I have no connection to the University of Michigan. Good friends of mine had a daughter who was a cheerleader there, but that’s about it. I don’t root for the Wolverines in any particular way, although I do like their maize-and-blue uniforms with the winged, striped helmets and the Big House is … well, one of college football’s biggest houses, a special place worth visiting on a Saturday autumn afternoon if you’ve never been there.
None of that matters. But what does matter is who Big Blue has as its head coach. With the ridiculousness of what allegedly has taken place there — before and after the firing of Sherrone Moore — a proud football team needs rearrangement, needs help, needs a coach who runs a clean program, who knows how to win, who has a stellar track record, who favors a punch-you-in-the-mug style, who emphasizes a stout defense and a strong run game, and who has the gravitas that 21 years as a head coach at a major school brings.
Hmm. Anybody come to mind?
Kyle Whittingham comes to mind.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.
Before you say Whittingham has no desire to keep on coaching, that’s why he’s stepping down at Utah, stop and think. Whittingham has said it over and over, that he doesn’t want to be that guy who hangs on at a program for too long, he doesn’t want to be a “hanger-on-er.”
He’s never said he no longer wants to coach. He did the opposite the other day when he took direct questions about the reasons he’s leaving Utah. His exact quote was: “When you have coaching in your blood, it just doesn’t go away.”
He said he doesn’t know what he’ll do next.
Why not be the head coach in Ann Arbor?
The Wolverines would never want a head coach like Whittingham, with 66 rings around his trunk now and a career out on the other side of the Wasatch already in the books, you say?
Don’t say it.
Whether Whittingham is what Michigan thinks it wants, he’s exactly what it needs. The Wolverines shouldn’t be looking for a young, vibrant, charismatic, somewhat inexperienced up-and-comer right now. They need a godfather to come in and clean up their mess. They need a finisher, not a starter. They need wisdom, not a whiz and a bang. They need a tough guy with a tough standard, one with some muscle and a little gray around the edges.
They can get their long-term flash-and-panache answer later. Their situation calls for immediate rescue, for a coach in bunker gear with protection all around, with a hard hat on his head, a mask on his face and an air tank strapped to his back. Somebody to get right to work, putting out the fire and rebuilding what has been burned to the ground.
Why would Whittingham, at this stage of life, want to take on such a project, even for just two or three years? Here’s why: He loves Big Ten football. He has good health and a clear mind. He still loves to compete. He’s got coaching, as he said it, pulsing through his veins.
Such an opportunity at such an institution would be a cherry on his sundae. He’d have to bring in some assistants who know the recruiting areas and he’d have to relocate for a short while. But with the resources available to Michigan and to their athletes, Whittingham could quickly get the talent he needs and make the most of it — in a manner that even Bo Schembechler would appreciate, wherever he might be.
No, Whittingham’s not a Michigan man, but he could be an adopted son. Get in, make the most of it, and get out. The Wolverines are proud again. The program’s in order. And the transplanted coach gets $10 to $12 mill a year for his trouble.
Whittingham said he’d answer the phone if it rang from the right people. Michigan’s the right people. Two or three years is all it’d take, and then Whittingham could spend the rest of his valuable time playing with his grandkids, skiing Utah’s deep powder, and teeing up his Pro V1s out on the islands.
Michigan to the mountains to Maui. That has a nice ring to it.