Three and Out (66 page)

If this celebrated alum was right, there was good news for Brandon: Michigan had almost no chance.

Some parents and returning players who wanted to defend Rodriguez could not get through to Brandon, much to their dismay. That group included Denard Robinson, who publicly and privately declared his desire that Rodriguez stay. He repeatedly tried to make an appointment with Brandon in Ann Arbor, and later in Jacksonville—site of the Gator Bowl—but could never get Brandon's time.

When the bowl practices started, the seniors began conducting their exit interviews with associate athletic director Greg Harden. Not surprisingly, these interviews focused on the central question: Should Rodriguez stay, or should he go? Their views were mixed, but their conclusions leaving the interviews were not: Our coach is a goner.

“It's all anyone was talking about—Rich getting fired,” one student manager said. “No one wanted to be there.”

“They knew before the Gator Bowl, Rich Rod was going to be gone,” another added. “Even the assistants knew, or seemed like it. One day, during practice, Coach Frey pulls me aside and says, ‘I don't know what's going to happen, but I just want you to know you're the best student manager I've had. We should stay in contact.'”

“We knew the guys weren't into it,” a third said. “You could just see, they'd had enough of the whole thing.”

Given the incessant pressure of the previous three years, the discouraging end to the season, plus the Bust and the exit interviews, they finally realized winning would bring not freedom from their burdens—as it would have earlier in the season—but an extension of them. The way things were set up, they had more incentive to lose than to win.

*   *   *

Right before kickoff at the Gator Bowl, on January 1, 2011, Mark Moundros and Rich Rodriguez spoke to the team at full power. When the Wolverines took the field, it looked, once again, as if it could be Michigan's day.

Denard Robinson wasted no time moving his team downfield, passing for 10 and 6, running for 24 and 22, and finally hitting Roundtree for a 10-yard touchdown pass. 7–0.

The defense gave 10 points right back, however, before Denard found Odoms—making his return after breaking his foot—in the end zone for a 27-yard touchdown pass. Michigan ended the first quarter ahead in just about every category, including the score: 14–10.

But in the second quarter, Mississippi State scored three straight touchdowns to Michigan's zero, taking a commanding 31–14 lead into halftime.

One fan sitting in the stands behind the bench held up a sign that read:
EVEN BO SAID IT TAKES FOUR YEARS
.

But three other fans held up one sign each:
WE. WANT. HARBAUGH
. The players had not been able to escape such talk for over a month, even during their last game.

In the locker room, David Molk asked his teammates, “So this is it? After a month of practice, this is what we bring? This is all we got? This is US? Disgusting! Lying down after a half? We laid down after a
quarter
!

“No hanging our heads! Get up! Get up and get after their asses!”

Rodriguez followed Molk: “There ain't nothing wrong with ya! You're better than that! Get your heads up—and let's go!”

But after three years of nonstop drama, after facing just about every obstacle you could throw at a group of college football players, they didn't have anything left.

When they ran out of the tunnel, you could tell they were done.

“I've been ‘all in' for Rich Rod from the start,” cameraman Patrick McLaughlin said. “But they're down 31–14, and some of these guys just came out of the tunnel
smiling.
You can't allow that—not that he does.

“Unless they pull off a miracle, or lose respectably, I do believe his story ends here today. I finally believe it.”

The Bulldogs added three more touchdowns in the second half to stretch their lead to 52–14. That was it.

McLaughlin may have been late to reach his conclusion, but he was right. And back in the coaches' room, Rodriguez knew it, too.

“Today's not our day,” he told them. “I thought we were ready to play, and we weren't, and that's on me. We just didn't execute, in any phase of the game.

“But that doesn't diminish my feelings for you, and especially you seniors. You guys busted your asses off all year. You're going out winners in my book.

“Seniors, you laid the foundation for all the teams that follow. We have a great work ethic and a great attitude.

“Your curfew is one a.m. Don't screw this week up by doing something stupid. Breakfast is at eight to nine thirty. Then the buses take us to the airport.

“You seniors, you've given the juniors something to live up to. You have the right attitude.

“Get in. ‘Michigan' on three.”

“MICHIGAN!”

Van Bergen, Moundros, and a few other players were in tears.

Like most of the assistants, Greg Frey gathered his position players. “Once you're part of my family for one play, you're a part of my family for life. You need me, you call me.”

Rodriguez went through the locker room to hug every senior, then handled the press conference and returned to an empty locker room.

He faced his locker for a moment, half slammed it, and said, “Well, I just made Dave Brandon's job a lot easier.”

 

52   A MICHIGAN MAN

On Tuesday, January 4, 2011, word leaked that Rodriguez was meeting in Dave Brandon's office that afternoon. One news source, which had already erroneously reported after the UConn game that Tate Forcier was transferring, reported that Brandon would fire Rodriguez that day.

Rita Rodriguez had asked Brandon's office to let her know before he made an announcement, so she could be sure her children didn't find out in school and break down in front of their friends.

“Oh, we're not West Virginia,” they told her. “We wouldn't do that.”

No such announcement came, but Raquel said, “I knew Dad was meeting today. I was ready for it.”

Some people in Schembechler Hall were not doing as well. Secretaries Mary Passink and Jennifer Maszatics were crying, and another broke out in hives.

When the meeting ended about 5:00 p.m., Brandon had not given Rodriguez a final decision.

Back at the Rodriguez home, they hovered around the kitchen, snacking, doing homework, and watching TV, but mainly talking about what had happened and what might happen the next day.

Rita discussed the cultural fit question, which might have been more real than anyone had imagined initially. “I should have known we were in trouble when Ivan Maisel [of
Sports Illustrated
] asked, ‘How do you think you'll fit in up there?'

