The System: The Glory and Scandal of Big-Time College Football (52 page)

“This market is crazy,” Floyd explained. “I’m not sitting here justifying this stuff. I’m just saying that this is the world we have to play in.”

Floyd knew the numbers. And he knew that in order for Washington State to compete in the Pac-12, it was going to have to put up the kind of money that other Pac-12 schools were shelling out for football coaches.

Nonetheless, the timing could not have been more awkward. Floyd and University of Washington president Michael Young had been pressing state lawmakers not to make further budget cuts to the state’s two universities. Over the previous four years the state had reduced funding to WSU by 60 percent. At UW the cuts were even deeper—from $400 million to $200 million. To compensate, both schools were making painful decisions. WSU reduced its workforce by 12 percent, eliminating more than five hundred jobs. Some entire fields of study had been shuttered.

Against this backdrop, the highest-paid state employee in Washington the previous year was UW’s head football coach, Steve Sarkisian. His gross annual pay was $1.98 million. If Leach ended up at WSU, he’d be the highest-paid employee in the state. Worse, WSU would still be on the hook for $600,000 to Paul Wulff for the remaining year on his contract.

Floyd was in a situation that many of his colleagues at other institutions had faced. “We all think this is absolutely absurd,” Floyd explained. “We sign the checks because we have no other alternative. There is not a university president who said, ‘Oh yes, that’s the right thing to do.’ ”

As president, Floyd didn’t need approval from the university’s board of regents before authorizing Bill Moos to offer Leach a multimillion-dollar contract. But regents are the ones who hire and fire the president. Given the dire fiscal problems in the state, Floyd felt it was prudent not to surprise his board. He didn’t want them reading about a deal this size in the newspaper. One by one he started calling his regents to give them a heads-up.

On November 19, WSU played its final home game of the season. It lost to Utah in overtime 30–27. Two days later demolition crews began tearing down one side of Martin Stadium to make way for the $80 million expansion that had been approved by the regents seventy-two hours earlier. The 2012 season was due to kick off nine months later. That left very little time to construct twenty-one luxury suites, forty-two loge boxes, twelve hundred club seats, a ten-thousand-square-foot club room for premium-seat patrons and a new press box.

Much of the construction costs would be paid for by the revenue coming from ESPN and Fox under the new Pac-12 television deal. But it fell to Moos to sell the suites and premium seating.

Moos was banking on Mike Leach to sell out the first-class game-day amenities. If Leach came through, paying him $2 million a year would be a bargain. But Elson Floyd was having second thoughts. He’d been reading up on Leach’s dismissal at Tech and the lawsuits that followed. He didn’t like what he saw. Floyd asked Moos whether he had any concerns.

“Elson, I’ve read his book, and I’ve talked with him about those issues,” Moos told him. “And I’m not concerned about it.”

“Well, I need to do my own due diligence,” Floyd said. “There are a couple of people I want to call.”

Floyd had his staff research the lawsuit between Leach and Tech. Then he called the man who fired Leach, Tech’s president, Guy Bailey. They were close friends. When Floyd was president at Missouri, he hired Bailey as chancellor of the Kansas City campus. He knew Bailey would give him the straight scoop on Leach and what went down at Tech.

After the two exchanged pleasantries, Floyd got to the purpose of the call. “It looks like we’re going to hire Mike Leach,” he told Bailey. “Tell me about his departure.”

The two presidents had the sort of frank conversation that could only take place between trusted friends. Bailey began by giving Floyd some background. “There was a long context behind a lot of the difficulties at Tech,” Bailey said. “Over time, a lack of trust built up. With lack of trust and lack of good communication, when the problem arose, rather than being resolved, it just blew up.”

Trust and communication, Bailey told Floyd, were vital. “Just make sure your AD and coach get along,” Bailey told him.

Floyd asked specifically about Leach as a coach.

“He will fill the stadium,” Bailey said. “He’s a great coach. If anybody can win in Pullman, Mike can.”

WSU finished the season on November 26 with a loss in Seattle to its rival University of Washington. On the short flight back to Pullman, Moos tapped Wulff on the shoulder and told him that he wanted to see him in his office the next day.

Wulff didn’t think much of the request. It was custom to meet after the season to recap what happened and discuss what was ahead. Wulff shared his vision for the coming year. But Moos focused on the facts. The team finished 4-8. Morale was down. Attendance was shrinking. Yet construction was under way on an $80 million stadium expansion. It was imperative that those seats sell out. That wasn’t going to happen if the team kept losing.

Wulff didn’t like the vibe.

“Paul, I have to make a decision.”

“Sounds like you already have.”

Later that day, Moos pulled out the template he used for coaching contracts at Oregon. Seated at his desk, he penciled out a simple offer to Leach: $2.25 million in annual base salary for five years, plus standard incentives and bonuses. Then he had his staff get it to Gary O’Hagan for review.

The following day O’Hagan sent word that the basic terms were acceptable. Moos agreed to send a one-page letter outlining the contractual terms. As soon as Leach signed it, Moos would announce the hire. The full contract would be executed after the fact.

With O’Hagan promising to get the letter of understanding to Leach, Moos went to see Elson Floyd. He wanted to give him the news in person.

“We got him,” Moos told him.

A grin swept across Floyd’s face, and he high-fived Moos.

Joe Giansante and Mike Marlow had reason to smile, too. Giansante was in his familiar place—stuck in traffic on the San Diego Freeway—when Marlow called. “We did it,” he said. “We caught him.”

The next morning—November 29, 2011—Moos held a press conference.

“At roughly ten o’clock this morning I dismissed Paul Wulff as our football coach at Washington State University,” Moos began. “It was not an easy thing to do.”

He kept his remarks brief, pinning the decision on fan apathy, a record low in terms of annual giving and the need to create enthusiasm around the university’s recently announced commitment to invest $160 million in football facilities.

“We’ll start the search for the successor immediately, later this afternoon, and hope to have somebody in that position in the next two or three weeks if at all possible,” Moos told the press. Then he opened it up for questions. Hands shot up. The reporters wondered if Wulff deserved one more year.

“We’re at a juncture where we’ve either gotta run with the big dogs or just admit that we’re a doormat,” Moos said. “I believe that we can be a contender for championships.”

More hands. “Is it concerning to you with the large number of openings at big-name schools that you might not be able to attract a big-name coach?”

“May I say this? You’re looking at the search committee,” Moos said. “I’ve been through these before. I’ve got good contacts. My practice has always been to have a short list.”

“Have you reached out to anybody on that list?”

“I’ve had discussions.”

“Is it important to you … to bring somebody in that runs a similar system?”

“I’m not going to hire somebody that’s going to run the Houston Veer. I believe that you fill the seats by having a flashy, high-octane offense that lights up the scoreboard.”