Post Reply to Rock's House

This is not a vent board or any other kind of therapy. Before you hit the POST button, ask yourself if your contribution will add to the level of discussion going on.

Important notes on articles:

Handle:
Password:
Subject:

Message:

HTTP Link (optional):

Poster's Email (optional):

 


Post being replied to

I liked the Sports Illustrated story on O'Leary by Father Nieuwland

The below from the SI story lines up with the NY Times story. O'Leary cooperated with the Sports Illustrated story, as did (I believe) ND.

Partial Text:


He flew back home to Atlanta, packed up his life and his Irish regalia and returned to South Bend two days later. At dusk on his first day on the job, he was interrupted quietly, apologetically, by the Notre Dame sports information director, John Heisler. A call had just come from Jim Fennell, a reporter for the Manchester Union Leader in New Hampshire. He was tracking down men who'd had the honor of playing college football 33 years ago with Notre Dame's newest coach, but, funny, his old teammates said George had never played.

George blinked. Blindsided. Now he had to lie again. Well, he said, it was true, he hadn't really played, uh. . .there was that knee injury one year, and then the other year he was sick, mononucleosis. Somebody must've made a mistake in the bio. Heisler left. George looked down at his thick, chafed hands. He worked until 2 a.m.

The next day, figuring the worst was over, he left for Alexandria, Va., to recruit running back Tommy Clayton. George still didn't understand. Notre Dame, George. Notre Dame. A phone call came late that afternoon. It was Lou Nanni, the university's vice president of public affairs and communications. Fennell had called back, holding a 21-year-old document that Syracuse had faxed to him. The lie had been written by George. Could he explain?

No, George couldn't, he must've written it, but, but. . . .Lou, this is just a speed bump, right? No, said Nanni. Calls from media outlets everywhere were pouring into the university. Nanni was surprised at what happened next. George offered to resign.

Hold on, said Nanni. They would prepare a statement admitting George's weakness as a young coach. They'd take some terrible blows, but they'd weather them together. George left to meet the recruit's parents, his gut in a knot. Nanni called back, read the statement, then asked, "George, is there anything else in your bio that's not accurate?"

A pause. A lifetime hanging. The master's degree—should he lie? "George, there's going to be incredible scrutiny on this by the media," said Nanni. "If we don't get this all clear now, it will come out anyway."

George's voice cracked, and words began to tumble from his lips—something about credits and a degree—that didn't quite make sense. "George," said Nanni, in a nightmare of his own. "If someone were to look hard at the records concerning the master's degree at NYU, would it be fair to say they're not going to find your name there?"

Another pause. For the first time it occurred to George: He'd wandered off his field. He could survive a lie inside a white-lined rectangle, but now he was playing in someone else's ivory tower. Yes, George finally said, his voice deathly quiet and far away. They wouldn't find it.

Nanni blanched and got off the phone. White, the athletic director, called George moments later to verify.

"I'm sorry," George kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

White was reeling. He had to speak to the university president, Father Edward Malloy. He'd call back in a few minutes, he said.

George waited. Forty minutes of forever passed. The phone rang. A trust had been broken, said White. False academic credentials at Notre Dame were a death knell. He accepted George's resignation.

George hung up. That was it. He was done. Just a couple of little matches. . .and everything was up in flames. Sure, he might've had to resign from any other university, but the fact that it had happened at Notre Dame, that was the wind turning this into a conflagration, sending it burning from page 4C in the newspapers to page 1A.