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John Chaney should make gracfeul exit
She writes John Chaney went to the Final Four five times. Chaney never got his team to even one Final Four. I have never been a fan of hers.
Paola Boivin
The Arizona Republic
Mar. 8, 2005 12:00 AM
When the Atlantic 10 Tournament opens Wednesday, Temple will be there without coach John Chaney, whose self-imposed absence reeks of saving hide, not face.
In the 14 days since he ordered the hard fouls that led to the broken arm of Saint Joseph's forward John Bryant, a debate has raged about whether the incident should shape, and end, Chaney's career.
"What he did was disgusting," one observer said Monday. "Of all the years I've been involved in coaching, all the way back to the forties, I've never heard of a coach taking somebody out. You can talk about gang tackling and blocking hard and all that. But this? It's inexcusable to take advantage of your position like that."
If this debate needs an authoritative voice, there it is: Frank Kush. A single incident ended Kush's highly regarded coaching career, and if there's something Chaney can learn from Kush, it's that time can help restore a legacy.
Which is why Chaney should resign.
He should bow out gracefully and not force an administration to make a decision that will be criticized either way.
He should say, "I made a mistake. I've had a great career, but I've abused my position as a coach and I will leave so people can remember the good I've done instead of reflecting on the incident every time I step on the court."
People forgive. Kush was fired in 1979 in the wake of a lawsuit filed by Arizona State punter Kevin Rutledge, who alleged Kush punched him in the face during a 1978 game against Washington. The university let Kush go, not because of the punch, but for trying to cover up the incident.
Now the campus is a veritable shrine to the former coach. There's Frank Kush Field inside Sun Devil Stadium. There's a bronze statue of him in the plaza near the athletic offices. He's a university employee, for Pete's sake.
Chaney, too, will be remembered for his greatness - his five Final Four appearances, his 700-plus victories, his ability to keep impressionable young athletes on the straight and narrow. But the more he prolongs this debate, the longer it will take.
People are shaped by their childhoods. I understand and respect that.
Kush, 76, was raised in an environment in which discipline and survival were the dominant themes. He had 14 brothers and sisters and lived in a Pennsylvania home with no electricity. He shared a bed with five brothers. His father, who died at 50 of miner's asthma, beat his sons often.
Kush took his life lessons and became a coach, and the physical and mental demands he put on his players made him the most successful football coach in ASU history. It also pushed him over the edge at times.
Chaney, 73, is from the same generation. He spent his early years in Jacksonville, Fla., living in a housing project known as Black Bottom. His family was poor, and Chaney learned daily lessons about racism, from the separate water fountains to the attitudes that set back his playing career. His experiences fueled a tough-love personality that he uses to convince his players, as he once said, "that they can always be winners." That mentality has pushed him over the edge, too.
That doesn't need to be his legacy. He should step down now, and let the healing begin.
Reach Boivin at [email protected] or (602) 444-8956.
__________________
She writes John Chaney went to the Final Four five times. Chaney never got his team to even one Final Four. I have never been a fan of hers.
Paola Boivin
The Arizona Republic
Mar. 8, 2005 12:00 AM
When the Atlantic 10 Tournament opens Wednesday, Temple will be there without coach John Chaney, whose self-imposed absence reeks of saving hide, not face.
In the 14 days since he ordered the hard fouls that led to the broken arm of Saint Joseph's forward John Bryant, a debate has raged about whether the incident should shape, and end, Chaney's career.
"What he did was disgusting," one observer said Monday. "Of all the years I've been involved in coaching, all the way back to the forties, I've never heard of a coach taking somebody out. You can talk about gang tackling and blocking hard and all that. But this? It's inexcusable to take advantage of your position like that."
If this debate needs an authoritative voice, there it is: Frank Kush. A single incident ended Kush's highly regarded coaching career, and if there's something Chaney can learn from Kush, it's that time can help restore a legacy.
Which is why Chaney should resign.
He should bow out gracefully and not force an administration to make a decision that will be criticized either way.
He should say, "I made a mistake. I've had a great career, but I've abused my position as a coach and I will leave so people can remember the good I've done instead of reflecting on the incident every time I step on the court."
People forgive. Kush was fired in 1979 in the wake of a lawsuit filed by Arizona State punter Kevin Rutledge, who alleged Kush punched him in the face during a 1978 game against Washington. The university let Kush go, not because of the punch, but for trying to cover up the incident.
Now the campus is a veritable shrine to the former coach. There's Frank Kush Field inside Sun Devil Stadium. There's a bronze statue of him in the plaza near the athletic offices. He's a university employee, for Pete's sake.
Chaney, too, will be remembered for his greatness - his five Final Four appearances, his 700-plus victories, his ability to keep impressionable young athletes on the straight and narrow. But the more he prolongs this debate, the longer it will take.
People are shaped by their childhoods. I understand and respect that.
Kush, 76, was raised in an environment in which discipline and survival were the dominant themes. He had 14 brothers and sisters and lived in a Pennsylvania home with no electricity. He shared a bed with five brothers. His father, who died at 50 of miner's asthma, beat his sons often.
Kush took his life lessons and became a coach, and the physical and mental demands he put on his players made him the most successful football coach in ASU history. It also pushed him over the edge at times.
Chaney, 73, is from the same generation. He spent his early years in Jacksonville, Fla., living in a housing project known as Black Bottom. His family was poor, and Chaney learned daily lessons about racism, from the separate water fountains to the attitudes that set back his playing career. His experiences fueled a tough-love personality that he uses to convince his players, as he once said, "that they can always be winners." That mentality has pushed him over the edge, too.
That doesn't need to be his legacy. He should step down now, and let the healing begin.
Reach Boivin at [email protected] or (602) 444-8956.
__________________
