Has anyone else noticed that Michigan seems a little out of step lately? As if the pep band had been sacked and “Hail to the Victors” replaced as Ann Arbor’s theme song by Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me”?
Think about it. In the past week, Florida’s Tim Tebow became the first sophomore to win the Heisman, Ohio State basked in the glow of Laurinaitis’s Butkus Award and Jim Heacock’s Assistant Coach of the Year honors, and scads of other schools made room for new hardware in their trophy cases.
What did Michigan get? Snubbed by another coach. Rutgers’ coach to be exact.
How embarrassing.
Well, since my Cooper plan for replacing Lloyd Carr hasn’t gained any traction in Ann Arbor and my cat has yet to receive a call for the position (see posting from November 20), I have some new advice for our archrival’s athletic department: lower your expectations.
Hold on. Hear me out.
By this, I don’t mean settle for a lesser coach. Far from it. I mean, perhaps it is time to look outside of the Division IA family.
“But wait!” I hear you protest. “We are the winningnest program in college football history! We have more tradition in our toenail crud than LSU has on its entire campus! Our mascot is a very large weasel! We have those cool helmets!”
Yes, yes, I hear you. But along with that tradition and those pretty helmets comes the stress of a fickle fanbase and a very high expectation to perform…all coupled with one of the lowest salaries in major college football. Not exactly a dream job to pull a well-known coach away from a comfortable position with an established program.
But there is another route: the Football Championship Subdivision, or Division IAA to you and me.
Don’t laugh. It’s worked before, as you should know well by now. In 2001, after Ohio State finally came out of its Cooper Coma, the athletic department’s first thought was to do what you are doing now: try to net the big fish, the known entity. Well, Lou Holtz turned us down. Said he didn’t want the pressure. Said he preferred to stay in South Carolina, a program with as much tradition as Canada where he made a nice salary and everyone was just happy to have a guy of his stature in town. Winning, if it happened, was just a bonus.
So where did the Buckeyes go from there? To Division IAA’s Youngstown State, where a little known coach had quietly made a name for himself amongst these lesser schools by leading the Penguins to three national championships in the 1990s. The man’s name: Jim Tressel. You might have heard of him. He’s the guy in the sweater vest that makes you very depressed each November.
After his success at Youngstown State, Tressel arrived in Columbus and just kept doing the two things he does best: wearing the vest and winning. The formula worked just as well in Division IA as it had in IAA. In seven years, Tressel has led the Buckeyes to three national title games, four Big Ten championships, and the highest win percentage against Michigan of any coach in the history of the rivalry. Not bad for a man from the “lesser” division.
Now, I know that Michigan praises tradition, an inside connection, as does Ohio State. And of course, Tressel did have a previous Buckeye connection: a little experience at the Horseshoe coaching under Earle Bruce in the 1980s. So let’s think about this. Who out there has a proven track record in Division IAA and a little experience in the Big House to boot?
Answer: Appalachian State coach Jerry Moore.
This weekend, Moore will lead the Mountaineers into their third title game in as many years. If he wins, he will have done something no one—not even Tressel—accomplished at that level: win three national titles in a row. Even if he doesn’t win, he has proven his ability beyond doubt to recruit and coach in the big games. Oh, and he apparently knows how to win at the Big House. How could this guy not get a call from the Michigan athletic department?
“But we don’t like Appalachian State,” you whine. “They made us look girly in front of our fans.” True, but that only works to your advantage. Think about it. By hiring Moore, you shed the shame of losing to Appalachian State. Their man is now your man. You’ve internalized your conqueror, made him your own. His success is now your success, something to be bragged about, crowed from the rooftops.
Seriously, how is his phone not ringing right now?
Sure he’s old as dust, but so what? At 68, he’s twelve years younger than Joe Paterno, ten than Bobby Bowden. And unlike those coaches, he’s still winning. Heck, even if he only stays five years, consider the possibilities. Had Tressel retired after five years, he would have done so with a national championship and two Big Ten titles to his credit, while leaving behind a team full of blue chip recruits, including five future first round draft picks and a future Heisman trophy winner, for the next guy. Things could be a lot worse.
Are you dialing the phone yet?
Oh, and one last thing: to properly emulate your rival and pull this off, Jerry Moore will need to bring a fashion statement to Ann Arbor. Tressel has the sweater vest. It’s copyrighted. No one else can do it. But perhaps you could persuade Moore to take another route, something that speaks of his previous roots. Overalls perhaps? Something in burlap? Cultural items also work: replacing the Gatorade cooler with a moonshine jug, for instance, or adding a banjo and fiddle section to the marching band.
Anyway, you’ll think of something. That’s the easy part.
The hard part is getting that Human League song out of your head.
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