Friday, Saturday, Sunday in Texas

by Nick Eatman

  In the locker room, McCullough calmed down his elated group, which had its own victory chant with Stephens and the other seniors shouting at the highest of decibel levels.

  “Men, that was a really good football team you beat tonight,” McCullough said as he tried to look them all in the eye. “You went out there and won the game with offense and defense and special teams. That was a true team win.”

  And in typical coach-speak fashion, he made sure his players stayed hungry.

  “Is that the best we can play?”

  “Nooooo!” the players all yelled, seemingly as one.

  “That’s right. We can get better. And we’re going to get better. But for this first game, it was hot, it wasn’t easy, but we made the plays together. I’m really proud of all of you. Let’s enjoy it. But remember, we’ve got a short week this week getting ready for Irving Mac.”

  And with that, some thirteen minutes after the final gun, the head coach had already mentioned the name of his team’s next opponent. The coaches were going to enjoy the win, but only for tonight. That’s all they could afford to, considering only fifteen hours later they would be back in the field house, breaking down the tape and getting ready to do it all over again.

  Saturday

  College preseason in Texas can be a brutal thing. Whereas the NFL teams travel to more hospitable locations, and high schools are limited by rules governing how early in the summer the teams can start playing together, the college programs start earlier and have to stay home. For many, including Baylor, this meant that the full force of preseason occurred under the intensity of the bright Texas summer sun.

  And for weeks now, Art Briles had been putting the squeeze on his team. With the sprinklers working the practice facilities around the clock to prevent the grass from turning brown, the players had to work twice as hard to survive one of the most brutal parts of every season. His approach to conditioning was rooted in the experiences and philosophy that he’d cultivated going all the way back to his time as a high school coach. Preseason was a time of focus. Without the pressures of classes or the distraction of other students, this was a moment to concentrate solely on the team.

  When Briles woke up early Friday morning on August 21, he did just that, his mind immediately homing in on the football team’s being exactly two weeks away from start of the regular season. The Bears were not only attempting to win a third straight Big 12 title; they also had serious national championship aspirations as well. Going into the season, they were ranked in the top ten by all the major polls, and while Briles never put too much stock in any of those, he knew how helpful that kind of buzz was for helping to create a sense of responsibility and ownership for the team’s players over the season. Now he just had to get them expecting to win without getting arrogant.

  And so far, it didn’t look like that would be a problem—this was a Baylor team that was prepared to live up to every bit of the hype. The preseason had gone well, almost too well at times. Quarterback Seth Russell had been showing himself to be every bit as skilled as he was in the spring when he’d won the starting job. The defense, which he’d known for the last nine months to look great on paper, was proving to be every bit as good as hyped.

  By the middle of the morning on August 21, though, the upcoming matchup against Southern Methodist University in Dallas—and every other game to follow, for that matter—became an immediate afterthought.

  The night before, Briles was informed that Sam Ukwuachu, a former member of the football program who had never actually suited up for the team, had been found guilty by a Waco jury for sexual assault. He faced a prison sentence of up to twenty years for an October 2013 incident involving a Baylor women’s soccer player.

  But facts that came out during the trial rapidly turned into intense criticism and speculation about Briles’ integrity. During the proceedings, the prosecution put Ukwuachu’s ex-girlfriend on the stand to tell the courtroom about a violent incident between the two that occurred when they were both attending Boise State. That soon prompted questions about Baylor’s and Briles’ reasoning for bringing Ukwuachu on campus in the first place.

  A star defensive end from Pearland, Texas, Ukwuachu was originally recruited by Boise State, and in his first season with the Broncos earned 2012 Freshman All-America honors. But by the spring of 2013, he had been dismissed from the team for undisclosed reasons, and later that same fall began taking classes at Baylor, although he was ineligible to play for the Bears due to the NCAA’s transfer rules.

  On paper at least, Ukwuachu was the type of player Briles and his staff often coveted, which stemmed from a belief in their own support system and their ability to help players who needed to switch programs. Over the years, Briles had brought in many transfer students from other schools—Shawn Oakman and Phil Taylor, both from Penn State, were just two examples. Players that needed a change of scenery, new surroundings, or simply a fresh start were something the Baylor coaching staff never shied away from—especially Briles, who wrote in his second published biography that coaches are in the “kid-saving business.”

  He added in the book, “We wanted mavericks. We wanted guys with no sheet on their bed rather than silk sheets. I wanted tough guys. Guys that just had to fight and grind and work for everything that they ever earned. Someone who had to earn their respect. If they do falter or make a mistake, then we need to save them and give them a chance to get back on the right path.”

  When Briles went out that Friday before the first practice, he met a group of reporters—mostly the usual local group of writers and TV reporters from the Waco area. However, the story was picking up some national steam, prompting a few Dallas-Fort Worth media members to make the nearly two-hour drive down to Waco. Briles was immediately asked to comment on whether then–Boise State head coach Chris Petersen, who had since moved on to the University of Washington, had relayed any information to him regarding Ukwuachu’s violent past.

