BAD SEED: A COLLEGE FOOTBALL ODYSSEY
BAD SEED
By LONN PHILLIPS SULLIVAN
"...and with that sack, Oklahoma's eighth on the night against Randall 'Ice' McMillan, the Sooners look like they've just stolen this one out from under Oregon and their young coach Bruce McFadden...what a game of twists and turns," came the commentator's condemnation on national television.
The naked hiss of defeat echoed and rattled around inside the ringing ears of McFadden, sending constant chills of feverish doom down the spine of Oregon's head coach...his green hat becoming darkened with sweat as he witnessed his superstar quarterback get levelled in the back field yet again.
Two more of his offensive linemen lay smashed and crippled on the turf next to "Ice" McMillan, blood soaking their green and off-white pants around the knees while Oregon fans and alumni sheepishly shuffled out with traumatised faces, the scoreboard above their sinking heads reading: OKLA 38 OREG 26.
The scenes were straight out of Apocalypse Now: medics tending to the screams of the wounded, angry disillusionment all around (two Oregon fans fought each other with beer bottles in the post-game parking lot)...it was all too much. McFadden tried to shake his head at the hellish scenes before him, but could only muster a shaky, emotionless grimace.
"I'll be honest with you," McFadden would reminisce later, "I never thought about games being on TV or how we looked or how I appeared until right then...in that moment. You know the entire football world is watching you become the most isolated person on planet earth and there's nothing you can do...nowhere to hide..."
Coach McFadden looked stoned numb from the violent come-from-behind defeat his boys were about to allow that night...his charisma drained for the first time in his young tenure as Ducks head coach
After a high octane undefeated regular season where his program averaged 41.3 points per game, allowing only 12.4 on defense, and in the process became a national talking point around every water cooler or smoking section in America (as well as the most debated topic during every hour of Sportscenter) somehow even with all the accomplishments and hype, Oregon were going to give this title away.
He could feel the blood boiling in the corners of his eyes, the lights became a myriad of blurred flashes, and the heat rose within his skull under the headset, his coaching staff's errant anger panning ear to ear.
Coach McFadden ripped the headphones off and let 'em drag by the cord on the sideline behind him, the screeches of the soon to be fired defensive coordinator still emanating through the dysfunctional frequency.
His quarterback slumped next to him, heaving, sweat pouring like an 80s workout video, but "Ice" McMillan refused to accept the reality of defeat, gritting through a stomach injury on the last sack and trying not to vomit.
"It aint over, Coach!" Ice let out through gousted pouts at his head coach. With 1:43 on the slowly diminishing clock, and Oklahoma QB Deuce Mendenhall grabbing the game-ending first down following a good old fashioned QB sneak, McFadden put his hand on his "Ice" McMillan's helmet and leaned in to sternly whisper:
"It never really is...." Slapping him on the back, failing to keep his own chin up as his head dipped again, seeing the massive celebrations begin to unfold on the other sideline.
"Oregon just seemed to get scared of having the lead against such a great team, didn't they? You almost have to feel sorry for Coach Bruce McFadden," the color commentator continued, "he sent his boys out there to play for 4 quarters and they played for 3..."
"It's not gonna get you a championship, neither will so many injuries to all of your best guys...and look at that man there, Oklahoma's Ron Darrell Johnston. He's got seven rings now, becoming the all time winningest coach in NCAA history...it's hard to believe the dominance from Norman this decade..."
"Yeah, adding another to the trophy cabinet tonight, but his guys never quit. This has to be the sweetest of the seven he's won at Oklahoma. His guys responded against adversity... and being down twelve points to 'Ice' McMillan is as tough as it gets."
The perfection-hungry Ron Darrell Johnston began patting his guys on the shoulder pads / helmets, going on a war path, and making sure they were still conservative in their victory dances.
Oklahoma's players knew they'd gotten away with this title, though their fans and the media were there to rub it in Oregon's face:
"Listen to that noise..." The commentator chuckled softly behind the din of Oklahoma fans' screaming wildly, "I think this building had to be 80% Sooners fans!"
"That's why, as the red and white confetti falls here in Cowboys Stadium, and the Sooners get their paws on the trophy, we have to say it...I know Oregon fans don't wanna hear this right now but tonight the Ducks played a game that'll haunt them for the rest of their lives," McFadden's face plastered on a national broadcast with a thousand yard stare, his players sobbing or angrily throwing their helmets and shoulder pads away in frustrated agony at their own Vietnam.
"You're right Dan, as much as we wanna salute and congratulate Oklahoma once again for the third year in a row, this was about Oregon playing outta their minds before they kinda...had an avalanche of injuries and were unable to recover...which really speaks to the class of this Oklahoma program..."
"I don't think I've ever seen as many injuries in such a short time span and in a game of such magnitude, John...this has been Shakespearean out here tonight!"
"This night....is...for...Oklahoma!"
The trophy was lifted aloft by Ron Darrell Johnston, looking savage at the podium, passing around cigars to 19-23 year olds (his tradition following every national championship), Oklahoma quarterback and Heisman trophy winner Deuce "Lightning" Mendenhall lighting one up for the cameras.
"I'll be back...and so will we!" Deuce puffed a cloud of smoke into the cameras as he made an impromptu NFL Draft announcement, making it clear he'd be returning for his senior year...more good news for Oklahoma fans.
That early January night was the feverish bloodletting of the National Championship game, held in the rancor and Auschwitzian allure of Cowboys Stadium.
It was the match-up we'd all been waiting for: McFadden's Oregon were facing their media-hyped nemesis, two-time defending champion and perennial powerhouse Oklahoma.
Ron Darrell Johnston's Sooners played like shit all game, hung around thanks to their Australian kicker Mark Otterson, then gained a foothold in the second half once they injured Oregon's junior All-American left tackle Matt Harmon.
Harmon, the prospective 1st Round pick in the NFL Draft had a teammate roll under his legs, blew his knee out and (more horrifically as they'd find out later) breaking his leg. These grueling 3rd quarter scenes grounded the Oregon Ducks' high flying momentum for 5 minutes while Harmon received treatment (the network advertisers taking full advantage of the wait).
When the cornerstone of the Oregon offensive line went down, the soul of McFadden's players was shaken and this was noticed by the merciless coach on the Oklahoma sideline, keenly aware of the psychological warfare and "weak" tendencies in the aftermath of a crushing injury to a big player.
So, accordingly, Oklahoma's head coach, the legendary Ron Darrell Johnston looked to his defensive coordinator and linebacker / team captain Garret Quinley and sternly ordered, "the only way we win this game is by collecting body bags...he who walks off this field wins this fucking game, you hear me?"
Disregarding his coach's cavalierly violent poetry (he was used to this), Quinley nodded and looked the part of a warrior, though the highly ranked middle linebacker was disgusted by the order.
Quinley was staring at half of his team kneeling in solemn prayer to show solidarity with the injured Harmon, writhing on the ground in tears, the cart coming out and here his coach was saying to "take more Oregon players down."
"Michelle, do you have an update on Harmon's injury?" Dan the commentator asked.
Michelle, shown on the sidelines: "This is a ghastly one, Dan, it looks bad. Oregon's medical team is giving us nothing, understandably..."
"You have to feel horrible for Harmon, not just in the context of the biggest game of his life but now you have a player who's all but committed to the NFL Draft, has graduated early and now this happens?!"
Once Harmon was carted to the locker room and then to a local hospital, Oklahoma's own All-American, defensive lineman Darrell Gideon, went to town.
