Its image is even more tarnished than before, no matter the face it chooses to wear. This might seem inconceivable after its countless seasons of futility, but the search for Bill Foster’s successor did even further damage to Northwestern’s basketball image.
Just traipse back to last Saturday, 48 hours before Ricky Byrdsong was unveiled as its coach, and listen to some of the coaches gathered at Moody Bible for Team USA tryouts. They constantly raised questions about Northwestern, and each revealed just how low the school has fallen in the basketball world.
If you came in and did a fantastic job, began one, where do you finish in the Big 10? “Eighth or ninth,” answered the coach who posed that question.
Tell me this, went another. Penn State just had a season as bad as Northwestern’s, but if its job were open, how many guys do you think would be lined up trying to get it? “Something like 200,” answered the coach who posed that question.
Northwestern, in contrast, was jilted by two candidates it actively sought, and rebuffed by others in the preliminary stages. And as its search dragged on, the talk began, and here rose those serious blemishes Byrdsong now must try to eradicate.
Understand. Even though Northwestern went after Foster’s successor with all the stealth of the CIA, there are few secrets in this little slice of the universe. Coaches talk and share information constantly, and that is just what they did as the school’s search continued.
By the time of Byrdsong’s hiring, impressions were fully formed, and here is where Northwestern picked up those new warts it surely did not need. “They think they’re just a step away from doing great things in the Big 10,” is what one coach said in amazement.
“They live in a little glass house,” said another.
“If they’re serious about trying to get it done and get out of where they are,” said a third, “they’re sure not giving the right signals.”
It surely did not give the right signals to Tommy Amaker, the young Duke assistant who was the first to reject Northwestern. Even now, he refuses to discuss his dealings with the school. But others have, and the portrait of Northwestern they present is highlighted by ignorance and arrogance.
Amaker, remember, dearly wanted the Northwestern job, always defined it as the one that could entice him away from Duke. He was excited when it called, and eager when he arrived in Evanston for his interview. Yet, in the end, he turned away.
Any number of factors concerned him, and these reveal just why Northwestern’s image is in such tatters. Consider:
– The contract package proffered him was a bit less than $200,000. Because this would have left him the lowest-paid coach in the Big 10 by far, it hardly signaled the school was serious about finding a top gun.
– The question of special admits was addressed only perfunctorily. Duke and Stanford, schools to which Northwestern likes to compare itself, routinely accept athletes who promise to succeed academically despite modest college board scores. But here it proposed only to work with Amaker on this issue, and did not offer to make it a concrete part of his package.
– More than one who appeared before Northwestern’s search committee sensed a lack of trust between the school’s athletic and academic sides. This atmosphere contrasts sharply to that at Duke, where all work toward a common goal, and is just the reason an issue like special admits should have been settled in writing.
All of that was enough to scare away candidates who desired nothing more than the possibility of success. They did not want Northwestern to prostitute its academic standards, nor did they want it to turn itself into some kind of basketball factory. They merely wanted it to recognize reality, and when it didn’t, they questioned just how serious it was about fully resurrecting its basketball program.
That question alone eroded its credibility, and then it embarrassed itself even further in its endgame with Amaker. A truism of any recruitment process is that you woo the significant other of your target, and that was especially necessary in his case. Amaker’s wife, Stephanie, has a thriving psychiatric practice down in Durham.
Northwestern most certainly has some psychiatrists among its alums, and she should have been hooked up with them, should have been courted by them. “But you know what they did with her?” says one of their friends in disbelief. “They gave her the tea-and-crumpets routine.”
And what did Northwestern do after Amaker said no?
Amazingly, it called back down to Duke and asked if Mike Brey-another Blue Devil assistant-would be interested in its vacant job.
Brey said no, and two more weeks would pass before Byrdsong said yes. He is amiable, cooperative, clearly courageous, the kind of coach who deserves success. But the program he now takes over is in desperate need of a rehab, and one only can wonder how many recruits will join him on that job.
“Its image puts a major hurdle in front of recruiting,” Byrdsong admitted early last week. And now Northwestern’s basketball image is even more tarnished than before, no matter its face.
