3yardsandacloud
Administrator Emeritus
He said ... they said - 11/9/04
HE SAID (Quotes From the original ESPN Articles):
Maurice Clarett
Too numerous to list. Please read the ESPN articles, as all his quotes originate from there.
Richard McNutt
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
But Cooper's account differs from that of Richard McNutt, a cornerback who worked on another landscaping crew. McNutt says he did anything his crew manager asked. "I can only speak for myself. All I know is I worked." (After an ankle injury ended his career, McNutt became a student-assistant for head coach Jim Tressel; he now coaches the secondary at D3 Washington & Jefferson in Pennsylvania.)
Rafael & Sam Maldonado
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919255
On a fall Friday morning, Buckeyes coach John Cooper sat down with Sammy's family in their living room. Rafael Maldonado, a street-tough native of Puerto Rico who'd gone from washing cars to owning a chunk of 55 New York City parking garages, didn't pull any punches. "You're getting a very good football player," he said. "But you're also getting a pain in the ass."
Despite a solid spring and summer that got him up to No. 2 on the depth chart before that next season, Maldonado was on the sideline when August camp opened. He was asked only to participate in sprints at the end of practice, while Wells, now the starter, and freshman Lydell Ross, one of Tressel's first recruits, shared the running back duties. "I didn't know what I'd done wrong," Maldonado says. "I think Tressel wanted the guys he recruited, not the players who were already there."
Sammy's mother, Nereyda, came to campus in September and videotaped two weeks of her son standing with his arms crossed during all the drills. Then Rafael flew to Columbus for a face-to-face with the coaches. He says when he asked Tressel why his boy wasn't playing, the coach told him Sammy made too many mistakes in practice. Pressed again, Tressel insisted the kid sat because of blunders.
"You're a liar," Rafael shot back. "I've seen two weeks of tape, and Sammy hasn't even put on his helmet."
The Maldonados say that Tressel looked stunned when running backs coach Tim Spencer (now with the Chicago Bears) confirmed that Nereyda had attended practice, and they add that the head coach quickly shuffled them out of his office. Sammy barely spoke with the staff the rest of the season; he finished with 39 carries for 168 yards. "I was just some body," he says, "basically a walk-on." (Ohio State has declined to discuss anything about Maldonado.)
IN SIX academic quarters at Ohio State, Maldonado had earned a decent number of credits (his 57 were the equivalent of about 40 at a semester school). He compiled a 2.3 GPA and had never lost his eligibility. But his coursework included four credits for playing football, three for Tressel's Coaching Football class, 10 for remedial reading, 10 for remedial math and three for Issues Affecting Student Athletes. Six other credits wouldn't transfer because he earned D's in two classes. Maldonado couldn't understand how he had earned only 17 transferable credits in two years. Even today the number pinballs around his head. "What kind of degree can you get from Ohio State if none of your classes count at other colleges?" he asks.
Not much of one, according to The Drake Group, an NCAA watchdog. Members of the organization refer to schools like Ohio State as "football factories" that offer soft courses designed to keep players on the field. "The purpose isn't to educate and graduate," says Drake Group associate director David Ridpath. "They're eligibility mills."
Maldonado figured that Friedgen wouldn't even offer a spot once the coach got wind of his transcript. The player needed to crunch the equivalent of 43 semester credits into one year just to become eligible at Maryland. He underestimated Friedgen, but just barely.
The coach told Sammy he had to get B's in six credits of summer coursework. If he was late, or missed one class or a study hall, there would be no scholarship. Assistant coach Dave Sollazzo, another Harrison native, repositioned his desk to overlook the steps outside Byrd Stadium. Every morning at 7, Maldonado climbed down the 50 steps from the street above, gave a tired wave, then wobbled over to study hall. Sammy got his B's-and his scholarship.
Friedgen was impressed. He had seen his share of transfers over the years, but none with such a barren transcript. "It wasn't his fault," the coach says. "They had him in a bunch of classes that he shouldn't have been in."
Maldonado says the curriculum was not his idea. "Over there, they just put you in classes," he says. "I let them take care of my schedule.
I wish I wouldn't have."
Marco Cooper & Curtis Crosby
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
Marco Cooper, a linebacker suspended after two drug-possession arrests, says he enjoyed perks described by Clarett. When Cooper needed wheels, he says he went to a local Dodge dealer, got keys to a car and was allowed to return it whenever. Cooper never paid or signed papers. "There's no records for that stuff," he says. "There can't be." Just as there are no records for signed helmets and balls he says players use as currency around town for cars and clothing. "It starts at the No. 1 locker and goes all the way around the room," he continues. "You don't even know who you're signing for."
