COMMENTARY
Clarett’s story a tragic one, but it’s far from unique
Sunday, August 13, 2006
ROB OLLER
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The guy has issues. The guy needs help. Or, for the less politically correct among you, the guy’s elevator doesn’t reach the top floor. Those sentiments regarding Maurice Clarett are saturating office conversations, buddy talk, even church discussions, not primarily out of concern for the former Ohio State running back — although there is some of that — but because it’s hard to ignore something so fraught with psychological fallout.
Part of the interest is that we’re attracted to those things we don’t understand but think we can explain. The other part is that there exists a certain shock value in watching something so satisfying deteriorate into blech, like ice cream falling off the cone onto the ground.
And for a while, Clarett was double-dip chocoholic chunk, as good as it gets.
Though Clarett might turn out to be one of the most tragic stories in Ohio State athletic history, his meltdown is far from being the only stunning example of mental and emotional disruption.
The guy had issues.
The guy needed help.
The guy was Woody Hayes. The guy was Art Schlichter. The guy was Wes Fesler. The guy was Chic Harley.
At their downfalls, those men had OSU fans asking similar questions and making similar psychological evaluations.
The Clarett saga tops the list of OSU athletes or coaches whose potential ran over a tire spike, and the duration of his downward spiral adds to the magnitude of his mess. But for sheer shock value it’s hard to match the "Did-I-just-seewhat-I-think-I-saw?" event that happened on the night of Dec. 29, 1978, when Hayes punched Clem- son middle guard Charlie Bauman during the Buckeyes’ Gator Bowl loss.
Hayes’ reputation as a hottempered coach was wellknown before he swung at Bauman, but watching it live on TV was a jaw-dropper nonetheless.
"No question the most shocking thing was Hayes," OSU football historian Jack Park said. "It took me three days to even acknowledge that it happened."
Comparing Hayes to Clarett will strike some as Buckeye blasphemy, but there are similarities in the aftermath of their disgraceful deeds.
Both embarrassed the university. Both lacked a certain element of self-control, and in hindsight, both were allowed to get away with previous improper behavior that ultimately became their undoing.
Hayes had a history of flying off the handle, even during games, when he once ripped up a sideline yard marker. Had anger-management classes even been available, it’s doubtful OSU would have demanded he attend.
Clarett was somewhat coddled from the moment he arrived on campus, and most certainly from the moment he broke a tackle in elementary school.
The sad story of Schlichter also comes to mind when contemplating Clarett.
Schlichter’s sins were committed mostly against himself — although heavy gambling losses often destroy families, too — but after his compulsive gambling habits became news in 1983, stunned Ohio State fans immediately started the "he’s got issues" talk. Again, the Schlichter slide, resulting in several arrests, including illegal gambling that happened after the quarterback had left OSU, ranks high on the shock-andawe scale.
Going back further, most people probably don’t realize how Fesler’s resignation as coach after the 1950 season surprised OSU players and fans.
"Fesler was very popular, especially with players," Park said. "He led the Buckeyes to their first Rose Bowl victory (1949 season)."
However, stress got the best of Fesler, who insisted upon his departure that he was finished with football, only to show up the next season as coach at Minnesota.
"The pressure of the Ohio State job wasn’t worth it to him," Park said. "I think in 1950 that he was in with the doctors as much as the injured players were."
Finally, there was Harley, the halfback whose popularity helped necessitate the construction of Ohio Stadium. Harley was a bigger name in his day than Troy Smith is today. The three-time All-American led the Buckeyes to their first Big Ten title (1916).
Personal problems, however, turned a promising professional football career into a life spent fighting demons inside his head.
So Clarett’s story is not the first, nor will it be the last, to finish with what would appear to be an unhappy ending. The questions we ask about him have been asked before about others, and will be asked again. Their issues will always remain, even as they fade from our memories.
Rob Oller is a sports reporter for The Dispatch.
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