The System: The Glory and Scandal of Big-Time College Football

by Jeff Benedict

  “You got all this talent,” Moos told him. “But you need to be a leader on this ball club.”

  Wilson appeared nervous but sincere.

  “What I suggest you do is take a deep breath,” Moos said. “Go through the weekend. Watch us play UCLA. You’ll have a hollow feeling. Trust me. You’ll have a hollow feeling. Then come see me after the game. And if you’re committed to being on this team, I’ll go to bat for you.”

  In addition to trying to quell the Wilson dustup, Moos had to prepare to brief the board of trustees in response to the letter from the disgruntled parent. Meanwhile, public criticism against Leach mounted. “Argh, matey! Remember all that excitement that came with the hiring of Mike Leach?” a Seattle Weekly blogger wrote. “Turns out the Leach Era in Pullman is already a disaster, and getting uglier and more embarrassing every day. This morning comes news that star WSU receiver Marquess Wilson left last night’s practice in a tiff and … quit the team. If the school had any sense AD Bill Moos would make Leach walk the plank this morning. Somewhere Paul Wulff looks pretty good right now.”

  National writers were calling out Leach, too. “Back in the preseason I was among the many delusional media types that thought Mike Leach would sweep into Pullman and lead Washington State to its first bowl berth in nine years,” wrote Sports Illustrated’s Stewart Mandel. “As it turns out, the 2-7 Cougars will not be bowling, and Leach has had one of the worst debut seasons of any newly hired coach in the country. It’s not just that Wazzu is 0-6 in the Pac-12; it’s that the Pirate is compounding things with some of his comments and actions.” Mandel called Leach’s actions following the Utah game “a Bob Knight–esque exercise in verbal bullying.”

  Leach ignored the criticism. “I’m not real conscious of it,” he said. “People want change and accountability around here. Then you do it and they don’t want it.”

  In Leach’s view, the team had reacted very positively to the loss to Utah and Wilson’s departure. Team unity had cemented, and the players were practicing with a renewed sense of commitment and determination. That was especially true among the receivers. “There are a bunch of receivers playing really well right now,” Leach said shortly after Wilson left. “They viewed Marquess as the alpha receiver. They thought they had to be like him to be a good receiver. Now that he is gone, they are stepping up. We lost some talent. But we gained in terms of other guys starting to play harder. And walking off a team is the football version of treason.”

  One person who was particularly sensitive to all the controversy swirling around Leach was Bill Moos. With UCLA scheduled to arrive in Pullman in a couple days for a Saturday afternoon game, Moos showed up in Leach’s office unannounced. Leach was at his desk, prepping for the Bruins. Moos handed him a Los Angeles Times story dated December 26, 1993. One of his staff members had found it on the Internet. The headline was RING OF FIRE: IN HIS FOURTH SEASON, BADGER COACH BARRY ALVAREZ PROVIDES THE SPARK THAT HAS IGNITED WISCONSIN’S LONG-DORMANT HOPES FOR THE ROSE BOWL.

  “Read this,” Moos told him. “In Alvarez’s first year at Wisconsin, he had fifty-two players leave the program when they learned what was going to be expected of them.”

  Leach thanked him and read the piece. In Alvarez’s first season at Wisconsin, in 1990, the team went 1-10. The only team it beat was Ball State. “From my first day with the team, when I talked about commitment, I knew we were in trouble,” Alvarez told the Los Angeles Times. “They weren’t ready to make the commitment. One by one, they knocked on the door.”

  The Rose Bowl was pretty far from Alvarez’s mind back then. “I kept telling myself to be patient,” he said. In 1991 and 1992, Wisconsin went 5-6. Then, in 1993, the Badgers went 9-1-1 and landed in the Rose Bowl, where they defeated UCLA and finished the year ranked ninth in the nation.

  Leach put down the Alvarez article. He knew one thing: Bill Moos had his back. That was something he never felt at Tech.

  Kickoff was about an hour away. UCLA and WSU players were warming up on the field. ESPN cameramen were in position. Despite the twenty-degree temperature, students were already filling the seats behind WSU’s bench. Leach was pacing, watching his quarterbacks try to get warm.

