Great WSJ writeup on Michigan story

[radbag]

Inside a College-Football Tragicomedy
Thoughts on the Stormy Tenure of Michigan Coach Rich Rodriguez From a Writer Who Was There

By JOHN U. BACON

For the past three years I have been granted unfettered access to the Michigan football program, from the meeting room to the locker room, to write a book about what I've seen. I thought I knew college football, and particularly Michigan football, as well as anyone. But after three years of seeing everything up close, I can tell you this unequivocally: I had no idea.

If the tenure of Michigan coach Rich Rodriguez, who was fired Wednesday, looked chaotic to outsiders, it appeared positively crazy from the inside.

When Michigan's 63-year-old head coach, Lloyd Carr, announced his retirement in 2007 after 13 seasons, athletic director Bill Martin seemed genuinely surprised. At the outset of a monthlong search for his successor, ESPN reported what just about everyone suspected: former U-M player and assistant Les Miles, who was about to lead Louisiana State to a national title, would succeed Mr. Carr.

But contrary to popular belief and published reports, Michigan never tried to contact Mr. Miles, and his calls to Ann Arbor went unreturned. (Mr. Martin, who's now chairman of Bank of Ann Arbor, said Wednesday that he had been traveling in search of a coach.) Mr. Martin instead offered the position to Rutgers' Greg Schiano, who turned Michigan down.

Just a few weeks earlier, Rich Rodriguez, who popularized the spread offense that most colleges now use, led West Virginia to the cusp of the national-title game. When Mr. Rodriguez asked his bosses for higher salaries for his assistants, he was surprised to hear them say, take it or leave it. (A West Virginia athletics spokesman declined to comment.)

When Michigan came calling, Mr. Rodriguez—who had turned down Alabama the year before—was willing to listen. In December 2007, Mr. Rodriguez became only the fourth outsider in more than a century to coach the Wolverines.

Just a week into his tenure, West Virginia sued Mr. Rodriguez for full payment of his $4 million buyout. He and U-M ultimately paid it. The next year, a front-page article in the Detroit Free Press alleged, among other things, that Mr. Rodriguez's players spent more than 40 hours a week on football, more than twice the NCAA limit. The NCAA concluded 14 months later that U-M had exceeded the limit by about 20 minutes and that the violations were "relatively technical." Still, the charges had become national news.

None of the off-field ordeals would have mattered so much if the Wolverines were winning. But Mr. Rodriguez's first team, with one returning offensive starter, stumbled its way to a 3-9 finish, breaking the program's 41-year streak of winning seasons and 33-year run of bowl games. The Wolverines improved to 5-7 his second year, and 7-5 this past season, behind quarterback Denard Robinson, the Big Ten Player of the Year. But the defense went the other direction, causing the Wolverines to end the season with three straight blowouts, the last by Mississippi State in the Gator Bowl, 52-14.

Wednesday, after the third year of Mr. Rodriguez's six-year contract, new athletic director Dave Brandon fired him.

Looking at Michigan's past three seasons, it's not hard to divine dozens of management lessons. But none of them would resolve college football's central conflict: It's a billion-dollar business with revenue that can fund entire athletic departments and passions that can fuel endowment drives, but it's all built on the backs of stressed-out coaches and amateur athletes.

College athletic departments now resemble modern racehorses: They're bigger, faster and more powerful than ever, but still supported by the same spindly legs that break with increasing frequency. Michigan's $226 million renovation of its stadium—already the largest in the country, and twice as big as many NFL stadiums—the spiraling salaries (Mr. Rodriguez makes $2.5 million, which is the market rate) and the seemingly endless need to build new facilities for its 26 other varsity programs all depend on selling football tickets, seat licenses, luxury suites and TV rights. And all that still depends on the arm of a 20-year-old quarterback, or the foot a 19-year-old kicker.

From the inside, I discovered how complicated the game had become, requiring coaches to work 100-hour weeks recruiting, practicing and watching endless hours of film—only to see that 19-year-old kid miss the kick. When that happens, the head coach can expect to get thousands of nasty emails and very little sleep.

The coaches have to ask their players to work almost as hard-not just on the field but in the weight room and the classroom. I followed Mr. Robinson for one day, which started at 7 a.m. with treatment for his swollen knee, followed by weightlifting, classes, an interview with ESPN Radio, more treatment, meetings, practice, a third round of treatment, dinner and study table. When he walked out of the academic center at 10 p.m., two adults who had been waiting all night for him in the parking lot approached him to sign a dozen glossy photos. I went home exhausted—and I hadn't done anything more than take notes.

Working out with strength coaches was far tougher. In six weeks, they doubled my bench press and tripled my squat, but after each workout I collapsed on my couch—not to nap but to whimper in the fetal position.

How those players got any school work done was a mystery—and thanks to Michigan's self-imposed penalties, the Wolverines actually worked fewer hours than the NCAA allowed. It's not against the rules—that's the real story there—it's just a very hard life.

If Mr. Robinson—or any of the 124 other players—does any of these things poorly, or not at all, that's the head coach's problem. And if any of those failures hit the papers, the talk shows or the blogs, it's an even bigger headache.

This beast we have created may be bigger and stronger, but the coach's job security still rests on kids who weigh 300 pounds and squat twice that, but still can't grow a respectable mustache.

As for any aspiring big-time college coaches out there, just remember: Be careful what you wish for.

—John U. Bacon is the author of "Bo's Lasting Lessons" and "Third and Long: Three Seasons with Rich Rodriguez and the Michigan Wolverines," which is due out this fall.

[G8rMom7]

Thus why I will never understand why Weis took the UF OC job.

[DocZaius]

I remember when Spurrier came to UF, he said that he wouldn't work harder than the other coaches, because all the big-time coaches put up long hours. Rather, his goal was to work smarter (which I think he did).

[Toothy]

First: the national title game has no "cusp." That is awful.

[Toothy]

Second: oh, very well, we'll feel bad for the poor beleaguered coach who has to lift the entire Michigan football world on his shoulders.

Boo fucking hoo, Rich Rodriguez.

You know who actually did that pretty well? A guy named Lloyd Carr. Or the coaches at universities around the country. Many making less than you did a far better job at actually not sucking the place up.

Out of the state on a rail.