The strangest thing in college basketball happened on Tuesday.

London Johnson, who has spent the past three seasons in the NBA’s G League, has decided he doesn’t want to play professionally anymore. Instead, he’s giving up his salary to commit to Louisville and return to college basketball.

Essentially, a professional player is now going back to play against 18-year-olds — and that says a lot.

For Johnson, maybe it’s a strategic move. Maybe he feels his best shot at making the NBA is by dominating younger competition rather than grinding against pros fighting for a roster spot. That speaks volumes about both his mindset and the G League’s environment. But this isn’t a bash-Johnson article, even if it might sound like one.

Tom Izzo had some thoughts on the ordeal:

“I am going to get myself in trouble, but I listen to people talk about how kids changed. Kids aren't the problem, we're the problem. This was sprung on us again yesterday where a guy can be in the G League for two or three years and then all of a sudden, he's eligible. Most of my people knew nothing about it. ... I'm not real excited about the NCAA or whoever is making these decisions, without talking to us, just letting it go. They're afraid they're going to get sued.”

Izzo was clearly frustrated after Tuesday’s practice, even though his Spartans continue to look sharp ahead of their season opener in 12 days against Colgate.

“If there’s a silver lining, I’ll be calling Magic tonight,” Izzo joked — implying that if paid players can come back, he might as well bring back the all-time greats too.

The NCAA continues to struggle with defining what “professional” really means in college sports. Johnson isn’t even the first case — Thierry Darlan also left the G League for college, committing to Santa Clara after struggling to find footing professionally. Darlan’s situation is slightly different since he came from NBA Academy Africa, but the trend is the same: players stepping backward into college ball after the pros don’t pan out.

To me, London Johnson reads like Jamal Jeffries in Juwanna Man. Only instead of pretending to be in the WNBA, he’s grabbing a backpack and heading back to campus after realizing the real world isn’t so easy.

Now, I’m all for second chances — plenty of people skip college for the workforce and return later to learn, grow, or reinvent themselves. We wouldn’t have Back to School (1986) with Rodney Dangerfield without that premise.

But this still feels like a cop-out. Like Izzo, I’m frustrated. The NCAA has lost its sense of consistency — between NIL chaos, transfer rules, and now this, there’s little structure left. Yet, this is the world of modern college sports: if we want to keep watching, we have to live with it.