The Bacon Blog

The Olympics' Real Winners and Losers

John U. Bacon — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 14:55:00 GMT

March 5, 2010

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It was the best of Olympics, it was the worst of Olympics. For some, it was the season of hope; for others, the winter of their discontent. But to heck with all that. I’m just here to give you Coach Bacon’s Winners and Losers of the Winter Olympics. So, here we go.

WINNER: Vancouver

Great city, great people, great Olympics. Well done, my Canadian friends.

LOSER: Vancouver

In the opening ceremonies, the flame apparatus failed to rise, launching a thousand Viagra jokes. But the real joke was the speed skating oval, where the Canadians failed to manufacture decent ice. That’s like Jamaicans failing to manufacture decent sand. What’s up with that?

WINNER: Olympic Hockey

With the best players in the world, and six nations with an equal chance of grabbing the gold, the Olympics gave us hockey at its very best. The US-Canada overtime final, with NO TV time-outs, made for an unforgettable finish – some say the best ever.

LOSER: NHL Hockey

Only the NHL can take this singular moment and blow it. NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman said the NHL might skip the next Olympics. Now you know why he’s considered the dumbest commissioner in all of sports. He did it the old-fashioned way. He earned it.

WINNER: The Medal Count

The U.S. set a record for most Winter Olympic medals ever, with 37, and the Canadians set a record for most golds, with 14 -- redeeming themselves for being the only host nation to win no golds, twice, in Montreal and Calgary. Kudos, North America.

LOSER: The Medal Count

It took 20 Canadian men seven games of skating, passing and shooting to earn a single gold medal in hockey. Meanwhile, Norwegian cross-country skier Marit Bjorgen had only to repeat the same basic motion in the sprint, the 10K, the 15K, the 30K, and the relay, to get five medals. Is cross-country skiing really five times harder than ice hockey? What’s up with that? I say all distance sports should be reduced to a short run, a long run, and a relay—that’s it. And hockey should count 20. There. That’d do it.

WINNER: Curling

Watching curling proved oddly compelling, like gazing at a lava lamp. And it gives all of us hope that – yeah, sure, I could be a world class athlete. Look at that slob! He’s on the Olympic team?! Oh, yeah. I could do that.

LOSER: Curling

I’m sorry, it’s still just shuffle board on ice. And spare me your emails. My grandfather was a proud member of his New Brunswick curling team, but he didn’t expect to get a medal for it. He preferred beer, anyway.

WINNER: Ryan Miller

The former Michigan State star let in the overtime goal against Canada, but he was still the best player – by far – in the tournament, and rightly won the Most Valuable Player trophy.

LOSER: Mikka Kiprusoff

The Finnish goalie said he’d only join his national team if they named him the starter. He got what he asked for – then went out and let in four goals on seven shots against the U.S. He sucked at 400 pounds-per-square inch. Then he didn’t even wait for his coach to pull him, before skulking back to the bench. I have just two words for you, sir: Loo Zer.

WINNER: Ann Arbor

With seven players from the US National Development Team on the Olympic hockey roster, and two pairs of ice dancers all training at Ann Arbor’s Ice Cube, A-Squared was downright Olympian.

LOSER: The Biathlon

Making someone ski several miles, then stop to shoot at targets for no apparent reason, makes as much sense as making swimmers finish four laps, then get out and bowl three frames.

So I say, let’s spice it up a little. Each time the biathletes miss their marks, they should have to ski behind the targets before they’re allowed to shoot again. That would increase the stakes, and focus the mind.

Too much for you? Okay, how about giving them all paint ball pellets to fire at their fellow competitors as they traipse through the woods? That way, no lead would be safe, it ain’t over ‘til it’s over, and the leader would be forced to ski in a zig-zag pattern down the stretch while the trailers try to pick him off from behind.

Or we could just kill this silly sport altogether.

WINNER: NBC

NBC gave us fewer taped fillers, and more live action.

LOSER: NBC

Still too much fireplace, and not enough first place. Oh, give me the CBC!

WINNERS: Us

Yes, the Olympics are over-hyped and over-packaged, but they’re still the best thing on TV. We see it all – the bratty skiers, the bodacious boarders and the inspiring skaters, like Joannie Rochette, who took to the ice just two days after her mother died of a heart attack – and delivered the single best short program of her life.

That is reality TV. And that’s why I can’t wait for 2012.

Hello Loyal Readers,

Thanks once again for reading, for writing, and for spreading theword. Thanks to you, we will break 33,000 subscribers this week.

As the site's gotten bigger, I realize it's probably time to add a bitof -- gasp! -- professionalism to comment section. So, like mostrespectable publications, I will seek to keep the comment sectioncompletely open to all civil contributors -- whether you like thelatest piece or not -- without excising letters. All you have to do isbe willing to sign your name, as you do for the New York Times, TheWall Street Journal, Sports Illustrated, ESPN Magazine and the rest --a good idea I should have put in place from the start.

As one of my on-line outlets says, You keep it civil, we'll keep it open.

Great thanks -- and keep 'em comin'!

-John

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Miracle on Ice Architect Herb Brooks: A Personal Thank You

John U. Bacon — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 14:21:00 GMT

February 26, 2010

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The surprising United States Olympic men’s hockey team will play Finland today in the semi-finals, inspiring some to compare them to the last U.S. men’s team to win the gold 30 years ago, Lake Placid’s “Miracle on Ice.” Sorry, even if the U.S. wins it all, it will not qualify as a miracle. We are not likely to see anything quite like it again. And there will never be another coach like Herb Brooks.

I will never forget the impact the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team had on our country – or the impact the coach, Herb Brooks, had on me.

On December 13, 1979, my best friend was heading home from hockey practice up north, when he was killed in a car accident. I found out the next morning, seconds before my high school hockey teammates and I walked out onto the basketball court for our first pep rally. What started out as one of the happiest days of my life, had suddenly become the saddest.

I didn’t come out of it for months. But when the 1980 Olympic hockey tournament started, I watched every second of every game – I was transfixed by this team and their coach -- and that’s what brought me back.

Fifteen years later, as a sports reporter for The Detroit News, I decided to write a story about Mike Ramsey and Slava Fetisov, who were bitter rivals in Lake Placid Games, before becoming great friends playing together with the Red Wings. To round out the piece I knew I had to call Herb Brooks, who was famously impatient with sports writers.

When I reached Brooks at his home in Minnesota, he spent the first ten minutes chewing out my entire profession, from our lack of credentials to our lack of accountability, before he answered any of my questions. I stayed calm throughout, but after I hung up the phone, I looked down, and saw that my hands were shaking.