Cooper says a teammate once came home with a friend and some furniture for their apartment. The friend, an OSU student, was the son of a prominent booster. "He gave us furniture all the time," Cooper says. "At least $2,000 worth of nice tables and couches."
In an interview last December, Curtis Crosby, an ex-Buckeye cornerback from Columbus, said he and other players accepted the same friend's generosity. He claimed that five to 10 teammates would go out to eat, none of them seeing the tabs for meals that cost hundreds of dollars. Several former players say there are benefits to playing for OSU and coach Jim Tressel. Like Clarett, Cooper says he worked a no-show landscaping job set up through the football staff and would come and go as he pleased. He says he was paid $10 to $12 an hour and always put down in for 30 hours. "I never worked 30 hours." He adds that he received at least $2,600 in cash and never filed paperwork or went through the compliance office. He knows at least eight teammates who did the same. Crosby also says he worked bogus jobs.
Chris Vance
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
Chris Vance, a star wideout in 2001-02, also denies seeing any improper benefits but says he believes Clarett. "I don't think he's lying. If he feels it's right to speak out, then I'm behind him 100%."
LeAndre Boone
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
In two years at OSU, LeAndre Boone says he took whatever courses his athletic adviser suggested: "He'd say, 'Take this class; this professor loves football players.'" After two years Boone left for D1-AA Hampton, where he could play right away. But he went from academic junior at Ohio State to barely a sophmore at Hampton. After playing one game he was found to have a career-ending heart condition, and he's since moved with his wife and two daughters to the one place he knew he could get a degree: Ohio State.
Fred Sturrup
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
Despite acing courses like Officiating Softball and Power Volleyball, Fred Sturrup (in car, left) became academically ineligible for 2001 and lost his scholarship. He thought about leaving and met with Youngstown State coaches, but after hearing transcript horror stories from teammates, he asked for a chance to stay. To get through spring ball while he got his grades in order, he unloaded furniture for $7.50 an hour. He'd ask teammates for quarters to make phone calls, then spend them once a day on Wendy's 99-cent menu. For four months he lived in his 1971 Cadillac. If Sturrup made a mistake, he says, coaches ran him until he was exhausted.
"I thought they were going to kill him," Crosby says.
Sturrup has given up on being a Buckeye, but not on his education. He hopes to graduate from Ohio State this spring. "They stuck their foot in my ass," he says. "But I'm not letting them stop me from getting my degree."
HE SAID (Quotes From the original ESPN Articles):
Maurice Clarett
Too numerous to list. Please read the ESPN articles, as all his quotes originate from there.
Richard McNutt
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
But Cooper's account differs from that of Richard McNutt, a cornerback who worked on another landscaping crew. McNutt says he did anything his crew manager asked. "I can only speak for myself. All I know is I worked." (After an ankle injury ended his career, McNutt became a student-assistant for head coach Jim Tressel; he now coaches the secondary at D3 Washington & Jefferson in Pennsylvania.)
Rafael & Sam Maldonado
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919255
On a fall Friday morning, Buckeyes coach John Cooper sat down with Sammy's family in their living room. Rafael Maldonado, a street-tough native of Puerto Rico who'd gone from washing cars to owning a chunk of 55 New York City parking garages, didn't pull any punches. "You're getting a very good football player," he said. "But you're also getting a pain in the ass."
Despite a solid spring and summer that got him up to No. 2 on the depth chart before that next season, Maldonado was on the sideline when August camp opened. He was asked only to participate in sprints at the end of practice, while Wells, now the starter, and freshman Lydell Ross, one of Tressel's first recruits, shared the running back duties. "I didn't know what I'd done wrong," Maldonado says. "I think Tressel wanted the guys he recruited, not the players who were already there."
Sammy's mother, Nereyda, came to campus in September and videotaped two weeks of her son standing with his arms crossed during all the drills. Then Rafael flew to Columbus for a face-to-face with the coaches. He says when he asked Tressel why his boy wasn't playing, the coach told him Sammy made too many mistakes in practice. Pressed again, Tressel insisted the kid sat because of blunders.
"You're a liar," Rafael shot back. "I've seen two weeks of tape, and Sammy hasn't even put on his helmet."
The Maldonados say that Tressel looked stunned when running backs coach Tim Spencer (now with the Chicago Bears) confirmed that Nereyda had attended practice, and they add that the head coach quickly shuffled them out of his office. Sammy barely spoke with the staff the rest of the season; he finished with 39 carries for 168 yards. "I was just some body," he says, "basically a walk-on." (Ohio State has declined to discuss anything about Maldonado.)
