This was in some guy's (Andrew Adams, no idea who he is within the UT universe) FB page and managed to come across my feed, FWIW...
On this day I'll be honest- I'm really pissed off. The university I claim as my own and love very much did something expected and inevitable. But it breaks my heart. I knew it was coming. But it still angers me. Because it didn't have to be this way. And the best way to express my feelings on it is to look through the lens at another player and era of Texas Football.
And who might that be? Though I know this will sound like high heresy- I have to mention someone that I think embodies a lot of the issues still plaguing the university: Vince Young.
I've met and spent several hours with Vince Young a solid handful of times over the past decade. Obviously my experience is only my own, but I feel like I've got a pretty solid handle on the guy. Though a collegiate phenom and hometown hero- he's also probably the dumbest person I've ever met and seems to lack many basic skills for being an adult. He can barely speak communicable sentences and can't carry on a conversation. He's fat and lazy, and his fat and laziness essentially got him washed out of the NFL. He blew through all his pro career money- millions of dollars- on perplexingly trashy choices, running up huge tabs at places like TGIFridays and the Cheesecake Factory.
On every single occasion I've ever been around the man- a luncheon, a golf course, campus, a party, downtown, even his own charity event- I've watched him eat and drink until drunk, dismiss people he saw as inferior or not famous or rich enough, and be fawned over by UT boosters and adoring nostalgia wishers around every turn of the state. I've watched him get in his car, blackout drunk, and nobody stop him or dare say a word to caution him against driving off. (He would later get and then be wink wink dismissed of DWI) And that's not just to attack his character, I promise. Because Vince Young isn't a bad guy. He seems to be genuinely kind-hearted.
But he's a guy who never grew up. Who never seemed to have structure or leadership or, yes, a father figure to guide and help him become a functioning adult. Instead he's resigned to be stuck in a perpetual man-child phase. And it'd be comical if it weren't so damn pathetic and sad. But it's also more than that.
Probably my best memory of Young, which I've joked about a few times- is SXSW a few years ago. I was dressed up, about to enter a party off 5th street during the height of festivities, when a big Escalade pulled up in front of the building and out stepped Vince himself, in pajama pants and flip-flops. Already inebriated, he demanded to be let into the party by both security and the building owner, who politely declined. Frustrated, he stormed off before noticing me and a friend walking in through a separate entrance.
He rushed over in his pjs and motioned for me to get him into the party in the cobbled, entitled, plainspoken verbiage I already anticipated. I nodded and through a side entrance we walked into a back section of the party, me and Vince Young. Before I could even say a word to him, he pushed past me into the mix of things, demanding a waiter bring food to him. When one arrived with an appetizer tray Vince took the whole platter from them, several beers from the bar, and walked over to a VIP couch some kids and wife of one of the musical acts was using behind a rope. He barked at them to get up, with the expected "I'm Vince Young", laid down sprawled out on the couch drinking beer, and sat the platter of appetizers on his belly, sliding them into his mouth in his horizontal fashion. He didn't care about the show or party. He never even got up. It was just about being able to get in, get free food, and free drinks because 'he was Vince Young'. I literally watched, again, this large, lost 30-something man drink himself drunk and fall asleep on that couch in public, the platter of food still resting on his stomach.
Again, I'd laugh. I'd find it sort of endearingly silly, were it not so expected. I'd consider it comical, were it not so sad and pathetic.
But this was and is a man that, to me, is indicative of what's wrong with Texas Football. What's wrong with the University. And what has been and continues to be right with Charlie Strong.
Vince Young ultimately failed after UT because he was failed at and by UT. He was coddled by rich donors and boosters and allowed to do whatever he pleased. His basic life skills and manners and general personal accountability were glossed over in favor of his gridiron heroics by his administrators. His many flaws and other needs ignored because they could be. Because it was easy. Because it didn't matter to winning, so who cares? The things I've seen in the man countless times and those around him- the delusional elitism and superiority complex, the sense of entitlement, the general uncouth trashiness and classlessness, his consistent financial problems, the binge-purge, greed-and-excess lifestyle, communication, and decision-making, and the skyrocketing expectation of what is deserved, not earned- they're just reflections of UT in all of its corrupt, bungled, poorly-organized, weak-willed, perverse glory.
For all his talents on the field, Vince was never given the one thing he desperately, desperately needed- the thing so many students and athletes and young people all over the country need- a smart, supportive, guiding voice to help them better understand and grow as individuals. A person to validate their efforts and help them tackle their own personal demons. A person of integrity and character.
And I look at this all and I wonder. Where would a guy like Vince Young be with a coach like Charlie Strong? Long-term, after the confetti of the Rose Bowl had already fallen and the cheers of 2005 had long echoed out? I wouldn't presuppose the fantasy outcome, but the thought lingers all-the-same.