“I said, ‘What do you mean? Why do I have to fit in? Why
wouldn't
I fit in? I always thought we were pretty likable people. Why wouldn't that be enough?'”

In Christine Brennan's
USA Today
column that day, she wrote, “Rich-Rod knew he wasn't in Morgantown anymore when a Michigan staffer poked his head into his office one day to tell Rodriguez that a university regent had complained about his language at a recent speech in front of Michigan football fans. As Rodriguez frantically racked his brain to recall what he might have said, the staffer sheepishly offered up the offending word: Rodriguez had said ‘ain't.'”

“Every time I wanted to love Michigan,” Rita said in the kitchen that night, “something would happen to scare me off and put my guard back up.”

*   *   *

The next day, Rich and Rita Rodriguez returned to Brandon's office, where he told them he was letting Rich and his staff go. Soon thereafter, Rodriguez addressed his coaches, then his team, while Brandon met with the press.

During his announcement, Larry Lage of the Associated Press asked Brandon if he had talked to the players. “Believe me, I've talked to plenty of players. I've always taken the meeting and it's always been very helpful. If someone wants to have a meeting with me, they can have one—because that's the kind of guy I am.”

This would have come as news to Denard Robinson, among others.

As soon as the meeting was over, Rodriguez walked through his office to the coaches' meeting room, where his staff had been waiting for him.

“Well, as expected, they fired me,” he told them. “They said they did an evaluation, and they didn't like all the ‘negativity surrounding the program.'

“They'll have a press conference at noon. I won't be there. No need to be humiliated one more time. I'm just going to release a statement, and that will be it.

“I've seen how hard you have worked. You have not cheated Michigan out of an hour. I don't know if Michigan appreciates it”—his voice cracked at that—“but I do.”

He waited a minute to speak again. The staffers observed a respectful silence, and remained completely still. Their expressions were sadly stoic.

“I had a chance at other jobs last week, but we were not going to sell Michigan or the kids short. I'm a little mad about that now, that they dragged it out so long—but it is what it is. I'm not burnt-out, I don't want to sit out—even though everyone tells me I should. I want to be a coach. I want to be a head coach.

“I feel badly for you guys. You all came here to do your best. I'm sorry it didn't work out. If I can do anything to help, let me know.

“It was a bad fit here from the start. They've tarred and feathered us from the day we got here. But we're still standing.

“You've got pay and benefits through April.”

They remained quiet for a while. No one got up to leave, or even move. Finally, Tony Gibson spoke. “I just want to say, I'm sorry, Coach. It's not just you. It's all of us.” The others seconded Gibson's sentiment.

“Coach, I'm sorry,” Rutledge added. “I said this was the greatest place in the world, all first-class—”

Rodriguez interrupted Rutledge with a wave of his hand. Water over the dam. Not going to go there.

“Coach,” Magee said, with his phone in his hand. “It's Denard. He wants to come down to see you.”

“Tell him I'll be in my office.”

*   *   *

After Brandon's press conference announcing the firing, he arranged to meet with the team first, followed by Rodriguez.

“Obviously,” he said, “you're all well aware of the fact I made an announcement today, that we're going to make a transition with our coaching staff. I want you to know it was a tough decision. Coach Rodriguez was a professional—open, honest, good to work with.

“Change is hard. This is not fun. Anyone who likes that has got something wrong with him. I hope you're here because of Michigan—from the classroom to the Big House—where you can get a world-class education and compete at the highest level.” He then stated more explicitly: If people start transferring, we have to start all over again.

“Whether we like it or not, we've got all these clowns outside this building waiting for us with their cameras and recorders, looking to perpetuate the drama. I'm asking that you don't give them the sound bite they want. Just tell them you're a Michigan Man and you're ready to play for whoever is the next Michigan coach.

“The world is waiting to hear what you tweet and what you text. They've got us under a microscope again. I ask you to use a lot of discretion. Think about what you say and write.”

When he opened the floor to questions, Denard Robinson's hand shot up. “You got a coach?”

“I'm looking to find the best coach I can find.”

“Do you have a timeline?” Robinson asked.

“Great question. It's exceedingly important that I move as fast as I possibly can. Having said that, it's not a race about speed but getting the right person.”

“Are you keeping Barwis?” another player asked.

“The current strength staff is in place and we'd like them to stay in place for as long as possible. When a new coaching staff comes in, Mike's gonna be here.” With that, Brandon nodded to Barwis, standing in the back as always, who said, “Yes, sir.”

“What coaches are you talking to?” Denard asked.

“The problem with that is I can't say any names without it being tweeted in ten minutes and on ESPN's fourteen stations, but you have to trust me no one wants the next coach to be more successful than I do.”

Following up on one of Brandon's comments, Cam Gordon asked, “What are the negatives we face as a team?”

“We've been playing football here for one hundred and thirty-one years, and we've always had a tradition of winning. We haven't kept pace with the expectations that are Michigan—not from a lack of effort—but we need to get the trajectory right so we're competing for Big Ten titles.”

“How fast do you expect us to get back to where you want us to be,” Denard asked, “if you bring in a whole new staff?”

Brandon gave a generalized answer about making “significant, positive steps.”

“Will you keep the assistants?”

“Absolutely,” he said, “if the assistants are interested, and the new staff wants to keep them. But I'm a big believer that leaders must pick their teams.”

“Is there anything we can do to help you in the process?” one asked.

“Don't give the media what it wants. Don't say anything about the old coach, about the new coach, about the school. Just be Michigan Men.

“One other thing,” Brandon said in closing. “Coach Rodriguez is a good man who tried hard and worked hard. He's operated in a very difficult environment for years. I want to change that environment—big-time.”

Before the meeting was over, he already had. Brandon had surely learned some lessons from watching the last transition, and he was eager to prevent the transfers and headlines that occurred during the last one.