CBUS_SOONER
5/9/2011, 06:40 PM
May 9, 2011
Buckeye fans can't wait for this difficult off-season to finally end. For more college football, go to FOXSports.com's NCAA page.
Hooley: Stay out of it
Mailbag: Jim Tressel edition
Big Ten commish distancing himself from Tressel
Buckeyes standing by their coach
Ohio State unlikely to dismiss Tressel
Recapping the Scarlet and Gray game
Buckeyes looking to fill holes during scrimmage
A free ride to play football at Ohio State is supposed to afford the recipient a quality education, an inside lane to a conference championship and an avenue to an NFL career.
It’s not supposed to give players a literal free ride when it comes to a low-mileage used car — at least not if the Ohio State football program is doing things the right way.
Of course, the jury has been out on that since the revelation in March that head coach Jim Tressel knew 13 months ago about Terrelle Pryor and DeVier Posey receiving free tattoos and cash for selling memorabilia in violation of NCAA rules but kept that knowledge hidden from the university and the NCAA.
Now the hot seat on which Tressel squirms while he awaits an Aug. 12 hearing before the NCAA Committee on Infractions burns all the way to the other end of the spectrum.
Instead of just answering for what he knew and didn’t tell about Tattoogate, Tressel will undoubtedly face a barrage of questions about what he didn’t know and why he didn’t know it regarding his players’ used-car salesman of choice.
The Columbus Dispatch reported Saturday that the same guy who gave Pryor an SUV for a free test drive home to Pennsylvania and back has sold cars to four dozen Ohio State athletes and their relatives.
One of those sales included a 2009 Chrysler 300M with less than 20,000 miles to then-sophomore linebacker Thaddeus Gibson.
The price on the title? Zero dollars.
Ohio State’s football players park in a gated, key-card access lot at the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, as do the coaches — of which there are 29 full-time, part-time, volunteer, graduate assistant and assorted other varieties profiled on Ohio State’s official football website.
Twenty-nine coaches to police the vehicle preferences of 85 scholarship players seems like a manageable ratio, particularly when you throw in the additional nine full-time compliance department employees Ohio State has to make sure athletes abide by NCAA rules.
But no one in that department apparently saw anything worrisome when a single used-car salesman, Aaron Kniffin, and the owner of one of the two dealerships where he worked, showed up on the free-pass list for Ohio State football players seven times, including for the 2007 BCS Championship Game and the 2009 Fiesta Bowl.
Consider that every scholarship athlete in every sport at Ohio State must file paperwork with the compliance department stating what they drive, where they purchased it and how they financed it.
It’s a great system, provided someone reads the paperwork.
Ohio State finally got around to that with Kniffin and his employer sometime after the 2008 season, when it barred them from attending on the players’ pass list because school rules prohibit players giving tickets to anyone they do business with.
Yet this is how The Dispatch quoted Ohio State compliance director Doug Archie: “I have nothing to believe a violation has occurred.”
Really? Nothing?
Sounds like Archie has a little Jughead in him.
To review: It’s against Ohio State rules for players to give tickets to someone they do business with, and the car guys received tickets to seven games, but there’s “nothing to believe a violation has occurred.“
The dealership owner, Jason Goss, told The Dispatch his tickets came from athletes who never bought cars from him.
Goss’ dealership is festooned with autographed jerseys from notable Buckeyes players, including Pryor, Posey and Daniel Herron, another of the suspended players from the Tattoogate caper. Autographs from other players are scribbled on the walls of the dealership.
Last July, Ohio State received an anonymous tip that employees at Goss’ dealership were giving players the use of cars in exchange for memorabilia.
This was around the time Pryor received his second and third speeding tickets driving a vehicle different than the one Kniffin supplied for the quarterback to drive home to Pennsylvania free of charge.
Archie, probably with help from Barney Fife, looked into it and pronounced it all kosher. After all, there is “nothing to believe a violation has occurred.“
It should come as no surprise that Archie has, in the past, also pronounced the relationship between Pryor and Ted Sarniak completely above board.
Sarniak is the 67-year-old glass-factory owner in Pryor’s hometown who accompanied the quarterback on his recruiting visit to Ohio State and whom Tressel emailed immediately after learning of Pryor’s NCAA violations at the tattoo parlor.
Maybe all of this is just so much more smoke on the already blazing inferno of Tressel's lying to the NCAA and Ohio State, cheating by playing ineligible players and covering it up by saying nothing until confronted by the school in January.
But at some point, Ohio State’s administration must choose which reality it will embrace.
One option is to stand by Tressel and realize that whatever is accomplished going forward — perhaps against harsh NCAA sanctions — will be dismissed as the byproduct of a rampantly rogue program.
The second option is to fire Tressel or force his resignation and deal with the militantly-myopic portion of the fan base that cares more about the football team’s future than it does the university’s reputation.
They fear Tressel's exit would end the wild success that has marked his 10-year tenure, as if he is the man who invented winning at Ohio State, not the steward of a tradition that pre-dated his arrival by more than 50 years and will likely extend well into the future.
Tressel has endeared himself to his defenders not just by winning, and not solely via his many laudable charitable endeavors, but by all the accents to his image that built a bulletproof reputation until only recently.
The vocal minority remains all in with him because of the sweater vest, the flag pin on his lapel, the dutiful homage he pays to the education of his players and the alma mater he has them sing in the south end zone after every home game.
A portion of the lyrics to that song, Carmen Ohio, go like this:
“We should strive to keep they name,
“Of fair repute and spotless fame . . .“
As a letter-writer to The Dispatch pointed out Sunday, those lines are in the song’s second verse.
Tressel and his players, of course, sing only the first.
