AkronBuckeye
Banned
OSU fans turn blind eye to Tressel's troubles.....
Published January 14, 2005
Mike Bianchi, Orlando Sentinel .....
It doesn't matter that his program is perceived as one of the dirtiest in college football. About 100 members of the local Ohio State booster club still raucously cheered Buckeyes Coach Jim Tressel the other day at the Citrus Bowl as he approached them after putting his North squad through practice for Saturday's Villages Gridiron Classic.
They sat and laughed at every joke Tressel told, stood in line for his autograph, waited to have their picture taken with him. What's a few possible NCAA violations when you've brought a football-fanatical school its first national title in more than three decades?
"Doesn't matter where you are, there's always a bunch of Buckeye fans," said Maurice Hall, a tailback from Ohio State who's on the North team. "Our fans are the best. They love us."
As Maurice Clarett has shown us, sometimes Ohio State boosters love their team too much. Way too much.
Predictably, Ohio State's administration at first tried to paint Clarett as a lying malcontent after he told ESPN the Magazine that he and others had received free cash, cars and grades at OSU. Athletic Director Andy Geiger even went so far as to call Clarett and other former players who corroborated the story "colossal failures."
A few weeks later -- after Ohio State suspended starting quarterback Troy Smith from the Alamo Bowl for taking cash from a booster -- Geiger looked like a colossal idiot, and Clarett looked like a prophet. Geiger since has announced his retirement and will leave behind a program that seems bound for the NCAA jailhouse.
But what about Tressel? Why is he still working? The booster who gave money to Smith is an acquaintance of Tressel's and once played football for Tressel's father. One of the free loaner cars Clarett alleges to have received was given to him by Tressel's car dealer.
Tressel is so slick, you almost believe him when he explains the reason he set up a meeting between Clarett and the car dealer. It wasn't to break the rules; it was to keep from breaking the rules.
"I knew the person I was sending Maurice to would know the rules," Tressel says. "The last thing you want is for your players to go somewhere where they might get preferential treatment."
Uh-huh.
Tressel isn't just a great coach; he's a great salesman. When he came to Ohio State from Division I-AA Youngstown State (where -- surprise, surprise -- charges since have surfaced about boosters paying players on Tressel's watch), Tressel sold himself as a disciplinarian who would clean up the sullied program left behind by former coach John Cooper.
Looking like Mister Rogers in his sweater vest and boyish haircut, Tressel required his players to stay on the field and sing "Carmen Ohio" -- the school alma mater -- after every game. He said his players would make Ohio State proud "on and off the field."
Uh-huh.
In Tressel's four years, 15 players have been arrested, and there is strong evidence boosters paid his players, tutors wrote papers for his players and instructors fixed grades for his players. Congratulations, Buckeyes; you have completed the transgressional hat trick.
A coach can't know everything a player does off the field, but is it too much to ask for a coach to know something?
Then again, it doesn't matter to the fans. Not when Tressel has delivered them a national title and is 3-1 against Michigan.
"We love you, Coach," one booster called out as Tressel left the Citrus Bowl the other day.
Love is blind.
Almost as blind as coaches who close their eyes to the corruption around them.
[email protected].
Copyright © 2005, Orlando Sentinel |
Published January 14, 2005
Mike Bianchi, Orlando Sentinel .....
It doesn't matter that his program is perceived as one of the dirtiest in college football. About 100 members of the local Ohio State booster club still raucously cheered Buckeyes Coach Jim Tressel the other day at the Citrus Bowl as he approached them after putting his North squad through practice for Saturday's Villages Gridiron Classic.
They sat and laughed at every joke Tressel told, stood in line for his autograph, waited to have their picture taken with him. What's a few possible NCAA violations when you've brought a football-fanatical school its first national title in more than three decades?
"Doesn't matter where you are, there's always a bunch of Buckeye fans," said Maurice Hall, a tailback from Ohio State who's on the North team. "Our fans are the best. They love us."
As Maurice Clarett has shown us, sometimes Ohio State boosters love their team too much. Way too much.
Predictably, Ohio State's administration at first tried to paint Clarett as a lying malcontent after he told ESPN the Magazine that he and others had received free cash, cars and grades at OSU. Athletic Director Andy Geiger even went so far as to call Clarett and other former players who corroborated the story "colossal failures."
A few weeks later -- after Ohio State suspended starting quarterback Troy Smith from the Alamo Bowl for taking cash from a booster -- Geiger looked like a colossal idiot, and Clarett looked like a prophet. Geiger since has announced his retirement and will leave behind a program that seems bound for the NCAA jailhouse.
But what about Tressel? Why is he still working? The booster who gave money to Smith is an acquaintance of Tressel's and once played football for Tressel's father. One of the free loaner cars Clarett alleges to have received was given to him by Tressel's car dealer.
Tressel is so slick, you almost believe him when he explains the reason he set up a meeting between Clarett and the car dealer. It wasn't to break the rules; it was to keep from breaking the rules.
"I knew the person I was sending Maurice to would know the rules," Tressel says. "The last thing you want is for your players to go somewhere where they might get preferential treatment."
Uh-huh.
Tressel isn't just a great coach; he's a great salesman. When he came to Ohio State from Division I-AA Youngstown State (where -- surprise, surprise -- charges since have surfaced about boosters paying players on Tressel's watch), Tressel sold himself as a disciplinarian who would clean up the sullied program left behind by former coach John Cooper.
Looking like Mister Rogers in his sweater vest and boyish haircut, Tressel required his players to stay on the field and sing "Carmen Ohio" -- the school alma mater -- after every game. He said his players would make Ohio State proud "on and off the field."
Uh-huh.
In Tressel's four years, 15 players have been arrested, and there is strong evidence boosters paid his players, tutors wrote papers for his players and instructors fixed grades for his players. Congratulations, Buckeyes; you have completed the transgressional hat trick.
A coach can't know everything a player does off the field, but is it too much to ask for a coach to know something?
Then again, it doesn't matter to the fans. Not when Tressel has delivered them a national title and is 3-1 against Michigan.
"We love you, Coach," one booster called out as Tressel left the Citrus Bowl the other day.
Love is blind.
Almost as blind as coaches who close their eyes to the corruption around them.
[email protected].
Copyright © 2005, Orlando Sentinel |