When the story came out, I sent Brooks a copy, then nervously called him a week later to get his response. I talked to his wife, Patti – a warm and generous soul -- who told me, “Well, he didn’t throw it against the wall, like he usually does. So that’s a good sign.”

A year later, I called Brooks for a story on Russian hockey, and when that one came out, he asked if they could reprint it in a hockey magazine in Minnesota. After that, we talked every few months, and we would occasionally meet up in rinks from Ann Arbor to Nagano.

Our relationship deepened in 2000, when I took over my old high school hockey team, which had not won a game in a year-and-a-half. Making matters tougher, I was the worst player in school history. (I am not bragging. These are facts.)

But I had the best group of assistants in the state, plus a secret weapon: a world-class mentor in Herb Brooks. I stole from him shamelessly – and it worked.

In our second year, we got to the regional finals – but we had to face our Soviet Union, Trenton high school, which has won twelve state titles. Three weeks before the regional finals, they had smoked us, 10-1.

I knew we were better than that, but I also knew we needed a boost. So, the day before the game, I called Herb Brooks. He said, "Johnny, just tell 'em this: Above all, you have to believe. If you don’t, you don’t have a chance. But if you do, anything is possible.”

I passed on Herb’s words to our players, who had heard me talk about Brooks many times. Our guys played like they were on fire, without any fear whatsoever, but we fell short, 3-2. Still, their fans gave our players a standing ovation. Back in the locker room, I told them, “We might have lost, but you did something more important: You dared to believe you could do it.”

The next year, Herb and I started working on his autobiography. But three months later, Herb died in a car accident.

The next season, my last in coaching, we traveled to Trenton and we beat them in their building, 4-3.

On the bus ride home I wanted to call Herb Brooks in the worst way, just to tell him: We believed.

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Our National Anthem is Not Our Nation's Best Tribute

John U. Bacon — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 04:58:00 GMT

February 19, 2010

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The modern Olympics started in 1896, but it took 28 more years before the winners would hear their national anthem during the medal ceremony.

The Vancouver Games will conduct 86 medal ceremonies, during which any of the 82 countries present could be serenaded with their national anthem. But not all are created equal -- including ours.

You probably knew the melody for our national anthem, the Star Spangled Banner, came from a popular British drinking song, and that Francis Scott Key added the words during the War of 1812. But you might not have known the Star Spangled Banner didn’t become our national anthem until more than a century later, in 1931. And we didn’t start playing the song before ball games until World War II.

The Star Spangled Banner may be two centuries old, but its status as our national anthem is relatively new – and, I think, not beyond reconsideration.

True, the song can be strong and moving. But who can forget Carl Lewis’s version, which sounded like a feral cat in serious pain, or actress Roseanne Barr’s rendition – which put the “f” back in “professionalism”?

In their defense, the Star Spangled Banner is notoriously difficult to sing – or even remember.   Raise your hand if you really know what a “rampart” is? That’s what I thought. Thank you.

That’s just another reason why I think we should consider adopting a different national anthem, like “America, the Beautiful.” In 1895, a Wellesley College professor, fed up with the greed of the Robber Barons – sound familiar? -- took a train to Colorado, and was reminded along the way what a great country this truly is. When her poem was coupled with Samuel Ward’s melody, a classic was born.

For my money, Ray Charles’ version is the best. When I hear him sing, “America, America, God done shed his grace on thee. And crown thy good, with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea,” there aren’t too many things I wouldn’t be willing to do for my country.

Just a few years after “America, the Beautiful” came out, Irving Berlin composed “God Bless America” to inspire victory in World War One. Twenty years later, he revised it to respond to the Nazis’ rise to power.

From the opening, “God Bless America, Land that I love.,” to the close, “My home sweet home,” Berlin doesn’t give you much to quibble about.

If Ray Charles stamped “America, the Beautiful,” as his own, surely “God Bless America” belongs to Kate Smith. But in the aftermath of Viet Nam, the patriotic standard’s popularity was slipping -- until the Philadelphia Flyers hockey team started playing it before crucial contests. They’ve won some 80-percent of those games – and all three when Kate Smith arrived to sing it in person. Her first appearance, on May 19, 1974, preceded the Flyers’ 1-0 victory over Boston, for the Flyers’ first Stanley Cup. Many credited Smith for lifting the crowd and the team to new heights. Even the famously tough Philly fans could not boo Kate Smith.

When the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team pulled off the greatest upset in sports history, the players spontaneously broke into a chorus – not of “The Star Spangled Banner,” but “God Bless America.”

They couldn’t sing it quite like Kate Smith, but they understood what they were singing, they understood why, and they meant every word. I think they were on to something.

Please Show Us The Athletes Competing, Instead Of The Announcers Talking

John U. Bacon — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 14:01:00 GMT

February 12, 2010

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Twelve years ago I covered the Winter Olympics in Nagano. It was exhausting – and exhilarating.

Every day, right in front of me, I got to savor the skill and the speed of the skiers and the snowboarders, the hockey players and the figure skaters. But what I remember most is the energy generated by the athletes and the audience, who seemed to feed off each other. I didn’t get to merely see it. I got to feel it – an experience shared with thousands of people from around the world, right as it happened.

So that’s why I was stunned when I called my friends back home, breathless about the drama stirring all around me, only to learn they had no idea what I was talking about. They weren’t impressed by the Nagano Olympics, or the coverage of it – take your pick. And that’s when I realized the Olympics I was experiencing had nothing to do with the one they were watching – or not watching at all. (Nagano had the lowest ratings in 30 years.)

Now I realize TV can’t compete with being there, especially 12 time zones away. But it can come a lot closer than it usually does. American networks spend so much money on the Olympics -- 2.3 billion dollars for the rights alone this year – they feel compelled to protect their investment with too many safe, soft feature stories filmed months before the Games even begin.

Yes, I’m talking about those ubiquitous “Up Close and Personal” segments, about the cross-country skier from Eveleth, Minnesota, who became world class fast while being chased by dogs on his after-school paper route. And that’d be a fine story – if it didn’t keep us from watching the former paper boy competing in “The Actual Olympics” segments.

The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation does much better, with much less. Or they did, until they lost the Canadian rights to CTV. And that’s a crying shame, because the CBC consistently showed you the most interesting athletes, even if they weren’t Americans, and they showed them competing, live.