With a relatively undersized backup left tackle Damon Francis taking Harmon's spot, Gideon began ripping Oregon's front apart and getting to the once elusive quarterback Randall "Ice" McMillan (the Heisman runner-up sensation) time and time again...burying 'Ice' and Oregon's high flying offense in the back field.
The score had been 26-14 when Harmon went down for the count, but by the end of 4 quarters, right there on the sweat and teeth-soaked plast-i-turf stage, under that unforgiving media scrutiny, Coach McFadden had finally taken Oregon to the gates of the promised land but had fallen down a precipice into another kind of hell altogether...
When Oklahoma were losing by 12, a first for Ron Darrell Johnston's sterling undefeated National Championship game record (6-0), the mad dog lifer was getting desperate, his beer-belly contorting under the sweat of his red and white Sooners shirt...his aviators faintly covering the lines above his brow as he looked crazed...truly under pressure and stress for the first time in his bowl game career.
Johnston was also sick of hearing comparisons between himself and McFadden all week in the lead-up to the game, in fact the swirling social media firestorm pitting the two against each other as absolute opposites in the paradigm of football's future and its past had begun long before the game.
Ronny, as he was known, was a lifer...one of those old white guys who viewed football as war: a militaristic bloodbath in which the future paths, no, the very fate of men were decided.
He'd won at Oklahoma for decades, delivering 4 National titles in the 80s, yet he'd also battled alcoholism and was booted out of Norman with a severance package and a kick in the cock after a cocaine-induced rendezvous with a prostitute.
It was years "in the wilderness" as Johnston would say before mega-church preacher "Dr." Bruce Galloway baptized him and sermonized his battle against addiction and eventual "recovery through Christ", with the resulting Dr. Phil appearances convincing Oklahoma to hire him back in 2002.
The Sooners haven't stopped winning since.
Meanwhile, McFadden's Oregon were a progressive culture to the outside world: young African-American men finally being pushed into positions of power by merit alone: McFadden a white coach supported by a nearly all black coaching staff, a black quarterback who was already a superstar coming out of high school and a bevy of future NFL talent he was nurturing...it was all a feel good racial story for ESPN, but for real football people the word was: future...future...future...you kept hearing it: potential..."ceiling"..."draft analysis" blah blah fucking blah...
But by the end of 4 quarters in Dallas's flesh and bone greed vortex of JerryWorld, Oregon's future and some of its iconic shine took a hit.
Post game, the media would claim "the Oregon sideline was in dejected disarray" as the last minutes of the eventual 38-26 score wound down, though from this "journalist's" eyes the only movement I even witnessed was the 9 or 10 players receiving injury treatments, everyone else wasn't moving. It was like a cemetery, the only movement was a fart or a cough and if it happened, we didn't hear it.
From feeling as if they had one hand on the title and then to have it ripped from your jaws...it was my first time, in my 32 years of sports reporting where I felt like crying for the losing team.
I keenly noticed the Oregon athletic director Marcus Williams, Oregon's only Heisman winner and retired NFL receiver, stood and glared at Coach Bruce McFadden while the man had his back turned, coaching the team in vain.
The folded arms and death glares from the Oregon A.D began once the lead was breached and Oklahoma went up 28-26 after their successful 8 minute drive capped off by a 1 yard run up the gut into the end zone. When Harmon went down, Marcus Williams was shaking with anger towards the Oklahoma sideline and tried to rally the Ducks sideline with pep talks the kids weren't hearing.
But after Randall "Ice" McMillan threw his first interception of the season after a perceived mIscommunication between the quarterback and his head coach, the athletic director began staring down his head coach like a hawk.
The image of McMillan's outstretched, interrogative hands and McFadden's search for an answer became the cover for Sports Illustrated's coverage following the National Championship game, opting out of celebrating the winner on the cover for the first time in their history.
This time the loser was the story and they were gonna be all over it...and Oregon's athletic director knew the consequences of a well-publicized defeat all too well.
Finally when the game finally ended, McFadden and his team were nearly relieved, thinking they could escape such a humbling destruction away from the field. But as they'd all quickly learn, this was a loss that would have lasting effects.
When Ron Darrell Johnston met midfield for the post game handshake, a mob ensued long before the two left their own sidelines.
Policemen escorting both coaches were getting into it with some Oklahoma fans who rushed the field, getting their shot on national television to look authoritative for their Tinder profiles. Cameraman encircled each coach, a pair of lenses and tangling cords for each network, the lot of them making damn sure to capture both coaches.
Ron Darrell Johnston moved like a grunt with a machete in the brush, lifting a mopheaded Sooners fan out of his way with savage omnipotence: The Prodigal Christ risen from his cross.
Meanwhile, Coach McFadden had to anxiously wade through a murk of media, creepy cops and jeering, unintelligibly vicious fans (even from his own school) before finally the two were within inches of each other. It was, next to Belichick and Mangiani, the quickest handshake of all time, neither relishing an existence (no matter how quickly arranged) within the orbit of the other.
Reports abounded that their fingers touched briefly before shaking the air.
In the post-game press conference, mandatory for both teams, Oklahoma's head coach revealed just how badly he wanted to beat McFadden.
"I wanted that one more than all of the other 6 combined, sorry Danny Wooderson," Johnston apologized to his former quarterback from his title winning teams of 81-84, "but this was about adversity. We were always favorites, Oklahoma is always destined for excellence. But excellence is earned!" He barked, "nobody can take it away from us. And they might not ever be able to take it away as long as I'm alive," he gloated, the laughter from the media propelling his arrogance.
When I asked my question, he called me Shortround (I'm Asian so i believe Johnston was quoting Indiana Jones) and interrupted me, asking me "if i was sad", making it apparent how hyper-sensitive he was to those around him kissing his ass.
"No," I fake chuckled, "was it a game plan to hurt the other team's best players?"
The media room, enjoying an easy one-sided story, went dead silent, some of my colleagues looking back at me with annoyed, academic looks while others hid their heads.
Johnston scoffed, "I dunnuhwasitehh game plan for them to be made of glass today?"
"Was it a plan to target Mark Harmon, specifically going low on him? Your receivers did the same against Oregon corner Leroy Davis..." I could sense Johnston's glowering ire, "...It seemed after the 1st half your guys were going outta their way to target that specific area..." I pressed him again, knowing the crap I'd get.
"I mean what is this?" Johnston laughed, downing something in a plastic cup and contorting his face into an annoyed scrunch, "are we going after players' knees, is that what you're fuckin askin' me? After a national championship game?"
"Yeah I'm asking that, I just did, want me to rephrase?" I wasn't going to back down, I knew what I saw.
"What do you want from me? I don't get this, next question..."
I stared Johnston down, wanting the coach to know I saw him tell Quinley to "put players in body bags", but after seeing the disgusted "sit the fuck down" glares of my press colleagues, I reluctantly took my seat.
Ron Darrell Johnston basked in the light of his labors and I shut my mouth, though my pen kept moving.
The renegade coach had always been dubbed "the most overrated of all time" due to his propensity to recruit Grade A players and future NFL stars and Oklahoma's sterling record in title games (before that night, the Sooners hadn't been down more than 3 points in a title game).
We all waited anxiously for Oregon's turn at the podium; besides the fact it's always harder to interview a losing coach and his team, but this was a team and a coach who'd lost under the worst circumstances and cursed luck we'd all collectively seen in the press box.
When McFadden finally came in, head bowed before rising to meet us at the microphone, he'd opted to leave his players in the locker room, an NCAA violation he was obviously more than willing to accept.
"Why aren't your..?" The first question came before being cut off.
"What kinda coach would I be to force my guys out here?" McFadden interrupted solemnly.