Where would the university be, long-term, with a leader like Charlie Strong at the helm, unencumbered by condescending second-guesses and snarky posturing by geriatric billionaires with petty grievances and thirsts for power? (Remember down to his dying breath nothing was ever enough for Joe Jamail, who consistently tried to undermine and demean Strong)
And that came down to control and outlook. The glory of the game versus the reality of the people playing it. Strong believes in guiding young men first, winning football games second. And it shows. Sure, it shows in our losses. And yes, many of them have been inexcusable. They're an embarrassment.
But I'll take that embarrassment with the pride I have for the loyalty and accountability and unity of a team of young men who desperately are trying to rise above expectation and be model citizens and students- not just for Strong, but for themselves. And it shows in that, too.
It's a miraculous thing Strong has done in many respects, and it will always remain something I greatly admire. It's something he did with absolute humility and integrity. Even in his lowest lows and worst moments, Strong never blamed his players. He blamed himself. He never made excuses. He made adjustments for the future.
College football in the state of Texas is an absolute dumpster fire. It takes a lot to say that, but it is.
It's a cesspool of drugs and rape culture and corruption and shame and ignorance and racism and sexism and elitism at the highest levels that permeates seemingly every program and every corner of what should be a great state and a great game. And it's shameful the way we treat it as Texans, it really is. It's a huge problem we all seemingly never want to talk about.
We take the glory and the big wins and bigger stadiums and larger than life players and stats and sweep the rest all under the rug to be dealt with at a later time. We put people and players and programs on pedestals and forget about the rest. And it creates a crisis of conscience I think we all have a really difficult time contending with. I know I have. And I'm ashamed by it, I really am.
Maybe it hasn't always been like this. But here we are. TCU. SMU. Tech. A&M. Baylor. Texas. Seemingly no school or program is without scandal. Lies. Cheats. Corruption. Greed. Ego. Pride. Sexual assault. Opulence that comes crashing down. Embarrassments and abundances of shame. Decisions that are made and retracted and second-guessed by all sides of leadership. Student athletes that burn bright and then collapse or fade out quickly. It's a mess. An abhorrent, disgusting, often amoral mess. And it's uncomfortable to confront and acknowledge. But it's there and we have to eventually bite the bullet and do something about it. Someone's got to take responsibility and change the script, even if it's painful. Even if it doesn't yield wins. Even if it takes more time than we're given.
Charlie Strong did just that.
He gave his players and my school his everything. And he did it without any delusions of grandeur or ego for himself. He instilled core values. He said, outright, to treat women with respect. He made it a cornerstone of his public approach. He made me proud. He made our school and our program something to be proud of.
He aspired to higher levels of decency and compassion than any of his contemporaries or coaching peers dared to. He was structured. He was disciplined. He worked hard. He listened. He treated his athletes with respect and taught them, in turn, to treat others with respect. He cut players who didn't follow these rules, unflinchingly, and fostered others ready and willing to learn. He understood. He fought. He never ever gave up on his values.
Strong's players are intensely loyal to him. They love him and he loves them, in an almost unprecedented fashion. They seem to each have unique, personal relationships with the man and deep appreciations and thanks for what he's given them. Maybe that's a playbook. Maybe that's the discipline to play better or smarter or differently. I don't know. But it seems, no matter the athletic gain- they all leave him as young people with understandings of who they are and tools to succeed no matter where they go. Not as 'the kids'- as Mack Brown used to put it- but as young men. Not just athletes, but students. Not just lost, deluded man-children destined to be found 10 years from now drunk and passed out in public with food platters on their bellies- but contributing, functioning, and well-rounded members of society. People with humility and integrity and belief in something bigger.
Just watch D'Onta Foreman fall to his knees and break down crying, for the sake of his team and coach, not himself, this week and tell me I'm wrong. He's a potential Heisman candidate and likely future pro football star. He'll be just fine. But he loses it, because the team loses it. He breaks down, ready to leave, because Strong is being told to leave.
Maybe Charlie could've done more with more time. Maybe he would've been more successful without being constantly demeaned and undermined his entire three-year tenure. Maybe things could be different if they paid him his millions to actually see his plans through instead of unceremoniously fired him and paid him to do nothing, anyway. I don't know. I think so. I would hope so. I truly believe so. But it doesn't matter. Because he gave us all something more. He gave me something more.
He gave me a football program and team and university- for the first time in a very, very long time- that I respect. And he gave me hope for a sport and institution I felt were both so very lost.
I'm angered and disappointed by Strong's firing. He's a man too decent to last in the indecent pressures and external forces UT has storming inside its depths. But I'm grateful for his time and his legacy. Because even if he's remembered on the surface for his losing record and blip of leadership in the long stretch of Texas Football memories- the effect he's had, with any hope, will continue to stoke the fires of change for generations to come.
Good luck wherever you go, Charlie. You were the hero we deserved, but not the one we needed right now. Whatever you end up doing- I've no doubt in my mind you'll be successful. I've no doubt you'll bring humility and integrity to whatever program you lead. And I hope, very sincerely, they appreciate you in a way we were never willing to. Thank you. Texas forever.
