having studied under a master.

Ryan Nembhard set a new bar for Zag fans this season. That’s the kind of legacy that lasts.