The editor from the Denver Post switched his tune, "what is the severity of Mark Harmon's injury?"
"We don't reveal any information like that, I mean come on...next question?" The Oregon coach wasn't flustered, he was quietly angry.
"What changes or adjustments were made over the course of the 2nd half? Especially with all the injuries..." Daniel Ryan posed from the L.A Times.
"It was next man up, no excuses, we failed to maintain a lead, we failed to win a ball game," McFadden deadpanned. When he received stares of wonder after his answer, he became defiant. "Look if you want me to cry cause we lost, well boo hoo, we lost...do you want me to do the Dennis Green 'we let em off the hook' bit?"
Laughs crept up and even McFadden smirked while shaking his head.
For a second there I thought we were going to see a coach losing his grasp, transforming from a genius into "I'm a man, I'm 40" territory before suddenly bringing in casual levity and no excuses during the worst moment of his career.
"As for our players, our seniors, we don't have many but those 5 guys played their asses off and deserved a victory. This was the greatest season in Oregon history, we just didn't complete the mission. We didn't finish the job....but I know one thing, we'll be back here next year."
"Will Randall 'Ice' McMillan, Lance Salisbury and Miles Landau be declaring for the NFL draft?" A desperate blogger from Bleacher asked.
"I'm not sure...but wherever they are I know they'll be successful...and I'd love for it to be with us for another year," he succinctly put.
The ensuing questions were all rehashes of the team's second half collapse, focusing on the injuries to offensive linemen Mark Harmon and Titus McVay, banged up All-American corner Leroy Davis and linebacker Lance Salisbury, each name hitting McFadden like a brick to the face, interrupting the Denver Post guy's reading from the list to say poignantly, "at least none of our seniors were hurt..."
"Is that all?" He asked in a numb state, receiving the nod from the journalists present before gathering his phone, water bottle and leaving the room.
I followed him down the long hallway, the area full of hangers-on and VIPs gawking at the losing coach as we walked around and sometimes through them, some looking as if to wonder aloud, "this human just lost?"
Such was the amount of people traffic, he didn't realize anyone was behind him as I'd prepared for and hoped, knowing these moments may capture something interesting.
Nothing went down until McFadden barreled through the locker room doors with such ferocity that they flew back open before locking and I pushed through into a white bricked corridor, empty save for a security guard in his late 50s.
The gentleman said nothing to me as I walked past with authority, "with Coach..." I mumbled with an outrageous smile.
"Yeah..." the guard shook his head while looking away, giving not a damn about controlling access into Oregon's locker room.
As I turned the corner I was nearly unable to open my phone correctly as I prepared to film and record immediately. I would use only what I couldn't remember...I was still somewhat ethical, I justi-lied to myself, peeking around the end of another hallway and seeing shirtless players all quiet, some staring up, eyes closed...others crying silently, their heads bowed.
Not a sound.
It was so quiet you could hear Oklahoma's celebrations on the field, the booming voice of Rece Davis as he congratulated and handed the Sooners the trophy.
I wondered where McFadden was, then I heard his steely voice cut through the gloomy din, completely erasing the white noise of victory:
"That's tempting to listen to...but it's not ours to enjoy...it's not even ours to beat ourselves up with," his voice came quiet and pointed. "I know I should just shut the fuck up and let us all die a billion deaths in this room, but it's over. We will watch this game film tomorrow afternoon...and we'll suck on this...I'm proud of everyone in here. This was the greatest season I could've ever imagined being a part of...and yet I know there's more...." some players' heads begin to rise, "We can be better..."
"We should've fucking won this game!" Randall Ice McMillan exploded, McFadden pausing and staying silent. "They are the dirtiest fucking team I've ever seen..." McMillan stood up, all of his teammates' attention captured, "we're gonna be here again next year...against this same team cause we know how those fuckers schedule soft...and we're gonna get revenge...not tomorrow, not a month from now, but next year we will be here again today...and that's when we find out if we're champions...until then, we find out if we're men."
The last word rang out in unison with Ice's fist slamming the locker behind him as he walked to the showers, stripping down without a word as McFadden looked at the guys and nodded silently, knowing no words could follow that speech.
I stuck around in that hallway until the players had all cleared out. As I walked in the empty locker room I had a crazy feeling that win or lose this team was worth following...rooting for...maybe even writing about.
But first, I had to be the first to tweet the headline news before anyone else: "Ice" McMillan to forgo NFL Draft for his junior season.
That night, the team disregarded plans to stay in Dallas and flew home to Eugene in, as Luther W. Henry put it on ESPN "a plane resembling a flying coffin".
But what I saw had more to it than the "caption meets all" headlines: exhaustion from players who'd given everything (including their body and mind) and an unspoken guilt from their teammates who'd been spared the game's reckless injury toll.
Most players who wore headphones pregame now shunned them for dead silence, quiet brotherly conversation or much-needed sleep on the 2am flight home from Dallas.
Meanwhile, Ice McMillan and Coach McFadden were watching game film on a laptop of the National Championship game they'd just lost.
As I passed their double-seat with adjoining table for the laptop, drinks and the first class post-game Salisbury Steak meal Oregon's booster money had paid for, I heard them dissecting the play that "changed the game" as McFadden admitted in his usual friar's croak.
"This is where Harmon gets hurt," McFadden continued, rolling back the recording from ESPN, "see we called the quick post, you read the coverage beautifully and I saw you audible for a screen left, I thought it was the right move. I let you go with it because they hadn't edged Mark all night..."
"Or gotten off Sammy's or Ludwig's blocks outside, there was no contain or press," Randall interjected.
The coach listened with a quiet grin: "Exactly."
They watched the play over as I dipped into the head, but I could hear them even better.
"Damn!" They both hushed, "they blew us up...Snickers is open for a 15-20 yard gain if they don't sack me, how the fuck..."
"They stunted us big time, watch this closely, it's simple on Madden to put guys in different spots, but it's damn near impossible unless you've got a bunch of guys like this," he pointed at Oklahoma's defensive line, "they shift everyone out of their natural position to confuse our line, sure they didn't fool Harmon on the play, but they rammed a safety and a linebacker right at Titus as soon as he snapped the ball and, watch right here...that action was like dominos falling, they blew Titus up and that shifted bodies into Mark...that's how injuries happen."
"I don't know what I should've done differently..." Ice said rhetorically.
"They were gonna hit you anyway...throw the fuckin post," McFadden rasped, coach and quarterback laughing.
As I returned from the bathroom and saw the two speaking in more whispery, relaxed terms, I couldn't help but notice A.D Williams sitting next to a big, pink-faced angry Oregon booster, the athletic director looking like he wanted to punch the window and depressurize the cabin for our own good.
I sat down next to Max my sleeping editor and tweeted out: "Randall 'Ice' McMillan To Stay At Oregon".
In the days following the game, everyone had their say about the Ducks' squandering of a historic national championship defeat of both the "Darth Vader of college football" and his "Death Star".
"They're a buncha whiny West Coast stars, 'Chocolate Ice' or whatever he's referred to and his receivers, summathem guys reminds me of Lonzo Ball's fucked up family, seriously they didn't achieve diddly-shit as far as we're concerned in the SEC," a caller ranted on the Paul Finebaum Show.
"Chokers," Mel Kiper Jr. summarized in his typical frenzy on Sportscenter, "they should rename the team the 'Oregon Chokers' after that performance! Gimme a break! McFadden has no excuses, in fact Athletic Director Marcus Williams, the great Marcus Williams, might be on the hot seat if they don't get it done."
