Armani in The Paint

Pat Riley in Armani. Photo Gentlemans Journal

Pat Riley didn’t just coach basketball—he auditioned for The Godfather IV every night. Hair slicked back with enough product to waterproof a yacht, Armani suit draped like it came straight off Via Montenapoleone, he made the NBA sidelines look like Milan Fashion Week with a basketball soundtrack, much of it courtesy of Giorgio Armani.

While other coaches shuffled around in wrinkled khakis and polo shirts, Riley stalked the hardwood like a CEO who owned both the team and the bank. Armani’s soft jackets and flowing trousers gave him that mafia-meets-Wall Street silhouette—part consigliere, part closer. Players had sweatbands; Riley had lapels. Guess which made the bigger statement.

And it worked. Armani wasn’t just fabric—it was strategy. His suits told everyone in the building, “I’m in charge, and I look better doing it than you ever will.” It was psychological warfare with Italian tailoring.

Today’s tunnel-walk hypebeasts owe him royalties. Riley was the original courtside style killer. Armani just gave him the armor. Grazie Giorgio. Sei il re.