by Gary Pinkel
When plays like that work you have to make decisions with confidence, but the circumstances have to be right. You must have intelligent reasoning behind a call like that.
The offseason leading into the 1995 season I could start to see our program coming together. We had Wasean Tait at tailback, the MAC MVP, and Ryan Huzjak at quarterback, who’d go on to rank among the school’s greatest passers. In the regular season finale we beat Ohio in the Glass Bowl to clinch the MAC championship outright. As our fans took down the goalposts, I officially accepted our invitation to the Las Vegas Bowl. It would be Toledo’s first bowl game in 11 years—and one of the most historic bowl games ever.
Before the 1995 season, the NCAA had sent a letter to every head coach explaining rule changes for the upcoming year. I don’t think I ever saw it, but the big change was the introduction of overtime for bowl season. For years, the lower divisions in the NCAA had used overtime to decide tie games, but the major college divisions had held out and settled for ties at the end of regulation. That changed in 1995 when overtime was introduced for the postseason.
We would face Nevada in the Las Vegas Bowl, set for December 14, the earliest bowl game on the calendar that year by almost two weeks. Sure enough, we were tied when Nevada kicked a field goal to even the score.
Mike Dunbar, our offensive coordinator, had coached in overtime games in Division I-AA. Before the game, knowing overtime could be in play, our staff discussed our strategy when we went through our game-planning checklist. Normally we’d go over the checklist two days before the game. In this case, we moved it up a day so we had more time to prepare. The overtime rules weren’t like the NFL’s sudden death overtime. Instead, each team got the ball at the opponent’s 25-yard line and got four downs to score or get a first down. Then the other team got the ball at the opponent’s 25-yard line with a chance to answer. If the game was still tied after the first overtime, the teams did it all over again.
We went into the game planning that if it went into overtime and we won the coin toss, we would go on defense first. That way you know what you need, either a touchdown or just a field goal, based on what the other team did during its overtime series. Dunbar’s strategy was to go for the big pass early. I was more conservative: get a first down. If you get a new set of downs you increase your chance of winning. If you hit the big play to win the game, that’s great. But I was a little more practical. Our plan offensively was to get a first down before anything else. That doesn’t mean you can’t throw for a first down, but if you get a first down, you get four more shots. I see a lot of people throwing for the end zone on first and second down. In 1995, we had Wasean Tait, a gifted running back from Detroit who finished as the nation’s No. 2 rusher. He was talented enough to play for Michigan or Michigan State but undersized just enough to land at Toledo. But when you’re faster and quicker than everyone else on the field, it doesn’t matter how big or small you are.
We won the toss and chose to go on defense first. Nevada kicked a field goal to take a three-point lead, but we answered with a touchdown, thanks to Wasean’s game-winning run. It was a 40–37 victory, the first Division I overtime win in history.
We finished 11–0–1 and ranked No. 24 in the final AP poll. Undefeated national champion Nebraska was the only other Division I-A team to end the year without a loss. That was such an important season for our program. We won a championship, we won a bowl game, and the system we worked so hard to install and build produced success on a conference and national level.
We lost Wasean to a serious knee injury in the 1996 opener at Indiana, and our offense wasn’t nearly as explosive that season. We won seven games but finished a game behind Ball State for the MAC championship.
After the breakthrough 1995 season, job offers started coming around. Minnesota called after the 1996 season and we set up an interview at the Detroit airport. At the time, though, our sons were still in school in Toledo and Erin enrolled at the University of Toledo. I promised myself I wouldn’t move the family again until my kids all graduated from the same high school. That was one of my family goals. I didn’t like moving and starting over in a new town, and I especially didn’t want to uproot the kids while they were still in school. I called off the Minnesota interview. I’d get a few calls every year, but I just wasn’t interested.
We opened the 1997 season against Purdue at home, a game few figured we could win. Joe Tiller’s team would go on to win nine games with victories over Notre Dame and Wisconsin—but not Toledo. We won by two touchdowns on our way to an 8–0 start. (Purdue had a freshman quarterback on the roster who, fortunately for us, didn’t play much that season: Drew Brees.) That was a big win for our program and for the Mid-American Conference.
Around that time we started to expand our recruiting reach. Our roster was mostly players from Ohio and Michigan but we felt it was time to recruit more players from Chicago and other areas. We didn’t want the so-called MAC player. We wanted Big Ten players that slipped through the cracks for whatever reasons.
Chris Wallace, another talented quarterback, led us to nine wins that season and we played in the first ever MAC championship game at Marshall, a loaded team that was new to the MAC and featured Randy Moss at receiver. We lost the game, meaning we missed out on a bowl game despite another strong record at 9–3.
• • •
In August 1998, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was living in Akron but still made it to our first home game that season, a win over Temple. In the middle of the next week, I got a call that she was going to the hospital. She was having some complications. The doctors didn’t feel comfortable operating on her.