"Many fans, ruthless as it may seem, are already calling for Coach Bruce McFadden's head," Jim Rome narrated on his show, "after one year of promising recruiting from his time at LSU and a 14-1 season, ending in a title game defeat, early word is 'Ice' is coming back and they wanna blow this guy up? I feel like I'm watching the time Conan O'Brien went to NBC all over again."
McFadden was interviewed coming into the Oregon facility: "Are you telling your players to ignore the noise?"
"No," the coach wryly smirked, "I'm telling them to have fun with it cause it'll be the last time they experience losing a big game."
"Is this confidence or cockyness from McFadden?" Michelle Beadle asked on the ESPN morning show.
"This is a total ego trip," Mike Greenburg began, "you just lost the first national title game you've ever been in as a coach and you lost it with egg all over your face while your starting center McVay looks hurt and your All-American left tackle may not ever play again...but no, Coach McFadden cannot help himself: days after choking away a national championship to a dood like Ron Darrell Johnston and you say we're going back? Are you kidding me?"
"Ron Darrell Johnston couldn't even give Oregon that title the other night!" Analyst and ex Redskins safety Reed Doughty laughed.
As Bruce McFadden sat on his couch, listening to the barrage of anger and disgust sent his way via the media, he knew time was the only way to stop the storm. But the problem with losing a title game is there's no more games until September....so for now he was going to have to take these punches.
Then, his phone lit up with a call from his head scout and assistant Zach, "hey what's up?" Bruce coughed, setting the still lit joint in the ashtray.
"We got 'im!" Zach hyperventilated into the phone. The assistant had flown directly from Dallas to the staff's old stomping grounds in Baton Rouge on a secret recruiting mission.
McFadden nearly lept out of the La-Z-Boy, barely able to conceal his excitement, "what happened? Tell me everything..."
As the media's fiery rhetoric issued shotgun sprays of blame hitting anyone and everyone daring to stick up for McFadden, Oregon's fans remained polarized in the midst of all the ridiculous hyperbole that followed. The rumors and lies swirling around their program confused, infuriated and demoralized the fans, alumni and especially the boosters. Just a week ago they were ready to make Coach McFadden Oregon's head coach as long as he'd stay, but after a visceral ass-kicking from all sides after their most soul-destroying loss, uncertainty and misdirected anger were on the menu...just like Jim Tressel's 2006-2007 Ohio State teams or Bob Stoops's Oklahoma Sooners, nobody wanted to be on the side of a loser...
And to mirror that sentiment, A.D Williams and University president Gil Schumacher met with McFadden at 8:30am the day after the Oklahoma game.
They were expecting to grill their 32 year old coach on why his team lost a lead, why the rumors were going around the news cycle and to generally clear the air.
"I'm gonna kick his ass after what he said," Marcus raged in the president's office before McFadden arrived.
"We can't kick a dead horse, Marcus," President Gil Schumacher instructed as he sat down behind his Brazilian rosewood desk, a glass of scotch on the rocks in his hand, "but what we also don't have to do is worry about paying him, we don't have to worry about offers from the SEC, Bruce has kinda backed himself into a corner here."
"No!" Marcus interrupted, "he's backed us into a corner...if we don't win every game next season and if we don't win it all like he just claimed we would, we're gonna look bad..."
"We already do," Coach McFadden rushed in as he opened the door. Both the president and athletic director stood from their chairs, expecting a confrontation from the bursting entrance of their coach.
"Coach, we weren't expecting you to..." Schumacher began.
"I know Gil, I apologize but I'm needing to board a flight to Baton Rouge in an hour and this needs to be discussed," McFadden replied quickly.
"Why are you going to Baton Rouge?" Marcus quizzed McFadden as the coach sat down next to him. Baton Rouge had been McFadden's old home and the location of Louisiana State, a team he coached as an assistant for almost 10 years.
"A. Why wouldn't I?
B. For this guy," McFadden deadpanned, ripping out his cell phone and scrolling through his text messages until the name Desmond Wright shown brightly on the screen.
"Huh? No way!" Marcus sighed in an annoyed fashion.
McFadden looked at his athletic director with a pointed stare, "we got him..." he repeated.
"Maybe he verbally committed but that doesn't mean anything, Bruce, supposedly Oklahoma got to him first," Schumacher corrected with a sigh.
"Well...do you believe your own head coach?" McFadden laughed, "or maybe just..." he pushed some buttons on his phone, "you'll at least believe ESPN?" He shoved the Breaking News home page on espn.com in their incredulous faces.
To make it even more hilarious, the headline was "They got him: How Bruce McFadden's guarantee excited the #1 recruit for a 2nd straight season".
Marcus shook his head and McFadden had enough of the negativity, "what is your problem?" The coach stood up, the nice guy act wearing off.
"My problem? Your boys weren't ready to play after halftime...that's my problem, you can recruit whoever the hell you want to but..."
"We scored 14 points in the 3rd before Mark and Titus went down, then Davis goes down on defense, what the fuck do you mean 'not ready to play'? We had 8 sacks!"
"You can't lose that game...you just can't..." the A.D shook his head in contempt. He wanted McFadden's team and the Oregon coach knew it, seeing the tortured megalomania within Williams.
"Teams lose...it happens...Saban lost to Utah and blew two title games, Belichick collapsed in three Super Bowls too...even the greatest lose...I'm not a perfect coach, but there's nobody better, or even capable of coaching this group...and it's only gonna get better. I'm doing everything I can to make sure we never lose again. Desmond Wright at receiver...Ice at quarterback...our offense...we have Lance Odell at d-line..."
"And you just fired your defensive coordinator," Williams talked over Bruce.
"Yup," McFadden deadpanned.
"Without asking our opinion first?" The athletic director questioned with fury.
McFadden laughed under his breath and explained, "we lost the game because Matt thought he burned our guys in the first half and didn't wanna blitz them in the 3rd. I wanted the foot firmly on the gas pedal and when sparks started flying and I saw no reaction from Matt, absolutely nothing, he had to go...we may as well have lined up in prevent defense for fuck's sake!"
"Matt was also an Oregon hall of famer with two more national championships than you do..." Marcus shot back.
"Sure but not with that defensive scheme," Bruce scoffed, "we're hiring Sean Baxter for our new D-coordinator."
"Yup another LSU guy," Marcus shook his head, "if you want LSU I'm sure they'll take ya."
"The reason we're so good, Marcus? Because I brought SEC players, coaches and toughness to the Pac-12...but screw this, i don't need to defend myself to you," the coach replied as he stared Williams down.
"Toughness? We just got our asses..." the A.D began before President Schumacher had heard enough from his unsupportive athletic director:
"Marcus, you may not be won over but you don't have to be...I am," President Gil interrupted, "Bruce is our coach, even if we lose another 5 title games in a row there's nobody I'd rather have leading this football team," the president looked at Marcus with an "all in or your out" look.
Williams seethed at Schumacher and glared back at Coach McFadden.
"Enough of this or you're done! This is the time where Oregon has to circle the wagons and look out for its own...Bruce isn't just one of our own, he's the captain of this fucking ship," Schumacher rambled growing angrier and more stern with each word, "if you're only going to tear us apart from the inside, then we no longer have much to discuss, Marcus..." the president had enough of the bickering and moaning.
What came next would sting Marcus deeply for a long time to come. The president sat there in the awkward silence and kept going at his A.D:
"And you want his job? You're barely fit for your own...and as an Oregon hall of famer you should be disappointed in yourself for selling out your head coach the day after our biggest loss...your father would be sickened."
Marcus hid the ultimate rage within himself, but he knew Gil was serious: the #1 thing the guy hated was disloyalty and he had been one of his father's best friends...out of respect he just looked down.
