TDG News 2-13-08
Lot’s of news below concerning the U of Washington, academic standards at USF, and other neat stuff that we see
all too often. Also do not forget the upcoming CSRI conference (April 16-19th) in Memphis where we will also be
conducting the annual TDG meeting and the annual Hutchins Award Banquet. Please go to www.thedrakegroup.org
or http://coe.memphis.edu/hss/csri-conference.htm for more information.
Also coming in the near future is a TDG Blog—watch for it and you are welcome to participate!!
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Recruits angry at Stoops' remarks
Players say academics, commitment not linked
Jeff Metcalfe, Arizona Republic, 12 February 2008
All three of the football recruits who withdrew their commitments from Arizona and signed with Arizona State dispute
and take offense with comments made by Arizona coach Mike Stoops on signing day last week.
None says he was misled by ASU coaches into believing that gaining admission into ASU is easier than getting into
Arizona. Stoops continued to accuse ASU coaches of that during radio interviews Thursday, before and after his
apology for saying "Arizona State has turned into a JC (junior college), and we're a four-year college."
Jarrell Barbour, a wide receiver from Peoria Centennial, said he understood during recruiting that admission
requirements are the same at both schools, and ASU coaches did not suggest otherwise.
"They didn't tell me anything like that," Barbour said. "Me and Coach (Dennis) Erickson have a great relationship.
He wouldn't lie to me."
Barbour told the Arizona Daily Star in August, when he switched his commitment, that ASU "has a better plan to get
me in (academically)."
That story also quoted Bill Morgan, UA assistant athletic director, saying that it's rare for an athlete to be accepted
into ASU that UA also would not admit.
Barbour said ASU Associate Athletic Director Jean Boyd, is the "main reason why I'm there." Boyd directs ASU's
academic support for football.
"He sat me down and said, 'This is what you need to do to be eligible to play football,' " said Barbour, who feels his
comments were misused by Stoops.
"He put my business out in the open. It was cruel. I didn't want to go there because their football team is horrible.
They stunk it up bad. I didn't want to be a part of it. I want to be on a good football team that's going to go places."
Running back Ryan Bass of Corona (Calif.) Centennial also expressed disappointment in Stoops: "I felt he was out
of bounds with his comments. I hope he didn't make those comments because I switched to Arizona State. Everyone
knows it's the same to get in. It didn't sit too well with me. I'm glad he (Stoops) apologized."
Bass also must work hard academically to meet NCAA Clearinghouse standards for admission. That's not the case
for wide receiver Gerell Robinson of Chandler Hamilton, yet some stories about Stoops' comments included him as
an academic risk.
"I've worked too hard these past four years to say I have grade issues," said Robinson, who has a 3.0 grade-point
average and 1,490 SAT score. "We all have reasons why we decommitted and why we committed in the beginning.
We're 17- and 18-year-old kids. He's a grown man. You'd expect him to take the high road. If anything, you'd expect
one of the three of us to say something like that, not the grown man in the situation.
"ASU has done nothing but help get Jarrell and Ryan on the right track. I don't think Arizona was adamant about
doing that at all. I was there 15-20 times myself and never once saw anything about academics. It was poor
judgment on my part (to initially commit to UA). ASU on junior day showed us around to all the educational
categories they have."
Robinson plans to pursue a degree from the W.P. Carey School of Business. He also has NFL aspirations, and
before that, he said, in extending ASU's three-game win streak over UA.
Barbour also is more than ready for his first Territorial Cup.
"I can't remember the last time Arizona beat Arizona State," he said. "We're going to take it out on the field, and it's
not going to be pretty. It'll be the best game of my life, I promise that."
USF academics
University Defends Athletic Oversight
Greg Auman, St. Petersburg Times, 8 February 2008
TAMPA -- USF experienced the euphoria of what big-time football is like last fall, basking in the attention that came
with the No. 2 spot in the national rankings. But such attention also brings scrutiny.
The Bulls' rise in the polls prompted Alabama coach Nick Saban to question the school's academic standards. After
the season, in the midst of a messy divorce, linebacker Ben Moffitt's wife claimed she wrote papers and took online
courses to keep him eligible.
The school believes its standards are in line with other members of the Big East Conference and that changes made
before this school year have strengthened its oversight.
Amy Haworth, associate athletic director for academics, said she welcomed the changes, which shifted oversight of
the athletes' Academic Enrichment Center from the athletic department to the university's undergraduate studies
department.
"It allows us to have someone without an interest, athletically, to be here and helping us," she said. "... This allows
us even more transparency, in that the entire university has a window to what we're doing and can come in and
make suggestions for change."
USF changed its athletic oversight before the rise of its football team last fall, following a national trend of keeping
university personnel in charge of athletes' academic supervision. Haworth reports to athletic director Doug Woolard,
but she also answers to Glen Besterfield, associate dean of undergraduate studies.
"Doug had suggested it several years ago when he first arrived as something we needed to consider," Besterfield
said.
Woolard didn't respond to an interview request.
Other state schools vary in their practices. FSU's academic advising office, like USF, reports to the dean of
undergraduate studies. UF's athletic academics personnel report to the Office of Student Life, which has a
committee that oversees academic issues. The Office of Student Life is an arm of the University Athletic Association.
USF's football and men's basketball scores in the NCAA's Academic Progress Ratings, which measure a school's
ability to keep athletes in school and on track to graduate, have been below the NCAA's required threshold 925 out
of 1,000; USF's football was at 910 last year, men's basketball at 898. As a result, USF is susceptible to NCAA
sanctions that could include scholarship reductions, though more likely is a letter of warning in May when this year's
scores are released.
USF's APR problems have largely been linked to retention and not academics, as schools can be penalized when
students in good academic standing transfer to other programs.
USF last fall implemented a policy keeping athletic employees from teaching classes that included student-athletes,
to avoid the appearance of conflict. Nine students in four classes were moved to other classes during the fall
semester; Besterfield said one student is in a class taught by an athletic employee because it was "unavoidable."
Haworth disputed a story in the Tampa Tribune on Tuesday that reported "fewer than half of USF's football and
basketball players are on track to graduate," citing unspecified NCAA academic reports.
"If that were the case ... you wouldn't have 60 percent of the players out on the field," Haworth said. "The eligibility is
tracked on a semester-by-semester basis, and that eligibility certification (requires) students making progress
toward a degree."
Analysts Say Committee Could Hurt USF
Adam Emerson, Tampa Tribune, 7 February 2008
TAMPA - Now that a new admissions committee at the University of South Florida has weighed in on some of Jim
Leavitt's prospects, its decision and the timing of its actions are likely to affect the coach's recruiting long into the
future, two analysts said.
"It's definitely going to make things tougher in Tampa, no question," said Jamie Newberg, national recruiting analyst
for Scout.com. "By putting on more stringent requirements, the pool of athletes is going to shrink."
Added CSTV national recruiting analyst Tom Lemming: "It definitely could hurt their recruiting by limiting their
choices. Other schools have a lot more academic leeway. South Florida will have to adjust to it. Only time will tell."
USF formed a faculty committee last fall to weigh whether to deny admission to academically at-risk student-athletes
or accept them with conditions before coaches sign them. In the past, Leavitt, for instance, would recruit the state's
best players and sign them on National Signing Day. If they later met the NCAA's qualifying mark, they would apply
for admission.
On Wednesday, Leavitt declined to discuss how the committee affects his recruiting.
The new policy has claimed at least one recruit, Justin Green, a Palm Beach Gardens offensive lineman who had
planned to sign with USF on Wednesday.
But Green learned Tuesday that he wasn't approved.
"The timing seems a little flawed to me," Newberg said.
The university formed the committee last fall, at a time when the academic side of the university took greater control
over the scholastic lives of student-athletes.
The committee didn't meet with Leavitt until last Thursday, but Leellen Brigman, USF's associate vice president for
enrollment planning and management, said the committee tried unsuccessfully to schedule a meeting with Leavitt in
mid-January.
New Committee Denies Approval For USF Football Recruit
Brett McMurphy, Tampa Tribune, 6 February 2008
TAMPA - At 9:30 this morning, Palm Beach Gardens offensive lineman Justin Green planned to sign with the
University of South Florida in a ceremony at his high school.
However, Green said he was told Tuesday - less than 24 hours before today's National Signing Day - that he could
not sign with USF because he was not approved by the school's newly formed academic committee.
"It was a surprise," said Green, a first-team Palm Beach Post all-area selection. "I might now open it up a little bit. I
might look around at some other schools."
This is the first year of USF's academic committee, which must grant USF's coaches approval to sign a recruit. In the
past, Green could have signed with USF on signing day and then tried to improve his academics to get eligible.
Green said USF assistant Dan McCarney called him Tuesday to tell him he couldn't sign. "I could tell McCarney was
frustrated," Green said.
On Thursday, the committee summoned USF coach Jim Leavitt to discuss the status of some of his recruits and
shared whether the committee would deny admission of some prospects or accept them with conditions.
USF provost Ralph Wilcox said the committee does not have the power to prohibit a coach from signing a recruit.
However, a coach would be "ill-advised to do so" if the committee had denied approval.
Leavitt declined comment Monday about the committee, while several other USF coaches in other sports said they
are in favor of the committee because it proactively recognizes recruits that may have trouble academically at USF.
The 6-foot-4, 365-pound Green, meanwhile, said he will reconsider offers from South Carolina and Ole Miss along
with North Carolina.
"Tuesday was the first I heard about the USF's academic committee," Green said.
Green said McCarney told him if he improves his academics, he would be approved by the committee.
USF says changes help academics
The school disputes a report of problems, saying it has moved to strengthen oversight.
Greg Auman, St. Petersburg Times, 6 February 2008
TAMPA - USF experienced the euphoria of what big-time football is like last fall, basking in the attention that came
with the No. 2 spot in the national rankings.
But such attention also brings scrutiny. The Bulls' rise in the polls prompted Alabama coach Nick Saban to question
the school's academic standards. After the season, in the midst of a messy divorce, linebacker Ben Moffitt's wife
claimed she wrote papers and took online courses to keep him eligible.
The school believes its standards are in line with other members of the Big East Conference and that changes made
before this school year have strengthened its oversight.
Amy Haworth, associate athletic director for academics, said she welcomed the changes, which shifted oversight of
the athletes' Academic Enrichment Center from the athletic department to the university's undergraduate studies
department.
"It allows us to have someone without an interest, athletically, to be here and helping us," she said. " ... This allows
us even more transparency, in that the entire university has a window to what we're doing and can come in and
make suggestions for change."
USF changed its athletic oversight before the rise of its football team last fall, following a national trend of keeping
university personnel in charge of athletes' academic supervision. Haworth reports to athletic director Doug Woolard,
but she also answers to Glen Besterfield, associate dean of undergraduate studies.
"Doug had suggested it several years ago when he first arrived as something we needed to consider," Besterfield
said.
Woolard didn't respond to an interview request.
Other state schools vary in their practices. FSU's academic advising office, like USF, reports to the dean of
undergraduate studies. UF's athletic academics personnel report to the Office of Student Life, which has a
committee that oversees academic issues. The Office of Student Life is an arm of the University Athletic Association.
USF's football and men's basketball scores in the NCAA's Academic Progress Ratings, which measure a school's
ability to keep athletes in school and on track to graduate, have been below the NCAA's required threshold 925 out
of 1,000; USF's football was at 910 last year, men's basketball at 898. As a result, USF is susceptible to NCAA
sanctions that could include scholarship reductions, though more likely is a letter of warning in May when this year's
scores are released.
USF's APR problems have largely been linked to retention and not academics, as schools can be penalized when
students in good academic standing transfer to other programs.