Why does that matter? Because sports is one of the few things on TV nobody knows how it’s going to turn out. You just can’t get you a preview of tonight’s game. So when we see a classic competition unfolding before our very eyes, we become participants in that event. We share it with family, friends, even strangers – or tell them, Awww, man! Ya missed it! And we remember it forever.

I’ll never forget watching the ’76 Winter Olympics on a school night with my brother and my dad. We saw skier after skier cut the leading time, until the last skier, world champion Franz Klammer, came flying over the hill in his skin-tight yellow suit in a reckless attempt to claim his title – and he did it. We jumped and cheered as if we were there – and we were, in our living room, sharing it with millions of people around the world.

The list is long. Think of Tonya and Nancy, right down to Tonya’s broken skate lace. Or speed skater Dan Jansen’s repeated heartbreaks before winning the gold. Or the Miracle on Ice medal ceremony, when captain Mike Eruzione spontaneously called his teammates up to the medal stand with him, and they all managed to fit, just barely – a scene no one who saw it can ever forget.

If you witnessed those events, when they happened, you’re probably nodding right now. It’s something we share, because, “We were there.”

And that’s why I wish NBC would be kind enough to get the heck out of the way, and let us watch the athletes, not the announcers, do what they’ve been preparing to do for years.

Only that way can we have a few more memories.

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Amid Super Bowl Silliness, A Couple Stories Worth Telling

John U. Bacon — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 14:04:00 GMT

February 5, 2010

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It’s hard to think of too many endeavors that receive more overblown attention than do sports. And within sports, nothing’s more overblown than the Super Bowl.

This time around, we’re getting endless stories about President Obama picking the New Orleans Saints – because… that matters? – a preview of the ads scheduled to run during the game, and several hundred articles analyzing the recuperation of Dwight Freeney’s sprained right ankle, and how that might affect national security. Or some such.

But in the midst of this morass are two stories worth telling.

The first is Kurt Warner. After graduating from Northern Iowa in 1994, not one NFL team drafted him. In other words, the NFL determined there were at least 222 players better than Kurt Warner that year alone.

Warner was tempted to pack it in. Instead, he started packing groceries in Cedar Falls, Iowa, while living in his girlfriend’s parents’ basement, serving as a graduate assistant coach for his alma mater, and working out in the hopes of getting another chance. He had to settle for the Iowa Barnstormers, a team that played in the doomed Arena Football League. But, what should have been a dead end, proved to be a launch pad.

Arena Football’s funny rules required Warner to speed up his decision-making and his delivery – skills you need to succeed in the NFL. Three years later, one of the NFL’s worst teams, the St. Louis Rams, hired him as a backup. The next season, incredibly, the Rams won their first Superbowl, and Kurt Warner won the league’s MVP – his first of three.

Last week, Warner retired with a pile of records, a pile of money, and a well-earned reputation for playing his best in the biggest games. He said he didn’t want to be known for being a clutch player, but a hard worker. He’ll have to settle for both.

Warner left the stage with quiet dignity – two qualities not often associated with NFL players – just as a younger quarterback was taking his place.

Drew Brees was one of the most celebrated high school quarterbacks in Texas, a state that celebrates high school quarterbacks more than it does Supreme Court justices. But Brees blew off the hometown Texas Longhorns to head north to Purdue, where he set just about every school record for passing. He took the Boilermakers to their first Rose Bowl in over three decades, and was named not just an Academic All-American, but the Academic All-American of the Year.

But in the NFL, Brees struggled his first three seasons. Soon after he finally found his rhythm, he also found a new city to play in: New Orleans, which had been ravished by Hurricane Katrina the year before. The Saints’ home, the Superdome, had become the very symbol of the disaster, and the owners were considering moving the team for good.

Enter Drew Brees, who not only led the historically pathetic Saints to the playoffs, he spent his money and his time creating his own foundation, which restores schools, parks and playgrounds, in a city desperate for all three. A recent Sports Illustrated cover story said Brees was “as adored and appreciated as any [athlete] in an American city today.”

It’s hard to argue with that, and even harder to root against Drew Brees.

So, if you missed Kurt Warner, enjoy Drew Brees while you can. Players like this don’t come along very often.

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How Berenson and Beilein Put Values Before Victories

John U. Bacon — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 13:59:00 GMT

January 29, 2010

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The Michigan basketball team recently lost to Michigan State by one point, all but ending the Wolverines’ chances to return to the NCAA tournament. The Michigan hockey team faces Michigan State this weekend, and they need a sweep to improve their fading chances of getting back to the tournament themselves.

For Michigan fans, this is the Winter of Their Discontent. Provided, that is, only wins and losses count. But the head coaches of both teams did notch a couple moral victories last week. Yes, they’ve lost some battles this season, but they’re still winning the war.

On Thursday, the general manager of the NHL’s Los Angeles Kings, Dean Lombardi, had some sharp words about legendary Michigan hockey coach Red Berenson and his program. Lombardi – no relation to the great Vince Lombardi in any way, shape or form, as you’ll see -- said, “Red Berenson doesn’t coach. It’s ‘Do what you want.’ Michigan is the worst.”

Now, Berenson doesn’t need me or anybody else to defend him or his record – but I can’t resist.

Forget, for a moment, Berenson’s two NCAA titles, 18 league titles and record 19-straight NCAA tournament appearances, not to mention the 20 All-Americans he’s produced.

The crux of Lombardi’s claim that Michigan doesn’t develop players can be refuted simply by looking at guys like Mike Stone, a walk-on who rose to become the team’s Most Valuable Player, on a team loaded with future NHLers; Mike Knuble, who arrived a lightly regarded freshmen from East Kentwood, Michigan, and left an All-American, a U.S. Olympian and now a 12-year NHL veteran, who skates on a line with the best player in the game, Alexander Ovechkin ; and John Madden, who wasn’t even drafted as a freshman – which is rare at Michigan -- before he came to Ann Arbor, and is now in his 11^th year in the NHL, where he's served as a captain, and has won two Stanley Cups. For the record, that’s two more than Lombardi has won in over two decades as an employee of three NHL teams.

It was such a stupid comment, Berenson did not bother to dignify it with a response. As they say in politics, if your critic is busy firing bullets into his own foot, don’t grab the gun.

But when the player who inspired Lombardi’s remarks, Jack Johnson – a former Michigan star who now plays for Lombardi’s L.A. Kings – heard about them, he told his coach he wasn’t getting dressed for their home game that night until Lombardi came down to apologize to him in person. Lombardi did just that, 15 minutes before warm up, and Johnson got dressed.