TO BE CONTINUED...
By LONN PHILLIPS SULLIVAN
"...and with that sack, Oklahoma's eighth on the night against Randall 'Ice' McMillan, the Sooners look like they've just stolen this one out from under Oregon and their young coach Bruce McFadden...what a game of twists and turns," came the commentator's condemnation on national television.
The naked hiss of defeat echoed and rattled around inside the ringing ears of McFadden, sending constant chills of feverish doom down the spine of Oregon's head coach...his green hat becoming darkened with sweat as he witnessed his superstar quarterback get levelled in the back field yet again.
Two more of his offensive linemen lay smashed and crippled on the turf next to "Ice" McMillan, blood soaking their green and off-white pants around the knees while Oregon fans and alumni sheepishly shuffled out with traumatised faces, the scoreboard above their sinking heads reading: OKLA 38 OREG 26.
The scenes were straight out of Apocalypse Now: medics tending to the screams of the wounded, angry disillusionment all around (two Oregon fans fought each other with beer bottles in the post-game parking lot)...it was all too much. McFadden tried to shake his head at the hellish scenes before him, but could only muster a shaky, emotionless grimace.
"I'll be honest with you," McFadden would reminisce later, "I never thought about games being on TV or how we looked or how I appeared until right then...in that moment. You know the entire football world is watching you become the most isolated person on planet earth and there's nothing you can do...nowhere to hide..."
Coach McFadden looked stoned numb from the violent come-from-behind defeat his boys were about to allow that night...his charisma drained for the first time in his young tenure as Ducks head coach
After a high octane undefeated regular season where his program averaged 41.3 points per game, allowing only 12.4 on defense, and in the process became a national talking point around every water cooler or smoking section in America (as well as the most debated topic during every hour of Sportscenter) somehow even with all the accomplishments and hype, Oregon were going to give this title away.
He could feel the blood boiling in the corners of his eyes, the lights became a myriad of blurred flashes, and the heat rose within his skull under the headset, his coaching staff's errant anger panning ear to ear.
Coach McFadden ripped the headphones off and let 'em drag by the cord on the sideline behind him, the screeches of the soon to be fired defensive coordinator still emanating through the dysfunctional frequency.
His quarterback slumped next to him, heaving, sweat pouring like an 80s workout video, but "Ice" McMillan refused to accept the reality of defeat, gritting through a stomach injury on the last sack and trying not to vomit.
"It aint over, Coach!" Ice let out through gousted pouts at his head coach. With 1:43 on the slowly diminishing clock, and Oklahoma QB Deuce Mendenhall grabbing the game-ending first down following a good old fashioned QB sneak, McFadden put his hand on his "Ice" McMillan's helmet and leaned in to sternly whisper:
"It never really is...." Slapping him on the back, failing to keep his own chin up as his head dipped again, seeing the massive celebrations begin to unfold on the other sideline.
"Oregon just seemed to get scared of having the lead against such a great team, didn't they? You almost have to feel sorry for Coach Bruce McFadden," the color commentator continued, "he sent his boys out there to play for 4 quarters and they played for 3..."
"It's not gonna get you a championship, neither will so many injuries to all of your best guys...and look at that man there, Oklahoma's Ron Darrell Johnston. He's got seven rings now, becoming the all time winningest coach in NCAA history...it's hard to believe the dominance from Norman this decade..."
"Yeah, adding another to the trophy cabinet tonight, but his guys never quit. This has to be the sweetest of the seven he's won at Oklahoma. His guys responded against adversity... and being down twelve points to 'Ice' McMillan is as tough as it gets."
The perfection-hungry Ron Darrell Johnston began patting his guys on the shoulder pads / helmets, going on a war path, and making sure they were still conservative in their victory dances.
Oklahoma's players knew they'd gotten away with this title, though their fans and the media were there to rub it in Oregon's face:
"Listen to that noise..." The commentator chuckled softly behind the din of Oklahoma fans' screaming wildly, "I think this building had to be 80% Sooners fans!"
"That's why, as the red and white confetti falls here in Cowboys Stadium, and the Sooners get their paws on the trophy, we have to say it...I know Oregon fans don't wanna hear this right now but tonight the Ducks played a game that'll haunt them for the rest of their lives," McFadden's face plastered on a national broadcast with a thousand yard stare, his players sobbing or angrily throwing their helmets and shoulder pads away in frustrated agony at their own Vietnam.
"You're right Dan, as much as we wanna salute and congratulate Oklahoma once again for the third year in a row, this was about Oregon playing outta their minds before they kinda...had an avalanche of injuries and were unable to recover...which really speaks to the class of this Oklahoma program..."
"I don't think I've ever seen as many injuries in such a short time span and in a game of such magnitude, John...this has been Shakespearean out here tonight!"
"This night....is...for...Oklahoma!"
The trophy was lifted aloft by Ron Darrell Johnston, looking savage at the podium, passing around cigars to 19-23 year olds (his tradition following every national championship), Oklahoma quarterback and Heisman trophy winner Deuce "Lightning" Mendenhall lighting one up for the cameras.
"I'll be back...and so will we!" Deuce puffed a cloud of smoke into the cameras as he made an impromptu NFL Draft announcement, making it clear he'd be returning for his senior year...more good news for Oklahoma fans.
That early January night was the feverish bloodletting of the National Championship game, held in the rancor and Auschwitzian allure of Cowboys Stadium.
It was the match-up we'd all been waiting for: McFadden's Oregon were facing their media-hyped nemesis, two-time defending champion and perennial powerhouse Oklahoma.
Ron Darrell Johnston's Sooners played like shit all game, hung around thanks to their Australian kicker Mark Otterson, then gained a foothold in the second half once they injured Oregon's junior All-American left tackle Matt Harmon.
Harmon, the prospective 1st Round pick in the NFL Draft had a teammate roll under his legs, blew his knee out and (more horrifically as they'd find out later) breaking his leg. These grueling 3rd quarter scenes grounded the Oregon Ducks' high flying momentum for 5 minutes while Harmon received treatment (the network advertisers taking full advantage of the wait).
When the cornerstone of the Oregon offensive line went down, the soul of McFadden's players was shaken and this was noticed by the merciless coach on the Oklahoma sideline, keenly aware of the psychological warfare and "weak" tendencies in the aftermath of a crushing injury to a big player.
So, accordingly, Oklahoma's head coach, the legendary Ron Darrell Johnston looked to his defensive coordinator and linebacker / team captain Garret Quinley and sternly ordered, "the only way we win this game is by collecting body bags...he who walks off this field wins this fucking game, you hear me?"
Disregarding his coach's cavalierly violent poetry (he was used to this), Quinley nodded and looked the part of a warrior, though the highly ranked middle linebacker was disgusted by the order.
Quinley was staring at half of his team kneeling in solemn prayer to show solidarity with the injured Harmon, writhing on the ground in tears, the cart coming out and here his coach was saying to "take more Oregon players down."
"Michelle, do you have an update on Harmon's injury?" Dan the commentator asked.
Michelle, shown on the sidelines: "This is a ghastly one, Dan, it looks bad. Oregon's medical team is giving us nothing, understandably..."
"You have to feel horrible for Harmon, not just in the context of the biggest game of his life but now you have a player who's all but committed to the NFL Draft, has graduated early and now this happens?!"
Once Harmon was carted to the locker room and then to a local hospital, Oklahoma's own All-American, defensive lineman Darrell Gideon, went to town.