  “Lord, no,” Briles said about having prior knowledge of any specific incidents. “There’s no truth to that. Find out who informed us and talk to them please.”

  Briles patiently answered questions regarding the case, but his agitation was growing. At the end of the media session, he asked if “anyone had a football question” as he and his team were “trying to get ready for SMU.” He went on to practice, but by the time the two-hour workout ended, things had taken another sour turn for his program and, again, his national perception.

  More than 2,200 miles away in the Pacific Northwest, Petersen was getting his Washington team ready for the season when an ESPN reporter reached out for a comment regarding the situation at Baylor. Petersen issued a response that seemingly put an even darker cloud over Briles’ head—justifiably or not.

  Petersen’s statement read:

  “After Sam Ukwuachu was dismissed from the Boise State football program and expressed an interest in transferring to Baylor, I initiated a call with coach Art Briles. In that conversation, I thoroughly apprised Coach Briles of the circumstances surrounding Sam’s disciplinary record and dismissal.”

  And just like that, a social media firestorm against Briles and Baylor was sparked. Briles was disappointed in the words from Petersen, whom he had met over the years at coaching clinics and retreats. To Briles, what Petersen said wasn’t exactly inaccurate. However, what was getting lost in the translation was the assumption that Petersen indeed knew all of the facts.

  Yes, he might have “thoroughly apprised” Briles of the circumstances that led to Ukwuachu’s decision to transfer, but as it later was revealed, Petersen and other Boise State officials weren’t aware of the incidents that later came out in the Waco trial.

  And that’s when Baylor went on the offensive, releasing Ukwuachu’s official transfer papers from Boise State to Baylor. The school’s findings included a printed document from BSU, which stated that Ukwuachu was indeed eligi
ble to return to the school and was not removed by the team for disciplinary reasons.

  Baylor also provided an email from November 2013 in which Boise State’s dean of students informed Baylor that there were “no student conduct records for Samuel and that he is in good standing with Boise State.”

  To say Friday was a long day for Briles would be a gigantic understatement. With his character being attacked for the first time, he went home that afternoon with a feeling inside that was absolutely unfamiliar territory.

  No stranger to adversity, Briles considered himself stronger than most when it came to hardship. On October 16, 1976, at the age of twenty, Briles knew something wasn’t right when he couldn’t locate his parents and aunt in the Cotton Bowl stands while playing wide receiver for the University of Houston. When he walked up the tunnel to join his victorious teammates after the game, longtime Cougars head coach, Bill Yeoman, pulled Briles aside and informed him of a tragic car accident on Highway 380 that killed all three passengers who were coming from Rule, Texas, to Dallas.

  “The worst day of my life,” Briles said. “It’s something that has never gone away and never will.”

  Still filled with guilt about his parents being on the road simply to watch him play, Briles didn’t let a day go by without honoring Dennis and Wanda Briles, as well as his Aunt Elsie, who raised him like a grandmother.

  On the optimistic side, Briles also referred to that moment as a turning point in his life. His girlfriend at the time, Jan Allison, was set to travel with his family that day, but at the last minute, she stayed back to help with a bridal shower being held at her house. Two years later, Art and Jan were married, starting a family that included three children and then four grandkids.

  Briles also said that day had helped him become a “fearless coach” as well.

  “I’ve had my face on the floor and I’ve had people standing on me and not letting me breathe,” he said. “Next thing you know, I was standing up and I’m alive. So, I’m not scared to go back. I’ve been there. I’ve made it.”

  And some thirty-nine years later, Briles would need every bit of the strength he gained from that tragic day.

  His initial thought was that the backlash regarding the recent accusations would eventually blow over. But headlines all across the country were popping up left and right. Some suggested that Briles knew of Ukwuachu’s violent history and should be fired or ought to resign from his post. For a coach whose season opener was less than two weeks away, football was now an afterthought.

  A headline from one USA Today online article simply read, “Baylor Coach Art Briles Ignored Responsibility in Admitting Sam Ukwuachu.” Another stated, “Baylor Coach Art Briles Is in Trouble.” Even a columnist from the Fort-Worth Star Telegram, the hometown paper of the Bears’ rival, Texas Christian University, weighed in, trying to assume the stance of his readership audience: “Like you, I believe Chris Petersen.”

  When Briles got home that afternoon after multiple conversations with Baylor’s athletic director, Ian McCaw, President Ken Starr, and associate athletic director of communications, Heath Nielsen, Briles turned to another source for guidance—someone who had nearly ten years of public relations experience for a successful sports franchise.

  This consultant also just so happened to be his daughter Jancy, the oldest of his three children, who found herself in the middle of family conversations and decision-making as early as her teenage years. Art and Jan Briles had always trusted her opinion, as they did with son Kendal and daughter Staley.

  On this day, Jancy dipped into her experience as a media relations coordinator for the Dallas Cowboys to help advise her father on his next move. The coach was leaning toward not making any other statements on the matter until Jancy weighed in.