USF last fall implemented a policy keeping athletic employees from teaching classes that included student-athletes,
to avoid the appearance of conflict. Nine students in four classes were moved to other classes during the fall
semester; Besterfield said one student is in a class taught by an athletic employeebecause it was "unavoidable."
Haworth disputed a story in the Tampa Tribune on Tuesday that reported that "fewer than half of USF's football and
basketball players are on track to graduate," citing unspecified NCAA academic reports.
"If that were the case ... you wouldn't have 60 percent of the players out on the field," Haworth said. "The eligibility is
tracked on a semester-by-semester basis, and that eligibility certification (requires) students making progress
toward a degree."
MSU could avoid more penalties with higher APR
Tom Stuber, Helena Independent Record, 6 February 2008
The Montana State University football program appears to be on its way to getting out of the NCAA’s academic
doghouse. Having addressed two key elements cited by the NCAA, there’s a good chance the team will avoid
another scholarship reduction penalty based on its sub-par Academic Progress Rate (APR), which is a formula that
measures retention and graduation success.
MSU’s APR fell below the passing grade (925) for three consecutive years causing the school’s athletic department
to do those two things — take measures to change how it addresses supporting student-athletes, and the more
obvious, improving its APR score.
According to MSU athletic director Peter Fields, MSU had a score of 878 in 2003-04 then 869 and 856 in the two
following academic years to put itself in jeopardy. The 856 led to the reduction of three scholarships and prompted
the school into action.
“If we’re able to show we’re making changes and improving, then (the NCAA) may reduce our penalty,” he said. “We
have to lay out how we think we’ll improve in measureables.”
MSU put together an Academic Improvement Plan (AIP) and saw immediate results as the school’s APR jumped from
856 to 903 for the most recent (2006-07) academic year.
“This fall semester (2007) went very well,” Fields said in pointing out continued progress. “We’ll have a better
indication in late April or early May. It looks like we’re making improvements.”
Part of the MSU AIP is the Cats Program, which was implemented in August of 2006.
“It’s designed to help programs with student-athletes that are struggling,” Fields said. “We’ll keep refining it.”
According to Erik Christianson, the NCAA’s Director for Public and Media Relations, the AIP must be specific to that
school since what may work at one institution might not work at another.
“We’re committed to working with schools on an Academic Improvement Plan,” Christianson said. “The goal is
improvement and getting student-athletes to graduate, but we also have a waiver process for extenuating
circumstances.
“(The APR) is here to stay and it’s now part of the common language.”
The NCAA came under scrutiny when it released its list of penalized football programs last year. Only one BCS
school n Arizona n was penalized while numerous mid-major and FCS schools were hit, including five Big Sky
Conference programs.
“The big schools aren’t all flush with cash, but many have more resources available,” Christianson said of the BCS
schools. “We want to work with (the below APR schools) and we have grant money available to assist them. We
stress that if they recruit a prospective student-athlete and the school admits that student, then it is the school’s
responsibility to support that student to graduation.
“We encourage the athletic departments to work with the admission offices to determine the best fit.”
NCAA member institutions aren’t required to graduate and retain all their student-athletes, but the APR sets a
minimum standard for them to attain. The 925 score is out of 1,000 possible points, so there is some wiggle room.
“The APR is constructed in such a way that decreases the number of students that leave your program,” Fields said.
“The NCAA knows not all will stay. You need students that fit in at your institution.”
Fields said MSU will hold off on issuing three scholarships until it hears from the NCAA as to whether or not it will be
given a reduction in the spring. National Signing Day is today.
Fashionable grayshirts
Starting school in January -- early or late -- is an option, known as grayshirting, that U.Va. now can use.
Melinda Waldrop, Norfolk Virginian Pilot, 5 February 2008
Nick Marshman played tight end in high school -- in a wishbone formation.
He wasn't immediately ready to move to lineman in Virginia Tech's more complicated, senior-laden offensive system.
So the Hokies coaching staff proposed a solution -- grayshirting.
"I didn't even know there was a thing called a grayshirt," Marshman said.
An explanation soon followed.
Instead of enrolling at Tech in the fall of 2003 after graduating high school, Marshman waited until January 2004. His
NCAA eligibility clock didn't start until he was a full-time student, and while he wasn't a part of the 2003 season, he
went through spring practice and summer conditioning in 2004.
"Coming in in January, when it's a little bit slower and they're not just looking at the guys that are going to play, gives
the coaches a little more time to work with you one-on-one, and to get into the system and learn the plays,"
Marshman said. "The learning process is a little bit slower. It's not as frantic as it is during the season."
Grayshirting worked out for Marshman, who emerged as the Hokies' starting left guard in 2007. And it's an option
that now will be available to athletes at Virginia for the first time.
U.Va, which previously had allowed mid-year enrollment only in rare instances, announced last month that it had
modified its policy to consider such enrollments each January on a case-by-case basis.
Some grayshirts, such as Marshman, defer enrollment until the January after high school graduation. More
commonly, others elect to graduate high school in December and enroll in college the following month.
Virginia athletic director Craig Littlepage said academic concerns had kept the school from considering mid-year
enrollments. But careful consultation with the school's admissions and academic departments, along with a growing
realization that other schools throughout the country were relaxing similar policies, led to the change.
For example, Boston College adjusted its policy last year, admitting football player Anthony Castonzo in January.
Castonzo, who once drew recruiting interest from Virginia, started at offensive tackle for BC last season, a rarity for
a true freshman. He was name first-team freshman All-America by The Sporting News.
"I would say five years ago, there was very little of it done nationally," Littlepage said of grayshirting. "The
environment of recruiting has changed a little bit. There were schools that were providing the option, and the
students were benefiting by that early entry into the university. ... The coaches felt as though it was one element
that would allow them to remain competitive from a recruiting standpoint."
Other schools have embraced grayshirting.
Along with providing an extra semester for a recruit to get stronger and learn a new system, it allows schools to
accept more oral commitments than the NCAA-allotted 25 scholarships per year. Grayshirts don't count toward a
school's scholarships total until the following fall.
In 2006, for instance, Texas Tech accepted 34 oral commitments, and has continued to use the grayshirting option.
Red Raiders wide receiver Lyle Leong enrolled last January and played in 11 games last season, catching 14
passes for 163 yards and a touchdown -- including one for 11 yards against Virginia in Texas Tech's 31-28 Gator
Bowl win.
"This essentially just provides a more productive career," Texas Tech coach Mike Leach said. "(Players) don't have
to compete for a job while their eligibility's beginning to expire."
Leach said grayshirting is especially effective for offensive linemen, who often need time to bulk up, and
quarterbacks, who benefit from extra playbook study.
Coaches must choose potential grayshirts selectively, Leach said. An immature player who can't be counted on to
go to class on his own isn't an ideal candidate, nor is a high school hot shot who's convinced he'll earn a starting
spot in fall practice as a freshman.
"You need a sharp individual as a player and a sharp set of parents to sell the thing to," Leach said.
Jim Cavanaugh, Virginia Tech's recruiting coordinator, sometimes writes eligibility dates on a legal pad to show
recruits they won't end up missing any playing time.
"They don't totally understand the concept," Cavanaugh said. "Most people are ingrained about coming in August."
There's also a perception that grayshirting allows schools to give a recruit with questionable grades time to become
academically eligible, or to stockpile players at a position, leaving them waiting, sometimes without a scholarship, for
a spot to open up.
Marshman, out of Turner Ashby High in Harrisonburg, said the Virginia Tech coaches made it clear that he factored
into their eventual plans. He said they were in constant contact with him while he took classes at Blue Ridge
Community College during the fall of 2003.
"They definitely didn't just get your commitment and throw you in the dark until January," he said.
While grayshirting always has been an option, Cavanaugh said NCAA limits on scholarships (in addition to 25 per
year, teams are only allowed 85 total) have made it a more attractive one. However, he said it's not something
schools use with great frequency, estimating that he's signed three players who ended up grayshirting in his
coaching career, and Littlepage expects only half a dozen or so grayshirting inquiries each year.
"It's not for everybody," Littlepage said. "(But) kids are much more sophisticated in their evaluation of schools.
They're making decisions earlier and earlier, sometimes by their junior year in high school. They're pretty much
committed to the institution, and they feel a desire to be there."
Linebacker Alonzo Tweedy, of Richmond's Hermitage High, grayshirted at Tech this January, while Hermitage
quarterback Joseph Clayton will enroll next January.
"I think it's a great option, from a football standpoint," Hermitage coach Patrick Kane said. "When you come in as a
freshman in the fall, (coaches are) worrying about winning that first game. They don't have a lot of time to teach
freshmen what's going on."
Marshman, 6-foot-5 and 357 pounds, redshirted the fall after his grayshirt year before playing sparingly in 2005 and
2006. While he wasn't active on the field, he was busy in the weight room, transforming into a member of the Super
Iron Hokies and squatting 690 pounds. After splitting time at tackle and guard because of injures last season, he's
projected to start for the second year as a senior in 2008.
"I have no regrets with getting grayshirted," Marshman said. "To have time to slow it down, learn the plays, learn the
techniques, learn the terminology -- I wouldn't change any of that."
Florida State professor says his online music course, which football players cheated on, was a 'state-of-
the-art class'
Andrew Carter, Orlando Sentinel, 5 February 2008
TALLAHASSEE - The professor of the online music course that is the focal point of Florida State's investigation into
academic fraud by athletes told the Orlando Sentinel he "wrote a beautiful class and it was abused."
During an exclusive interview with the Sentinel last week, Dale Olsen described how "MUH 2051: Music of World
Cultures"-- a course designed for non-music majors -- became a breeding ground for academic dishonesty without
his knowledge.
"It was a state-of-the-art class, distance learning, called an asynchronous distance learning course where you have
no time constraints and contact with the students," Olsen said. "And it won an award and I gave scholarly papers on
it. And my colleagues just loved the idea.
"And it was abused. So that's all I need to say, I think."
FSU determined the misconduct, which came in various forms, occurred when athletes, athletic tutors and other
students gathered for tests in university computer labs. The most egregious abuse, university President T.K.
Wetherell told the Sentinel, came when an athletic tutor "started hollering" answers during examinations.
FSU, which is preparing to submit its final investigative report to the NCAA perhaps as soon as this week, also
determined during the 10-month investigation that a "Learning Specialist" employed within the department of Athletic
Academic Support Services (AASS) instructed one athlete to take an online exam for another.
The FSU athletic department has undergone significant change since the investigation began. The university on
Monday introduced Randy Spetman as its new athletic director, bringing in the 55-year-old former Air Force colonel
from Utah State. Spetman replaces Dave Hart, who stepped down effective Dec. 31. Hart has maintained his
resignation was unrelated to the academic probe.
FSU did not renew the contract of Mark Meleney, director of AASS. Brenda Monk, a learning specialist for AASS
since 2001, resigned during the summer.
Athletes implicated in the cheating have been required to serve suspensions for 30 percent of their seasons.
FSU focused a large part of the probe on sections of Olsen's course between the fall of 2006 and spring 2007.
Wetherell said it became clear that the test questions and answers -- which he said didn't change from semester to
semester -- had been obtained by students.
"Everybody had it," Wetherell said.
When informed of Wetherell's description, Olsen said it wouldn't have been possible for exact copies of his tests to
be floating around campus, but he acknowledged that there wasn't a way to prevent the exams from being printed.
"Because the test is administered by computer and from a test pool -- 60 or 70 questions in a pool of which 40 are
chosen randomly by the computer," Olsen said. "So every time a student takes the exam, it's going to be different
questions. So that really negates the possibility of having the same test around."
Asked if he had explained that to investigators, Olsen said he had "not explained anything to anybody."