With a relatively undersized backup left tackle Damon Francis taking Harmon's spot, Gideon began ripping Oregon's front apart and getting to the once elusive quarterback Randall "Ice" McMillan (the Heisman runner-up sensation) time and time again...burying 'Ice' and Oregon's high flying offense in the back field.
The score had been 26-14 when Harmon went down for the count, but by the end of 4 quarters, right there on the sweat and teeth-soaked plast-i-turf stage, under that unforgiving media scrutiny, Coach McFadden had finally taken Oregon to the gates of the promised land but had fallen down a precipice into another kind of hell altogether...
When Oklahoma were losing by 12, a first for Ron Darrell Johnston's sterling undefeated National Championship game record (6-0), the mad dog lifer was getting desperate, his beer-belly contorting under the sweat of his red and white Sooners shirt...his aviators faintly covering the lines above his brow as he looked crazed...truly under pressure and stress for the first time in his bowl game career.
Johnston was also sick of hearing comparisons between himself and McFadden all week in the lead-up to the game, in fact the swirling social media firestorm pitting the two against each other as absolute opposites in the paradigm of football's future and its past had begun long before the game.
Ronny, as he was known, was a lifer...one of those old white guys who viewed football as war: a militaristic bloodbath in which the future paths, no, the very fate of men were decided.
He'd won at Oklahoma for decades, delivering 4 National titles in the 80s, yet he'd also battled alcoholism and was booted out of Norman with a severance package and a kick in the cock after a cocaine-induced rendezvous with a prostitute.
It was years "in the wilderness" as Johnston would say before mega-church preacher "Dr." Bruce Galloway baptized him and sermonized his battle against addiction and eventual "recovery through Christ", with the resulting Dr. Phil appearances convincing Oklahoma to hire him back in 2002.
The Sooners haven't stopped winning since.
Meanwhile, McFadden's Oregon were a progressive culture to the outside world: young African-American men finally being pushed into positions of power by merit alone: McFadden a white coach supported by a nearly all black coaching staff, a black quarterback who was already a superstar coming out of high school and a bevy of future NFL talent he was nurturing...it was all a feel good racial story for ESPN, but for real football people the word was: future...future...future...you kept hearing it: potential..."ceiling"..."draft analysis" blah blah fucking blah...
But by the end of 4 quarters in Dallas's flesh and bone greed vortex of JerryWorld, Oregon's future and some of its iconic shine took a hit.
Post game, the media would claim "the Oregon sideline was in dejected disarray" as the last minutes of the eventual 38-26 score wound down, though from this "journalist's" eyes the only movement I even witnessed was the 9 or 10 players receiving injury treatments, everyone else wasn't moving. It was like a cemetery, the only movement was a fart or a cough and if it happened, we didn't hear it.
From feeling as if they had one hand on the title and then to have it ripped from your jaws...it was my first time, in my 32 years of sports reporting where I felt like crying for the losing team.
I keenly noticed the Oregon athletic director Marcus Williams, Oregon's only Heisman winner and retired NFL receiver, stood and glared at Coach Bruce McFadden while the man had his back turned, coaching the team in vain.
The folded arms and death glares from the Oregon A.D began once the lead was breached and Oklahoma went up 28-26 after their successful 8 minute drive capped off by a 1 yard run up the gut into the end zone. When Harmon went down, Marcus Williams was shaking with anger towards the Oklahoma sideline and tried to rally the Ducks sideline with pep talks the kids weren't hearing.
But after Randall "Ice" McMillan threw his first interception of the season after a perceived mIscommunication between the quarterback and his head coach, the athletic director began staring down his head coach like a hawk.
The image of McMillan's outstretched, interrogative hands and McFadden's search for an answer became the cover for Sports Illustrated's coverage following the National Championship game, opting out of celebrating the winner on the cover for the first time in their history.
This time the loser was the story and they were gonna be all over it...and Oregon's athletic director knew the consequences of a well-publicized defeat all too well.
Finally when the game finally ended, McFadden and his team were nearly relieved, thinking they could escape such a humbling destruction away from the field. But as they'd all quickly learn, this was a loss that would have lasting effects.
When Ron Darrell Johnston met midfield for the post game handshake, a mob ensued long before the two left their own sidelines.
Policemen escorting both coaches were getting into it with some Oklahoma fans who rushed the field, getting their shot on national television to look authoritative for their Tinder profiles. Cameraman encircled each coach, a pair of lenses and tangling cords for each network, the lot of them making damn sure to capture both coaches.
Ron Darrell Johnston moved like a grunt with a machete in the brush, lifting a mopheaded Sooners fan out of his way with savage omnipotence: The Prodigal Christ risen from his cross.
Meanwhile, Coach McFadden had to anxiously wade through a murk of media, creepy cops and jeering, unintelligibly vicious fans (even from his own school) before finally the two were within inches of each other. It was, next to Belichick and Mangiani, the quickest handshake of all time, neither relishing an existence (no matter how quickly arranged) within the orbit of the other.
Reports abounded that their fingers touched briefly before shaking the air.
In the post-game press conference, mandatory for both teams, Oklahoma's head coach revealed just how badly he wanted to beat McFadden.
"I wanted that one more than all of the other 6 combined, sorry Danny Wooderson," Johnston apologized to his former quarterback from his title winning teams of 81-84, "but this was about adversity. We were always favorites, Oklahoma is always destined for excellence. But excellence is earned!" He barked, "nobody can take it away from us. And they might not ever be able to take it away as long as I'm alive," he gloated, the laughter from the media propelling his arrogance.
When I asked my question, he called me Shortround (I'm Asian so i believe Johnston was quoting Indiana Jones) and interrupted me, asking me "if i was sad", making it apparent how hyper-sensitive he was to those around him kissing his ass.
"No," I fake chuckled, "was it a game plan to hurt the other team's best players?"
The media room, enjoying an easy one-sided story, went dead silent, some of my colleagues looking back at me with annoyed, academic looks while others hid their heads.
Johnston scoffed, "I dunnuhwasitehh game plan for them to be made of glass today?"
"Was it a plan to target Mark Harmon, specifically going low on him? Your receivers did the same against Oregon corner Leroy Davis..." I could sense Johnston's glowering ire, "...It seemed after the 1st half your guys were going outta their way to target that specific area..." I pressed him again, knowing the crap I'd get.
"I mean what is this?" Johnston laughed, downing something in a plastic cup and contorting his face into an annoyed scrunch, "are we going after players' knees, is that what you're fuckin askin' me? After a national championship game?"
"Yeah I'm asking that, I just did, want me to rephrase?" I wasn't going to back down, I knew what I saw.
"What do you want from me? I don't get this, next question..."
I stared Johnston down, wanting the coach to know I saw him tell Quinley to "put players in body bags", but after seeing the disgusted "sit the fuck down" glares of my press colleagues, I reluctantly took my seat.
Ron Darrell Johnston basked in the light of his labors and I shut my mouth, though my pen kept moving.
The renegade coach had always been dubbed "the most overrated of all time" due to his propensity to recruit Grade A players and future NFL stars and Oklahoma's sterling record in title games (before that night, the Sooners hadn't been down more than 3 points in a title game).
We all waited anxiously for Oregon's turn at the podium; besides the fact it's always harder to interview a losing coach and his team, but this was a team and a coach who'd lost under the worst circumstances and cursed luck we'd all collectively seen in the press box.
When McFadden finally came in, head bowed before rising to meet us at the microphone, he'd opted to leave his players in the locker room, an NCAA violation he was obviously more than willing to accept.
"Why aren't your..?" The first question came before being cut off.
"What kinda coach would I be to force my guys out here?" McFadden interrupted solemnly.
The editor from the Denver Post switched his tune, "what is the severity of Mark Harmon's injury?"
