The 100-Yard Journey

by Gary Pinkel

  In a way, my time at Missouri will be defined by the SEC move. I’ll be remembered as being part of the decision, part of the transition. I loved coaching and competing in the Big 12, but I was really concerned about its stability. I was worried that Texas was going to pull out and join the Pac-12, as well as Oklahoma and Oklahoma State. What was going to happen to us when the music stopped? All these comments from the leaders at Texas and Oklahoma kept triggering more speculation and more discussion. The welfare of our athletic department was at stake.

  Once we joined the SEC, Mike Slive, the league’s commissioner, told me our success in football was a big reason the league chose us to become that 14th member. The state of Missouri touches multiple SEC states, and we had the two big TV markets in St. Louis and Kansas City, but I don’t believe the SEC would have chosen us had we not made so much progress as a program.

  Right away we had to start preparing for all of our new opponents. Each assistant always had his own team that he’d study during the offseason. He was called the headhunter. He’d spend the spring and summer analyzing that opponent, staying on top of any roster news, injuries, coaching changes, scheme changes. He had to be an expert on their personnel and their systems. It was similar to when the staff first got to Mizzou. We had to investigate more and collect as much information as we could on our new opponents in the Big 12. Instead of just studying two or three games of film, we’d analyze four or five so we really got to know these teams we were about to face. You study coordinators when you’re game-planning, but when you join a new league you’ve got all new coordinators to study. The scouting reports were more thorough and intense that first year.

  Our first SEC game was home against Georgia. It was a huge game for so many reasons. We stayed at our normal hotel on Friday night, the local Marriott in Columbia. Surprisingly there were Georgia fans everywhere we looked. They were so kind and excited to be in Columbia. I had never seen anything like that. That was a new experience for our team.

  We had James Franklin back at quarterback and some young playmakers around him. In front of a sellout crowd at the Zou, we played really well the first half and held the lead until late in the third quarter. But then Georgia captured all the momentum with some big plays and we couldn’t respond. It was a “Welcome to the SEC” moment for us.

  That season my biggest message to our players was we needed to focus on us, our team—not these other guys from the SEC. We can’t control what anyone else does. I emphasized that more in my later years at Missouri, especially once we settled into the SEC. Our players were about to play at some historic stadiums, places they would tell their kids and grandkids about in 30 years. Every game in this league is bigger. Games were big in the Big 12 but not like they are in the SEC. Life in the SEC sounds different, looks different, tastes different. Our players started to learn that once we played games at places like Georgia and Tennessee and Florida. But it was still about us and our team preparing the best we could. I didn’t want to blow things out of proportion. The media did enough of that on their own; I didn’t need to add any pressure. The question we’d have to answer was whether we had the depth to hold up physically in this league. It was almost like we were doomed before we started. There was a perception that the league was more physically demanding, and we learned that was absolutely true.

  After losing to Georgia we hosted Arizona State, part of a two-game series with the Pac-12 school. James Franklin had taken a bad hit on his shoulder against Georgia, the same shoulder he injured earlier in the spring. He had an opportunity to take a high dose of ibuprofen before the game and play through the soreness, but that wasn’t something he wanted to do. It wasn’t for any religious reason or ethical reason. He just didn’t like taking medicine. I was really torn with that, but it was his decision.

  Unfortunately, right before kickoff the ESPN sideline reporter asked me about James’ decision not to play on live TV. I’m usually protective of my players, but I let it slip that he didn’t take the medicine and decided not to play. I regret saying anything publicly about it. I really do. It’s not like I planned to tell the world that James didn’t want to use anything to help the pain. The sideline reporter knew he had declined the medicine, and she asked me to confirm. But that’s no excuse for what I said. I’m better than that.

  I never asked a player to do something he didn’t want to do. I never even talked to James about that decision before the game. But I certainly regret making that public. I was frustrated.

  James was an incredibly tough player on the field. He had a unique personality, but he did some great things for us when he could stay healthy. After the way he played in 2011, we thought he’d follow the same course of our last couple quarterbacks who played in the NFL. We expected him to take off and become a great player in 2012. But he couldn’t stay healthy. Corbin Berkstresser, another tremendous kid and a devoted team player, had to start four games as a redshirt freshman. He just wasn’t ready to be thrown into an SEC schedule. We won the Arizona State game with Corbin at quarterback but then lost our next three SEC games to South Carolina, Vanderbilt, and Alabama. A lightning storm sent us into the locker room for more than an hour in the Alabama game—the first time I’d ever coached against my old teammate and friend Nick Saban—but we struggled to keep pace with his team in a 42–10 loss. We bounced back and beat Kentucky, had a close loss at Florida, then outlasted Tennessee in four overtimes in Knoxville.

  James was in and out of the lineup that year but we had other injuries, too. Still, if we had won one of our last two games, against Syracuse or Texas A&M, we would have played in an eighth straight bowl game. As much as we struggled, we were still in the hunt.

  Only three games in my 15 years at Mizzou had we been eliminated from bowl eligibility at kickoff: the season finales in 2001, 2004, and 2015. Otherwise, we were always playing with a chance to secure eligibility or had already locked up enough wins to play in the postseason.

