A Slice of Bacon

When I first unpacked all my bags at the University of Arizona in 2002, I knew few things, but one of those things was that Arizona was a basketball school and only a basketball school. Lute Olson, Jason Gardner, Luke Walton … these were the kings of this city, and that was who you rooted for when you signed your checks over to the U of A. 

But little did I know that the football games could be this much fun. Sure, I’d been to some pro games before and a few big college games, but to be at your own school, dressed in your own garb, it was exciting. Sadly, the football team was anything but. You went because it was the thing to do on Saturdays, and you left early because the team was constantly getting blown out. And then our coaches started to change. And we’d have random players show up and transfer. And you’d have those games that would show just enough promise that you’d get reeled in and then the next three weeks would be blowouts and you’d shake your head and wake up, much like a Sunday at McCarron seems to do to people. 

So when Arizona decided to bring in Mike Stoops, the hype began (I actually still own a faded ‘I Like Mike’ shirt, playing off the old Eisenhower push in the ’50s). And we waited. And waited. And waited. And figured things would change this time for real. It was almost like that relationship you keep finding yourself in again, and you’re promised things are going to change this time, and you start to believe it, and you’re hooked, and then you get burned, only to find yourself back in that carousel eight months later. 

That was the Stoops era. A bunch of broken promises and nights spent shaking your head, wondering why the hell you spent so much time invested in something that was doomed to fail. 

And it’s time for him to go. Like, right now. Today. We’re done. 

The reason it’s so frustrating to me is the Wildcats are all I have. I don’t live and die by any NFL team, and basketball is just the sport I like to see, not cheer. Nothing in baseball gets my hear pumping, but with the University of Arizona, the place I lived out my college days, the passion flows freely. 

But it’s embarrassing. The Wildcats are not good, and haven’t really showed signs of being good. Yes, we won a bowl game a few years back and everyone was excited, some because of the win, mostly because it was in Las Vegas. And yes, the team started out great a year ago, but their schedule started off like the in-the-air part of the seesaw, only getting harder and harder as the season progressed, which we showed by dropping our last five games. 

And the team just isn’t fun. No big plays, no incredible defensive stops, no imagination. Screen passes still make up a lot of our offensive playbook, and Stoops sits on the sidelines mostly chewing on the ears of the officials. It seems whatever situation presents itself, we always pick the wrong side of it (like not kicking the field goal in the Saturday loss to Oregon State with three minutes left, at least making it a one possession game instead of putting a quarterback who is miserable in the red zone again with the ball in the red zone, and ohbytheway, sticking with a kicker that has missed 18 extra points in three seasons … what, you can’t go to the club soccer team and find a kid that can boot a football 18 yards?). 

The Cubs we aren’t, but that can’t stop us from wanting what they want. To be relevant. To be successful. To be respected. To be anything. 

The thing that gets me so fired up is the fact that recruiting to Arizona shouldn’t be hard. It shouldn’t. No, the banners don’t fly freely like at Ohio State or Oklahoma, but it’s a beautiful place to live in a nice climate with beautiful, beautiful girls roaming the campus with their only worry being Dirtbags or Championship on Thursday night. If you’re a big-time athlete on campus, you’re the king of Tucson, because it isn’t competing with anything else in the city. It’s the Wildcats, and nothing else, and unlike Tempe or Los Angeles or Seattle, Tucson has no professional sports and likes it that way. Go Arizona, and forget about all the rest. 

And Stoops just isn’t the answer. I have no idea what I think of the guy, but I know he doesn’t need to be the head coach anymore. He doesn’t breath “leader” like a lot of the other guys in charge of 80 college kids, and his antics on the sideline are a little too childish for my liking. Yes, every coach gets heated, but to do it constantly gets old, and he’s been dancing that dance for seven straight seasons.

A fellow Wildcat friend of mine sent me a message today asking why I let it get to me so much. “I stopped caring five years ago,” he told me. But this is what being a fan is all about. Caring. Wanting. Wishing. Hoping. With Stoops, I get none of those, and it’s time for all that to change. 

I was once told “if you have to ask if you’re clutch, you’re not clutch,” and it’s something I think about a lot when I watch sports. Stoops is one of those guys that needs to ask. It’s time to find someone that just knows.