"We don't reveal any information like that, I mean come on...next question?" The Oregon coach wasn't flustered, he was quietly angry.
"What changes or adjustments were made over the course of the 2nd half? Especially with all the injuries..." Daniel Ryan posed from the L.A Times.
"It was next man up, no excuses, we failed to maintain a lead, we failed to win a ball game," McFadden deadpanned. When he received stares of wonder after his answer, he became defiant. "Look if you want me to cry cause we lost, well boo hoo, we lost...do you want me to do the Dennis Green 'we let em off the hook' bit?"
Laughs crept up and even McFadden smirked while shaking his head.
For a second there I thought we were going to see a coach losing his grasp, transforming from a genius into "I'm a man, I'm 40" territory before suddenly bringing in casual levity and no excuses during the worst moment of his career.
"As for our players, our seniors, we don't have many but those 5 guys played their asses off and deserved a victory. This was the greatest season in Oregon history, we just didn't complete the mission. We didn't finish the job....but I know one thing, we'll be back here next year."
"Will Randall 'Ice' McMillan, Lance Salisbury and Miles Landau be declaring for the NFL draft?" A desperate blogger from Bleacher asked.
"I'm not sure...but wherever they are I know they'll be successful...and I'd love for it to be with us for another year," he succinctly put.
The ensuing questions were all rehashes of the team's second half collapse, focusing on the injuries to offensive linemen Mark Harmon and Titus McVay, banged up All-American corner Leroy Davis and linebacker Lance Salisbury, each name hitting McFadden like a brick to the face, interrupting the Denver Post guy's reading from the list to say poignantly, "at least none of our seniors were hurt..."
"Is that all?" He asked in a numb state, receiving the nod from the journalists present before gathering his phone, water bottle and leaving the room.
I followed him down the long hallway, the area full of hangers-on and VIPs gawking at the losing coach as we walked around and sometimes through them, some looking as if to wonder aloud, "this human just lost?"
Such was the amount of people traffic, he didn't realize anyone was behind him as I'd prepared for and hoped, knowing these moments may capture something interesting.
Nothing went down until McFadden barreled through the locker room doors with such ferocity that they flew back open before locking and I pushed through into a white bricked corridor, empty save for a security guard in his late 50s.
The gentleman said nothing to me as I walked past with authority, "with Coach..." I mumbled with an outrageous smile.
"Yeah..." the guard shook his head while looking away, giving not a damn about controlling access into Oregon's locker room.
As I turned the corner I was nearly unable to open my phone correctly as I prepared to film and record immediately. I would use only what I couldn't remember...I was still somewhat ethical, I justi-lied to myself, peeking around the end of another hallway and seeing shirtless players all quiet, some staring up, eyes closed...others crying silently, their heads bowed.
Not a sound.
It was so quiet you could hear Oklahoma's celebrations on the field, the booming voice of Rece Davis as he congratulated and handed the Sooners the trophy.
I wondered where McFadden was, then I heard his steely voice cut through the gloomy din, completely erasing the white noise of victory:
"That's tempting to listen to...but it's not ours to enjoy...it's not even ours to beat ourselves up with," his voice came quiet and pointed. "I know I should just shut the fuck up and let us all die a billion deaths in this room, but it's over. We will watch this game film tomorrow afternoon...and we'll suck on this...I'm proud of everyone in here. This was the greatest season I could've ever imagined being a part of...and yet I know there's more...." some players' heads begin to rise, "We can be better..."
"We should've fucking won this game!" Randall Ice McMillan exploded, McFadden pausing and staying silent. "They are the dirtiest fucking team I've ever seen..." McMillan stood up, all of his teammates' attention captured, "we're gonna be here again next year...against this same team cause we know how those fuckers schedule soft...and we're gonna get revenge...not tomorrow, not a month from now, but next year we will be here again today...and that's when we find out if we're champions...until then, we find out if we're men."
The last word rang out in unison with Ice's fist slamming the locker behind him as he walked to the showers, stripping down without a word as McFadden looked at the guys and nodded silently, knowing no words could follow that speech.
I stuck around in that hallway until the players had all cleared out. As I walked in the empty locker room I had a crazy feeling that win or lose this team was worth following...rooting for...maybe even writing about.
But first, I had to be the first to tweet the headline news before anyone else: "Ice" McMillan to forgo NFL Draft for his junior season.
That night, the team disregarded plans to stay in Dallas and flew home to Eugene in, as Luther W. Henry put it on ESPN "a plane resembling a flying coffin".
But what I saw had more to it than the "caption meets all" headlines: exhaustion from players who'd given everything (including their body and mind) and an unspoken guilt from their teammates who'd been spared the game's reckless injury toll.
Most players who wore headphones pregame now shunned them for dead silence, quiet brotherly conversation or much-needed sleep on the 2am flight home from Dallas.
Meanwhile, Ice McMillan and Coach McFadden were watching game film on a laptop of the National Championship game they'd just lost.
As I passed their double-seat with adjoining table for the laptop, drinks and the first class post-game Salisbury Steak meal Oregon's booster money had paid for, I heard them dissecting the play that "changed the game" as McFadden admitted in his usual friar's croak.
"This is where Harmon gets hurt," McFadden continued, rolling back the recording from ESPN, "see we called the quick post, you read the coverage beautifully and I saw you audible for a screen left, I thought it was the right move. I let you go with it because they hadn't edged Mark all night..."
"Or gotten off Sammy's or Ludwig's blocks outside, there was no contain or press," Randall interjected.
The coach listened with a quiet grin: "Exactly."
They watched the play over as I dipped into the head, but I could hear them even better.
"Damn!" They both hushed, "they blew us up...Snickers is open for a 15-20 yard gain if they don't sack me, how the fuck..."
"They stunted us big time, watch this closely, it's simple on Madden to put guys in different spots, but it's damn near impossible unless you've got a bunch of guys like this," he pointed at Oklahoma's defensive line, "they shift everyone out of their natural position to confuse our line, sure they didn't fool Harmon on the play, but they rammed a safety and a linebacker right at Titus as soon as he snapped the ball and, watch right here...that action was like dominos falling, they blew Titus up and that shifted bodies into Mark...that's how injuries happen."
"I don't know what I should've done differently..." Ice said rhetorically.
"They were gonna hit you anyway...throw the fuckin post," McFadden rasped, coach and quarterback laughing.
As I returned from the bathroom and saw the two speaking in more whispery, relaxed terms, I couldn't help but notice A.D Williams sitting next to a big, pink-faced angry Oregon booster, the athletic director looking like he wanted to punch the window and depressurize the cabin for our own good.
I sat down next to Max my sleeping editor and tweeted out: "Randall 'Ice' McMillan To Stay At Oregon".
In the days following the game, everyone had their say about the Ducks' squandering of a historic national championship defeat of both the "Darth Vader of college football" and his "Death Star".
"They're a buncha whiny West Coast stars, 'Chocolate Ice' or whatever he's referred to and his receivers, summathem guys reminds me of Lonzo Ball's fucked up family, seriously they didn't achieve diddly-shit as far as we're concerned in the SEC," a caller ranted on the Paul Finebaum Show.
"Chokers," Mel Kiper Jr. summarized in his typical frenzy on Sportscenter, "they should rename the team the 'Oregon Chokers' after that performance! Gimme a break! McFadden has no excuses, in fact Athletic Director Marcus Williams, the great Marcus Williams, might be on the hot seat if they don't get it done."