You’ve got to admire Johnson’s conviction. He’s a great player, but Lombardi can send him any time he wants to any team he wants, including the minors. Johnson’s courageous stand, with little to gain and a lot to lose, tells you something about the kind of players Michigan’s coaching staff develops.

At the same time this was playing out, Michigan basketball star Manny Harris mistakenly thought one of his teammates had taken a cheap shot at him during practice. Harris started a fight. When head coach John Beilein tried to break it up, Harris only made things worse. Beilein decided to leave Harris at home when the team traveled to play a crucial game the next day against 13th-ranked Purdue. With their star player out, Michigan lost by ten.

Harris apologized to his coach, his teammates and the fans. He returned Tuesday night to play a great game against fifth-ranked Michigan State, but the Wolverines fell just short. Michigan lost – but Harris grew up.

I’m just old-fashioned enough to believe that still matters.

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Why Pond Hockey Beats Indoor Hockey

John U. Bacon — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 15:06:00 GMT

January 22, 2010

Hello Loyal Readers,

Thanks for reading, listening (for those of you who prefer the audio version below) and writing in with your comments.

For you Michigan types, you might be interested in my column for Michigan Today, which I write every month, on the Wolverines’ Top Ten Moments of the Decade. http://michigantoday.umich.edu/2010/01/

And again, thank you!

-John

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WHY POND HOCKEY BEATS INDOOR HOCKEY

“I think we have too many AAA, Showcase and elite camps for the kids today, and as a result, we are creating a bunch of robots. We need to make it fun for the kids and let them learn to love the game the way we did.”

-Herb Brooks, coach of the 1980 U.S. Olympic Hockey Team

Pond Hockey: A Documentary Film

Just over half a million kids play organized hockey in the United States, as I did – but trust me, they’re missing out.

We’re deep in the dead of winter. And for most of us, there’s not a lot to do, and not much to look forward to for the next couple months. But if you’re a hockey player – scratch that, if you’re a pond hockey player -- this is the best time of year.

When I was growing up – not that long ago – we’d come home from school, slip our skates onto our sticks and throw the stick over our shoulders like hobos carrying their knapsacks, then trudge through the apple orchard behind our neighborhood to a pond in the middle of the woods. We’d lace ‘em up and play until it was too dark to see, then put our boots back on and head home for dinner.

On weekends, we;d spend all day down there. Friends of mine who lived near Burns Park and Thurston Pond would come home, eat dinner with their skates on, then go back to the ice for more.

We got more ice time in a single day on those ponds than we got in weeks of indoor practices and games. And it was more fun, too. No try-outs, no scoreboards, no whistles, no drills, no lines, no benches, no coaches, no refs – in fact, no adults at all – and no nets. Just a pair of boots at each end.

I don’t recall once coming back from the pond upset that we’d lost. That’s because we played about a dozen games a day, and whenever one team lost too many, we’d just change teams. I also can’t recall much about the hundreds of indoor practices I endured as a kid, but I can remember those long, happy days on the pond like they were yesterday.

But when you drive by those very same ponds today, you won’t see any kids. They’re all packed in vans, being dragged to some tournament two hours away. And when they get back, they’ll be inside playing video games.

So when my old high school teammate, Pete Read, put together his third annual Michigan Pond Hockey Classic at Whitmore Lake last weekend – one of the nation’s biggest – it was no surprise that almost all of the 500-some players were over thirty.

Read laid out 15 rinks, separated only by snow banks. We played four-on-four, with no goalies or fancy nets – just a flat box of two-by-sixes. Everyone got dressed in one big tent, and sat on hay bales. A hockey locker room is one of the few places on earth where the smell can be improved by fresh hay. The guys getting reading to play could see their breath, while the guys coming back in could watch the steam coming off their pads as they stuffed them back into their bags.

My team, consisting of a bunch of former high school teammates, got our butts kicked in the first two games by margins like 21-14 – football scores. In our last two games, however, we staged heroic rallies to lose by a little less.

But we had a blast all weekend. Until our last game, that is, when the volunteer score keeper – god bless ‘im – decided to play full-time ref, and rule on every out of bounds play and every goal. Before we realized what we were doing, we started sniping and hacking at each other, and the once friendly match quickly devolved into – well, a little league hockey game. Once we told the would-be ref we could handle the game ourselves, we got back to playing pond hockey – and that’s what we love.

One of my friends brought his son along, but he couldn’t play with us because his travel team had a game later that day.

Poor kid doesn’t know what he’s missing.

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McGwire's Confession Risks Nothing, Gains Nothing

John U. Bacon — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 14:36:00 GMT

January 15, 2010

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On Monday, former home run hitter Mark McGwire talked to sports broadcaster Bob Costas in an attempt to restore his good name.

He had a lot of restoring to do.

McGwire was one of those super-sized sluggers who were knocking out home runs at a record rate in the nineties. And, like his peers – Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa – McGwire was widely rumored to be taking steroids.

In fact, the FBI gave the commissioner of baseball a list of 70 players they discovered were taking steroids, including McGwire -- two decades ago. The commissioner, of course, promptly did absolutely nothing, because he was too hooked on the home runs that were saving baseball from itself after he had canceled the 1994 World Series.

And the hits just kept on coming. In 1998, McGwire broke one of the game’s most revered records when he shattered Roger Maris’s old mark of 61 home runs in a season by smashing 70. He was a national hero.

But the gig was up five years ago when McGwire’s former teammate, Jose Canseco, published a tell-all book in which he named names – including McGwire. You know you’re in a cesspool when the only guy telling the truth, Canseco, is a convicted felon.

Canseco’s book led to a Congressional hearing the same year. When it was McGwire’s turn to testify, he famously said, “I am not here to talk about the past.” Unfortunately, “the past” is usually what Congressional hearings are all about.

It was a public relations disaster. When the Hall of Fame voters turned their ballots in the next year, less than 25-percent voted for McGwire. A player needs three times that to get in. He’s not done any better since – and now he’s going to help coach the St. Louis Cardinals. He wants a clean slate.

Thus, Monday’s “Hail Mary” interview, in which McGwire said, “It was a mistake.” No, picking the wrong restaurant for dinner is a mistake. Injecting yourself with illegal steroids for fame and fortune is a deal with the devil.

He also said, “I regret I played in the steroids era.” That’s like Bernie Madoff saying, “I regret I was an investor during the Ponzi Scheme era.” Sorry, it doesn’t cut it.

