Dennis Erickson is the Bernie Madoff of coaches, running a football Ponzi scheme for 29 years.
He's never spent more than six years in one place. Twice he's left without notice after a single year. He won national championships in '89 and '91 at Miami, but his Miami teams were plagued by scandal, drugs and guns and booze, suffering 12 arrests in '94, rapper Luther Campbell doling out cash bonuses to players that made the best hits. Fifty players were implicated in a Pell Grant scandal, signing their name to over $170,000 in fraudulent applications. Erickson left in a cloud of suspicion for the NFL, managing barely more than .500 records in the league where everyone pays their players.
And that's just at Miami, the site of his greatest success. Erickson has brought his slash and burn style to nine different stops, including two stints in the pros and an arrest for blowing .23. He's recruited one-and-done jc transfers who never attended a class, linebackers who hit people three yards out of bounds and twist opponents' knees in the pile, players with checkered resumes and ready excuses, many of the it-wasn't-me-I-just-started-hanging-out-with-the-wrong-people-and-got-caught-up-in-a-situation variety.
Here at Oregon, we send those kinds of players to Mississippi. Erickson's legacy hasn't been pretty, and now he's nearing the end of the road, having coached Arizona State to two losing seasons in a row, the first time that's happened in 63 years of Sun Devil football. Ticket sales have dropped after an initial burst of excitement in 2007 when Rudy Carpenter led the team to a number six ranking and a 10-3 finish. Losing does that. Last season the home stands were two-thirds capacity, and this Saturday a good portion of the crowd will be in green and yellow.
Cautious optimism accompanied training camp this year. Erickson brought in a strong-armed transfer quarterback and a couple of fast jc receivers, 6-4 Mike Willie and 6-3 George Bell. After two lopsided wins against teams from the old 1-AA, and a close loss to a big time Big 10 team, whispers are that Erickson is up to his old black magic, and this year the Sun Devils could defy the critics and the experts, make a bowl and be competitive, saving his leathered skin one more time.
He's been asked about the rumored hot seat again and again. It's been written about over and over. Go 5-7 and 4-8, losing to your in-state rival twice, and the subject comes up, relentless as an infestation of bedbugs. In training camp Erickson told reporters, "I've been on the hot seat a lot. I don't pay attention to that."
The Sun Devils almost had a season-defining, identity-changing win at Wisconsin. They missed a 25-yard field goal. They dropped a sure touchdown pass in the end zone. They had a 95-yard kickoff return stopped a half-yard from the goal line just before the half ran out. A punt return for touchdown was called back by a penalty. The officials missed a critical pass interfence call. Then in the fourth quarter, after all that adversity, Wisconsin blocked an extra point that would have tied the game. ASU, building on the confidence of two opening wins over lowly opponents, came within one decent break of upsetting the number eleven team in the country, falling 20-19 on the road.
Now their season could go either way. A one-sided dominated loss to Oregon could convince them they're still the losers they've been for the last two years, and an upset win could send the cautious and undecided Sun Devil rooters into the stratosphere. Erickson and crew would be all the way back, contenders again, headed for a bowl and a winning season. A win would convince even Erickson doubters that this old ball coach still has it, and the stands would fill up for the rest of the year. A loss would send them back to their enclosed patios in despair.
Here's a vote for despair. Football coaches tend to be like Johnny Unitas, Willie Mays, Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Brett Favre. They hang on too long, embarrass themselves by falling down in the outfield or wearing an unfamiliar jersey, mailing it in on some obscure team in a nowhere place, a shadow of their former selves. They have to be forced out. Woody Hayes had to be fired. Bo Schemblecher's heart gave out. Bobby Bowden was pushed out in favor of Jimbo Fisher. Joe Paterno's still going stubbornly on at Penn State, even though he's had to change his pants at halftime.
Dennis Erickson has had a long and inglorious career. He's left programs in flames and packed his bags in search of the bigger, better deal. He's taken numerous shortcuts and looked the other way. He's driven drunk and recruited thugs and made promises he never intended to keep. Losing the Arizona State job would be his just reward for a career of skirting responsibility and desperately seeking the quick fix.
