Head Case

Was Mike Leach’s spectacular implosion at Texas Tech the result of his mistreatment of a player who had a concussion? The meddling of ESPN commentator Craig James on behalf of his son? Part of the “wussification” of football? Or was the quirky personality and enormous ego that made Leach one of the most popular coaches in the country the exact thing that caused his downfall?

by S. C. Gwynne

April 2010

On December 30, 2009, three days before Texas Tech was to play in the Alamo Bowl, the university fired its popular head football coach, Mike Leach. The stated reason: He had mistreated an injured player and then refused, in effect, to admit that he had done anything wrong. The news shocked Red Raiders fans, not just because they were losing their beloved coach but because, right up until the moment he had been suspended and, two days later, fired, there was no hint of trouble. To them he was the winningest football coach in the history of the school, a man whose team routinely led the nation in offense and in 2008 made an electrifying run at a national championship. He had recently signed a generous five-year contract. Leach’s program was, moreover, squeaky-clean. His players had the highest graduation rate of any public university in the country and the eighth-highest of any Division I college. Leach seemed the antithesis of an abusive coach. He was a law school graduate who surfed and studied history and impressed recruits by doing card tricks and telling pirate stories. He had put Lubbock on the map in a way no one, not even Buddy Holly, ever had.

And then, suddenly, he was gone. That alone would have been enough to send die-hard Tech fans into a frenzy. But Leach’s downfall seemed to have been engineered by a single person: Craig James, a prominent ESPN commentator who had been a football star at Southern Methodist University and with the New England Patriots. Eleven days before Leach was fired, James had complained to university officials that the coach had punished his son Adam, a sophomore receiver, after Adam had reported suffering a concussion.

Leach versus James quickly spun into a full-scale national media storm, fueled by a public fight between two of the sport’s biggest names about a red-hot medical issue. Both men took to the airwaves to accuse the other of lying. ESPN featured a parade of commentators condemning Leach. Enraged Leach fans, who believed the network was biased, countered by burying it in an avalanche of 4,700 protest letters and e-mails. In the absence of ready explanations, a narrative soon emerged among the Leach crowd to account for what had happened. Adam had complained to his father because he was a spoiled brat who blamed his problems on everyone else. Craig, the ultimate “helicopter” dad, had persuaded Tech officials to fire their coach. Much of the electronic chatter was driven by the raw and often bitter emotions of fans who believed that Leach was the one who had been treated unfairly.

But there were forces beyond mere celebrity driving the story. The fact that Adam James’s injury was a concussion, for example, was significant. In the months leading up to Leach’s firing, new research had shown how much more dangerous concussions were than had previously been thought. Congressional hearings had been held; the NFL, which had long denied that concussions resulted in eventual dementia, disability, and death, had done an abrupt about-face. Attitudes about concussions, especially in the contact sports, were changing with startling speed, even as the Leach affair was unfolding.

Leach, meanwhile, has not gone gently into the night. In January he sued his former employer for breach of contract and defamation. He has moved his family to Key West, where he awaits a judge-ordered mediation that will resume in Lubbock this month. He is, according to his own lawsuit, unhirable, which undoubtedly gives him plenty of time to think about the strange sequence of events that has landed him on a beach in South Florida.

The controversy over Leach’s firing was so fierce, so rife with rumor, hearsay, and wild speculation, that it has often been difficult to understand what caused the tempest in the first place. It is thus helpful to review the basic, unembellished and unlawyered facts.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 17: Adam James tells the team’s physician, Dr. Michael Phy, that at practice the previous evening, he suffered an injury to his head and neck. Phy determines that James has “at least a mild concussion.” He tells James and trainer Steve Pincock that James should not participate in any physical activity and orders that he be reevaluated in a few days.

Later that day, James reports to practice, where he is told to “walk the field.” He goes only a short distance before Leach sees him and asks Pincock what James is doing. Pincock tells him that James has a concussion. Leach is upset about James’s “appearance and attitude.” James is not in pads, is wearing sunglasses, and has a baseball cap on backward. Leach asks why James has sunglasses on. Pincock says that, because of the concussion, he is sensitive to light. Leach then tells Pincock to put James in a dark place nearby, saying he does not want him “loafing” around the practice field. He tells Pincock to “lock his f—ing p—y ass in a place so dark that the only way he knows he has a d—k is to reach down and touch it,” which Pincock repeats to James.

Pincock places James in a windowless, unheated portable equipment shed about the size of a one-car garage. James is ordered to stand, in total darkness, for the duration of practice, approximately two hours. Leach also assigns a student trainer to check on James and to make sure that he does not sit or lie down.

From inside the shed, James sends this text message to his father: “You’re gonna like this. I got a concussion yesterday at practice so I can’t practice today. Leach thinks it’s impossible for me to have one and I’m just being a p—y. So for punishment he has locked me in a pitch black shed for the whole practice.” His father and his mother, Marilyn, are upset by this news, but Adam tells them that he does not want them to take any action, and they agree. Craig James advises his son to “hang in there, stay the course.”

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 18: The team has the day off, but James reports to Pincock, telling him that he has symptoms that include headache, dizziness, sensitivity to light and noise, and fatigue.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19: James, who has not been cleared by Phy to engage in physical activity, shows up for practice. This time Leach orders Pincock to place him in an empty, windowless room used for media interviews and to have him stand in darkness. Again, a student trainer is placed outside the room.

That night Craig and Marilyn are eating dinner at their home in Celina, about 35 miles north of downtown Dallas, when Adam calls to tell them what happened. They are “stunned” that Adam was confined for a second day. Craig asks Adam if he is willing to make a formal complaint to university officials. This time Adam agrees.

Craig then calls Larry Anders, the chairman of the Texas Tech Board of Regents, to tell him what has happened and to ask Anders to pass a message to Chancellor Kent Hance: This treatment has to stop. Hance calls Leach that night and makes the same request. During that conversation, Leach expresses anger toward Craig for what he says is Craig’s frequent interference on behalf of his son.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20: Hance calls Craig and pledges to conduct a full investigation, which begins immediately. At practice that day, Adam is sent to the training room, where he pedals an exercise bike in a dimly lit room.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 22: Hance tells Leach that he has held a conference call with some members of the board of regents and the administration and that they are split over whether to fire him or take disciplinary action. Hance asks for a letter of apology from Leach. Leach heatedly denies that he has done anything wrong and refuses.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 26: Leach meets with Texas Tech president Guy Bailey and athletic director Gerald Myers, who ask him to sign a letter that reads, in part, “You must at all times assure the fair and responsible treatment of student athletes in relation to their health, welfare and discipline, and if you are not doing so, you must immediately cease any actions not in compliance with this provision of your contract.” Leach again refuses.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 28: Texas Tech suspends Leach.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 29: Leach asks a judge for a restraining order that would allow him to coach in the Alamo Bowl, on January 2.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 30: Bailey fires Leach for mistreating a player and for refusing, “in a defiant act of insubordination,” to cooperate in resolving the complaint. Leach prepares to file a lawsuit against Tech, in which he categorically denies that he is guilty of either charge.

Red Raider nation goes berserk.

In the days that followed Leach’s dismissal, two views of what had happened—utterly opposed and completely irreconcilable—emerged. The first was Leach’s own. In a half-hour interview on ESPN on December 31, he insisted that his treatment of Adam James had been appropriate to the injury: He had put James in darkness because of his sensitivity to light. James had been given water, had not been made to do any physical activity, and had been checked on by a trainer. In Leach’s version, his firing had everything to do with a spoiled, “entitled” player; a powerful, meddling father; and certain Texas Tech regents and officials who were stabbing Leach in the back.

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