But then, even more absurdly, McGwire said, with a straight face, that he didn’t take steroids to hit more home runs – no! -- but for “health purposes.” In other words, we should ignore the fact that his season-high home run total skyrocketed from 49 to 70 – or that he played with the faith of 300 million people, to update The Great Gatsby’s take on the Black Sox scandal.

It seems to me a real confession is marked by sincerity, not self-interest. Its value is directly related to how much the confessor risks by making it.

In McGwire’s case, he fudged so much that it’s hard to call it a confession at all, and he was risking absolutely nothing. Everybody already knew he took steroids, and his chance to be brave about it came and went years ago. We knew he was a fraud as a player. On Monday we learned he’s also a fraud as a person, as well. McGwire’s just trying to scam us -- again.

If we can apply Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief to McGwire’s mess, we can see he’s gone from stage one, denial, to stage three, bargaining – but he’s still a long way from the final stage, honest acceptance.

And he is just as far from the front doors of Cooperstown.

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Former Third-Stringer Named Leader of Michigan's Athletic Department

John U. Bacon — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 15:34:00 GMT

January 8, 2010

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On Tuesday, the University of Michigan announced Domino’s Pizza CEO David Brandon would succeed Bill Martin as the athletic director. It marked a personal high point of a great career – one you wouldn’t have predicted when Brandon played for Michigan as a third-string defensive back.

14 years ago, I wrote a big feature on Bo Schembechler for the Detroit News. Bo liked the story and, out of nowhere, gave me his papers. When I tried to interest him in writing a book, he told me to ask him later – much later, it turned out. About nine years later. So, in the summer of 2000, I started without him.

The first person I sought out was Dave Brandon, who was in his second year as the CEO of Domino’s Pizza. He probably didn’t know me from Adam, but he gave me an hour of his time anyway. And he didn’t spend it gushing about his greatest day, either, but confessing his worst one.

Brandon had been an All-State quarterback at South Lyon High School, and Schembechler offered him a full ride to come to Michigan in 1970.

Problem was, Michigan already had three quarterbacks who would play that position – Tom Slade, Larry Cipa and Dennis Franklin -- so Brandon switched to defensive back. But that only made his situation worse, because the Wolverines were stocked with four future All-Americans at that spot. Brandon could have been the fifth-best defensive back in the country and not gotten any playing time on that team – they were that good. So, after a couple years of hard work, he was still languishing on the depth chart, and getting frustrated.

At a Monday practice in the middle of the 1972 season, Brandon’s junior year, Schembechler decided to work with the guys who hadn’t played that Saturday by making up a scrimmage they called the Toilet Bowl. Well, Brandon apparently responded with something less than complete enthusiasm. He just muttered a few words under his breath, across the field from the old general, but somehow Schembechler was in his face in about eight nanoseconds. Creating the illusion that his eyes and ears were everywhere was part of his genius.

“Brandon! I hear you’d rather not partake in our little scrimmage,” he barked. “Well, I can solve your problem, son. You’re going straight into that locker room, and cleaning your locker out. You’re done playing football for the University of Michigan.”

Brandon sat in his empty stall, dazed and despondent, wondering what he would tell his father, who loved Bo, his teammates, his girlfriend, and, one day, years from then, his kids.

Needless to say, Brandon didn’t sleep a wink that night. The next morning, he put on a dress shirt and went straight to Bo’s office, scared, nervous, and worn out. He apologized – as Bo knew he would -- and Bo took him back. But he never heard Dave Brandon complain about any scrimmages after that.

Fast forward to 1989, the first reunion for all of Bo’s players. Brandon is already an All-American businessman by now, and a millionaire – but that incident still bothered him. Brandon figured it was time to confess his sins, so he told his teammates at his table about it – and everybody started laughing.

Brandon was stunned. What are you guys laughing about? I’m spilling my guts! One by one, they confessed, at one time or another Bo had kicked all of them off the team.

Brandon had a good laugh, too -- but the lesson stayed with him: Don’t take what you’ve been given for granted, or you’ll lose it.

And that’s one reason why the guy who’d been kicked off the team is now not only responsible for Michigan’s football team, but for all Michigan’s teams.

Bo would be proud – and I’m sure he would agree: That’s a hell of a story.

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He Loved the Game, Even When the Game Didn't Love Him

John U. Bacon — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 15:21:00 GMT

December 18, 2009

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Old Man Winter is back with a vengeance. That’s okay. I like the snow – and I love the hockey.

You can play pond hockey, drop-in hockey or beer league hockey, but for me, the best hockey is the pick-up game at Michigan’s Yost Arena on Tuesday nights.

The game features some of the best players in the area, most of them former Michigan players, many of whom played pro hockey. But a few wannabes, like me, have gotten regular spots. It’s by invitation only, and I only got invited because I knew the guy started it. Jeff Bourne -- known as “Tiny,” thanks to his 5-6 frame -- cared as much about attitude as ability. As he said: If you don’t pass, you’re an ass.

Tiny’s dad was Canadian. So it was only natural that he and his younger brother, Roger, grew up playing hockey in the Bourne’s back yard.

Tiny wasn’t a great player, but he loved the game. Every year, Tiny tried out for the Ann Arbor Pioneer high school team, and every year he got cut. Every year, that is, until his senior year, when his brother Roger – a freshman who was already bigger and better – tried out too.

As expected, Roger made the team. But so did Tiny. When Tiny was driving them home, he told Roger he knew why the coach finally took him:

So he could drive his younger brother to the rink.

But Tiny didn’t feel slighted. He was thrilled to finally make the team, and watch his brother play, even while Tiny rode the bench. Tiny liked to point out that they were one of the most productive pair of brothers in Pioneer history, totaling 201 points. Roger got 200 of those, and Tiny added the one.

Roger went on to play at Michigan. His biggest fan, by far, was his big brother, Tiny. Roger returned the favor by introducing Tiny to Lauri, one of Roger’s classmates. They hit it off immediately. She said, “You’re just like Roger!”

“No,” Tiny said. “Roger is just like me!”

They had two kids. Tiny coached his son’s teams, he coached his daughter’s teams, and he organized our skates on Tuesdays. And that’s where I got to know him best.

On paper, Tiny and I had almost nothing in common, from our passports to our politics. But none of that seemed to matter. Tiny had a way of drawing people to him, and the game he loved – me included.

Six years ago, between Christmas and New Year’s, Roger was skating the puck down the ice, and Tiny, playing defense for the other team, stopped him cold. It was a great play.

It was also Tiny’s last play. He returned to the bench, sat down, and fell forward. He was just 47 – and he was gone.

