Mo Dioubate ‘almost died’ trying to pass Mark Pope’s conditioning test

Mouhamed “Mo” Dioubate bent at the waist, hands braced on his knees, sweat dripping onto the Joe Craft Center hardwood as the practice clock resumed its silent countdown. Just moments earlier the 6-foot-7 transfer forward had completed his fourth “17” sprint in 66 seconds, the threshold Mark Pope sets for front-court players in Kentucky’s notorious opening-day conditioning test. Dioubate lifted his head, flashed a tired grin and gasped the line that would echo through Wildcat nation: “I almost died, but I passed.” (on3.com)

For fans unfamiliar with Pope’s rite of passage, a “17” requires racing from sideline to sideline seventeen times—roughly 510 feet—before the horn sounds. Guards get 63 seconds; bigs get 66. Fail once and the rep doesn’t count; fail the set and you return a week later while teammates pummel fresh turf shoes into rubber dust. Dioubate’s first attempt seven days earlier had missed the mark by four agonizing seconds, and Pope, true to form, offered no reprieve. “Nah, you’ve got to do it until you make it,” the coach told him, underscoring a no-exceptions policy he believes will fuel the up-tempo identity of his second Lexington squad. (on3.com, on3.com)

Why the obsession with lungs and legs? Pope spent June preaching a “new focus on conditioning” that he insists is the difference between simply fielding a deep roster and unleashing “waves” of relentless energy that smother opponents before halftime. “Say a prayer for your boys,” he joked on social media the night before the test, a half-serious plea that went viral among Big Blue backers. (on3.com)

Inside the practice gym the next morning, the scene resembled a track meet wedged into a basketball court. Strength staff barked times; teammates knelt to brace cramping quads; Pope paced the baseline with a stopwatch and an impish grin. “We want 110 percent effort every second,” he told reporters, reminding them that last season’s eight top-15 wins came in spite of mid-winter fatigue. “Now we’ve got the legs to press the pedal.” (on3.com)

For Dioubate the gauntlet doubled as an introduction to his new fanbase. The New York native averaged 7.2 points, 5.9 rebounds and a scorching 46 percent from three at Alabama last season, ranking fifth in SEC defensive-rebound rate despite standing three inches shorter than most front-court peers. Pope coveted that toughness and landed him out of the portal in early April, a move that set Twitter ablaze with highlight threads and rebounding analytics. (aseaofblue.com)

Still, numbers on a stat sheet don’t prepare a player for Pope’s stopwatch. During last week’s failed run Dioubate collapsed near mid-court, chest heaving. Teammate Trent Noah helped him to his feet and promised they’d conquer it together. Seven days later, both men sprinted the final down-and-back in stride, collapsing again—but this time in triumph. “Me and Trent passed today,” Dioubate said, “and now I’m going to cheer for the other guys like they cheered for me.” (on3.com)

The shared ordeal seems to have accelerated locker-room chemistry. Pope complements wind sprints with what he calls “speed-dating”: structured off-court sessions where returners and transfers swap life stories and service projects before picking up a basketball. “Getting to know and love each other is massively important,” he explained after practice, noting that his read-and-react offense dies without trust. (on3.com)

Dioubate already feels the bond, particularly on defense, the side of the ball he swears will define this Kentucky edition. “I think this is going to be one of the best defensive teams fans have seen in a while,” he told local media, citing five-star freshman Jayden Quaintance and wing stopper Otega Oweh as pieces that “take pride in defense” the same way he does. (si.com)

Conditioning, then, is the glue between vision and execution. Kentucky’s sports-science staff monitored lactate thresholds and core temperatures throughout the test, logging data that will inform individualized recovery plans. “We’re stressing the energy systems early so the season’s grind feels lighter,” one trainer said privately. The approach mirrors pro franchises that front-load aerobic work in June to protect legs in February.

Not that Pope needs sports science to sell misery. Kentucky lore is dotted with infamous fitness tales—from Rick Pitino’s pre-dawn suicides to John Calipari’s treadmill gauntlet—but few drills weaponize time like Pope’s 17s. Veterans whispered that only Kyle Wiltjer once ran all four reps under 60 seconds. When Dioubate flirted with that territory on his final sprint, practice briefly halted in applause.

The physical toll is matched by mental strain. Mo spent the intervening week visualizing foot strikes and refining breathing rhythm. He also leaned on Kentucky’s mental-performance staff, part of the athletic department’s expanded wellness initiative, to reframe failure as data. “They told me, ‘Your body knows the route now—trust it,’ ” he said afterward. “That’s exactly what I did when everything started to burn.”

Those flames, Dioubate insists, will forge a title contender. He points to the synergy between relentless pace and Pope’s three-heavy offense: shooters spread the floor, rebounders crash, and defenders sprint baseline-to-baseline until opponents wilt. “If we can run a team’s legs off, the shots come easier,” he explained. “Coach says conditioning is our competitive advantage.”

For a fanbase still buzzing from last season’s Sweet 16 appearance—Kentucky’s deepest run since 2019—the sight of newcomers gasping through summer tests offers both drama and hope. Social channels exploded with slow-motion clips of Mo’s final stride, drawing comments that ranged from “Pope’s Army” memes to fears of over-training. Pope brushed off the latter. “It’s controlled suffering,” he quipped. “They’ll thank me in March.”

Dioubate already does. The forward credits Pope’s unforgiving standard for reigniting his childhood dream of NBA stardom. “I came here to be pushed beyond my comfort zone,” he said. “If a conditioning test almost kills me today, guarding future lottery picks in the SEC won’t feel so bad.”

As the sun set over Lexington, Mo returned to the weight room for a cooldown stretch, headphones pumping Afrobeats that reminded him of family roots in Guinea. When asked whether he’d run 17s voluntarily tomorrow, he laughed. “Absolutely not—unless Coach asks. Then I’m there.”

Across campus, Big Blue Nation toasted the newcomer who nearly expired but ultimately conquered Kentucky’s baptism by oxygen debt. In the grand theater of college hoops, such off-season tales rarely make the season’s box scores. Yet inside locker rooms they become currency—proof of commitment, excuses burned on baseline paint.

So when Rupp Arena lights ignite this winter and Dioubate dives for a loose ball in the 38th minute, fans may trace that effort back to an airless June morning, a merciless stopwatch and a promise kept: almost dying was just the beginning.