The times they are a-changin’. Amen, Bob Dylan. (Or is that Robert Zimmerman? I forget.) Just as with life itself, sports are simply not what they once were. You can’t buy a bleacher seat for a nickel anymore, but a Jose Canseco autograph could probably be procured for as much, even if it is Ozzie’s handwriting. No one has tales of walking long distances in the snow anymore, especially if you’re ever around the guy that drives the New England Patriots’ snowplow. And, if you’ve received a letter lately, it’s probably because you’ve gotten on the wrong side of a commissioner.
Consider that, with the modern news cycle and the Twitter-crazed world in which we live, five minutes seem like an eternity. It used to be that labor strife in sports took place every 20-30 years, but there have been two major leagues to take sabbaticals in a matter of months. Once upon a time, players were required to put in — I don’t know — multiple years of impactful performances to get their uniforms retired. Nowadays, as was the case of Turkish team Besiktas, a player like Deron Williams can get his jersey raised to the rafters after fewer than 20 games with the team.
So it goes for coaches these days. Hiring and firing coaches en masse. It seems like a perennial event, like the annual rite of winter: You know, clobbering your fellow man for the last remaining $2 waffle iron before they get their mitts on it. The revolving-door phenomenon of coaching changes in pro sports has gotten so prevalent that it might not be overly surprising to find a listing for pro or college coach on Craig’s List. Have references. Will travel. Need perks.
There have been 18 coaches ousted, thus far, from major division college football programs since the start of the 2011 season. Rick Neuheisel, UCLA’s erstwhile head coach, was fired on Monday of last week, carried off the field by his players on Wednesday, and, then, on Friday was metaphorically carted off the field by Oregon after somehow having the opportunity to coach in the Pac-12 championship. But, the craziness doesn’t cease in the college ranks. No siree. In the NFL, Jacksonville Jaguars’ owner Wayne Weaver fired head coach Jack del Rio after a 3-8 start then, on the same day, turned around and sold the team for $760 million to Illinois businessman Shahid Khan, who may have the coolest mustache this side of 1890.
Even though it seems like the old truism holds true — that coaches were hired to be fired — it seems like that might be a small price to pay to be the object of desire/target of criticism. Most college coaches will tell you they coach for the love of the game, the ability to mentor young student-athletes, and the ability to give cryptic responses about why they coach. Take Urban Meyer for example. He recently signed a 6-year, $24 million contract to be Ohio State’s next football coach. Certainly with money like that he could probably become Metropolitan Meyer, but that’s beside the point. Not only will he get a salary that would give an Occupy protester an aneurysm, but his contract also includes a private jet and country club privileges. As if Meyer weren’t effervescent enough after those terms, kick in an extra $10,000 from Coca-Cola for various appearances. If you see Meyer at a restaurant order a Coke and have the server tell him they only serve Pepsi, don’t be surprised if he storms out in a huff per the terms of this agreement.
Certainly, Urban is not left out in the suburbs among coaches with a contract like this. These terms are actually quite common. Incentives for BCS championships, bowl game appearances, and team academic performance are quite widespread for college coaches. In 2004, Mack Brown received a one-and-a-half million dollar payment for his 53rd birthday. Either this was a special gift from the University of Texas, or his contract was drawn up during the Middle Ages, when getting to the age of 53 was an actual accomplishment. Sometimes you get coaches like Iowa’s Kirk Ferentz, who admittedly gets a lot of money (the carrot for spending over a decade in Iowa), but also gives a lot to various charities, to say nothing of the mistakes made by the Hawkeyes on the football field. Then, there are coaches who get benefits ranging from cars to tickets in addition to the astronomical sums of money to coach alleged amateurs.
If I had to revise the statement I made in the 2nd grade about who I’d like to be when I grew up, I probably would choose Greg McMackin (not to be confused with a McDonald’s spokesman), instead of my now-unfortunate selection of Dave Coulier. If you believe it, prior to his retirement on Monday, McMackin was being paid an annual salary of over a million dollars to coach the University of Hawaii football team. I would love to know who his agent is, since the guy who I think is my agent does a very substandard job at trimming the hedges. One-million-plus and you get to live in Hawaii most of the year? Sure, the drawbacks include having to watch Hawaii football and getting about as much national attention as poi, but, hey, at least you get the best view in the house.
Former head coach Jim Tressel made over $21 million during his tenure walking the sidelines in Columbus. Some of that included performance bonuses and academic achievement add-ons. Not included were the cell-phone plan expenses and leased car costs, in addition to what, I assume, had to be massive reimbursements for sweater-vest expenditures.
Sometimes, however, these things don’t work out. On Sunday, a lot of people around Stillwater, Oklahoma were close to blowing a T. Boone Pickens-sized fuse after finding out the Cowboys narrowly missed out on a berth in the BCS title game. Head coach Mike Gundy’s face probably turned a shade of crimson, which had nothing to do with his support of Alabama. The snub cost Gundy a $500,000 performance bonus, nearly equivalent to a quarter of his current $2 million annual salary. Normally I would be accused of piling on here, but Mike’s a man and, now that he’s 44, it’s safe to come after him.
Mentoring future generations apparently comes at a high price. Ostensibly this goes along with the love of coaching. Perhaps you could move the decimal point over and take away the agents. Maybe that would suffice. Or, do away with the perks, the high life, and the inordinate amount of attention. Then what would you be left with? An understated university job where the focus is on the students. Sounds pretty crummy? Tell that to the teachers.