At Tiny’s funeral, you’d have thought it was a service for a Hall of Famer. The standing room only crowd included Jeff Daniels and Red Berenson, Michigan’s hockey coach; Tiny’s teammates at Pioneer; and the girls on his daughter’s hockey team, sitting together, wearing their blue jerseys.

Tiny might have loved hockey more than the game loved him. But that never stopped him. Every year, he got better, and every year, he drew more people to the game.

What did Tiny get out of it? To answer that question, all you had to do was look around that church.

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Notre Dame's rep rises while football falls

John U. Bacon — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 05:25:00 GMT

December 11, 2009

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The Michigan Wolverines might have the most wins in college football history, and the highest winning percentage, but the Wolverines have never captured the nation’s imagination like the Fightin’ Irish of Notre Dame.

Notre Dame’s success is partly the Wolverines’ fault. Knute Rockne wanted to get his Fightin’ Irish into the Big Ten in the worst way – but Michigan’s Fielding Yost wanted to keep them out even…worser.

Yost probably expected Rockne to take his team and go home – but Rockne had other ideas. He took his team to Chicago and Boston, which had large Catholic populations, and built a following. He also scheduled games in Yankee Stadium – in front of the national media – and in Los Angeles, in front of Hollywood hot-shots.

And that’s why Notre Dame didn’t shrink without the Big Ten, but grew into the only college team with a national following. The sports writers told tales of The Four Horseman, while the movie makers immortalized the Irish with films from “Knute Rockne: All American” – starring young Ronald Reagan as the Gipper -- to “Rudy.”

It took Father Ted Hesburgh, Notre Dame’s president from 1952 to 1987, to figure out how to leverage Notre Dame’s success in football to success in academia. What started out as a Podunk private school that would accept live cattle for tuition – I am not making that up -- is now among the most respected universities in the world.

But, while Notre Dame’s academic reputation has been steadily rising, the reputation of its football team – which made it all possible – has been steadily falling. The Irish earned at least one national title every decade from the twenties to the eighties – eleven total -- but haven’t won another since 1988. Worse, Notre Dame has fired three head coaches in the last eight years – including Charlie Weis, just last week.

Part of the problem is Notre Dame’s tradition – which makes them think they can hire just about anyone and he’ll succeed, because it’s Notre Dame. How else can you explain the hiring of Gerry Faust in 1981 from Cincinnati – Moeller High School in Cincinnati, that is? Faust had not coached a single college game, and it showed. He flamed out in five years.

Faust’s successor, Lou Holtz, left the Notre Dame Fightin’ Irish for the South Carolina Gamecocks, under a cloud of suspicion.

After firing two more coaches, Notre Dame had to go searching again in 2005. But, to their surprise, the coach they really wanted, Urban Meyer -- who was named after Pope Urban, fer cryin’ out loud -- didn’t really want to work for a school that fired its last coach after just three seasons.

Michigan fans, take note.

So, they hired Charlie Weis, a Notre Dame alum whose reputation was built more on hope and hype than any actual accomplishments – a man who had never played or coached a down of college football. His greatest victory at Notre Dame, the joke goes, was a loss to top-ranked Southern Cal by just three points. The Irish were so impressed by this close call, they signed Weis that month, in the middle of his first season, to a ten-year extension worth tens of millions, to make sure he couldn’t go anywhere else. Well, be careful what you wish for.

But there is good news for Notre Dame: U.S. News and World Report just ranked Notre Dame the 18th best university in the country – a higher ranking than the football team has enjoyed in years.

Coach Rockne must be spinning – but Father Ted must be thrilled.

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Woods Whiffs Twice

John U. Bacon — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 15:17:00 GMT

December 4, 2009

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From the day Tiger Woods was born, his parents groomed him to become the best golfer in the world.

Incredibly, it worked. Woods’s uncommon ability to hit a golf ball landed him on the Mike Douglas show – when he was two. He got his first hole in one at six, and two years later he won his first international tournament. Tiger Woods has been the best golfer in the world for his age every year of his life.

Woods’s unequaled ambition also earned him a few bucks – about a hundred million of them last year alone, almost all of it from endorsements.

Perhaps more surprising, the guy seems normal. He’s got brains – he went to Stanford – he has a sense of humor, friends, a beautiful wife and two kids. If anyone had it all, it was Tiger Woods.

And that’s why the stories this week about marital fights and car accidents and affairs with California cocktail waitresses are so surprising. Not that such things are unusual among athletes. On that scale, the week’s events barely wiggled the Richter scale. What -- no drugs, no guns, no bankruptcy, or no dog fights? You call that a scandal?

No, the stunning thing is that it all happened to Tiger Woods – the single most self-disciplined man in sports. Before this, his only apparent vice was swearing after a bad shot. And if that’s a sin, every golfer is going to hell.

But there he was, zipping out of his Florida mansion at two in the morning, with no shoes on, with his gorgeous wife chasing after him with a two-iron. When Tiger ran his car into a tree, she caught up to him – and proceeded to hack at the windows, with a complete disregard for basic golf etiquette.

Now, one of my favorite things about American society is our ability to turn any horrible situation into a half-dozen one liners by Tuesday. What’s the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger Woods can drive a golf ball 300 yards.

I imagine neither Woods nor his wife are laughing right now. There are some serious issues here, starting with privacy. The unwritten code among sports writers is this: if an affair is between consenting adults, no one reports it. Take Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan, whose private lives didn’t become public until other factors made them impossible to ignore. Tiger Woods would probably get the same treatment – but once the police got involved, the story changed.

Woods often gets in trouble on the golf course because he takes so many chances. But when he does, he displays perhaps his greatest skill: an uncanny knack for getting out of trouble quickly. Tiger Woods, the man, did exactly the opposite, taking a bad situation and making it much worse.

Whenever a celebrity screws up, his lawyers invariably tell him to keep his mouth shut – not realizing that the courts are the least of his problems. His case will be tried on ESPN every hour on the hour, and silence only breeds suspicion – and interest. As a character on the Simpsons said: “What is your fascination with my forbidden closet of mystery?” What, indeed.

But Woods’s “apology statement” was even worse, less concerned with apologizing to his family than venting about the media. Woods values his privacy so much he bought a $20 million yacht, and named it, “Privacy.” But it wasn’t privacy that paid for that boat – it was publicity. Lots of it. And you’d have to be pretty naïve or dumb – and Woods ain’t either – to think you can direct the spotlight to shine only on your good sides.

