Goodbye to Mike Leach and the Real Football Coaches

Let's see. Texas Tech officials fired Mike Leach on Wednesday for allegedly banishing one of his players with a concussion to what was described as "small, dark" spaces during a practice. Not only that, this otherwise popular football coach was due an $800,000 bonus by the university on New Year's Eve. He is disputing the charges, by the way, along with others who strongly defend whatever he did.

Yeah, well. This is about to get uglier, especially since Leach's lawyer already was talking more about lawsuits than shoulder pads long before the Red Raiders prepared to play Saturday in the Alamo Bowl.

To paraphrase an old saying, there is the coach's side, there is the player's side, and then there is the truth. Still, no matter what really is the deal here surrounding Leach's treatment of wide receiver Adam James earlier this month and even before that, this applies: if you're anything close to an old-school college football coach these days, you might consider joining the Marines or something.

Back then, kicking, punching, spitting, grabbing and cursing were acceptable -- and I'm not talking about you against your opponent, but your coaches against you. You can't coach like that anymore. It's a shame, but you just can't. That's because not everybody is me, who had a Steve Klonne as my first high school football coach in Cincinnati during the end of the Neanderthal days. Back then, kicking, punching, spitting, grabbing and cursing were acceptable -- and I'm not talking about you against your opponent, but your coaches against you.

Neither is everybody Greg Tyree, now a 27-year-old sales and marketing analyst in Atlanta after he spent the early part of the decade as a linebacker and defensive end at Kansas under Mark Mangino, supposedly a modern-day Klonne.

That is, if you believe several Kansas players who claimed Mangino whipped folks to death with his tongue.

"All I know is that Mangino was very helpful to me during my tenure at Kansas, although there were times when it was kind of hard to figure out what his intent was, but at the end of the day, in my estimation, he cared," said Tyree, sounding like the dwindling few who actually get it when it comes to playing for many of these types of coaches.

Not surprisingly, Mangino eventually (ahem) resigned this month after an investigation of his alleged mistreatment of players.

Added Tyree, "Sometimes, you bring too much emotion into play as a student-athlete, and you don't add context to the situation. My high school coach in Phoenix had the same type of demeanor as Mangino. They both were very structured. They both were disciplinarians as well as motivators and encouragers. And along with that style, at times, it can be perceived as being a bit overzealous, but I think the intent is to better the athlete, although some may take it as derogatory in a sense."

Actually, it's more than some. We're in an society that promotes a kinder, gentler approach to everything involving youth (as in keeping it soft). Not only that, there are the financial politics involved here. If you add that to politics, period, you have a mess. So it isn't a coincidence that you primarily hear about these so-called horrors involving coaches when they aren't winning like they used to.

Such even was the case in the old days.

Woody Hayes wasn't whacked by Ohio State officials for slugging that Clemson player in the Gator Bowl. They were peeved that Hayes couldn't beat Michigan anymore. And chances are, Bobby Knight would still be coaching Indiana right now in spite of everything -- thrown chairs, accusation of choking people, etc. -- if his Hoosiers started winning again in the NCAA Tournament.

As a result of this mindset that has increased over the years, you have the Leach situation, for instance. In addition to that bonus, Leach signed a five-year contract in February worth $12.7 million. Who's to say that some big-money booster wasn't in a snit over paying Leach that much money, only to see the Red Raiders finish out of a BCS bowl this season with a mediocre 8-4 record?

Yes, Leach spent his decade with the Red Raiders winning 84 games, including 11 last season to become the Big 12's Coach of the Year.

But you know what?

That was last season -- or so Leach's critics would say.

Just like it was only two seasons ago that Mangino was named a national coach of the year for taking Kansas to a 12-1 record. Nevertheless, he was given a $3 million payoff a few weeks ago by Kansas officials to leave the premises. That was not only because of his alleged incidents of insensitivity toward players, but because Kansas was on the way to dropping its last seven games this season after winning its first five. Maybe even because Mangino was larger than large in his clothes.

We're back to politics. I mean, in the minds of some inside the Jayhawk Nation, it's one thing to live with a coach nearly as big as your stadium if he's winning, but it's another if he's losing and has ties to nasty remarks toward players.

There also was that Jim Leavitt silliness last month. First, the father of one of South Florida players claimed the player was slapped several times by the coach while the player sat with his helmet removed in the locker room during halftime of a game. Then the father and the son backtracked. They said the coach only grabbed the player's shoulder pads to try to motivate him to do better.

Leavitt is the primary reason South Florida surged out of nowhere in recent years to become relevant, and surely his coaching style hasn't changed since he arrived on campus in 1995. But we're back to politics, along with society's aversion to a hands-on (literally) coach and the Bulls' decline this season. They've gone from threatening to join the big boys consistently after winning nine games following the 2006 and 2007 seasons to their current 7-5 mark with a trip to something on Saturday in Toronto called the International Bowl. It all makes Leavitt an easy target.

The solution for Leach, Mangino, Leavitt and the rest?

Say uncle, or just join Uncle Sam.