  Moos was taking it all in from his skybox. UCLA was 7-2 and heavily favored. But Moos had an odd feeling as he looked down on the field: WSU was going to give the Bruins a run for their money.

  Then one of his staff members entered the suite with some news: Marquess Wilson had just released a letter to the media. Moos read it.

  Dear Cougar Nation:

  It is with a heavy heart that I announce my decision to forgo playing football for Washington State University. I realize the school is saying that I am suspended for violating team policies and may return next week, but this is a lie. This is an attempt by the athletic department to cover up what is really happening in the locker room.

  It has been a privilege to be a Cougar, to perform on your field and wear the Crimson and Gray. I would like to thank Washington State University for giving me the opportunity to do what I love most, to play football and receive a quality education for the past three years. I’m grateful to the athletic department for the coaching, care and encouragement I have received prior to this season.

  This was going to be our year. My teammates and I were aspiring to be the winning team you deserve. Unfortunately for all, the new coaching staff has destroyed that endeavor. I believe coaches have a chance to mold players, to shape men, to create greatness. However, the new regime of coaches has preferred to belittle, intimidate, and humiliate us. This approach has obviously not been successful, and has put a dark shadow on this program.

  My teammates and I have endured this treatment all season long. It is not “tough love.” It is abuse. This abuse cannot be allowed to continue. I feel it is my duty to stand up and shed light on this situation by sacrificing my dreams, my education and my pride. I resign from this team. I am deeply sorry to those I am letting down. I am not a quitter. I was raised by my family, and many previous coaches to exhibit dedication and embrace sacrifice, but there comes a time when one has to draw a line in the sand.

  Lastly, I thank my fellow teammates, those who also have left the program this year, and those we are leaving behind. I hope our departure will bring awareness to the physical, emotional and verbal abuse being allowed in the locker room and on the field. I pray for healing and recovery for all those who have been hurt by this treatment.

  Moos stopped reading. “Judas priest!” he said.

  Claims of abuse from a disgruntled fourth-string player’s father through a confidential e-mail were one thing. An open letter to the media from the team’s biggest star was another thing altogether. Moos knew what this meant: the shit was about to hit the fan.

  It already had. He had barely finished reading Wilson’s letter when he got a text from ESPN’s sideline reporter. She wanted his reaction to Wilson’s claims. Then his phone vibrated. The call was coming from an AP reporter. Moos ignored them both, turning instead to his assistant. “We’ve gotta get word to Mike,” he said. “Find Super Dave. Have him meet me in my office.”

  As director of football operations, Dave Emerick was crazy busy on game days. He walked around with a clipboard containing a minute-by-minute breakdown of where players and coaches were supposed to be. When he wasn’t directing traffic, Emerick was usually one step behind Leach, ready to respond to any last-minute situations that arose. That’s where he was when an associate athletic director told him to report to Moos’s office at once.

  When Emerick reached the AD’s office, Moos was handwriting an official statement for the media. He briefed Emerick on the Wilson situation.

  Used to the storms that always seemed to be circling Leach, Emerick just raised his eyebrows. It took a lot to rattle him.

  “You gotta let Mike know,” Moos told Emerick. “This is a nationally televised game. Sideline reporters will grab him. I don’t want him to be blindsided.”

  Emerick reached Leach just
before he left the field to return to the locker room for final pregame preparations. Leach was stoic when he heard that Wilson had quit and accused him of abuse. “Yeah, well …” Leach said, his voice trailing off. There was a game to coach. Minutes later he was standing in the locker room, surrounded by players. “Everybody, up,” he said.

  By the time the game started, the headline on ESPN.com read “Marquess Wilson Targets Coach.” The story led with excerpts from Wilson’s letter. It also contained a portion of Moos’s statement in response: “I believe I join many Cougars in wishing Marquess well in his future endeavors. We have procedures in place that were developed to monitor student-athlete welfare in all of our sports programs. We will continue to follow those procedures and modify them as needed.”