Woods seems to have gotten about what he deserved: a public embarrassment, though perhaps not as bad as his wife’s, who did nothing to deserve it. But Woods will recover, the money will keep flowing, and he’ll sail off on the good ship Privacy – though he might consider renaming it.

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Michigan-Ohio State Rivalry's Roots Run Deep

John U. Bacon — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 15:20:00 GMT

November 20, 2009

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They’ve hated each other since before football was invented

Michigan plays Ohio State tomorrow, for the 106th time. The Buckeyes have already wrapped up the Rose Bowl, while the Wolverines are fighting to secure a bowl bid. But ESPN viewers still consider this rivalry the greatest in American sports. What most sports fans don’t know is, this one goes back before football even existed.

In 1833, Michigan was still a territory, while Ohio had already been a state for three decades. When Michigan started making its pitch for statehood, the surveyors had to figure out exactly where Michigan ended, and Ohio began. They soon discovered they’d gotten it wrong the first time: Toledo should have belonged to Michigan all along.

No big deal, you say? Well, don’t forget: at that time, the main thoroughfare between the Northeast and the Midwest was the Erie Canal -- and Toledo was a major stop.

When Michigan claimed it for its own, Ohio blocked Michigan’s bid for statehood. Former president John Adams, who had returned to Congress, wrote, “Never in the course of my life have I known a controversy of which all the right was so clearly on one side and all the power so overwhelmingly on the other."

So, Michigan was right – but weak. What recourse did the Wolverines, as they were called, really have?

And thus began the War of Toledo. More than half a million dollars were raised for troops on both sides. They marched into the city, and then… nothing happened, except for a few bar fights. That’s when Monroe County Deputy Sheriff Joseph Wood decided to travel south to do him some arrestin’.

This is where things get a little murky. Some say Wood road to Perrysburg to arrest Benjamin Franklin Stickney for the treasonous act of voting in an Ohio election. Others say he traveled to a Toledo tavern to arrest one of Stickney’s sons – creatively named, I’m not kidding, One Stickney, and Two Stickney. Well, that’s one way to keep track of your kids, I suppose – and to bolster stereotypes.

One thing all historians agree on: when Wood stepped forward to arrest one of the Stickneys, Two Stickney stuck ‘em – right in the thigh, with a pen knife. And that marked the only casualty of the great Toledo War.

President Andrew Jackson, tired of the silliness, offered Michigan a deal: IF you guys give Toledo back to Ohio, we’ll give you statehood. And we’ll even throw in the Upper Peninsula to boot. They took it, but one Michigan politician complained: “I wonder why they didn't give us a slice of the moon? It would have been more valuable.”

Their attitude toward the UP changed a few decades later when they discovered iron and copper – but their attitude toward Ohio did not.

The differences between them deepened during the migration to both states. Michigan was settled by upstate New York industrialists. Ohio was settled by Virginia farmers -- two very distinct groups of people, which only adds to the differences between the schools. Ah, the conceit of small differences.

How do you handle such hostility? With a good old-fashioned football game, that’s how. Michigan started playing Ohio State in 1897, but it didn’t count for much. Michigan won or tied all of the first 14 games, and Ohio State wasn’t even in the Big Ten anyway.

But things started getting interesting in 1907, the year Michigan left the Big Ten over a rules dispute. Ohio State took Michigan’s place in 1912, so when Michigan returned to the league in 1918, the rivalry was for real.

Since then, the Wolverines have beaten Ohio State 45 times, and the Buckeyes have returned the favor 42 times – about as close as you can get.

No matter who wins tomorrow, there will be blood, sweat and tears – but it still beats taking a pen knife in your thigh.

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Stevie Yzerman: All-Star, Stanley Cup Champion, Hall of Famer – and Captain

John U. Bacon — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 13:33:00 GMT

November 13, 2009

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Dear Loyal Readers:

Thanks to your loyal readership, and spreading the word, we broke 30,000 subscribers last week. Great thanks!

-JUB

STEVIE YZERMAN: ALL-STAR, STANLEY CUP CHAMPION, HALL OF FAMER – AND CAPTAIN

When the Red Wings drafted Steve Yzerman in 1983, he was 18 years old, but he looked even younger – less a Boy Scout, than a Cub Scout.

But his baby face didn’t prevent him from notching a stellar 91 points his rookie season. Two years later, the coach named him team captain – the youngest in the Red Wings’ history – though he hadn’t really earned it yet.

Oh, he could score. In his twenties, Yzerman rattled off six seasons of 100 points or more – including 155 points in 1988-89. In the history of the game, only two players have ever surpassed that mark: Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky. Not bad company.

Scoring will get you individual honors -- that year, Yzerman’s opponents named him the league’s most outstanding player – but it won’t get your name engraved on the Stanley Cup. For that, a team’s best players have to do all the grimy little chores that don’t show up on a score sheet, only the win column – like playing defense. But defense was not Yzerman’s thing, and that’s why the Red Wings usually had good teams, but never great ones.

That all changed in 1993, when Scotty Bowman became the Red Wings’ head coach. Bowman had a remarkable record for coaching winners: He’d taken teams in St. Louis, Montreal and Pittsburgh to the Stanley Cup finals nine times, and won the Cup six times.

But Detroit hadn’t won the grail since Gordie Howe ruled the rink, almost four decades earlier. Bowman had his work cut out for him.

Bowman also arrived with a well-earned reputation for inscrutability. The legendary coach was so enigmatic, some reporters took to calling him, “Rainman.” But there was method to his madness: his headgames kept everybody on edge, which usually brought out their best.

No sooner had Bowman settled in Detroit than he started speculation that he was willing to trade the team’s star center. This shocking news sent ripples through the locker room, the city and even the state.

Bowman ultimately backed off, but Yzerman got the message. He started doing all those things that don’t win headlines, just games – like backchecking, grinding, and blocking shots. This shift in priorities cut his scoring in half – but doubled his value to the team.

He became a complete player – and a complete leader. He didn’t say much in the locker room, but when he did, everybody listened. And whenever new players wondered what it took to be a Red Wing, all they had to do was watch the 38-year old captain, one of the most skilled players in the league, take a knee to block a shot.

His younger teammate Kirk Maltby said, “When you see him blocking shots night after night, you can’t help but do the same yourself. Given all the things he’s gone through, you can’t ask for a better motivation to win the Cup.”

And those are just a few of the reasons why Yzerman’s name is engraved on the Stanley Cup, three times. That’s why his jersey is one of only six that hangs from the rafters at Joe Louis Arena. And that’s why he walked into the Hall of Fame on the first ballot.