IN SIX academic quarters at Ohio State, Maldonado had earned a decent number of credits (his 57 were the equivalent of about 40 at a semester school). He compiled a 2.3 GPA and had never lost his eligibility. But his coursework included four credits for playing football, three for Tressel's Coaching Football class, 10 for remedial reading, 10 for remedial math and three for Issues Affecting Student Athletes. Six other credits wouldn't transfer because he earned D's in two classes. Maldonado couldn't understand how he had earned only 17 transferable credits in two years. Even today the number pinballs around his head. "What kind of degree can you get from Ohio State if none of your classes count at other colleges?" he asks.
Not much of one, according to The Drake Group, an NCAA watchdog. Members of the organization refer to schools like Ohio State as "football factories" that offer soft courses designed to keep players on the field. "The purpose isn't to educate and graduate," says Drake Group associate director David Ridpath. "They're eligibility mills."
Maldonado figured that Friedgen wouldn't even offer a spot once the coach got wind of his transcript. The player needed to crunch the equivalent of 43 semester credits into one year just to become eligible at Maryland. He underestimated Friedgen, but just barely.
The coach told Sammy he had to get B's in six credits of summer coursework. If he was late, or missed one class or a study hall, there would be no scholarship. Assistant coach Dave Sollazzo, another Harrison native, repositioned his desk to overlook the steps outside Byrd Stadium. Every morning at 7, Maldonado climbed down the 50 steps from the street above, gave a tired wave, then wobbled over to study hall. Sammy got his B's-and his scholarship.
Friedgen was impressed. He had seen his share of transfers over the years, but none with such a barren transcript. "It wasn't his fault," the coach says. "They had him in a bunch of classes that he shouldn't have been in."
Maldonado says the curriculum was not his idea. "Over there, they just put you in classes," he says. "I let them take care of my schedule.
I wish I wouldn't have."
Marco Cooper & Curtis Crosby
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
Marco Cooper, a linebacker suspended after two drug-possession arrests, says he enjoyed perks described by Clarett. When Cooper needed wheels, he says he went to a local Dodge dealer, got keys to a car and was allowed to return it whenever. Cooper never paid or signed papers. "There's no records for that stuff," he says. "There can't be." Just as there are no records for signed helmets and balls he says players use as currency around town for cars and clothing. "It starts at the No. 1 locker and goes all the way around the room," he continues. "You don't even know who you're signing for."
Cooper says a teammate once came home with a friend and some furniture for their apartment. The friend, an OSU student, was the son of a prominent booster. "He gave us furniture all the time," Cooper says. "At least $2,000 worth of nice tables and couches."
In an interview last December, Curtis Crosby, an ex-Buckeye cornerback from Columbus, said he and other players accepted the same friend's generosity. He claimed that five to 10 teammates would go out to eat, none of them seeing the tabs for meals that cost hundreds of dollars. Several former players say there are benefits to playing for OSU and coach Jim Tressel. Like Clarett, Cooper says he worked a no-show landscaping job set up through the football staff and would come and go as he pleased. He says he was paid $10 to $12 an hour and always put down in for 30 hours. "I never worked 30 hours." He adds that he received at least $2,600 in cash and never filed paperwork or went through the compliance office. He knows at least eight teammates who did the same. Crosby also says he worked bogus jobs.
Chris Vance
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
Chris Vance, a star wideout in 2001-02, also denies seeing any improper benefits but says he believes Clarett. "I don't think he's lying. If he feels it's right to speak out, then I'm behind him 100%."
LeAndre Boone
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
In two years at OSU, LeAndre Boone says he took whatever courses his athletic adviser suggested: "He'd say, 'Take this class; this professor loves football players.'" After two years Boone left for D1-AA Hampton, where he could play right away. But he went from academic junior at Ohio State to barely a sophmore at Hampton. After playing one game he was found to have a career-ending heart condition, and he's since moved with his wife and two daughters to the one place he knew he could get a degree: Ohio State.
Fred Sturrup
http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/news/story?id=1919258
Despite acing courses like Officiating Softball and Power Volleyball, Fred Sturrup (in car, left) became academically ineligible for 2001 and lost his scholarship. He thought about leaving and met with Youngstown State coaches, but after hearing transcript horror stories from teammates, he asked for a chance to stay. To get through spring ball while he got his grades in order, he unloaded furniture for $7.50 an hour. He'd ask teammates for quarters to make phone calls, then spend them once a day on Wendy's 99-cent menu. For four months he lived in his 1971 Cadillac. If Sturrup made a mistake, he says, coaches ran him until he was exhausted.
"I thought they were going to kill him," Crosby says.
Sturrup has given up on being a Buckeye, but not on his education. He hopes to graduate from Ohio State this spring. "They stuck their foot in my ass," he says. "But I'm not letting them stop me from getting my degree."
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