In April of 2010, the coach received e-mails from a Columbus, Ohio attorney alerting Tressel that a few of his star players had sold athletic memorabilia (jerseys, rings, etc.) in exchange for tattoos from a local tattoo parlor. The owner of said establishment was under federal investigation for drug trafficking and other alleged crimes.
Nine months later just prior to the Buckeyes’ scheduled appearance in the Sugar Bowl, OSU and the NCAA sanctioned six players for selling the aforementioned memorabilia. The players were suspended for the first five games the 2011 season but were allowed to play in the Sugar Bowl. They did and Ohio State won. OSU then announced they would officially appeal the NCAA sanctions.
Questions as to Tressel role in “tattoo-gate” continued. In January of 2011 while participating in the appeal process, Coach Tressel finally acknowledged knowing way back in April that players may have violated NCAA rules. In addition he violated Ohio State procedures by not informing its athletic director of the original e-mails. Furthermore Coach Tressel lied directly to the NCAA in September when he signed the annual declaration that no staff or players had violated NCAA rules that preseason.
Ohio State promptly fined Tressel $250,000 and suspended him from participation in the first two games of next season’s schedule. The coach was also required to apologize publicly. Shortly thereafter, the coach’s suspension was extended to five games.
Having been a walk-on varsity athlete at Ohio State, and having tutored for its athletic department, I was personally offended by the resulting damage to my school’s reputation further compounded by Coach Tressel’s feeble attempt at public apology, so I wrote:
FAS
I hate what passes for public apology these days. Most reduce to a press release and a postscript. Real apologies are rare whenever a microphone or a camera is present—in other words, on the record. Nowadays any repentance with an audience starts by deflecting blame. Look for the ubiquitous if and but. How often have we heard apology attempts begin, “If I offended anyone,” cleverly implying I need not apologize but will generously, graciously offer to anyway? It is deception of the first order.
From there the inevitable denial of intent follows—as if anyone actually lies by accident. Further calculated attempts at contrition strategically position the word but halfway through the discourse—like red pepper on a convict’s scent trail. The court of public opinion should immediately stamp “attempted escape” atop the speaker’s ever-expanding rap sheet.
If these standard deviations from genuine apology do not pass muster with the audience, the truth skirter can always continue in the passive voice. The oft repeated, “Mistakes were made,” acknowledges negative behavior but artfully avoids blame acceptance—as if the lie told itself. Somebody lied. Apparently, that liar’s identity must remain a mystery.
No miscreant speaker needs legal advice to cloak the self-damning I beneath a pompous royal we, echoing the privileged rich and famous. “We did our best,” brings everyone into the act—insuring a chorus of applause from sympathetic co-conspirators. Where is the well-timed, lone-wolf voice of truth openly declaring, “But WE did not lie, YOU did”?
Finally, when all else fails, and our penitent pretender has danced around his duty like a novice ballerina, he can always blame society. This works especially well on college campuses brimming with sociology majors. “Don’t we all share part of the blame when our youth stray?” Surely no fair-minded, empathetic advocate of social justice could argue against that tack. Still, somebody most definitely ought to.
Enough of this pretentious posturing! Real apologies require just three parts. First, clearly state what you did wrong. Next, say you are sorry. Finally, promise not to do it again. In all three declarations, use the word I, “I lied; I cheated; I abused my authority. I am truly sorry. I will not do it again.” Stand up straight, and look the audience straight in the eye. Do not just mouth the words. Mean what you say. There, was that so hard?
My dad taught me the right way to apologize when I was four. It’s never too late for people in the public eye to learn the same, simple lesson. It works equally well for athletes and actors, supervisors and CEOs, politicians and prelates.
Weak, evasive, irresponsible apologies that seem to suffice today fool no one in the long run. Without genuine remorse (evidenced in a real apology) a perpetrator will re-offend. His lack of character will come to light time and again. Apologize right the first time and forgiveness usually follows. Real apologies build genuine character. Anything less, does not.
P.S. Subsequent to my writing the above, new additions to the Tressel tale have surfaced. The coach has now admitted to forwarding the original April e-mails to a man referred to as quarterback Terrelle Pryor’s “mentor,” further tarnishing Tressel’s damaged reputation. Just how far the trail of lies extends, no one knows for certain. The latest speculation, however, points toward Tressel’s termination as OSU head football coach sometime soon. Spring football practice starts in April. Additional NCAA sanctions are still anticipated. Tressel’s deception and cover-up have compromised the reputation of both the program and the institution, embarrassing loyal Buckeyes everywhere. Coach Jim Tressel must go.
No comments:
Post a Comment