Email [email protected]
Follow Bruce on Twitter @BHOOLZ
Tags: Ohio State football, Bruce Hooley
Buckeye fans can't wait for this difficult off-season to finally end. For more college football, go to FOXSports.com's NCAA page.
Hooley: Stay out of it
Mailbag: Jim Tressel edition
Big Ten commish distancing himself from Tressel
Buckeyes standing by their coach
Ohio State unlikely to dismiss Tressel
Recapping the Scarlet and Gray game
Buckeyes looking to fill holes during scrimmage
A free ride to play football at Ohio State is supposed to afford the recipient a quality education, an inside lane to a conference championship and an avenue to an NFL career.
It’s not supposed to give players a literal free ride when it comes to a low-mileage used car — at least not if the Ohio State football program is doing things the right way.
Of course, the jury has been out on that since the revelation in March that head coach Jim Tressel knew 13 months ago about Terrelle Pryor and DeVier Posey receiving free tattoos and cash for selling memorabilia in violation of NCAA rules but kept that knowledge hidden from the university and the NCAA.
Now the hot seat on which Tressel squirms while he awaits an Aug. 12 hearing before the NCAA Committee on Infractions burns all the way to the other end of the spectrum.
Instead of just answering for what he knew and didn’t tell about Tattoogate, Tressel will undoubtedly face a barrage of questions about what he didn’t know and why he didn’t know it regarding his players’ used-car salesman of choice.
The Columbus Dispatch reported Saturday that the same guy who gave Pryor an SUV for a free test drive home to Pennsylvania and back has sold cars to four dozen Ohio State athletes and their relatives.
One of those sales included a 2009 Chrysler 300M with less than 20,000 miles to then-sophomore linebacker Thaddeus Gibson.
The price on the title? Zero dollars.
Ohio State’s football players park in a gated, key-card access lot at the Woody Hayes Athletic Center, as do the coaches — of which there are 29 full-time, part-time, volunteer, graduate assistant and assorted other varieties profiled on Ohio State’s official football website.
Twenty-nine coaches to police the vehicle preferences of 85 scholarship players seems like a manageable ratio, particularly when you throw in the additional nine full-time compliance department employees Ohio State has to make sure athletes abide by NCAA rules.
But no one in that department apparently saw anything worrisome when a single used-car salesman, Aaron Kniffin, and the owner of one of the two dealerships where he worked, showed up on the free-pass list for Ohio State football players seven times, including for the 2007 BCS Championship Game and the 2009 Fiesta Bowl.
Consider that every scholarship athlete in every sport at Ohio State must file paperwork with the compliance department stating what they drive, where they purchased it and how they financed it.
It’s a great system, provided someone reads the paperwork.
Ohio State finally got around to that with Kniffin and his employer sometime after the 2008 season, when it barred them from attending on the players’ pass list because school rules prohibit players giving tickets to anyone they do business with.
Yet this is how The Dispatch quoted Ohio State compliance director Doug Archie: “I have nothing to believe a violation has occurred.”
Really? Nothing?
Sounds like Archie has a little Jughead in him.
To review: It’s against Ohio State rules for players to give tickets to someone they do business with, and the car guys received tickets to seven games, but there’s “nothing to believe a violation has occurred.“
The dealership owner, Jason Goss, told The Dispatch his tickets came from athletes who never bought cars from him.
Goss’ dealership is festooned with autographed jerseys from notable Buckeyes players, including Pryor, Posey and Daniel Herron, another of the suspended players from the Tattoogate caper. Autographs from other players are scribbled on the walls of the dealership.
Last July, Ohio State received an anonymous tip that employees at Goss’ dealership were giving players the use of cars in exchange for memorabilia.
This was around the time Pryor received his second and third speeding tickets driving a vehicle different than the one Kniffin supplied for the quarterback to drive home to Pennsylvania free of charge.
Archie, probably with help from Barney Fife, looked into it and pronounced it all kosher. After all, there is “nothing to believe a violation has occurred.“
It should come as no surprise that Archie has, in the past, also pronounced the relationship between Pryor and Ted Sarniak completely above board.
Sarniak is the 67-year-old glass-factory owner in Pryor’s hometown who accompanied the quarterback on his recruiting visit to Ohio State and whom Tressel emailed immediately after learning of Pryor’s NCAA violations at the tattoo parlor.
Maybe all of this is just so much more smoke on the already blazing inferno of Tressel's lying to the NCAA and Ohio State, cheating by playing ineligible players and covering it up by saying nothing until confronted by the school in January.
But at some point, Ohio State’s administration must choose which reality it will embrace.
One option is to stand by Tressel and realize that whatever is accomplished going forward — perhaps against harsh NCAA sanctions — will be dismissed as the byproduct of a rampantly rogue program.
The second option is to fire Tressel or force his resignation and deal with the militantly-myopic portion of the fan base that cares more about the football team’s future than it does the university’s reputation.
They fear Tressel's exit would end the wild success that has marked his 10-year tenure, as if he is the man who invented winning at Ohio State, not the steward of a tradition that pre-dated his arrival by more than 50 years and will likely extend well into the future.
Tressel has endeared himself to his defenders not just by winning, and not solely via his many laudable charitable endeavors, but by all the accents to his image that built a bulletproof reputation until only recently.
The vocal minority remains all in with him because of the sweater vest, the flag pin on his lapel, the dutiful homage he pays to the education of his players and the alma mater he has them sing in the south end zone after every home game.
A portion of the lyrics to that song, Carmen Ohio, go like this:
“We should strive to keep they name,
“Of fair repute and spotless fame . . .“
As a letter-writer to The Dispatch pointed out Sunday, those lines are in the song’s second verse.
Tressel and his players, of course, sing only the first.
Email [email protected]
Follow Bruce on Twitter @BHOOLZ
Tags: Ohio State football, Bruce Hooley