"I don't need to explain," he said. "I wrote a beautiful course. I'm not going to explain it. I don't think I need to. If they
want to do their homework, they can come and see me and talk to me about it."
Florida State Provost Larry Abele, the chairman of the committee responsible for taking action in the case, said
Olsen had been interviewed by the Office of Audit Services, and that Olsen likely would soon be interviewed by
NCAA officials, who have twice come to campus to offer FSU guidance. Wetherell also has visited the NCAA
headquarters in Indianapolis.
The course is still offered by FSU, with modified testing procedures.
After he finished teaching a class one night last week, Olsen, who said he would retire in June after 35 years at FSU,
thought for a few moments about how students had cheated in his Music of World Cultures course. He said he had
no idea it occurred until university officials informed him. And before he walked out the door and into the darkness,
Olsen said, "Hopefully, this won't cause anyone great stress in their life."
Sentinel staff writer Josh Robbins contributed to this report.
Wetherell knocks FSU sports
Didn't trust athletic department to conduct cheating probe
Andrew Carter, Orlando Sentinel, 4 February 2008
TALLAHASSEE -- Florida State University President T.K. Wetherell told the Orlando Sentinel in an exclusive
interview that he did not trust the school's athletic department to conduct an investigation into allegations of
academic fraud involving approximately 50 athletes.
Wetherell, who will try to focus attention on a new era when he introduces a new athletic director this morning, has
told the Sentinel that officials in the athletic department tried to "circle the wagons" when confronted with the
allegations months ago.
Former athletic director Dave Hart denied Wetherell's characterization, insisting that he informed the president's
office of the details as soon as he heard about them.
Questions directed at Wetherell today likely will focus less on the future than on the 10-month investigation into the
cheating scandal that could lead to sanctions by the NCAA.
In his interview with the Sentinel on Jan. 24, Wetherell criticized his athletic department, called the university's
Athletic Academic Support Services a "paper tiger" and described an environment early in the investigation in which
"everybody was pointing fingers at everybody."
"One of the things that was frustrating about this whole process," Wetherell said, "was that as we began to unravel
this thing in athletics, their solution was circle the wagons, don't tell [the president's office] what's going on."
When the investigation into academic fraud concludes, Wetherell admits, the school "should bear some of that
brunt" from the National Collegiate Athletic Association in terms of sanctions against the athletic department. But
Wetherell said, "It's not like some coach went out there and dreamed up this scheme. It just isn't the way it is. I'm
comfortable with what we did [in response]."
Florida State announced in late September that it had discovered academic misconduct among 23 athletes in
multiple sports. But FSU's final report has been delayed several months because the scope of the probe widened.
Music course
It's possible the university could submit its final report to the NCAA this week. It likely will detail, among other things,
widespread academic misconduct in an online course titled "MUH 2051: Music of World Cultures" -- a course
designed for nonmusic majors that meets a liberal-studies graduation requirement.
The school has not identified the course in question. But its creator and professor, Dale Olsen, confirmed to the
Sentinel his course is at the center of the investigation.
FSU determined the misconduct occurred when athletes, athletic tutors and other students gathered for tests. The
most egregious abuse, Wetherell confirmed, came when an athletic tutor "started hollering" answers during
examinations.
"That's a violation of NCAA rules right there," Wetherell said. "Then they even got sloppier when [a tutor] actually
took some tests for [athletes], because they were too . . . lazy to study.
"That's what happened. Plain and simple."
The course, which still exists with modified testing procedures, might have remained a breeding ground for academic
corruption were it not for a whistle-blower who came forward last March.
Taking someone else's test
According to its initial report, FSU determined that on March 23 last year a former "learning specialist" in the
department of Athletic Academic Support Services (AASS) provided answers and instructed one athlete to take an
online exam for another.
On March 28, the athlete whom the learning specialist had instructed to take the test confessed the action to his
athletic academic adviser.
In a matter of days, the information worked its way from Mark Meleney, then the director of AASS, to Hart, and finally
to Wetherell.
Meleney could not be reached for comment.
Hart resigned last fall with his last day being Dec. 31 but insists his resignation had nothing to do with the academic-
fraud investigation. Meleney, meanwhile, was informed last month his contract wouldn't be renewed.
Reached last week, Hart said that once he received notice of the academic misconduct, "I immediately contacted the
president and I immediately contacted our faculty representative, Joe Beckham. The reporting was immediate in
nature right up to the present steps."
Hart also strongly opposed Wetherell's contention that the athletic department tried to "circle the wagons."
After Wetherell learned of the academic misconduct, he remembers saying, "OK, let me know what happens."
"Then I heard that the athletic department was going to investigate it and for me not to worry," Wetherell said. "But
what became very obvious to me was we didn't want the athletic department doing the investigation."
Wetherell appointed David P. Coury, of the university's Office of Audit Services and chief audit officer, to conduct
the inquiry. But, Wetherell said, "We needed some help beyond that to understand the ramifications of NCAA rules."
Investigation widens
Chuck Smrt, who worked for the NCAA from 1981 through 1999 before he founded The Compliance Group, was
hired to help the school investigate the allegations. The probe then grew to include any athlete who had taken
Olsen's music course. According to FSU's initial report, the sections of the course between the fall of 2006 and
spring 2007 were most scrutinized.
Wetherell said it became clear that the test questions and answers -- which he said didn't change from semester to
semester -- had gotten out.
"Everybody had it," Wetherell said. "The whole university had it, quite frankly. So basically, athletes, and students,
just started studying the tests before they went in to take the tests, which was perfectly legal. No violation of the
honor code, nothing like that.
"Probably not what we wanted but still technically not a violation. And then people got a little sloppy and went to take
the test and were hollering back and forth across the room, maybe in a testing center, you know, 'I forgot No. 7,
what's it?' "
Olsen acknowledged that there was no way to prevent the exams from being printed. But he also said the test
questions changed from exam to exam.
Florida State Provost Larry Abele, chairman of the committee responsible for taking action in the case, said Olsen
was interviewed by the Office of Audit Services and likely would soon be interviewed by NCAA officials, who have
twice come to FSU to offer guidance.
FSU and the NCAA agreed that implicated athletes would serve suspensions for 30 percent of their seasons.
"Clearly, Meleney [and] the academic people should have known something was going on," Wetherell said.
Big-time college sports' misdeeds have many enablers
Art Thiel, Seattle Post Intelligencer, 1 February 2008
"And I say to you gentlemen that this college is a failure. The trouble is we're neglecting football for education."
-- Groucho Marx as Professor Wagstaff in "Horsefeathers"
Why now?
Critics of the controversial, well-done series this week in The Seattle Times detailing the misdeeds, mayhem and
miscarriages of justice around the University of Washington's last good football team, the 2001 Rose Bowl winners,
keep asking the same question.
Besides accusing the newspaper of being mean, biased and agenda-filled, many Huskies fans claim that because of
the passage of time and the fact that nearly all the perpetrators are gone from the Montlake scene, the series is
irrelevant. I beg to differ.
From a national perspective, the stories didn't go back far enough. The big-picture issues are more than a century
old. "Horsefeathers" was made in 1932. Groucho knew his sarcastic comedy would play because the corruption
around college football had been a fact of American life for decades.
In Seattle, the little picture is that football-program scandals in 1993 and 2003 cost the head coach his job and
precipitated the current slide, worst in the sport's local history. Of the two principal hires made to clean up the mess,
athletic director Todd Turner lost his job last month and coach Tyrone Willingham nearly did, perhaps saved only by
the bullet Turner took for him.
The Times doesn't need me to defend its journalism. But it is worthwhile to consider what wasn't much discussed.
The UW has been annoyed anew by program and community malfeasance of which few were aware, just at the time
President Mark Emmert is about to hire Turner's replacement, whose task is almost solely to see to it that games are
won and money is raised in rarefied numbers.
Emmert was quoted as saying, "You can win, and you can win properly." Good for him, and best of luck. Since
national change has been modest in college football since the days of Groucho's mockery, and since so little was
appreciated by fans and boosters in the recent local effort at cleanup, the task ranks just behind the passing of a
camel through the eye of a needle.
As a longtime follower and frequent critic of big-time college sports, I'm neither surprised by the UW misdeeds nor
the misdirection of the backlash.
Things haven't changed, because next to Congress, the NCAA sports machine, of which the UW is a part, is the
most reform-resistant institution in America.
That's because many of us want it that way.
Whether it's Washington or Florida State, USC or Notre Dame, 1900 or 2000, despite a century's worth of
investigations by commissions, prosecutors, panels and newspapers, protests from academics, searing indictments
from within the industry and condemning books from outside the industry, and laments from U.S. presidents to raped
coeds, nothing fundamental has changed with the national scene:
We want our big-time college football and men's basketball, we don't much care what it costs, who or what it hurts or
what it says about the culture. The enduring mythology is that college and big-time revenue sports ennoble each
other and make great fun for us.
To argue otherwise is to poop the all-day party on fall Saturdays, which at the Don James Center usually includes
many, sometimes most, of the region's power brokers. Below, in the student section, are the drunken frat boys,
some of whom are destined to move up 30 rows to the Tyee Club as the next generation's boosters.
So far, nothing has broken the national cycle of the booster subculture that is at the heart of the rot, which, as
Turner put it in Thursday's Seattle P-I, makes jock-factory donors think they are "team owners" who want the "keys
to the locker room." The Times on Wednesday quoted one of them, former Walla Walla mayor William Fleenor: "It
wasn't just Tyrone, but Todd as well, they didn't really care about the boosters like the old guys did."
Isn't it enough to tend to the care and feeding of 85 heavily hormoned scholarship athletes, many of whom already
are lost in a college environment? No, the boosters also must be patted on the head, told secret stories and get
their cocktails freshened.
I know. It's easy to satirize boosters. Just as it is easy to demonize and isolate player miscreants such as Jerramy
Stevens, Jeremiah Pharms and Curtis Williams as a few bad apples. But a main point of the series is that player
misbehavior was often enabled by institutional mythmakers that include the NCAA, university, cops, prosecutors and
media. It takes a village.
When such an enduring mythology is debunked, it's easier to attack the attackers than it is to accept the idea that
one's beliefs have been made to look foolish.
In 1986, when James was UW head coach and I was the P-I's Huskies football reporter, I wrote a story detailing a
spate of criminal misdeeds among football players at the UW and Washington State that included felony charges at
both schools.
James and his WSU counterpart, Jim Walden, defended their programs and procedures, yet lamented the difficulty
of managing an enterprise that then included about 150 man-children per team.
"We just haven't done a great job as a team," James said, "coaches and players."
James and I talked of the bigger picture. I suggested the system was designed to fail numerous players because,
entering college, they were not equipped to manage academic and personal obligations as well as a 40-hours-plus
job that was the primary, if not only, reason they were at a university. James politely disagreed. We went back and
forth.
Finally, he said, "If I believed everything you said, I couldn't keep coaching football."
James was dead-on.
He, and all of his peers as well as fans, have to hold tight to the belief that more good than harm comes from the
industry. Fortunately for them, it's usually true. Lots of players make it through without bad headlines and with an
education, friends, contacts and great memories. A handful get to live an NFL dream for a few years.
But the issue is the gap between those helped and those co-opted. It is too narrow. As TV revenues, attendance
and coaching salaries grow, the pressure to cut any corner to win grows more intense.
At the UW, the pressure is even worse, because policy has been that football revenues, not general fund money,
must pay for all 23 sports, 700 scholarship athletes and the salaries of more than 100 coaches, administrators and
staffers.
And don't forget the boosters.
The UW hasn't. That's why the boosters are getting a new AD. Groucho has been heard.