  Under normal circumstances we would never schedule Syracuse for a game in November, but when we changed leagues some games got shifted around and we needed a nonconference home game at the last minute. We had already played two quality nonconference teams in Arizona State and Central Florida, and here we were needing one more win to get eligible for a bowl game after going through a gauntlet of Georgia, South Carolina, Florida, and Tennessee. Realistically, this was probably our last chance to get a sixth win. The following week we’d play our regular-season finale at Texas A&M. They were having a much better debut season in the league behind Heisman Trophy winner Johnny Manziel. That means we essentially had to beat Syracuse at home to secure bowl eligibility. Their program had struggled for a long time, but this was one of their best teams in almost a decade. They had an NFL draft pick at quarterback. We had a first-round draft pick on the defensive line—but not that night.

  Sheldon Richardson, the best player on our defense, an All-SEC defensive tackle and a future first-round draft pick, had to fulfill what we called awareness training, which was punishment for being irresponsible academically. He skipped his awareness training, so I made him confront the whole staff. He had an attitude during that meeting. That’s something we couldn’t tolerate. So we had to suspend him less than 48 hours before a critical game.

  There were a handful of times in my career that I suspended players for disciplinary reasons where other coaches at other programs probably would have found a way to keep the player on the field. To me, I had to do the right thing. Ten years later I didn’t want to question my decision-making. I looked at those situations like this—if the third-team right guard breaks a rule, would I suspend him for a game? Absolutely. If the starting defensive tackle breaks the same rule, would I suspend him for a game? Yes. Case closed. Those decisions aren’t that difficult. You do the right thing.

  Sheldon later apologized to me, and I think in some ways he matured. But as a coach you’ve got to make the right decisions—and sometimes th
ey don’t help you win games. He played with an edge and carried that edge with him away from the field. Sometimes it got him in trouble. But he was a likeable kid. People from NFL teams called me before the draft and asked if he got in trouble a lot. He really didn’t. There were just one or two minor incidents.

  It’s fascinating to think about why one athlete with great ability can handle success and another one can’t. Derek Jeter wrote in his book that the one thing that guided him during his career is he never wanted to hurt his mom and dad. I’ve found that players who play for themselves struggle. Those who play for God, for someone in their family, anyone other than themselves, usually come back to earth and experience success. It’s not all about me. Aldon Smith has had personal problems and legal issues in the NFL. I’ve tried to pass that message to Aldon along with others who have come through our program. Aldon didn’t have any disciplinary problems in school, but he has struggled since he left. Success can be difficult to manage.

  Sheldon didn’t play in the Syracuse game. We lost after giving up a last-minute go-ahead touchdown. James Franklin left that game early with a concussion. That meant we had to win our final game of the year to keep our bowl streak alive—and without our starting quarterback. We headed to Texas A&M, where Manziel was about to put his Heisman campaign on ice. The Aggies were 9–2 with wins over Alabama, Arkansas, Auburn, and Ole Miss. We had played pretty well at Kyle Field over the years but not that night. We lost by 30. It was the end of a very difficult year for us.

  After the game ended, everyone wondered how we would respond. We were in the SEC now, so what were we going to change to adjust? After the game I made it simple: “We’re going to do what we do.” That had to be another moment where Mike Alden cringed, but I was just being honest. We evaluated absolutely everything we did in our program. We never assumed everything was working without carefully evaluating it. Every year we wanted to improve 3 percent to 5 percent. But I also knew from past seasons that when things get tough, you don’t just start changing your program for the sake of change. You bunker down and embrace the things that are most important. If at any time from 2005 to 2011 we would have had injuries at the quarterback position like we had in our first year in the SEC, then I might not have made it to 2012.

  You never heard me say, “Oh, this league is too hard and too difficult. We need to change this and change that to keep up with everyone else.” My players needed to see an enthusiasm from me about the league. We had to focus on ourselves and make the most of the opportunity. I wasn’t going to panic over being in the SEC.

  People wanted me to recognize how difficult it was for us in the SEC, maybe more than we could have expected. But the next two years we were division champions. It’s not like we changed our program so we could compete five years down the road. If we stayed healthy in 2012 or I would have done a better job coaching, we would have played in a bowl game and the transition wouldn’t have seemed so bumpy. All we needed to do was win one more game—and not necessarily an SEC game. The costly loss that season came at home against Syracuse.

  I’m sure people expected some staff changes after the season, but that wasn’t my plan. I trusted and had faith in our coaches. A few days after the season, David Yost called me and said he wanted to step down. He was burnt out. He had just dealt with all the quarterback problems all season. If your team has quarterback problems—high school, college, NFL—your team has problems. That 2012 season really affected him.

  I tried to talk him out of leaving. I absolutely didn’t want to make a change. Dave was a great coach and a great recruiter. The kids loved him. I wanted him on our staff. He was remarkably committed to the job. He had zero ambition to being a head coach. He had no use for the publicity and attention. After he got into the coordinator job, he didn’t necessarily regret it, but he was essentially the head coach of the offense. He was good with the media, but it was part of the job he didn’t want to do. At this level if you’re a coordinator, you’re training to be a head coach, but that was never his plan.

