Des Moines Register 11-09-06 Keeler: Mac wouldn't concede in-state recruits to Iowa

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Des Moines Register
11-09-06
Keeler: Mac wouldn't concede in-state recruits to Iowa
By SEAN KEELER
REGISTER COLUMNIST
Ames, Ia. - Dan McCarney took the baton from Johnny Orr and bonked
Hawkeye Nation over the head with it. He drew line after line in the sand, never
caring if it sometimes got kicked back up in his face.
There was an old, unwritten rule at the Iowa State football office in the early
1990s: If you happened to be recruiting an in-state kid, and Iowa suddenly
swooped in, the smart move was to back off. McCarney would have none of that.
"It was always assumed that the best high school athletes of Iowa were going to
go to go to the University of Iowa," recalled former Cyclone lineman Bill Marsau,
Mac's first recruit. "And Iowa State would get whatever was left over."
Nobody assumes anything anymore. If you're eulogizing the McCarney Era this
morning, start with that. It may not be a 50-50 football state now, but it's a lot
closer than it was 12 years ago.
Of the top 10 prep football recruits in Iowa in 2006, according to Rivals.com, six
committed to play in Ames. The Cyclones got one of the top six in 2005, five of
the top 10 in 2004 and seven of the top 10 in 2003.
"You understand, I remember what the program was like before he got there,"
Terry Allen, the Missouri State coach and former Iowa State assistant, sighed
Wednesday night after McCarney announced his resignation as Cyclones' coach.
"The sad thing is, he's got more national respect than he does local respect. I'm
sick because ... I've never seen anybody care as much for his players, his
assistants and his university. So it's a sad day for me."
Sad but inevitable. Fans vote with their wallets. When Jack Trice Stadium shows
empty clumps during the Texas Tech game and when half the home crowd flees
at halftime of a 31-point loss to Kansas, it's hard for an athletic director with
caviar dreams to just sit on his hands.
"To do what we want to do, we've got to be healthy in football," Jamie Pollard
said. "Unfortunately, what this becomes is more (about) time and place."
The place needs a $35 million facelift. The time is now, which is hard to do when
the team that occupies the building has yet to win a Big 12 game.
"Twelve years is a long time to be anywhere," Pollard said. "People don't grant
you as big a leash. Or as one of (the donors) said, 'A mulligan.' They aren't
willing to grant a mulligan. And that's what makes it challenging.
"I'm in my first year-and-a-half here. If this were year 2 or year 3 for me and Dan,
this would be a completely different story."
Wherever you sit on the Title IX argument, this much is indisputable: Football is
the economic tide that lifts all boats. There are two kinds of people in Pollard's
world: Those who can help sell his Master Plan - $135 million in capital
improvements to Cyclone facilities - and those who can't.
If the Cyclones had retained McCarney, even after a 4-8 season, would you be
willing to ante up and sign that 10-year contract for a luxury suite?
"How do you put all these factors together," Pollard asked, "and keep momentum
going?"
Put yourself in the athletic director's shoes for a minute. Why delay the
inevitable? Why wait two weeks, or a year, to do something you were probably
doing to do eventually anyway?
"Sometimes," McCarney said, "you have to put the organization ahead of
yourself."
He did. To the last.
When you think back on McCarney in 10 years, you'll probably forget about 2006.
You'll remember a man who showed us that there was room for two successful,
bowl-eligible programs in a small, rural state. A man who reminded us that there
were more than enough talented, hard-working kids here that could act as your
foundation.
You'll remember a man who made a rivalry a rivalry again. McCarney's Cyclones
beat Iowa six times, including five straight from 1998-02.
You'll remember a man who coached in five bowls. A man who inherited a redheaded stepchild of a program and demanded that it walk around with its head
held high.
"He sold dreams," offered Steve Loney, the Arizona Cardinals' offensive line
coach and former Iowa State assistant. "He always thought of bigger and better.
He always kept those in front of you."
The man was a habitual dreamer. A born optimist. A consummate salesman. He
never found a hand he couldn't shake with that big right mitt of his. In short, he
and Ames seemed like the perfect fit.
He was the face of an athletic department. And it was almost always smiling.
The Cyclones don't settle for Iowa's leftovers anymore. McCarney made Iowa
State football relevant again. That won't get a street named after you in Ames,
but it ought to. Or maybe you've already forgotten about Robbie Minor?
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