  Between ESPN and AP, the story was everywhere. Less than two hours after Wilson released his letter, it was being tweeted and shared on social media Web sites.

  Elson Floyd often entertained in his private box at home games. For the UCLA game he was hosting Pac-12 commissioner Larry Scott. It was Scott’s first visit to Pullman since Leach had been hired and the new stadium renovations had been completed. Floyd was showing Scott around the president’s suite when he got the call from Moos informing him about Wilson. The minute he hung up, Floyd excused himself from Scott and stepped into his private conference room in the corner of the suite.

  While Scott took in the game, Floyd read the online stories about Wilson’s departure. He also read Moos’s official statement. It was clear WSU had a full-fledged PR disaster on its hands. He sat there, trying to figure out what to do.

  “There were three things in my decision-making process,” Floyd said. “One is the allegation surrounding Mike’s departure from Texas Tech. I am acutely aware of that circumstance. I did my due diligence around it. But I was still aware of the public perception of his departure from Tech. Second, I have this allegation from a parent involving his son in the program. Third, I have this issue involving Marquess.”

  There was one other factor. Moos had already issued a formal statement to the media. He hadn’t run it by Floyd. Nor was he required to. But in this case Floyd wished he had been given a chance to review it. “When I read it, it seemed a bit dismissive and defensive,” Floyd said.

  He placed another call to Moos, who defended his statement. Moos also pledged to conduct an internal review of Wilson’s claims. As soon as the game was over, he planned to drop everything and turn his full attention to interviewing players and coaches.

  Floyd didn’t discourage Moos. But he also knew Moos was very close to Leach and the football program. Floyd, on the other hand, had purposely kept his distance, never traveling with the team or attending practices. “Part of the whole vexing issue with university presidents and athletic programs is that university presidents get too close to the program,” Floyd said. “They lose their objectivity. We have to manage athletics like we do everything else at the institution. There is a balance between supporting a college coach and his team without all this engagement.”

  Sitting alone in his conference room, Floyd had a gut instinct that an internal review conducted by the athletic department wasn’t going to be sufficient. Not this time, anyway. Wilson’s letter had cast a national spotlight on WSU. The university’s response would be closely scrutinized. “I wanted to be objective,” Floyd said. “But I had the potential of a huge PR issue on my hands involving a highly paid football coach at WSU. I had to get ahead of it because if I did not it was going to overtake the institution and me.”

  When Floyd emerged from his conference room at halftime, UCLA was crushing WSU 37–7. The game was shaping up to be an even bigger disaster than the previous week’s loss to Utah. That was the least of Floyd’s concerns. He invited Scott into the conference room for a private discussion.

  Behind closed doors, Floyd briefed him on the situation. Scott immediately grasped the implications. Floyd then went out on a limb: he asked Scott to conduct an investigation into Wilson’s claims.

  “I have a lot of confidence in my AD,” Floyd said. “I had no concerns about that. But in the spirit of transparency, I have to have some independent review that will confirm or deny the allegations. I have to bring the issue to closure. I also have to bring the Texas Tech issue to closure. That was the subliminal issue here.”

  Scott wanted to help. But he had a concern. The Pac-12 had never conducted the kind of external review of a program that Floyd was requesting. There was no precedent for the conference investigating one of the conference coaches. Scott wasn’t sure the conference had the manpower or the know-how to do what Floyd wanted: a full-fledged, transparent probe of the allegations by Wilson and the parent who had written a letter the week before.

  Floyd assured Scott that the conference would be given unfettered access to players, coaches and the athletic department. There would be complete cooperation on the part of the university. “Clearly, in a post-Penn State environment I have to take these issues very seriously,” Floyd said. “The issue shifts to how is a president going to deal with it.”

  Scott promised that the Pac-12 would conduct an investigation. It might require outside help. But it would get done.

  By the time Floyd and Scott emerged from the conference room, the mood in the president’s suite had changed dramatically. VIPs were shouting and clapping. WSU was making an improbable comeback. Down by thirty at the half, Leach’s team played with a renewed sense of urgency. The Cougars ended up scoring twenty-nine second-half points. Even Floyd got swept up in the electricity that had filled the stadium. With 1:36 remaining in the game, UCLA clung to a 44–36 lead.