NCAA settles class-action lawsuit
Student-athletes can receive $2,500 in additional reimbursements under conditional terms
Katie Kohler, Notre Dame Observer, 31 January 2008
The NCAA is prepared to ease restrictions on educational expenses for current student-athletes and set aside $10
million to reimburse former athletes.
The decision is part of the settlement of a class-action lawsuit filed by former athletes who argued that NCAA limits
on scholarships - which can cover only tuition, books, housing and meals - are an unlawful restraint of trade
because of the billions of dollars generated through major college football and basketball.
The settlement, which includes a provision to allow NCAA member schools to offer year-round health insurance for
student-athletes, will not become official until a judge sanctions it and both sides give final approval.
How the settlement would affect the approximately 700 Division I athletes at Notre Dame is unclear, senior associate
athletic director John Heisler said.
"It would be premature to know [how it affects] Notre Dame for sure," he said. "I think it is the next step in a legal
conversation that's been ongoing for some time and I don't know that we know the full extent of what the implications
will be."
Former football players Jason White of Stanford and Brian Polak of UCLA, and former basketball players Jovan
Harris of San Francisco and Chris Craig of Texas-El Paso first filed the class action suit in February 2006.
Heisler warned that the settlement reached Wednesday might not reflect the final version.
"The judge has to agree to the settlement and it's going to take some time for this to shake out. And we're going to
have to continue to analyze [how it] impacts us and impacts any of our athletes," he said. "I think it's just too early to
know."
The suit claimed that athletes need a significantly higher amount of funding in addition to tuition, books, housing and
meals than they currently receive through their athletic scholarships.
Under terms of the deal, students-athletes will be able to apply for as much as $2,500 a year for up to three years
for reimbursement of certain "out-of-pocket expenses," inluding résumé preparation and career counseling. Former
student-athletes must file their claims within three years.
Some of the costs athletes could soon have reimbursed include traveling home for family emergencies and
purchasing computers.
The financial impact on Notre Dame and how many athletes will take advantage of the programis still unclear, Heisler
said.
"I don't think any institution knows that [how much it will cost]. It's hard to project that. They talked about the NCAA
providing this additional funding for the student athlete opportunity fund for five years," he said. "What happens
after that, I don't think that question was answered. I think we have a ways to go before any of us have an
appreciation on how it impacts any of us here."
Much of the money to be made available after the settlement would be funneled through the NCAA's existing $218
million opportunity fund.
"The biggest dollar amount talked about is the student athlete opportunity fund which is an NCAA sponsored
program which basically provides funding through the conferences to the membership and that money can be used
for a variety of things," Heisler said. "It can be medical in nature, it could be academic in nature, it can involve
emergency sorts of things in terms of getting somebody home for a funeral if there's a death in the family."
Chris Hine contributed reporting.
Information from Associated Press was used in this report.
Calhoun's Misplaced Anger
The suspension of two UConn basketball players raises questions about Coach Calhoun's thinking.
Staff Editorial, New London Day, 30 January 2008
What a disappointment to hear that Jim Calhoun, the University of Connecticut men's basketball coach, is upset that
two of his players have been tested for drugs.
Shouldn't a college coach have the expectation that elite student-athletes will always test negative for illegal
substances? Why would Coach Calhoun be troubled that the two players, Doug Wiggins and Jerome Dyson, who
were caught with alcohol, be drug-tested after a small amount of marijuana was found beside the car they were
riding in last week?
These are athletes who are on full scholarships to the state university. They are young men who have accepted the
opportunity and responsibility of representing the state on the national collegiate basketball stage and who have the
chance to earn a college degree in return.
Mr. Wiggins and Mr. Dyson, both 20, were stopped by campus police late last Thursday night and found to be in
possession of a bottle of cognac and a bottle of vodka. Mr. Wiggins, of East Hartford, was issued a summons for
driving with a suspended license, and both Mr. Wiggins and Mr. Dyson were cited for possession of alcohol by a
minor.
According to The Hartford Courant, campus police also found a small amount of marijuana at the scene, which
prompted the drug test. That disclosure, and the Courant's aggressiveness in ferreting it out, has apparently
enraged Coach Calhoun who lambasted the press Monday night.
As part of his tirade, he reminded the press that “you're fooling with my kids.” My kids? The taxpayers in the state
are paying the bill to educate these young men, and to equip, furnish, lodge, feed, and transport them so they can
compete in Division 1 basketball.
They represent the state of Connecticut, and when a sports announcer on national television explains the reason
for the benching of Mr. Wiggins and Mr. Dyson, it's an embarrassment for all of Connecticut.
Coach Calhoun has a proud history. More than anyone, he is the face and voice of UConn basketball. But the fact
that he is upset that his players were drug-tested is troubling. And it is equally unfortunate that he is criticizing
UConn Athletic Director Jeff Hathaway for releasing the police report of the incident.
Does the coach want special secret police reports for his athletes? Did he think that because police suspected, but
could not prove the pair had dropped the marijuana from their car, that there was no cause to test them?
While the coach's instincts may be to protect his players, that is not his job. At least not when players allegedly
violate school and state laws.
Mr. Wiggins has been in trouble before. Perhaps he has not learned from his mistakes. And to criticize the press for
going after the story is wrong. The media's job is not to sanitize or put the best face on a bad situation, it is to report
what happened.
People have a right to know the reasons why Mr. Wiggins and Mr. Dyson were suspended. The two sophomores
made themselves public figures when they agreed to accept scholarships to play basketball at UConn. It is upsetting
that they would put themselves in a position to possibly jeopardize their opportunity and the record of the entire
team.
But what is more upsetting is Coach Calhoun's rant against the media, and his admission that he is upset that his
players were drug-tested and that the university's athletic director released the police report.
Someone might rationalize that the two basketball players are just young men, but the same excuse cannot be made
for Coach Calhoun. He needs to address this problem clearly and rationally, not emotionally
A Seattle Times Special Report | Epilogue
Emmert: "You can win, and you can win properly"
Nick Perry and Ken Armstrong, Seattle Times, 30 January 2008
For Mark Emmert, president of the University of Washington, a football team's success is measured by more than
what happens on the field.
"You do not have to give up your values to be competitive in sports," he said Tuesday. "It's not a success if you win
a championship and have a large portion of the team arrested for poor behavior. That's not a success."
Emmert cited the UW's last Rose Bowl team as an example of victory at too high a cost. The Seattle Times this week
has run a series, "Victory and Ruins," describing the criminal misconduct of several players on that team, and how
the university and community institutions failed to hold them accountable.
"The cases that have been portrayed in this series of stories are shocking and deeply disturbing," Emmert said.
"They are exactly the kinds of things you don't want the athletic program or any other type of program to represent."
Emmert said criminal conduct appears to have been widespread on the 2000 team. "I'm also sure that there were
many young men on that team who were terrific, admirable people."
The lack of accountability back then explains "some of the enormous challenges we inherited," he said. "When you
look at the team today, it is in no way comparable to the statistics and facts of 2000."
When Emmert became president in 2004, he hired Todd Turner as athletic director. Turner, whose last job was at
Vanderbilt, was asked to restore integrity to UW athletics. His predecessor, Barbara Hedges, resigned after
scandals involving the football and softball teams.
But Thursday, Turner will be leaving his job, after a falling-out with Emmert in December.
Turner thinks the football team's struggles contributed to his exit. The Huskies have had four straight losing
seasons, the last three under Tyrone Willingham, the coach Turner hired. Turner said he worries that the UW and
its fans have become too focused on winning.
"If we hadn't had 1,000 e-mails, talk radio, columnists and others chipping away ... the university would have
maintained its direction," he said.
But Emmert said his decisions about athletics have not been the result of pressure from boosters or anyone else.
And he thinks that winning and character can coincide.
"Unfortunately, people have this notion that you can have good guys or you can have champions," Emmert said. "I
think that is an utterly false dichotomy. I reject that absolutely. You can win, and you can win properly."
Two years after the last Rose Bowl win, the UW football program fell apart. Coach Rick Neuheisel was fired in July
2003, after being caught lying. Hedges, the athletic director who hired Neuheisel, resigned six months later.
In 2004, Turner tapped Willingham in hopes he could rebuild the football program. Like Turner, Willingham was
viewed as a man of integrity and discipline.
Players noticed changes immediately. Willingham made them cut their hair to no longer than shoulder length, began
scheduling 6:30 a.m. meetings and removed players' names from jerseys to emphasize the importance of teamwork.
The coach scheduled two-hour weekly meetings to talk with academic staff members about how the players' studies
were going, and showed up unannounced in classes to make sure players were attending.
He kept boosters, lawyers and the media at arm's length.
On the field, his team has been less penalized than every Pac-10 team except Stanford. Off the field, players are
held to account for their grades. Break the rules, and they face consequences, such as extra laps or study sessions.
During the 2000 season, at least a dozen players were arrested or charged with a crime that carried possible jail
time. At least a dozen others on that team got in trouble with the law in other seasons.
Jerramy Stevens was arrested on suspicion of rape during the season but was never charged. Four years later, a
lawsuit filed by his accuser was settled for $300,000, with the money paid by Stevens and a fraternity where the
woman had been served alcohol.
Jeremiah Pharms played the entire 2000 season while under investigation, suspected of robbing and shooting a
drug dealer. After getting arrested in 2001 — nearly 14 months after the crime — he agreed to a plea deal and was
sentenced to three years and five months for robbery.
Curtis Williams played the first six games of the season with a warrant out for his arrest. He had previously served
time for choking his wife and was arrested in each of five straight years while at the UW.
Fewer players — about a half-dozen — got in trouble during 2007, a review of Washington state court records
shows. The search turned up only one player accused of physical violence.
"Changing the culture of our football team has been a priority for all of us in the athletic department," Willingham
said in a recent e-mail, "and our players are responding to that positively."
The UW is also re-examining its academic culture. For years, athletes have been allowed to sign up for classes
before other students. Many have opted to take the same classes, ones reputed to be easy. Now, the UW is
considering new rules to limit early enrollments.
Not all the changes made in the Willingham era have stuck. The players' names are back on the jerseys. And
Willingham has become more welcoming to boosters.
"When Ty first got here, he was probably more remote to people like myself," said Ron Crockett, president of the
Emerald Downs horse-racing track. Crockett, of Seattle, has donated $2.4 million to the athletic department, making
him one of the Huskies' biggest boosters.
"What we try to utilize him for now is that if there's a potential donor ... we meet the head football coach. It's very
much to the positive."
Notice of arrest
Last year, under Turner, the athletic department created a rule requiring athletes to notify their coach or an
administrator within 24 hours if they're arrested or charged with a crime. Beyond that, Willingham decides how to
treat each player on a case-by-case basis.
In 2006, Willingham suspended and later removed Michael Houston from the team after Houston was accused of
stealing a taxi.
Willingham has given second chances to at least two players. Both are cornerbacks, a position the coach has found
tough to fill.
One of the players, Chris Handy, was recruited from a junior college in California — even though the UW coaches
knew he'd pleaded guilty to a gross misdemeanor for helping a friend beat another man.
"We did our homework and our research and we think the young man is a fine and upstanding young man,"
Willingham told reporters at the time. "I do believe young people make mistakes. In fact, I believe somewhere in my
life I had a parking ticket."
Handy never played for Washington after coaches discovered he hadn't earned his associate degree.
The second player, Jordan Murchison, faced two separate assault charges last year. In one incident he punched a
man repeatedly in the head, smashing his teeth. The man needed extensive dental surgery, according to court
records. Murchison pleaded guilty to fourth-degree assault, a gross misdemeanor, and was ordered to complete
224 hours of community service.
In the other incident, Murchison was accused of threatening his girlfriend and yanking her hair. In that case,
prosecutors have agreed to dismiss the charges if Murchison stays out of trouble for two years.