"Many fans, ruthless as it may seem, are already calling for Coach Bruce McFadden's head," Jim Rome narrated on his show, "after one year of promising recruiting from his time at LSU and a 14-1 season, ending in a title game defeat, early word is 'Ice' is coming back and they wanna blow this guy up? I feel like I'm watching the time Conan O'Brien went to NBC all over again."
McFadden was interviewed coming into the Oregon facility: "Are you telling your players to ignore the noise?"
"No," the coach wryly smirked, "I'm telling them to have fun with it cause it'll be the last time they experience losing a big game."
"Is this confidence or cockyness from McFadden?" Michelle Beadle asked on the ESPN morning show.
"This is a total ego trip," Mike Greenburg began, "you just lost the first national title game you've ever been in as a coach and you lost it with egg all over your face while your starting center McVay looks hurt and your All-American left tackle may not ever play again...but no, Coach McFadden cannot help himself: days after choking away a national championship to a dood like Ron Darrell Johnston and you say we're going back? Are you kidding me?"
"Ron Darrell Johnston couldn't even give Oregon that title the other night!" Analyst and ex Redskins safety Reed Doughty laughed.
As Bruce McFadden sat on his couch, listening to the barrage of anger and disgust sent his way via the media, he knew time was the only way to stop the storm. But the problem with losing a title game is there's no more games until September....so for now he was going to have to take these punches.
Then, his phone lit up with a call from his head scout and assistant Zach, "hey what's up?" Bruce coughed, setting the still lit joint in the ashtray.
"We got 'im!" Zach hyperventilated into the phone. The assistant had flown directly from Dallas to the staff's old stomping grounds in Baton Rouge on a secret recruiting mission.
McFadden nearly lept out of the La-Z-Boy, barely able to conceal his excitement, "what happened? Tell me everything..."
As the media's fiery rhetoric issued shotgun sprays of blame hitting anyone and everyone daring to stick up for McFadden, Oregon's fans remained polarized in the midst of all the ridiculous hyperbole that followed. The rumors and lies swirling around their program confused, infuriated and demoralized the fans, alumni and especially the boosters. Just a week ago they were ready to make Coach McFadden Oregon's head coach as long as he'd stay, but after a visceral ass-kicking from all sides after their most soul-destroying loss, uncertainty and misdirected anger were on the menu...just like Jim Tressel's 2006-2007 Ohio State teams or Bob Stoops's Oklahoma Sooners, nobody wanted to be on the side of a loser...
And to mirror that sentiment, A.D Williams and University president Gil Schumacher met with McFadden at 8:30am the day after the Oklahoma game.
They were expecting to grill their 32 year old coach on why his team lost a lead, why the rumors were going around the news cycle and to generally clear the air.
"I'm gonna kick his ass after what he said," Marcus raged in the president's office before McFadden arrived.
"We can't kick a dead horse, Marcus," President Gil Schumacher instructed as he sat down behind his Brazilian rosewood desk, a glass of scotch on the rocks in his hand, "but what we also don't have to do is worry about paying him, we don't have to worry about offers from the SEC, Bruce has kinda backed himself into a corner here."
"No!" Marcus interrupted, "he's backed us into a corner...if we don't win every game next season and if we don't win it all like he just claimed we would, we're gonna look bad..."
"We already do," Coach McFadden rushed in as he opened the door. Both the president and athletic director stood from their chairs, expecting a confrontation from the bursting entrance of their coach.
"Coach, we weren't expecting you to..." Schumacher began.
"I know Gil, I apologize but I'm needing to board a flight to Baton Rouge in an hour and this needs to be discussed," McFadden replied quickly.
"Why are you going to Baton Rouge?" Marcus quizzed McFadden as the coach sat down next to him. Baton Rouge had been McFadden's old home and the location of Louisiana State, a team he coached as an assistant for almost 10 years.
"A. Why wouldn't I?
B. For this guy," McFadden deadpanned, ripping out his cell phone and scrolling through his text messages until the name Desmond Wright shown brightly on the screen.
"Huh? No way!" Marcus sighed in an annoyed fashion.
McFadden looked at his athletic director with a pointed stare, "we got him..." he repeated.
"Maybe he verbally committed but that doesn't mean anything, Bruce, supposedly Oklahoma got to him first," Schumacher corrected with a sigh.
"Well...do you believe your own head coach?" McFadden laughed, "or maybe just..." he pushed some buttons on his phone, "you'll at least believe ESPN?" He shoved the Breaking News home page on espn.com in their incredulous faces.
To make it even more hilarious, the headline was "They got him: How Bruce McFadden's guarantee excited the #1 recruit for a 2nd straight season".
Marcus shook his head and McFadden had enough of the negativity, "what is your problem?" The coach stood up, the nice guy act wearing off.
"My problem? Your boys weren't ready to play after halftime...that's my problem, you can recruit whoever the hell you want to but..."
"We scored 14 points in the 3rd before Mark and Titus went down, then Davis goes down on defense, what the fuck do you mean 'not ready to play'? We had 8 sacks!"
"You can't lose that game...you just can't..." the A.D shook his head in contempt. He wanted McFadden's team and the Oregon coach knew it, seeing the tortured megalomania within Williams.
"Teams lose...it happens...Saban lost to Utah and blew two title games, Belichick collapsed in three Super Bowls too...even the greatest lose...I'm not a perfect coach, but there's nobody better, or even capable of coaching this group...and it's only gonna get better. I'm doing everything I can to make sure we never lose again. Desmond Wright at receiver...Ice at quarterback...our offense...we have Lance Odell at d-line..."
"And you just fired your defensive coordinator," Williams talked over Bruce.
"Yup," McFadden deadpanned.
"Without asking our opinion first?" The athletic director questioned with fury.
McFadden laughed under his breath and explained, "we lost the game because Matt thought he burned our guys in the first half and didn't wanna blitz them in the 3rd. I wanted the foot firmly on the gas pedal and when sparks started flying and I saw no reaction from Matt, absolutely nothing, he had to go...we may as well have lined up in prevent defense for fuck's sake!"
"Matt was also an Oregon hall of famer with two more national championships than you do..." Marcus shot back.
"Sure but not with that defensive scheme," Bruce scoffed, "we're hiring Sean Baxter for our new D-coordinator."
"Yup another LSU guy," Marcus shook his head, "if you want LSU I'm sure they'll take ya."
"The reason we're so good, Marcus? Because I brought SEC players, coaches and toughness to the Pac-12...but screw this, i don't need to defend myself to you," the coach replied as he stared Williams down.
"Toughness? We just got our asses..." the A.D began before President Schumacher had heard enough from his unsupportive athletic director:
"Marcus, you may not be won over but you don't have to be...I am," President Gil interrupted, "Bruce is our coach, even if we lose another 5 title games in a row there's nobody I'd rather have leading this football team," the president looked at Marcus with an "all in or your out" look.
Williams seethed at Schumacher and glared back at Coach McFadden.
"Enough of this or you're done! This is the time where Oregon has to circle the wagons and look out for its own...Bruce isn't just one of our own, he's the captain of this fucking ship," Schumacher rambled growing angrier and more stern with each word, "if you're only going to tear us apart from the inside, then we no longer have much to discuss, Marcus..." the president had enough of the bickering and moaning.
What came next would sting Marcus deeply for a long time to come. The president sat there in the awkward silence and kept going at his A.D:
"And you want his job? You're barely fit for your own...and as an Oregon hall of famer you should be disappointed in yourself for selling out your head coach the day after our biggest loss...your father would be sickened."
Marcus hid the ultimate rage within himself, but he knew Gil was serious: the #1 thing the guy hated was disloyalty and he had been one of his father's best friends...out of respect he just looked down.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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