  A few suites down, Bill Moos watched as UCLA ran out the clock, escaping with the win. But Moos was ecstatic. The first half and the second half were like two different games. WSU had roared back. It was proof that the players believed in Leach and his system. The only thing that bugged him was the fact that the team’s effort was sure to be completely overshadowed by Wilson’s letter.

  He was right. After the game, Floyd got an e-mail from Ryan Durkan, a member of WSU’s board of regents. One of the top land-use lawyers in the Pacific Northwest, Durkan was already concerned about the letter from the parent when she saw the news about Wilson’s letter. She addressed her e-mail to Floyd and the chairman of WSU’s board of trustees, Scott Carson. “Elson and Scott, it seems that now the allegations have risen to the level of physical abuse, that we have an issue on which the Board should be briefed. With the vote on the football ops center coming up at the next meeting, we risk looking ill informed if we don’t address the allegations. We are not in a position to judge the merits, but after the training we had on the Penn State situation, it seems that we at least have a duty to ask questions. Your thoughts are most welcome. Ryan.”

  Floyd e-mailed her, saying he’d call her. He planned to tell her about the Pac-12 investigation.

  Scott Carson had just gotten off a plane in Seattle when he heard the news about Wilson and saw Durkan’s e-mail. He sent a note back to her and Floyd. “I do believe we have an obligation to understand what in the world is going on,” Carson said. He wanted to talk to Floyd on Sunday.

  Wilson’s claims drowned out WSU’s impressive comeback. The postgame press conference made it pretty clear that Leach’s off-the-field problems had eclipsed the game. The situation had reached a point where it threatened to compromise Leach’s impressive recruiting class. It was bad enough that WSU had fallen to 2-8. But all the noise about abuse wasn’t going to resonate well with parents—particularly mothers—of high school players leaning toward WSU.

  Frustrated, Moos was still awake at 11:33 on the night of the game when his cell phone buzzed, alerting him that an e-mail had just come in. It was from Marquess Wilson. “Mr. Moos this is Marquess … With that letter I wasn’t trying to accuse the coaches of hitting players or anything. I was just trying to put it in different terms and now everything is getting misinterpreted and I didn’t like that at all … I simply was try
ing to get my story across and get my name cleared instead of having it say I’m suspended for breaking team violations … That could mean like I did drugs or something … I was never trying to harm the university or the program with it.”

  Moos read it again. It was hard not to be incredulous. But Moos also felt an instant sense of relief. Wilson had essentially validated what Moos had believed all along: that players were not being abused; they were being pushed to become better. And for whatever reason, Wilson wasn’t on board. So he bolted.

  Moos told Leach. His reaction was anticlimactic. He didn’t think the original complaint was a big deal. The fact that Wilson recanted hours later wasn’t a big deal either. One thing that Leach had learned a long time ago is that when you are coaching a hundred-plus kids—most of whom aren’t old enough to drink legally—issues are going to flare up. It’s best to keep a level head and keep moving forward.

  It was after midnight by the time Moos forwarded Wilson’s e-mail to Floyd with a simple note: “Elson, sent to me at 11:33. Unfortunate as our guys gave a valiant effort and deserved to be the lead story. Bill.”

  Floyd didn’t see Moos’s note until Sunday morning, around 8:00. It did little to change his mind about doing an outside investigation. He e-mailed Moos: “Well, the damage is done now. I must repair it and move on. ESF.”

  Over the next couple days, Floyd received some push back on his plan to have the Pac-12 conduct an investigation. What was the point? Wilson had recanted. Besides, Moos was still doing his internal review. And there were all kinds of risks associated with having outsiders poking around the football program. It was impossible to predict what they might find and where those findings might lead.

  But that was exactly why Floyd felt compelled to go forward. “Why do this review if Marquess recanted?” Floyd said. “Well, it was because I had another complaint that no one knew about. [The letter from the parent.] So Marquess’s recant wasn’t sufficient.”