Willingham, in effect, suspended Murchison from the team. "The key is you want the best for the individual and the
best for the team," Willingham said at the time.
Murchison sat out five games. After that, he was back on the roster.
Mounting pressure
When the UW struggled last year through its third-straight losing season under Willingham, the pressure on
Willingham, Turner and Emmert intensified. However, the hundreds of e-mails they received revealed a clear divide
as to what should be done.
One side was exemplified by boosters who were sick of losing and who made their displeasure known using the
language of money. Their message: Fire Willingham, or else.
William Fleenor, a financial consultant and the former mayor of Walla Walla, had donated $112,000 to the UW, his
alma mater. He'd also served on the board of the boosters' Tyee Club. But in December, Fleenor wrote to Emmert
and declared: "This benefactor is out."
"I have clearly wasted thousands of dollars and many hours of my time thinking I was working and donating for a
school that cares for athletics," Fleenor wrote.
He would "likely return," Fleenor wrote, if the UW managed to rid itself of Willingham.
Fleenor said in an interview that he was frustrated about "wins and losses," and something more. "It wasn't just
Tyrone, but Todd as well, that they didn't really care about the booster like the old guys did."
The other side of the divide was represented by those fans, faculty members and former administrators who were
embarrassed by what the UW had become before Willingham. Their message: Let Willingham stay on, and try to win
with character.
Ralph Bayard played for the UW under Jim Owens and went on to serve as the school's senior associate athletic
director from 1993 to 2000. He was there when Neuheisel took over. Bayard, too, wrote Emmert in December. His
message was:
"The record over the last three years is certainly not what any of us can be happy about. However, it does
demonstrate how far this proud program had fallen prior to Coach Willingham's tenure and the work that needed to
take place to rebuild it.
"I have seen tremendous progress in the way the young men have played during this rebuilding period. I'm also
impressed by what the coach has been able to instill in these young men relative to their conduct off the field."
Bayard said in an interview he's not surprised at how frustrated some fans have become. "Husky football is a major,
major player in this community. It always has been. The expectation is that this program does well, and better than
well. When it doesn't happen, there's a hue and cry."
Colleges across the country, he said, are trying to find the right balance between integrity and winning.
"Big-time athletics is such a powerful entity in and of itself these days. It's very difficult for a university not to support
it," he said. "What's critical at any institution is who you are bringing in, what their backgrounds are, and making sure
there are support systems in place."
New director sought
The UW announced Turner's resignation Dec. 11. Soon after, UCLA announced that it was hiring Neuheisel as its
head coach.
Neuheisel's five-year contract will pay him $1.25 million a year and up to $500,000 more in incentives. He vowed not
to do anything to tarnish UCLA's reputation: "There are some things I did in my past that I don't need to do again,
there's no question," he said in a recent radio interview.
The UW, meanwhile, is preparing to hire a new athletic director. That person will need to lead a planned $300 million
renovation of Husky Stadium — a project that has found little support in the Legislature so far.
Emmert wants an athletic director who will find a way to win — without sacrificing the university's reputation.
Staff reporter Bob Condotta contributed to this story.
See also:
Neuheisel's 1999 season evaluation:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/ABPub/2008/01/29/2004152699.pdf
Hedges' evaluation of Neuheisel, 1999-2000:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/ABPub/2008/01/29/2004152700.pdf
Performance evaluation of Neuheisel, 2001-2002:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/ABPub/2008/01/29/2004152701.pdf
Robert Aronson's 2004 resignation letter:
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/ABPub/2008/01/29/2004152705.pdf
Linebacker discovered joy of learning but had to buck football program that emphasized eligibility, not
education
Nick Perry and Ken Armstrong, Seattle Times, 30 January 2008
For Anthony Kelley, a photograph on the wall changed everything.
In the summer of 2000, before football season began, Kelley sat in the office of Tom Williams, an assistant coach at
the University of Washington. Kelley was in his third year at the UW, a 20-year-old linebacker with a dream of
playing in the NFL.
Looking around the room, Kelley spotted a picture of his assistant coach in Spain. Williams had first traveled to
Europe years earlier, he told Kelley. As an undergraduate at Stanford, he'd studied abroad in Italy.
An amazing experience, Williams told the young player. You should try studying abroad yourself.
But that's unofficial, the assistant coach added. Don't tell anyone around here I told you that.
At the UW, there's the upper campus and the lower campus.
The lower campus, on the shores of Lake Washington, belongs to the football players and other athletes. This is
where they play and practice.
On the upper campus, academics hold sway. Students pack lectures at Kane Hall or study late at Odegaard Library.
Kelley arrived in 1998 unqualified, by the numbers, for the demands of the upper campus. He had an SAT score of
770 and a grade-point average that hovered around 2. The averages for his incoming class were 1155 and 3.65.
Kelley belonged to the lower campus, where other numbers mattered. In high school he played offense (824
receiving yards his senior year) and defense (102 tackles, with 15 sacks). He aspired to be another Charles
Woodson, the two-way player who won the Heisman Trophy at Michigan.
Kelley grew up in Pasadena, Calif., in a gang neighborhood, not far from Rose Bowl Stadium. His parents split
before he entered school, and his mom moved about, struggling to raise a young family. They spent six months
homeless. Some nights they'd sleep in cheap hotels, other nights in their car. Kelley helped raise his younger
sisters, while his mother worked full time and moonlighted with nursing studies.
In high school, Kelley moved in with his dad. Diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, Kelley struggled
in class. But his junior year, a recruitment letter arrived from Nebraska. He saw a way out of Pasadena and began to
study harder.
Kelley says his father told him: "You need to get good grades so you can get this football scholarship." His coaches
told him the same thing. The motivation wasn't to learn. Classes were a way to play football.
Kelley graduated, but his transcript didn't meet the requirements of Division I football. The UW gambled on him
anyway, making him one of the school's most prized recruits that year. Under NCAA rules, Kelley would have to sit
out his freshman year and concentrate on classes. If he did OK, he could play the next year.
At the UW, Kelley's coaches told him: You need to get good grades to stay eligible.
Football players at the UW remain eligible by maintaining a "C" average or better. The university provides
considerable help.
Players get assistance from four academic coordinators, two academic advisers, a learning specialist and a
supervisor.
The UW also hires 80 part-time tutors to work with all athletes, regardless of sport. These tutors work five to 20
hours a week, typically earning $15 an hour. They attend the athletes' classes, take lecture notes and explain
concepts during study sessions.
Most help goes to athletes who failed to meet the school's minimum admittance standards for regular students. Each
year, the UW accepts about 30 such athletes as "special admits" — slots that tend to be filled by football or
basketball players.
Those special admits with the weakest academic backgrounds often do OK their first quarter but then struggle, a
recent university report found. Early on, the athletes cluster in the same classes, with juniors and seniors directing
incoming players to classes considered easy.
On the 2007 football team, 20 percent of the players with declared majors selected American ethnic studies. The
year before, it was 43 percent. For undergraduates as a whole, 1 percent major in that subject.
On the 2000 team, sociology was the most popular major. That's the field Kelley picked at first, because it seemed
to be what other players were choosing.
At least seven of the team's players were allowed to create their major, instead of choosing from a regular degree
program. These individualized majors included "Sports Management," "Multicultural Leadership" and "Media
Presentation."
Without question, some players on the team took academics seriously. At least four had double majors. Two
players, Kyle Benn and Ryan Fleming, were named to the Pac-10 All-Academic football team in 2000. Both majored
in business administration.
But Rock Nelson, an offensive lineman, exemplified the mind-set of many players on the team. "I was a football
major," he says. "Class was not important to me."
J.K. Scott, who was a backup quarterback, says: "Most of the talk with the guys, and this isn't everyone, was, 'What
are the easiest classes we can find?' For everyone there, it's football first, and education second, as an
afterthought."
The idea of studying abroad captured Kelley's imagination.
He took it to Sarah Winter, his adviser.
"She almost broke down in tears because she was so happy that I was thinking about the idea," Kelley says.
The 2000 season was Winter's third as an academic coordinator at the UW. She used to teach English in Ohio. Now
she worked one on one and in groups with Kelley and other football players.
She'd meet them in the Conibear Shellhouse on Lake Washington, where the crew team launched its boats. As she
listened and taught, she came to see the athletes as vulnerable and isolated from other students.
Demoralized, sometimes in tears, many flirted with failing grades. "The personal cost for so many of them was so
very, very high," she says. "They had a real struggle with personal failure. It would be repeatedly, on a daily basis,
an inability to meet expectations."
One player on the 2000 team left the UW barely able to read or write, Winter says. She would go through textbooks
with him, looking at pictures, reading captions, trying to capture main ideas. For essays, he would dictate while she
typed.
The Shellhouse became a safe haven for players, a place they could vent. Some players walked in and dropped
their heads on their desks, exhausted. "They were scheduled from before the sun came up until 8 or 9 at night,"
Winter says.
After the 2000 season, Winter quit. She saw only hype surrounding "special admits," a misplaced belief they were
rising above. "They are running a business at the expense of the kids," she says. "I felt like I was feeding the
business, rather than helping."
The faculty athletics representative in 2000 was Robert Aronson, a law professor. Charged with protecting the
educational welfare of student-athletes, he resigned the post in 2004 and wrote an 11-page letter telling why.
The "pressure to win" compromised academics and integrity, Aronson wrote. The athletic department pressured the
admissions office to accept student-athletes who were unlikely to succeed in the classroom. Then, teams demanded
too much of their players' time, preventing them from growing as students.
Of the players on the 2000 team, about two of every three graduated, according to the latest NCAA figures.
On his annual evaluation for 2000, head coach Rick Neuheisel received a mark of "below expectation" for the grade-
point averages his players were getting.
Together, Kelley and Winter discovered an opportunity for him to spend a quarter in South Africa. The academic
program would begin after the football season and allow Kelley to examine changes since apartheid's fall.
While the team made its march to the 2001 Rose Bowl, Kelley wrote an application essay and prepared for his
interview. He and Winter kept their efforts low key: "It was like a renegade operation," she says.
Obstacles surfaced. Kelley had never had a driver's license or a checking account, much less a passport. He had
no experience overseas, no money and no family support.
Needing a plane ticket, he applied for a Mary Gates Scholarship, an award that helps undergraduates cover
research expenses.
He became the first football player to win the honor and was awarded $3,000.
Neuheisel seemed caught off-guard by the news, Kelley says. Asked about Kelley's planned trip, the coach told one
newspaper, "I'm all for it," but added, "I don't know that it's something that we could have happen widespread."
Kelley says: "I'm pretty sure he didn't want me to go. And my defensive coordinator at the time wasn't too fired up
about it. But Tom Williams was like, 'Go ahead, do your thing.' "
"I really didn't know what I was getting myself into. Because when they tell us as an athlete that we get to choose our
own classes, I figure, you know, if it was in the off-season and I was working out, it would be fine."
In the 2000 season, Kelley had started three games and twice earned defensive MVP honors. Now, coaches feared
he might fall out of shape or lose focus.
Williams and other coaches also told Kelley of another concern: Kelley was seeing Tonya Britt, a woman he'd met in
San Jose. Britt had two young boys. Before dating, Anthony and Tonya had e-mailed each other for months.
Williams says he was wary of the relationship, fearing it would not work out in the long run. Some other coaches felt
the same way, Kelley says, "because she was older, and she had kids."
But Kelley liked Tonya's children. "And you can't help what happens in life," he says.
Kelley stayed with Tonya. And he held to his plans for South Africa.
A few days after the season ended, Kelley's tutor drove him to Sea-Tac Airport. "He was a little nervous, a little
quiet," Winter says. "He had his Walkman on as usual."