That Saturday we played at Ohio State. The Buckeyes were the No. 1 team in the country and would go on to win the Big Ten and play in the Sugar Bowl. You can play a great team like Ohio State, lose the game, and still feel good about your effort if you gave your best. We didn’t that day. Ohio State won 49–0. (A week later, the Buckeyes would beat a good Missouri team by three touchdowns.)
After the game, I unloaded on our team. I could sense some of our players didn’t believe we could win that game. I didn’t want a team like that. I told them you have to believe you can beat everybody and that we were a much better team than how we played. It was a calculated response on my part because there had to be a lesson in that loss, and I wasn’t going to give them a free pass. I had to find something to put in their minds after the game. I was livid with our effort.
I walked out of the locker room, and there were five Ohio Highway Patrol officers walking right at me. I moved to get out of their way when one of them said, “Coach Pinkel, we have an emergency phone call. Your mother’s struggling in the hospital. We need to get you to Akron as fast as possible.” My sister and her husband were there with the rest of my family, my wife, and my kids. We divided up and piled in our cars and rushed to Akron.
My mom was in bad shape. She couldn’t talk. The doctors couldn’t save her. They gave her medication to make things easy for her. That night, I sat with my mom and watched her die. It was emotional. We had such a great relationship. She died just after midnight, the saddest moment of my life.
In the morning I was supposed to record my weekly TV show back in Toledo. That’s the last thing in the world I wanted to do, but I could hear her voice telling me to get my butt to the show. There wasn’t much I could do there in Akron. I don’t think I got any sleep. We had the funeral that week, and I spoke at her service. During the eulogy, I remember saying that my mom never said a bad thing about another person. We weren’t allowed to do that.
She was such a good person. She lived her life by the golden rule. I’d give my kids the same lessons and always say they came from my mom.
The next Saturday we beat Western Michigan at home and my players gave me the game ball in the locker room. It was such an emotional week. The funeral was on Thursday and that’s when I normally give the team my weekly
Thursday talk. That week it was a Friday talk.
• • •
We finished with seven wins in 1998 and made it back to the MAC championship game where, again, we lost to a very good Marshall team. After the season the University of Washington contacted me about interviewing for its head-coaching job. Jim Lambright had winning records every season after replacing Don James but the school wanted to go in another direction. I had promised myself I wouldn’t take another coaching job until all my kids graduated from the same high school—with one exception. All three kids still had friends in Seattle from our time living there. Blake, our youngest, was still a sophomore in high school, but the adjustment would be easier if we moved back to Washington.
I thought I would have a good chance to get the job. I was a Don James guy and had built a winning program on my own. I went to Seattle and interviewed for the job. I felt like the process was going well. My good friend Chris Tormey, the head coach at Idaho and another former assistant under Coach James, was another candidate.
Barbara Hedges, the Washington athletic director, called me on Thursday to say I was still a candidate. I took that as a positive sign. I was feeling good about my chances.
Then she called back Saturday morning. Washington was going in a different direction. They were moving away from the Don James coaching tree and going with Rick Neuheisel, the coach at Colorado. It was disappointing. As I reflect back on that, there’s no one they could have hired who would have run the Don James program how I would have done it. I played for him. I coached for him. I applied the same principles and structures at another program and won a lot of games. I knew it worked. Unlike some of the other coaches who left Don’s staff to run their own programs, I stayed true to his system. I was a disciple. And I would have installed the same elements back into the program at Washington where Coach James had so much success.
In some respects I can understand where they were coming from. They wanted to break away from the past. I just didn’t like getting the call on Thursday and then getting hit in the face with the bad news two days later. I was okay with the decision. I wasn’t really angry. I had a good job and figured another great situation would come around when the time was right. At least I hoped.
In 1999, we had a great running back, Chester Taylor, who’d go on to a long career in the NFL. At quarterback we turned the offense over to a sophomore, Tavares Bolden, a good young player from Cleveland. I thought he had great potential, but he wasn’t living up to our expectations. He was missing classes, and if you’re going to play quarterback in our program, you have to set the standard. Quarterbacks don’t miss class.
I had a meeting with Tavares, just the two of us, and I got after him about his lack of commitment. I told him, “You’ll never play here, much less become a great quarterback, if I can’t count on you. That means you go to class. You stay out of trouble. You become the hardest worker on our team. That’s what our quarterbacks do. If that doesn’t happen, you’ll never, ever play here.”
My goal when he walked out of that meeting was that he left shaking. That was the reaction I needed to see. And I got it. In those settings, your voice goes where it needs to go. I had to create the necessary environment to get his attention.
During the 1999 season, we had another defining moment, but this one didn’t involve greasy burgers and fries. The Mid-American Conference had six teams when I was a senior at Kent State. By 1999, the MAC had 13 teams with two divisions. It was harder to sustain success year after year because there were so many quality programs in the league. We had just lost to Louisiana Tech at home to put our record at 3-5. We had three games left, which means we had to sweep all three games to finish with a winning record.
After the Louisiana Tech loss, I told the team, “Guys, I want to make something very clear. What we do wins. And it wins championships. We’re not changing anything here. If we all get on board, we’re going to win.”