You can call him an All-Star. A Stanley Cup champion. A Hall of Famer. But the most appropriate title is one he received early in his career, but grew into over two decades: Captain.

Michigan's "Secret Weapon"

John U. Bacon — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 06:11:00 GMT

November 6, 2009

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Fifty years ago, Michigan football looked a lot different from what you see today. Most Saturdays, the stadium was half-empty. Freshmen were not allowed to play, and sophomores rarely did. The starting players on offense also served as the back-ups on defense, and vice versa. So, most of the better players got tuckered out pretty fast.

Michigan started the ‘59 season right where it left off the last one, by losing two games to extend their losing streak to six. The last of those was an embarrassing loss to Michigan State, 34 to 8.

Desperate, head coach Bump Elliott took a chance: he created a “third unit” of young back-up players to give the older guys an occasional rest. Elliott had no idea what he had created.

These third-stringers made their mark not with their experience or expertise but their wild, hellbent style of attacking anyone wearing the wrong color jersey. They called themselves “Raeder’s Raiders,” in honor of their spiritual leader, sophomore Paul Raeder.

Elliott deployed his secret weapon for the first time against Oregon State – and the Wolverines finally won, 18-7. Encouraged, Elliott kept putting them in, and they kept disrupting the other team’s offense.

Raeder’s Raiders didn’t always follow the script the coaches gave them. They blitzed without provocation, knocked off helmets and broke up plays and blocked punts. They created havoc and fumbles and interceptions, and they flipped All-American running backs head over heels to the turf.

They also captured the hearts of the fans. Whenever Bump Elliott pulled Raeder’s Raiders to put the starters back in, the crowd booed.

Led by these also-rans, the 1959 Wolverines won four of their last six games, including a stunner over Ohio State, 21-14.

The next year most of the Raiders were promoted to starters themselves – but they all say they never had more fun than they did being sent in as super subs the year before.

They graduated, then became employees, husbands and fathers. Of the 12 Raiders, three became doctors, and a surprising seven became teachers and coaches. Even one of the doctors won awards for his teaching. They all seemed to remember what a difference it makes when somebody believes in you, and gives you a chance.

Almost all of them are retired now. They spend their time with their wives and their children, and their grandchildren.

Four of them have passed away, including Paul Raeder. Shortly after he died two years ago, his widow, Wendy, received a difficult diagnosis herself. Life is not easy for Wendy these days, but like a true Raeder’s Raider, that didn’t stop her from getting the gang back together this fall for the 50^th anniversary of their great season. They served as the honorary captains for the Delaware State game, the first group of Michigan players so honored.

Wendy collected their stories in a binder, and gave me a copy. At the end of it, she wrote, “That’s the story of the Raiders. No big moral or heavy lesson, just Be Prepared, have a Great Attitude, have Fun, and Seize Your Moment.”

Fifty years later, nobody can remember the starters on that team, or even their back ups. No, it’s the third-stringers, Raeder’s Raiders, and their relentless spirit, that we recall today.

Copyright © 2009, Michigan Radio

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Bill Martin Legacy

John U. Bacon — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 13:15:00 GMT

October 30, 2009

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Last week, Bill Martin announced he would step down as Michigan’s athletic director, effective right before next fall’s first football game.

I was a little surprised Martin announced his retirement in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the football season. But, as surprises go, it wasn’t much of one. Martin has already put in a decade as the Wolverines’ athletic director, which is about average by contemporary standards. And he’s accomplished more during that time than anyone could have reasonably expected -- perhaps including himself.

The big surprises happened years ago.

The first occurred when former U of M President Lee Bollinger tapped his old friend to fill in for a few months while the school searched for a full time replacement. Martin – an avid sailor who never played or coached any school sports -- did the job so well that Michigan’s coaches asked Bollinger to keep him. And it was perhaps a bigger surprise that Martin, who had already made millions building First Martin Corporation into the largest property owner in the city, took the job – for a dollar a year.

He had no idea what he was getting into.

For almost a century, Michigan had arguably the most innovative, successful and stable athletic department in the country. Michigan needed only five A-Ds for its first 90 years – and five more just to get through the 1990s.

When Martin took over in 1999, the department labored under a $3.9 million dollar deficit and the specter of an investigation by both the NCAA and the FBI into illegal payments made to basketball players – which proved to be true.

Martin should have asked for more than a buck.

The first order of business was to clear Michigan’s name. Martin did that by cooperating with the NCAA – even though they always make you regret it.

He then created a huge budget surplus, revamped the aging facilities, and hired coaches. He did great work on the first two tasks, and a pretty good job on the third.

He hired a few duds, most notably basketball coaches Cheryl Burnett and Tommy Amaker. But when he hired them, there was good reason to believe both would succeed. They just didn’t, so Martin let them go and replaced them with much better coaches.

Martin’s search for a new football coach, however, was undoubtedly the low point of his tenure. Lloyd Carr had already told Martin he would not be coaching much longer, but Martin seemed to be genuinely caught off-guard by Carr’s retirement after the 2007 Ohio State game.

Les Miles, a former Michigan player and assistant coach who was in the process of leading Louisiana State University to a national title, wanted the Michigan job – but Michigan did not even return his calls. Instead, Michigan offered the job to Rutgers head coach Greg Schiano – who publicly turned Michigan down. Martin then reassured people that he had a list of twenty candidates, which is the kind of list you put together a year before you actually need to pick one.

Martin and U of M President Mary Sue Coleman had to scramble. They got lucky when Rich Rodriguez became interested only after his West Virginia team got knocked out of the national title chase by lowly Pitt. But the damage had been done to the Michigan football family, which remains fractured.

It will be up to the next AD to bring the family back together. The question is: should Michigan hire someone with an athletic background, or a business one? The race is on.

But whomever they pick, the next AD will no doubt make some mistakes and some enemies. Martin did both, and some might have been avoidable. But Michigan will be lucky if its next athletic director improves the department as much as Bill Martin did.

Gone Fishin'. Back Next Week.

John U. Bacon — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:12:00 GMT

October 23, 2009

Dear Loyal Readers,

Thanks to the Michigan Radio pledge week, and slightly more than theusual amount of madness in my own schedule -- augmented by MichiganAthletic Director Bill Martin's announcement that he'd be stepping downby September 4, 2010 -- I did not write a commentary this week, butwill have plenty to write in the weeks to come.

Thanks for your patience, and your continued interest.

-John