As Kelley walked through security, Winter thought: "Wow. He really made it. Nobody is getting him off that plane."
Kelley figured that as an African American, traveling to South Africa would be a sort of homecoming. He was wrong.
"I wasn't looked at as being black," he said. "Because, for one, I spoke English. I didn't even speak the language.
And then, I was associated with America and the way America is perceived by them: As the land of the free. Money.
And white."
Kelley started an after-school athletic program in a ghetto just outside Cape Town, teaching girls basic stretches
and different sports. The girls, though often hungry, showed up every day, eager to learn.
Their enthusiasm forced Kelley to look at himself. He attended a great university, with opportunities that eclipsed
theirs. "It was really unfortunate I didn't have the same attitude," he says.
When he showed up early one day, the girls were drumming on their desks, dancing and singing to their own
rhythms. He'd never heard anything like it. Teach me, he asked them, and he bought them new drums.
When it was time to return to Seattle, Kelley made the girls a promise. He would return, and the next time, he'd bring
them to America, to see the country and share their talents.
He didn't know how it would happen — he was a student, and broke. But something had changed. For Kelley,
academics had come alive.
"I had a chance to engage. To feel, touch and smell what I was reading in these books. That's when I had the big
idea of education as an engaged experience."
When Kelley returned to the UW, he asked professors for lists of books he should read — not for class study, but
simply to learn. His vocabulary expanded. He began to find joy in reading dense texts and writing essays. He started
a journal and wrote poems.
"I was opening up to this new world," he said.
With that came a realization.
"I actually can write. I actually can read. I actually can have intellectual conversations and actually forge some ideas
that can be very productive. I didn't realize I had that kind of potential. It was kind of like being reborn into a new
world that had been closed off for so long."
Kelley discovered that his love of learning came with a cost.
In 2001, he told his coaches that he wanted to return to South Africa, after the football season. They weren't happy,
he says.
"My credibility and my commitment to the team started to be questioned. And it was ironic in the fact that you wanted
me to be a student athlete."
To Kelley's mind, he was breaking a code.
"There are these unwritten rules that you have to follow to make sure that the coaches are OK. And I really just
looked at it as an issue of control. They didn't have immediate control over me."
Kelley understood the dynamics. Coaches get paid lots of money, but they have to win. Players, meanwhile, become
entranced by a possible NFL career. Coaches know how strong that lure is, and use it to motivate.
But Kelley now knew he could succeed without football. He'd tell the coaches: If I don't make the NFL, I'll be fine.
"They couldn't use that to manipulate me. And so I did what I had to do. And whatever they did was fine with me,
because I had a class to get to, you know what I mean?"
In 2001, Kelley's statistics started to slip. He recorded 19 tackles, down from 30.
In December 2001, he married Tonya. With two children already, they added a third, taking in Tonya's goddaughter,
whose family was having drug problems.
The following month, this family, five strong, traveled to South Africa.
Kelley had won a second Mary Gates Scholarship.
His teammates wondered about the millions of dollars Kelley might be sacrificing by focusing so much on his
homework. "The thing was, amongst my peers, it was really like 'AK, you're crazy,'" he says. "But at the same time,
they would say, 'AK, I wish I could do what you did.' "
Williams, the assistant coach, said it's unusual for a young player to shrug off the possibility of a pro career.
"Guys generally pursue the dream of playing in the NFL until it completely dies. Then they say, 'Now what do I do?'
Anthony made that decision before all that came up."
One of Kelley's good friends on the Rose Bowl team was Anthony Vontoure. His story is the flip side of Kelley's.
Vontoure never blossomed academically. He chased the NFL dream until his options ran out.
Vontoure attended high school in California, where he had a 2.5 GPA and a below-average ACT score. He
struggled off the field, serving two months at a juvenile ranch for hitting a teenager over the head with a brick.
In an essay to the UW, Vontoure wrote: "I hope to graduate one day and say I'm a Washington Husky and I love
what I've become."
As a freshman, in 1997, he started each day with malt liquor, slept constantly and often missed class, according to
his roommate. When he missed an anthropology exam and made little effort to do his classwork, the professor didn't
dock him. Instead, Vontoure was given an alternative assignment — writing a four-page paper, dealing with sports.
On the football team, Vontoure often lashed out at coaches. They sent him to counseling and learned that he likely
had bipolar disorder. Vontoure's teammates felt a need to protect him. They'd buy him sandwiches to make sure he
was eating, or drive him to a pay phone, so he could call home.
On the field, Vontoure excelled. "The most talented kid I've ever had," says Chuck Heater, the team's cornerbacks
coach. In 1999, Vontoure was suspended a game for violating team rules; the next week, he returned an
interception for a touchdown. In 2000, he was suspended for another game. Afterward, Neuheisel said he would
have played Vontoure if needed.
Vontoure left the UW in 2001, without a degree. His final grade-point average was 2.00 — just enough to play, down
to the decimal point. Six times he was placed on probation, when his cumulative GPA dipped below a "C" average.
Of the 145 credits he earned, 25 were in Swahili, a notoriously easy class packed with football players. His highest
grade, a "B+," was in a class called "Sexuality in Scandinavia."
After leaving the UW, Vontoure enrolled at Portland State, only to drop out.
In May 2002, Vontoure and Kelley saw each other at the funeral of Curtis Williams, a teammate who had been
critically injured during the Rose Bowl year. On Williams' casket, Kelley placed two copper bracelets from South
Africa.
Days later, Vontoure came to Seattle and visited Kelley. Vontoure seemed adrift, Kelley says. "I could see in his
eyes that he was crying out to me for help, but really, he didn't know how to articulate that."
Two weeks later, Vontoure died of a heart attack while struggling with sheriff's deputies in California. The deputies
were called because Vontoure was hallucinating, screaming about "green men in masks" coming to kill him. An
autopsy showed cocaine in his system.
It had just hit Vontoure that he wasn't going to make the NFL, a friend told police. The friend feared Vontoure might
kill himself: "Because football is all he's got. That's all he knows how to do."
Inside Vontoure's car, a detective found a Huskies magazine from October 2000, the Rose Bowl year. In the
apartment where Vontoure was staying, the detective found empty liquor bottles and a letterman's jacket with a "W"
over the left chest and the word "football" embroidered in purple.
Anthony Kelley kept his promise.
After returning from South Africa in the spring of 2002, Kelley, along with his wife, began raising money to bring the
African girls to Seattle.
The Kelleys hosted a '70s party, a spaghetti dinner and an auction. Tonya's goddaughter sold lemonade for 50
cents a cup.
The media picked up the story. The UW hailed Kelley as the ideal student-athlete. Rick Neuheisel donated $5,000.
So did Bill Gates Sr.
The Ipintombi dancers, as the troupe would be called, arrived in Seattle in June. They performed at the Paramount
Theatre, among other venues.
The same month, Kelley graduated from the UW with a bachelor's degree in the comparative history of ideas. His
final GPA was 2.83. Because he graduated in four years, he earned back his lost year of football eligibility and was
able to play the 2002 season.
He played, but his football career was fading. He recorded 11 tackles in 13 games.
The leader of the Ipintombi dancers was a young girl named Siya Manyakanyaka.
During his second trip to Cape Town, Kelley said, Siya's father approached and told him: "My daughter won't be
able to make anything of herself here. And so, if there's anything she can do with you, I give you permission to take
her."
Siya was 13 at the time. Kelley adopted her. His family numbered six.
These days, Kelley is pursuing a master's degree in education at the UW. His grade-point average, as a graduate
student, is 3.65.
He also runs a pilot program at the university in which he is leading a group of about 20 students, a third of them
athletes, to study overseas.
He wants other athletes to venture off the lower campus — to go up that hill, and beyond — just as he did.
Kelley left with the group this month. They are spending 10 weeks in South Africa. Four of the athletes are football
players. Kelley says he has made sure they will have access to workout facilities, to head off any concern from their
coaches.
Kelley coaches football, basketball and track in Seattle's public schools. His wife and kids pitch in. He helps manage
the apartment complex where they live and gets a stipend for his work at the UW.
One of the Kelleys' children is now in college, with a second, Siya, planning to start in the fall. Last year, he and his
wife took in another girl, Tyteanna, now 2, making theirs a family of seven.
Kelley recently allowed Roosevelt High School to auction off his Rose Bowl helmet, to raise money for a student-
exchange program.
One day, Kelley would like to open an academic, sports and arts complex in South Africa, to help impoverished
children.
But until then, he plans to stay at the UW and earn his Ph.D.
He wants to become Dr. Anthony Kelley.
Husky football 2000 | Anthony Kelley
On the field: Kelley played in every game, twice winning team defensive MVP honors. Against California, he sacked
the quarterback twice and forced a fumble.
Off the field: Kelley applied for a Mary Gates Scholarship, for money to study abroad. He became the first football
player to win the honor.
Neuheisel era a far cry from integrity of Willingham
Christian Caple, UW Daily, 29 January 2008
I’ve been embarrassed by my team’s performance on the field before. Being a Seattle sports fan will do that to you.
There have been days (Super Bowl XL comes to mind) when I didn’t want to get out of bed or go to school because
of the previous day’s disappointments on the gridiron/basketball court/baseball field.
But never have I been as embarrassed, sickened or disturbed by my team’s action off the field than I am now.
Not because of what has happened recently, but because of what happened with the 2000 Washington football
team that was never made public until recently by an investigative report in The Seattle Times.
The report details the pathetic lack of institutional control displayed by then-coach Rick Neuheisel and the
disgusting pattern of crime exhibited by an alarming number of his players.
And you can’t talk about that 2000 team (Pac-10 and Rose Bowl champions) without talking about Jerramy Stevens,
the Huskies’ big time tight end who made just as many headlines on the field as he did off it.
We all knew Stevens was (and still is) a scumbag. We knew about the rape allegations. We knew about the hit-and-
runs, the assault and the retirement home incident.
But what I read in that report Sunday made me sick to my stomach: The way his case was treated; the fact that he
was never charged with rape despite the seemingly overwhelming evidence against him; the countless second, third,
fourth, fifth, and sixth chances he received. The repeated slaps on the wrist for crimes that an average person
would do time for.
This column could easily be another tirade about student athletes being treated as citizens above the law, but that’s
not my point today. Someone else can grind that ax.
The fact is, I cheered for Stevens. Even after he was done at the UW, I rooted for him when he played for the
Seahawks. During that 2005 season that saw the Hawks make the Super Bowl, I thought he had turned a corner. I
thought he was turning into the premier, Pro-Bowl-type pass-catching tight end that everyone knew he was going to
be.
I celebrated his touchdowns and screamed at the television when he dropped passes.
I should have been screaming at the Seahawks management for letting him sully the franchise with his presence,
just like Neuheisel should have recognized the content of Stevens’ character.
Add UW coach Tyrone Willingham into this, and it’s hard not to admire what he’s done here. Willingham inherited a
program full of Neuheisel guys (read: Stevens) and brought in players that fans could be proud of again.
Recently, Todd Turner was more or less forced to resign as athletic director. He was essentially run out of town by
boosters and alumni desperate for wins, who couldn’t understand that Turner held morality and integrity in higher
value than winning football games.
Willingham’s ultimatum is clear next season: win or else.
He’s as aware of it as anybody else, but if he wins — he’s going to win the right way.
As long as Willingham is the coach at Washington, you’re never going to see another Jerramy Stevens.