Later that night, I buried my head in my hands and must have cried for five minutes. I was emotionally distraught. We had been to back-to-back conference championship games, but here we were 3–5 with three home losses. One more loss and we’d have a losing record. That would have been devastating. All the work we put into building a consistent winner, the last thing you want is to take a step back. It hurts recruiting. It hurts your support. We couldn’t afford the stigma of having a losing season. Even in the tough years here, we still win. That had to be our identity.
At that moment, if someone had walked into my office and told me we’d win 13 of our next 14 games, I would have lost my mind, kicked them out of my office, and told them to never come back. But that’s exactly what happened. You truly never know when greatness is around the corner. It’s no different than Mark Brunell taking a snap from under the guard. He had no idea his career was about to take off. “You persevere and you battle.”
We had three games left to salvage our season, starting with Central Michigan in Mount Pleasant. If we lost we couldn’t have a winning season. This game was emotional because so much was at stake, but like always, I had to keep my calm demeanor on the sideline. I always told my players that bombs could be going off, but you can always look at me and see that things are under control. “When you’re wondering what the hell’s going on, look at me and chill out.” That was my message.
One last time before kickoff, the team came back in the locker room after warming up. I went around and shook hands with every player like always, but then I had to go back outside. If those players had caught a glimpse of me, it wouldn’t have been a good scene. I wanted to win that game so badly that I was ready to explode.
We won the game then finished with wins over Northern Illinois and Western Michigan. Those games weren’t close either. We won by a combined 73 points. In today’s bowl arrangement we would have qualified for a bowl game, but the MAC only had one bowl tie-in back then.
More importantly, those wins created the momentum we’d need heading into the offseason. Starting with the Central Michigan game, Toledo won 23-of-26 games, all with Tavares at quarterback. He became the leader and playmaker the program needed.
• • •
Around 1998, our athletic director, Pete Liske, told me we were going to schedule a game at Penn State. Why Penn State? Easy answer: Pete played quarterback there in the 1960s. He was an outstanding AD, but I didn’t like this idea. I told him, “I don’t want to play at Penn State. Why Penn State? If we’re scheduling a Big Ten team, let’s give ourselves a chance to win and play somebody else.” A down year for Penn State at that time was 9–3. We had just gotten crushed at Ohio State. I didn’t want to relive a game like that.
I met for coffee with Pete and our president to discuss the schedule. I lost the argument and wasn’t happy about it. I thought I had earned enough credibility to make those decisions or at least have some influence.
So we were stuck with playing Penn State for the first game of the 2000 season—in Happy Valley.
I called in the captains that Monday before the game and asked them, “Okay, guys, how do you want me to approach this week?” We could have played up the Big Ten vs. MAC angle. It’s another chance for the little guy to knock off a Big Ten powerhouse. Those guys looked at me and said, “Don’t do anything differently at all. Nothing.” That surprised me. Our approach to the game was really important, but they insisted this game was about us, nothing else. We weren’t going to play the disrespect card. This wouldn’t be about David vs. Goliath. We were just going to play the game—the game I didn’t want to schedule. But it turned out to be a turning point for Toledo football and my career.
It was an incredible game, and on national TV, no less. We had such a good team. Coming off that three-game winning streak to finish the 1999 season, this bunch had confidence. Did they know we’d win the game? I don’t know, but they believed we could. With five minutes left in the game, for the first time in my coaching career, I too
k my pen and wrote five slashes. One, two, three, four, five. One for every minute left in the game. When a minute would pass, I’d mark it down. We’re up 18. At this point, I’m in some disbelief. Toledo doesn’t come into Penn State and win—not with Joe Paterno on the other sideline. The clock hits the five-minute mark, slash it off. Four minutes, slash. Three minutes, slash. My players probably thought I was taking notes or preparing my interview for the media. They had no idea. Two minutes, slash. One minute, slash. Then the seconds tick down…and we win the game 24–6. It was the first time a MAC team had beaten Penn State in 12 tries.
A few players hugged me as the celebration began and I ran on the field to look for the rest of our team. And where were they? In line to shake Joe Paterno’s hand. The entire team! So what do I do after the biggest win in my career? I get in line with everyone else. I guess I have to shake JoePa’s hand, too. The TV crew came over to interview me, but by then I was already in line. At that point, I can’t lose my place. Finally, I got to Coach Paterno. He was very gracious and shook my hand. That put a national spotlight on our program. Maybe we knew what we were doing after all.
Several years later I was in Hawaii at a resort walking around the pool and there’s Coach Paterno. He was still coaching at Penn State. It was the first time I’d seen him since we played. I had to say hello and pay my respects. I made my way over to him and said, “Coach, I’m…” and he stopped me. “Coach, I know who you are,” he said. “You know what, I kept telling people that you were better than us. Your team could have competed in the Big Ten that year.” I was blown away. Joe Paterno remembered me?
We had another great season and by year’s end had tied for the division championship, finished 10–1, and were nationally ranked. But we’d be remembered as the Toledo team that took down Penn State.