  “Nobody is saying this is bad for Baylor or this is bad for the football team,” she said. “They’re saying this is bad for you. People are attacking your character.”

  Later that evening, the school issued another detailed statement from Briles, again declaring his lack of knowledge of any prior incident involving Ukwuachu:

  “I was contacted by Coach Petersen at Boise State in spring 2013 and he told me he had a player from Texas who needed to get closer to home and that he thought our program would be a good spot for him. I know and respect Coach Petersen and he would never recommend a student-athlete to Baylor that he didn’t believe in. In our discussion, he did not disclose that there had been violence toward women, but he did tell me of a rocky relationship with his girlfriend which contributed to his depression. The only disciplinary action I was aware of were team-related issues, insubordination of coaches and missing practice. In addition, I talked with Tony Heath, his high school coach, who gave us a great recommendation.

  As required with any transfer to Baylor, Boise State acknowledged that he was not suspended due to any institutional disciplinary reasons and further that he was eligible for competition if he chose to return to Boise State.”

  Luckily for Briles, those statements alone started to sway the tide back in his favor somewhat. If nothing else, it gave the Baylor coach the benefit of the doubt he had earned throughout his coaching career.

  His reputation was then helped even more when on the following Tuesday, August 25, Boise State released a statement that Ukwuachu’s dismissal was unrelated to any allegations of violence, and that school officials never received any reports that he had committed acts of violence.

  Instead, records indicate that Boise State was concerned with Ukwuachu’s mental condition, since the university’s medical director had diagnosed him with a depressive disorder. Three days after that determination, and after Ukwuachu told coaches he wanted to transfer to be closer to home, he was dismissed from the Broncos football team.

  Meanwhile, the judge for Ukwuachu’s trial handed down a sentence of 180 days in jail with 10 years of felony probation and 400 hours of community service.

  As for Briles, he was getting the needed support from his superiors, giving him peace of mind that his job was secure, although he still had to read and hear his name dragged through the proverbial mud.

  Despite the fact that football coaches typically want the most time possible to prepare for an opponent, especially one like SMU that had a new head coach in Chad Morris, all Briles wanted to do was get back on the field.

  Enough prep time or not, September 4 couldn’t get here soon enough.

  Sunday

  Finding time to check out what’s on TV, especially in the fall, just doesn’t happen for football coaches—at any level. For many TV is simply one in a long list of in-season distractions—the kind of thing that takes up your time and doesn’t give you anything in return.

  During the football season, the only time you might catch Cowboys head coach, Jason Garrett, watching any television would likely be when an NFL game is on. Probably some matchup between the New York Giants and Washington Redskins, knowing he’ll see both of those teams on the schedule twice.

  But in the off-season, Garrett likes to wind down in the evening with his wife, Brill, the two enjoying everything from shows such as Homeland to movies, sporting events, and, of course, the news. The Princeton grad likes to keep up on world events.

  It was one night in May when what he was watching not only caught Garrett’s attention, but also ended up becoming a theme for his football team in the 2015 season. He was mesmerized by the words of U.S. Attorney General Loretta Lynch in an interview he saw on the evening news. The coach listened closely to Lynch tell her story, which included growing up with a minister father and a librarian mother. Her message was about learning the importance of honor and integrity.

  “It really was about as eloquent an eighteen seconds as I’d ever heard,” Garrett said. “She ended up being the valedictorian of her high school class. She went to Harvard Law School, was a district attorney, and eventually the Attorn
ey General of the United States. It’s a great arc. And for her to share that idea that we’re not going to let other people outside us define us, we’re going to define ourselves by what we do and what we say and don’t say, and how we present ourselves each and every day, that’s a message that we shared with our team. It’s something I think is really important in life for individual people and certainly good for football players, coaches, and a football team.”

  Right then and there, Garrett came up with the year’s message:

  We Do.

  To him, it was short but simple, much like last year’s battle cry, “Fight,” which eventually became “Finish the Fight” when the Cowboys made their run to the playoffs. He wanted his team to realize that this season’s success or failures would be in the players’ own hands: that they controlled their own destiny.

  So like he did in 2014, Garrett called up the equipment staff and had them print out hundreds of navy Dri-FIT shirts, designed by Nike but printed at the Dallas Cowboys’ merchandise facility, also known around the organization as DCM. In July, when the players arrived at their hotel rooms for training camp in sunny Oxnard, California, about an hour north of Los Angeles, they found their “We Do” T-shirts laid out on their beds.

  While “We Do” was the real message, there were others that Garrett had printed up. Throughout camp, navy shirts were seen floating around that also read “Team 56,” which was the coach’s unique way of reminding his players not to dwell on last year’s accomplishments and focus only on this season’s group—the fifty-sixth football team in Cowboys history.

  Another shirt simply read, “Hah!” Garrett’s creation was meant to represent the sound made when a player or coach does something in a positive way.

  “You get off the ball and make a big block—Hah!” said Garrett. “Or you come out of your break, catch the ball, and make someone miss—Hah!”