Convicted of assault and accused of rape, star player received raft of second chances
Ken Armstrong and Nick Perry, Seattle Times, 27 January 2008
Related
The disturbing story behind the last great UW team — and how its legacy still casts a shadow on the Huskies
Sources for this story, Chapter 1
Web extra | Attorney Mike Hunsinger: key player in Huskies' defense
Audio | June 23, 2003: Jerramy Stevens in Kirkland Municipal Court
Letter to judge from UW coach Lambright (PDF)
Letter from UW coach Hart (PDF)
Letter from UW coach Linehan (PDF)
Excerpt of Detective Parker's report (PDF)
UW - Lawsuit settlement correspondence (PDF)
Rick Neuheisel, head coach of the University of Washington's football team, was playing golf when a cart came
rolling up and someone handed him a phone.
The UW's sports-information director was on the other end: One of the team's best players had just been arrested,
on suspicion of rape.
Before 7 that morning — Thursday, July 27, 2000 — Seattle police detectives, accompanied by a SWAT team, had
served a search warrant at the home of Jerramy Stevens and taken him away.
The UW football team was used to run-ins with the law. It even had a system, of sorts, for dealing with them. Randy
Hart, the defensive-line coach, had police contacts who would tell him when players were in trouble. Other coaches
had names of attorneys players could contact.
One lawyer stood out: Mike Hunsinger, a UW alumnus and longtime fan. In time, Hunsinger would represent at least
14 members of the 2000 football team — players accused of hit-and-run, animal cruelty, punching a security guard,
DUI, taking part in an attack on a fraternity, sexual assault, punching windows out of cars, domestic violence,
assaulting a parking attendant. He'd charge the players a few hundred bucks and let them pay over time.
Neuheisel got in touch with Barbara Hedges, the university's athletic director, to see what she wanted to do.
At 1:30 p.m., less than seven hours after Stevens' arrest, a fax arrived at the Seattle Police Department's sexual-
assault unit. It was addressed to Maryann Parker, the lead detective, who had been investigating the case for seven
weeks.
The fax came from Hunsinger's office. We're representing Jerramy Stevens, the message said. Please call us
immediately.
The month before, just after 3 a.m. on June 4, a UW student called 911 to report a possible rape in progress.
Walking back to his dorm, he'd passed a row of fraternities and sororities and seen two people against a building. A
woman, wearing only a bra and maybe underwear, leaned against a wall, arms to her side. A tall man faced her, his
back to the passer-by.
The situation didn't look right, the student told police. The woman looked right at him but did nothing to cover up.
She looked drugged or drunk: "Half passed out ... eyes glazed ... no one home."
"The male was controlling things," the witness said. "It wasn't a two-person interlude."
When the man turned and caught sight of the passer-by, he moved the woman behind a bush.
Seattle police responded but couldn't find the two.
Nine hours later, around noon, a 19-year-old freshman woke up at the Pi Beta Phi sorority. She had a headache,
stomach pain, sore ribs, scratched legs. She could barely move. Her bra and tube top were around her waist and
covered in dirt. Her underwear was missing.
"What happened to me?" she asked her roommate.
About the same time, Jerramy Stevens emerged from his room. He lived with several teammates in a house north of
campus. He pulled a pair of women's underpants out of his jeans pocket and, according to a police report, told a
roommate, "Look what I have."
Stevens said he'd had sex with the freshman, whose middle name was Marie. "No way," the roommate said. He
couldn't believe it, because he had heard Marie was a virgin.
Stevens' story made the rounds. A friend of Marie's heard one football player ask another: Did you hear that
Jerramy had sex with Marie in the dirt outside a fraternity?
Meanwhile, Marie and her friends tried to figure out what had happened. Inside Marie's room, a friend saw a fleece
jacket that Stevens wore the night before. The jacket, covered in dirt, appeared to be stained with blood.
Marie couldn't remember how she got home, she later told police. She'd had three beers over dinner before going to
a fraternity party, and two more drinks while there. Stevens, a friend, had been at the party, too. The last beer Marie
remembered being handed had already been opened. After that, she remembered next to nothing.
She stayed in bed most of the day. Her friends searched for her underwear outside the sorority and in an alley, but
returned empty-handed.
That afternoon, word of what was being said at Stevens' house got back to Marie. Her eyes "got huge," a friend said
later. "She had [a] look of complete horror on her face."
Marie worried she may have been sexually assaulted. She worried about pregnancy and disease. Should I get a
morning-after pill? she asked one friend.
About 9:30 that night, Marie got Stevens on the phone, she later recounted to police. What happened? she asked.
Stevens told Marie he'd walked her home. "We kissed and some stuff," he told her. Did we have sex? she asked.
"No," he told her. "Don't trip, it's nothing, don't worry about it."
Marie, crying, asked: Then why are you telling your friends we did? He denied saying that to anyone.
Afterward, Stevens told a roommate about this conversation. The roommate told Stevens: You have to call her back.
You have to let her know you had sex. You at least owe her that.
Late that night, Marie went to the university hospital, across the street from Husky Stadium. She got a shot for
nausea and was directed to Harborview Medical Center for a sexual-assault exam.
Marie's parents went with her. The medical staff found semen in her vagina and rectum, and a doctor told Marie that
her anus had been lacerated.
The semen was placed in a rape kit, for testing.
On June 6, the case landed on the desk of Maryann Parker, a 14-year veteran of the Seattle Police Department.
She interviewed Marie, who suspected she'd been slipped a date-rape drug. Investigators couldn't say. Too much
time had elapsed before Marie's blood was drawn for testing.
Parker interviewed people who had been at the fraternity party. They said Marie's condition changed suddenly that
night. Her speech was slurred. She had trouble standing, leaned against people, and acted drugged: "Out of
control."
Marie's friends told Parker they had escorted her from the party. Although the sorority was nearby, Marie was in no
shape to walk home alone. Behind the fraternity, a police car pulled up, and an officer asked if Marie was all right.
We're just driving her home, Marie's friends answered. On the way, the group saw Stevens in the alley. Marie's
friends dropped her off at the sorority but didn't walk her in.
On the morning Stevens was arrested, Parker escorted him to the police station. She asked if he'd be willing to
answer questions, but he said no.
His blood was drawn for DNA testing, and he was booked into jail.
This same day, another detective interviewed a defensive lineman who lived with Stevens. The lineman said he
didn't believe Stevens committed rape. Why not? the detective asked.
"Well ... he's my best friend," the player said. "I hang out with champions." Stevens, the player said, was "the type of
guy where usually when he fools around he ends up having sex cause he's a charming guy, chicks dig him."
Stevens spent that Thursday night in jail.
The next day, about 15 of Stevens' teammates showed up to support him at a scheduled bail hearing. But
prosecutors said they needed more time to review the evidence and released Stevens without charges. Some of
Stevens' teammates cheered when told the news.
King County's elected prosecutor, Norm Maleng, didn't know beforehand that Stevens was going to be arrested. He
and two top deputies — Dan Satterberg and Mark Larson — were "livid," Parker says.
"They were mad that we had arrested him, because they had to deal with the media fallout," Parker says. "After all,
he was going to be a superstar."
That Friday afternoon, a faceoff took place at the prosecutors' offices. Parker said a meeting was called — "for me
to explain my actions."
Four of her superiors accompanied Parker: an assistant chief, a lieutenant and two sergeants. Six prosecutors
attended, including Satterberg and Larson. Satterberg, the office's No. 2, reported straight to Maleng. Larson ran
the criminal division.
Satterberg sat across from Parker. Why did you arrest him? she said he asked.
One of Parker's bosses told Satterberg: We don't need your permission to arrest someone. All we need is probable
cause.
As part of her investigation, Parker checked into Stevens' background.
Stevens, 6 foot 7, 255 pounds, would be starting his third year at the UW in September. He looked to be perhaps
the best tight end in the school's history — and the UW was known for great tight ends.
He'd gone to high school in Lacey, in Thurston County. Both his parents were teachers; his mother became an
assistant principal.
In the spring of 1998, when he was a senior in high school, Stevens showed up at a prearranged fight in a park.
There, his friend hit a 17-year-old, James Hoover, in the head with a baseball bat.
After Hoover collapsed — unconscious — Stevens jumped up and stomped on his face.
Hoover's jaw was broken. For six weeks, he ate with a straw.
When a sheriff's detective first questioned Stevens, Stevens said he hadn't been involved in the fight. But
questioned again the next day, Stevens admitted what he had done.
Why'd you lie before? the detective asked. "I knew I had done something wrong, and I didn't want to get in trouble
for it," Stevens answered.
Stevens was charged with felony assault. A judge let him await trial at home, wearing an electronic-monitoring
device. Stevens soon tested positive for marijuana, violating the terms of his home confinement. As a result, he
spent three weeks in the Thurston County jail.
At the time, Stevens had already accepted a football scholarship to the UW. The felony charge appeared to place
his scholarship in jeopardy — but three UW coaches wrote the judge, saying the UW's offer was still good. See the
letters from Jim Lambright, Randy Hart and Scott Linehan.
Their background checks on Stevens showed "nothing but high marks," wrote Scott Linehan, now head coach of the
St. Louis Rams. "We believe this to be an isolated incident. Under our discipline and supervision I believe Jerramy
will show this to be true."
Jim Lambright, then the UW's head coach, wrote: "We do believe in Jerramy."
The coaches even asked if Stevens could be released from home confinement to practice with the team before trial.
The judge agreed — even though Stevens had already violated the court's orders.
Stevens went to football camp, where Lambright told reporters: "We don't give up on a player because he makes
one mistake."
But a Thurston County sheriff's captain, in a written report, said Stevens may have "a propensity toward violence."
In high school, the report said, Stevens and another student allegedly punched holes in a classroom wall: "We are
told the school learned of the vandalism and quietly permitted payment of the damage." The sheriff's office heard
that Stevens violated school rules on alcohol and marijuana; kicked a football teammate in the testicles; and
threatened referees in a basketball game after he was ejected for being too aggressive on the court.
With the assault charge pending, supporters of Stevens, including several teachers and a Mormon bishop, wrote to
the prosecutor urging leniency. An English teacher described how Stevens once defended a kid with a speech
impediment. "He has a gentle side," the teacher wrote.
Stevens negotiated a plea deal for attacking Hoover. He was convicted of misdemeanor assault and sentenced to
time served.
At the UW, Stevens talked of putting the assault conviction behind him. "I'm more conscious of the choices I make
now because I know there are consequences," he told one reporter.
While investigating Stevens, Parker dug up an e-mail Stevens had sent to one woman he'd slept with at the UW. The
e-mail said:
"i know that you are not going to beliewhat i have to say especially after satterday night but when i got your e-mail
today i laughed a first but then it started to sink in and my heart started to break as i read over your words.
"i realize that i have [messed] up and I want to talk to you about being with you and how i can make it up to you. this
is not a joke i want to have you in my arms and know that you are mine and ythat nothing that i have done or [a
friend] has said caould ever change the way that i feel about you. when i think back to the night that i spent with you
by ourselves i wish that i would have done one thing and that is, i wish i would have put ... "
Stevens then describes, in explicit terms, an anal-sex act he wanted to do to her. He closes with: "you whore dont
ever utter my name again."
Stevens shared this message with a teammate, who called it a "funny ass e-mail." The teammate, when interviewed
by a detective, called the woman who received the message "a typical football groupie."
Parker says the e-mail was "very disturbing to read." She placed it in her investigative file and interviewed the
woman who received it. The woman broke down in tears.
Soon after Stevens' arrest, Barbara Hedges, the athletic director, told reporters that the UW would conduct its own
investigation of Stevens, to see if discipline was warranted.
But the university never did. Instead, Hedges and Neuheisel waited for prosecutors to act. Hedges received updates
on the case directly from Satterberg.
In early August, a week after the arrest, police sent the DNA evidence to a Maryland laboratory. Treat this as a rush
job, one prosecutor wrote, saying the county would pay extra to get the results fast.