  So we lost a good coach. When we had a staff opening, I always looked at my coaches first. The summer before every season I would think about the contingency plan. Who on my staff would I consider for a promotion if we lose a coordinator? I interviewed Andy Hill, Brian Jones, and Josh Henson on our staff and considered some outside candidates. We went with Josh for the coordinator job and moved Andy from receivers to quarterbacks. The worst thing you can do when you have adversity like we faced in 2012 is panic. The outside perception was we were overwhelmed in the SEC, and we had better change the program or we would get buried.

  I didn’t care about the outside opinion when it came to staff. I’d call Coach Lauterbur or Coach James for advice. Or maybe I’d look back at similar situations at Washington or Toledo and recall how we handled the staff.

  We just emphasized who we were and what we were about. We had to communicate that with our players. I think it gave the players confidence that we didn’t make drastic changes.

  After the season, Mike Alden said to me, “I just want you to know I’ve been asked a few questions by our president about the direction of the program.” He didn’t go into a lot of detail. The president of the university system was Tim Wolfe. His message was subtle. He wasn’t talking to Mike about firing me, but he might have been laying the groundwork.

  I told Mike, “I get it. I appreciate you being honest with me.”

  That didn’t change my approach one bit. Mike said he had given zero thought to a coaching change after 2012. Zero. I knew I had his support. I didn’t tell anyone what the president said to Mike except my girlfriend, Missy. Nobody else needed to know. My coaches worked hard regardless of the circumstances. They didn’t need that pressure on their back.

  • • •

  After our first year in the SEC, I reflected on a conversation I had with Jim Harbaugh when he was in his first year as the head coach of the 49ers. It was a profound statement that defined my approach with our players. I first met Jim at a coaching function in Phoenix when he coached at San Diego University. I knew Jim’s dad, too. Years later he came to Mizzou’s pro day to scout Blaine Gabbert and Aldon Smith in preparation for the 2011 NFL draft. We talked quite a bit that day. He had just left Stanford for the 49ers, going from a program that he had built into a national power to a league where it’s supposed to be an even playing field across the board. I figured making that jump was going to be difficult for Jim. I mentioned to him, “You’re going to have your challenges, right?”

  He looked at me with that intense Jim Harbaugh glare and said, “Coach, we’ve got great players. They’ve got great players. We compete. They compete. It doesn’t get better than this as a competitor.” He was almost in a cold sweat. He couldn’t wait for the competition. He embraced those challenges. It inspired him.

  I was so impressed with his answer. Later that fall we made the decision to join the SEC and the more I thought about how we should approach this challenge, the more I kept coming back to Harbaugh. We were now playing the best teams in the best stadiums. We had to embrace that. I had to embrace that. That’s the message I had to get across to our players. “This is an opportunity to compete against the best. We’re now part of this great league. It doesn’t get better than that.” That had to be our attitude.

  Business as usual wasn’t going to work for us. We couldn’t just strut into this league and act like nothing had changed. Harbaugh has no idea what kind of impact that conversation had on me, and on our program, but his philosophy became our mindset.

  You also have to stay healthy in this game. Missouri’s not a program that can afford a run of injuries like Alabama might be able to afford. I believed in what we were doing. We just focused on the structure and the routine. I stayed positive.

  I liked the senior leadership we had going into 2013. Our players never panicked after 2012. They weren’t afraid of this conference. They thrived on competitio
n. They understood we had talent. It’s not like everyone walked all over us that year. We went toe-to-toe with Florida. We won at Tennessee. We beat Kentucky. Earlier in the year we beat Arizona State with a backup quarterback. We were competitive in other games. We just didn’t handle injuries very well. We had 12 players undergo surgeries during the 2012 season and six more after the season.

  That next offseason, the leadership in our program took over. I think of L’Damian Washington before anyone else. Here’s a tremendous kid from Shreveport, Louisiana, who came from a challenging background. His single mom died of a heart attack while he was in high school, leaving L’Damian and his brothers to care for each other. He became one of our strongest voices, one of our most impassioned leaders. The kids took stock in the program. Leaders emerged, including Justin Britt, Mitch Morse, E.J. Gaines, Marvin Foster, and Michael Sam, among others.

  • • •

  In the spring we had one of our crossover dinners, where players were split up into groups and went to a coach’s house for dinner. During the dinners we’d go around the room and talk one at a time about our backgrounds, about our families. You become much more understanding about your teammates and your coaches. We did it again in August during preseason camp. After the August meeting, I got a call from Craig Kuligowski, our defensive line coach. “Michael came out in our meeting,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  He said, “Coach, Michael told the players he was gay.”

  “Whoa. Okay.”

  Some people probably suspected Michael was gay. His close friends on the team knew. That’s not something I spent a lot of time thinking about. A couple years before, I was in a Big 12 coaches meeting and a few of us were talking about this very topic. We all said some day there’s going to be a gay player who comes out to his team. Each one of us was probably thinking, “It’ll happen to somebody somewhere—but not me.”