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The University of Michigan, on Sunday, launched an investigation into allegations that its football program regularly violates NCAA training and practice time limits.
A tearful coach Rich Rodriguez denied the allegations. "I guess I'm here to tell you that whatever you've heard or want to believe, the trust is that this coaching staff cares very deeply about the young men in our program," he said.
I’m conflicted. On the one hand, like most of the football rabid citizens of West Virginia, I’m not much of a Rich Rodriguez fan. Rodriguez’s exit from the West Virginia University football program was marked by deception, broken contracts, rumored NCAA rules violations regarding contacting recruits, unconvincing allegations of racism, file-shredding, bad-faith construction projects, administrative intrigue. But our reply to giddy Michigan football fans was simple: be careful what you wish for—buy the ticket, take the ride (apologies to Hunter S. Thompson).
On the other hand, I feel that Michigan football stinks because Michigan’s football players are soft—there’s no escaping this judgment. Since Rodriguez’s arrival, we’ve heard nothing but talk of “the erosion of family values” at Michigan (read: Rodriguez and his staff are notoriously profane [see strength coach Mike Barwis]?), players overworked to the point of mutiny. Rodriguez’s practices at WVU were legendary for their brutality, spoken of in the same hushed tones used to describe a Bigfoot sighting. Tales were told of sprints up “Law School Hill”, pushing cars uphill, broken facemasks by the dozen.
The pressure is on for Rodriguez to produce. I have no doubt that practices are as bad as advertised—Rodriguez is a martinet. Such is the price of returning to former glory.
College football is back. And not a moment too soon.