Baylor tragedy touches struggling football program, too
Aug. 1, 2003
By Dennis Dodd
CBS SportsLine.com Senior Writer
Notes: Future isn't completely Rosey
WACO, Texas -- Five days after Patrick Dennehy disappeared, Guy Morriss was sitting in his Baylor office, depressed.
"What's going to happen," the Bears' first-year football coach said, "when the live bullets start flying?"
Guy Morriss says he feels a lot more welcome at Baylor than he did at Kentucky.(Getty Images)
In retrospect, the comment obviously had a certain morbidity. But on June 17, Morris was talking football and had no idea what was about to hit the school and his program. Dennehy's disappearance had not become news. Morriss' biggest headache was trying to find linemen for his depleted roster.
Now Dennehy is dead. A basketball teammate is accused of his murder, and the small, Christian university on the Brazos River has been the subject of national news for all the wrong reasons.
Like it or not, Baylor football has been swept up in the negativity just by being a part of the university. What was merely bad now will have a mental asterisk attached to it when recruits consider coming here.
That's the place where Patrick Dennehy was killed.
Baylor finally broke a 29-game conference football losing streak last year. Then it lost the last seven, starting a new streak. It hasn't been to a bowl game in nine years. Since Grant Teaff stepped down in 1994, the job has beaten down four coaches. In seven Big 12 seasons, the Bears have won 17 conference games.
"It's not good, let's put it that way," Morriss said of the climate at Baylor right now. "It's unfortunate it happened, but it's something we'll get through."
Morriss is the latest to take one of the hardest jobs in the country. The Omaha, Texas, native left a fine rebuilding job at Kentucky for what looks like a hopeless situation in central Texas. Desperate, Baylor offered Morriss a $250,000 raise (to $1 million per year) to turn around its program.
That kind of answered the question of how a second-year head coach could leave a state school in the SEC for a private school in last place in the Big 12.
"I'm trying to put this diplomatically," said Morriss, a former Philadelphia Eagles offensive lineman. "They made me feel very welcome here, a lot more so than Kentucky."
Suddenly, though, there is a football side to the summer's tragedy. Morriss will have to recruit with parents asking if he can assure them their sons will be safe. Parents already have called current players to check on them. All this against the backdrop of a struggling football program.
"I had a couple of phone calls (from family) asking what happened," said junior defensive end Khari Long. "It was one of those questions where they actually assumed I was there. Obviously, I didn't know what happened."
Long, like a lot of football players, knew Dennehy and Carlton Dotson. Athletes interact all the time at Baylor. But that's as far as it went. Now they must deal with the issue while trying to resuscitate a football program.
"I'd see them every now and then," Long said. "We didn't really hang out. It's really hard to believe. You're not really prepared for incidents like this."
The season opener against Alabama-Birmingham no doubt will be a media event for all the wrong reasons. Long, Morriss and receiver Robert Quiroga came to the Big 12 media days this week in Kansas City, Mo., wanting to talk about football but knowing where the questions would steer them.
"The fact that every time I looked up there would be a "BU" sign (on television), then a basketball," Long said. "The fact that they bring up Baylor first kind of affected me."
Sitting behind his desk that day in June, Morriss looked like a man who had been beaten down by the reality of it all.
"I don't want to hurt people's feelings," Baylor's first-year coach said, "but we need some d-linemen bad. We're not in very good shape."
The offensive line isn't in very good shape either. One lineman is being treated for heat exhaustion and kidney failure. Five players flunked out. Two other players were kicked off the team. Baylor figures to be 10 players short of the 85-scholarship maximum when the season kicks off.
In the middle of it all, death.
"There is nothing that has galvanized the Baylor community like this," said Baylor sports information director Scott Stricklin. "That has been the most pleasant surprise. Baylor people, I sense, still have a lot of pride.
"What's happened is, everybody is guilty until proven innocent. We're not the first people to be treated that way by the media. (Wrongly accused Olympic bomber) Richard Jewell is the best example."
Baylor is trying to sell Morriss as a change-is-good guy. He is pictured on the front of the media guide on his Yahama Northstar. Morriss takes off for long motorcycle rides just to clear his head, when he can.
In that sense, Texas is better for him by far. It is a bigger state in terms of recruiting and back roads.
"As far as recruits are concerned, I don't think it's going to be an issue," Morriss said of the tragedy. "This is something that could happen anywhere. Unfortunately, it happened at our place."
There was a glimmer of hope this week. Recruit Dominique Zeigler, a receiver, was the MVP of a Texas high-school all-star game in Fort Worth. Zeigler was the only Baylor recruit in the game.
"I heard about that," Morriss said this week. "We'd like to redshirt him and every kid who comes through the door, but I'm not sure we'll be able to do that."
Before this summer, the worst thing (football-wise) that happened to Morriss was last year's crushing loss to LSU. A 75-yard Hail Mary pass beat the Wildcats seconds after Morriss had Gatorade dumped over him by players celebrating a "victory" over the Tigers. The play was immortalized during seemingly endless reruns from TV producers who had nothing better to do.
"Whether you like it or not, it will be our legacy for a while," Morriss said.
Compared to the summer endured by Morriss and his new university, that legacy is a welcome one.