The lab was to compare DNA from the sperm with the DNA from Stevens' blood.
Meanwhile, a deputy prosecutor met with Marie's family. The decision of whether to charge Stevens would be made
soon after the lab results were in, he told them.
On Aug. 17, two weeks before the 2000 football season would begin, Parker got the DNA results back. It was a
match.
From the get-go, Stevens was crucial to the team's success. The Huskies' top receiver from 1999 was injured.
Others were inexperienced. The UW's passing game was a question mark.
Stevens provided an answer.
In September, the UW won its first three games of the season, twice coming from behind. When the Huskies upset
No. 4 Miami in the second game, Stevens recorded a career day: seven catches, 89 yards, one touchdown. The
next week — on Sept. 16 — he did even better against Colorado, making seven catches for 102 yards, winning
team honors as offensive MVP.
With its 3-0 start, the UW climbed to No. 8 in the national rankings.
On Sept. 21 — five weeks after the DNA results came back — prosecutors Dan Satterberg and Mark Larson met
with police brass to discuss "potential proof problems" with the Stevens case.
They told John Pirak, an assistant police chief, how important it was to interview Stevens, calling his account critical
to any charging decision.
The next day, a deputy prosecutor told police an interview had been arranged, according to police reports. But, he
said, the prosecutor's "front office" had agreed to certain conditions negotiated by Stevens' attorney, Mike
Hunsinger. First, the interview had to be in Hunsinger's office. Second, Parker, the case's lead detective, could not
ask questions. Only the prosecutor would be allowed to do that.
Parker protested to her sergeant. It was her case. She knew the evidence best. She didn't want to be cut out of the
questioning. Parker's sergeant didn't like the deal, either. But if prosecutors considered the interview so crucial, the
sergeant was willing to relent.
But, hours later, the deputy prosecutor told Parker of yet another condition: Maleng's office had agreed to give
crucial police evidence — the victim and witness statements — to Stevens' lawyers before the interview.
The Seattle Police Department's standard operating procedures allowed no such thing. If a suspect enters an
interview with police file in hand, he can tailor his story to the facts already gathered. Suspects get to see the
evidence after being charged, not before.
Parker called her sergeant at home to alert her. Word went up. The Police Department's legal adviser was brought
in. And in late September, Pirak, an assistant chief, told Satterberg and Larson: No deal. Police would not agree to
release those statements. No exception would be made for this case.
The legal adviser, Leo Poort, recently said that in 30 years in that job, this is the only case he knows of where a deal
like this was offered. Larson said such offers are "not customary," but have been made in "some other cases."
Prosecutors and police never did interview Stevens.
On Oct. 5, Detective Parker submitted the police evidence to prosecutors. Now they had to decide whether to file
charges.
On Oct. 19, late at night, Donald Preston was returning home to Olympia after visiting his 6-year-old son, who was
being treated in Children's Hospital in Seattle for cancer.
A hard rain falling, Preston drove south on Interstate 5, using the car-pool lane. His 10-year-old daughter sat next to
him in the passenger seat.
Ahead, Preston saw an accident, blocking traffic. As Preston slowed, a red Toyota pickup barreled up from behind
and tried to swing around him. The truck sideswiped Preston's Dodge Daytona — smashing in the driver's side —
before careening into the retaining wall, damaging its front end. The pickup's driver had been "driving like a
maniac," one witness would say later, using the HOV lane as a passing lane.
The pickup's driver was Jerramy Stevens. He got out, leaned against his truck, and called something like, "Is
everybody OK?" Then he climbed back into his truck and drove away — offering no name, no phone number, no
insurance card.
Preston needed to kick his door to get out. His daughter was shaken up but managed to memorize the pickup's
license plate.
A state trooper arrived and took down a report. "Unit 1 fled the scene," she wrote. Now she had to find out who the
driver of Unit 1 was.
On Oct. 24, 2000, King County's elected prosecutor held a news conference to announce whether rape charges
would be filed against Jerramy Stevens.
Norm Maleng looked into a wall of cameras and microphones. Stevens' future was at stake. So, to the mind of many
fans, was the UW football team's.
Just three days before, the UW had defeated Cal to go to 6-1 and keep its Rose Bowl hopes alive. Down 11 in the
fourth quarter, the Huskies had scored three touchdowns in two minutes. Stevens scored the first, on a 10-yard
reception. He caught three passes in the final quarter and was named the game's offensive MVP.
Maleng had faced situations like this before. In 1999, his office had declined to prosecute three football players
accused of trashing a fraternity house and assaulting its members. Prosecutors cited "confusing and conflicting
statements," and said "identification seemed to be a problem."
After Maleng's office turned down the case, the Seattle City Attorney's Office reviewed the evidence and charged all
three players. All three pleaded guilty to misdemeanors. One player, convicted of assault, was sentenced to 10 days
in jail.
In 1998, Maleng's office was confronted with three other football players accused of beating a student on campus,
with a crowd gathered around. A witness, using Husky Football magazine, identified the suspects. Maleng's office
declined to bring charges, citing "some conflicting witness statements."
Now, in the Stevens case, Maleng announced: "We have concluded that there is insufficient evidence."
His office would not be bringing charges.
The memory loss suffered by the accuser complicated the investigation, Maleng said. To prove rape, prosecutors
needed to show that Marie had been physically helpless or mentally incapable of consent. The evidence showed
neither, Maleng said.
After the announcement, Stevens thanked his teammates for their support. Neuheisel, the head coach, had told
Stevens beforehand that a felony charge would mean an indefinite suspension. Now, Neuheisel said, "My general
feeling is one of relief."
Parker, the police detective who handled the case, recently said:
"I thought he should have been charged. I think most people in the Police Department thought he should have been
charged. From the police perspective, I think there was overwhelming evidence that a crime had occurred. And then
I think we should have left it to a jury to decide.
"I think we just felt, in our unit and in the Police Department as a whole, that this case was handled differently. And
we felt it was because he was a University of Washington football star."
Larson, the head of the county prosecutor's criminal division, said he believes prosecutors made the right call. "We
have no doubt she was pretty drunk that night. Real drunk," he said. But proving helplessness was another matter.
Any suggestion, he said, that Stevens escaped charges because he played football "is outrageous and untrue."
When prosecutors decide not to charge someone, they typically write a "decline" letter to police, explaining their
reasons. The decline letter in the Stevens case, labeled "confidential," included some damning language that never
made it into Maleng's news conference.
"It seems highly unlikely that the victim would have consented to anal intercourse with the suspect in a fraternity
alley," the letter said.
But, the letter added, jurors "could find reasonable doubt."
The case hinged on Marie's mental and physical state — and whether she was capable of consenting to sex.
The decline letter says an eyewitness who called 911 to report a possible rape in progress described Marie as
"conscious and standing." But, according to police reports, he also described her as "half passed out against a
building ... like she was drugged or drunk."
The decline letter says Marie's friends "describe her as standing, making limited conversation, and making
decisions." But, according to police reports, her friends described her as "unable to keep her balance," having
"slurred speech" and "acting like she was drugged." One friend told police: "She couldn't really talk or stand."
The decline letter says: "None of her friends appeared afraid for her welfare." But, according to police reports, one
friend tried to take away her keys. Two others drove her home. Marie's sorority was nearby, but she was unfit to
walk, one friend told police.
The prosecutors' decision not to charge Stevens "devastated" Marie, Parker said. She "did not feel supported by
the prosecutor's office at all."
On Oct. 25, one day after Maleng announced that Stevens would not be charged with rape, a state trooper wrapped
up her investigation of the collision on Interstate 5.
She now knew the driver of Unit 1 was Jerramy Stevens — the UW football player who was all over the news.
In Washington, a driver involved in an accident must remain at the scene; provide his name, address and insurance
information; and, if someone's hurt, try to help. Failure to do so amounts to hit-and-run. If the accident results in
death or injury, fleeing is a felony. If only damage results, it's a gross misdemeanor.
But Stevens wasn't charged with any crime. Instead, the trooper wrote Stevens a ticket. Cited for driving too fast for
conditions, Stevens paid a $119 fine.
Donald Preston, the driver of the car that Stevens hit, recently said: "I thought it was pretty typical. If it would have
been myself, and I'm not a sports figure, I would have been put in jail."
On Jan. 1, 2001, the UW beat Purdue in the Rose Bowl, 34-24.
"They took their place among the greatest of Washington teams on a blue, balmy, postcard day," The Seattle Times
wrote.
Stevens led the Huskies with five catches. Afterward, he ran around the field with a rose in his mouth.
With 43 receptions in all, Stevens had put together the finest season of any tight end in school history. Football
News and Gannett News Service named him a second-team All-American.
The Huskies finished the season 11-1 and were ranked No. 3 in the country.
Contributions to the football program jumped from $5.4 million in 2000 to $6.9 million in 2001. Ticket sales jumped
from $10.9 million to $11.9 million.
In donations and tickets, the football team made an extra $2.5 million coming off its Rose Bowl year.
There's no telling how much the football team's success drove other donations to the UW — ones not earmarked for
athletics. University presidents like to talk football while raising money — at least they do when the football team is
winning.
In 1998 — the year before Neuheisel arrived — the football team went 6-6 and brought in $23.7 million in ticket
sales, donations and other revenue.
Under Neuheisel, the team put together four winning seasons. By the end, its revenue had jumped to $30.9 million a
year.
When Neuheisel departed, the team went 6-6 again. Its revenue dipped by $2.3 million.
Four months after the Rose Bowl — on May 4, 2001, at a little before 1 a.m. — Stevens slammed the red Toyota
pickup into the side of a retirement home, knocking a dresser onto a bed where a 92-year-old woman was sleeping.
His truck was stuck, so he used his school textbooks for traction, putting them under the tires. Then he drove off —
but not before a 72-year-old man took down his license plate.
Stevens lied to police, saying he didn't know who had been driving the truck. Caught in the lie, he apologized.
Hunsinger, called at home in the wee hours, agreed to defend Stevens. Neuheisel, in San Diego playing golf, issued
a statement saying he'd address the team on the need to make good decisions.
A month later, Stevens pleaded guilty to hit-and-run and received a 90-day jail sentence, suspended on condition
that he stay out of trouble. Stevens' parents took the truck's keys away from him. Neuheisel suspended Stevens
from the first half of that season's opening game. Stevens said afterward: "It was hard sitting the first half."
Stevens has learned his lesson, Neuheisel said.
Stevens announced in January 2002 that he would go pro, leaving school a year early. The Seattle Seahawks
drafted him in the first round. His coaches at the UW vouched for him, said Mike Holmgren, the Seahawks coach.
"People make mistakes," Holmgren told reporters. "I really trust that everything is behind him. ... I think the longer I'm
with this decision, I'll just feel better and better about it."
Stevens promised his parents he would still get his degree. And Seahawks media guides say he did. Stevens called
graduation the best day of his life, saying: "I graduated from college, got my new Range Rover and moved into my
new house. All in the same day."
Stevens did get a new SUV and a top-floor condominium in Bellevue — but he left the UW without ever getting a
bachelor's degree.
A month after Stevens got his Range Rover, a trooper ticketed him for going 98 mph.
Stevens signed a five-year, $6.2 million contract with the Seahawks that required him to repay $300,000 if he got
into trouble. No problem, Stevens said. He blamed his past on alcohol and said he'd quit drinking.
Three months later a trooper pulled Stevens over after he veered into oncoming traffic. Stevens, who had alcohol
on his breath, blew a 0.051 — below the legal limit of 0.08. He was cited for negligent driving and paid a $490 fine.
In April 2003, a Medina police officer pulled Stevens over. Two open champagne bottles were in Stevens' SUV. Have
you been drinking? the officer asked. No, Steven