I don't root against many people. But Dennis Erickson is one of them.
He's never spent more than six years in one place. Twice he's left without notice after a single year. He won national championships in '89 and '91 at Miami, but his Miami teams were plagued by scandal, drugs and guns and booze, suffering 12 arrests in '94, rapper Luther Campbell doling out cash bonuses to players that made the best hits. Fifty players were implicated in a Pell Grant scandal, signing their name to over $170,000 in fraudulent applications. Erickson left in a cloud of suspicion for the NFL, managing barely more than .500 records in the league where everyone pays their players.
And that's just at Miami, the site of his greatest success. Erickson has brought his slash and burn style to nine different stops, including two stints in the pros and an arrest for blowing .23. He's recruited one-and-done jc transfers who never attended a class, linebackers who hit people three yards out of bounds and twist opponents' knees in the pile, players with checkered resumes and ready excuses, many of the it-wasn't-me-I-just-started-hanging-out-with-the-wrong-people-and-got-caught-up-in-a-situation variety.
Here at Oregon, we send those kinds of players to Mississippi. Erickson's legacy hasn't been pretty, and now he's nearing the end of the road, having coached Arizona State to two losing seasons in a row, the first time that's happened in 63 years of Sun Devil football. Ticket sales have dropped after an initial burst of excitement in 2007 when Rudy Carpenter led the team to a number six ranking and a 10-3 finish. Losing does that. Last season the home stands were two-thirds capacity, and this Saturday a good portion of the crowd will be in green and yellow.
Cautious optimism accompanied training camp this year. Erickson brought in a strong-armed transfer quarterback and a couple of fast jc receivers, 6-4 Mike Willie and 6-3 George Bell. After two lopsided wins against teams from the old 1-AA, and a close loss to a big time Big 10 team, whispers are that Erickson is up to his old black magic, and this year the Sun Devils could defy the critics and the experts, make a bowl and be competitive, saving his leathered skin one more time.
He's been asked about the rumored hot seat again and again. It's been written about over and over. Go 5-7 and 4-8, losing to your in-state rival twice, and the subject comes up, relentless as an infestation of bedbugs. In training camp Erickson told reporters, "I've been on the hot seat a lot. I don't pay attention to that."
The Sun Devils almost had a season-defining, identity-changing win at Wisconsin. They missed a 25-yard field goal. They dropped a sure touchdown pass in the end zone. They had a 95-yard kickoff return stopped a half-yard from the goal line just before the half ran out. A punt return for touchdown was called back by a penalty. The officials missed a critical pass interfence call. Then in the fourth quarter, after all that adversity, Wisconsin blocked an extra point that would have tied the game. ASU, building on the confidence of two opening wins over lowly opponents, came within one decent break of upsetting the number eleven team in the country, falling 20-19 on the road.
Now their season could go either way. A one-sided dominated loss to Oregon could convince them they're still the losers they've been for the last two years, and an upset win could send the cautious and undecided Sun Devil rooters into the stratosphere. Erickson and crew would be all the way back, contenders again, headed for a bowl and a winning season. A win would convince even Erickson doubters that this old ball coach still has it, and the stands would fill up for the rest of the year. A loss would send them back to their enclosed patios in despair.
Here's a vote for despair. Football coaches tend to be like Johnny Unitas, Willie Mays, Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Brett Favre. They hang on too long, embarrass themselves by falling down in the outfield or wearing an unfamiliar jersey, mailing it in on some obscure team in a nowhere place, a shadow of their former selves. They have to be forced out. Woody Hayes had to be fired. Bo Schemblecher's heart gave out. Bobby Bowden was pushed out in favor of Jimbo Fisher. Joe Paterno's still going stubbornly on at Penn State, even though he's had to change his pants at halftime.
Dennis Erickson has had a long and inglorious career. He's left programs in flames and packed his bags in search of the bigger, better deal. He's taken numerous shortcuts and looked the other way. He's driven drunk and recruited thugs and made promises he never intended to keep. Losing the Arizona State job would be his just reward for a career of skirting responsibility and desperately seeking the quick fix.
I don't root against many people. But Dennis Erickson is one of them.
No comments:
Post a Comment