The System: The Glory and Scandal of Big-Time College Football (76 page)

On cue the crowd began to boo.

Out of the commercial Kelly was seated on the set next to Fowler as the host set the table with this introduction: “And Brian Kelly has navigated the Irish back, one step from their first national title since 1988. Wrapped things up at USC. Down here in Atlanta, not on a scouting trip, right, just visiting. And you keep wondering why they kept chanting, ‘A-C-C.’ ”

In the truck Fitting uttered a single word.

“Perfect.”

Producer and director had rolled the dice. Now all the Irish head coach had to do was pay off the bet.

“I’ve been in this business a long time,” Kelly said with a smile, “but as I was walking up, to get booed by the Georgia and Alabama cheerleaders, I thought it was a milestone.”

Come to Papa …

Wojciechowski had just wrapped up a fabulous feature on the Georgia linebacker Jarvis Jones dealing with the death, at age fifteen, of his nineteen-year-old brother. An emotional tour de force, it included lines like “If there’s a statute of limitations on grief, Jones hasn’t reached it yet.” Then Pollack, the former Georgia linebacker, stepped into the spotlight. Old No. 47 in the red and black, Fowler announced. “A stud,” Fitting had said the day before. Right away, Pollack threw down against his former team. He challenged Bulldogs quarterback Murray to put on his big-boy pads against Alabama.

“Aaron Murray has got to step up,” he said. “When you watch him on tape and you break him down, he’s a very robotic quarterback. You can’t be robotic.

“Aaron Murray has to pull the string today. He’s got to get the ball in tight windows … He’s a film junkie, he knows what he’s supposed to do, but sometimes when things don’t go right, he gets a little bit weirded out and sees ghosts in the pocket. Aaron Murray’s got to go, ‘I’m going to throw the football.’ You’ve got to fit the ball into tight windows and pull it if you want to win against ’Bama.”

Howard chimed in: “My only question about Aaron Murray, especially after watching him live and in person in the South Carolina game on the road, does he have that fire, that intangible you need to go out there and lead your team? Not just the physical skills, but mentally are you tough enough and strong enough to go up against this Alabama defense for four quarters?”

Howard looked at Pollack. “You were a three-time all-American at Georgia, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“You had the fire in you to rush the passer and stop the run, you know what I’m saying?” continued Howard. “I haven’t seen that from Aaron Murray yet, and that’s what it’s going to take.”

“Good, Dez,” Fitting said.

“Does he have the mental capacity to last four quarters against that type of [Alabama] pressure?”

“He can’t be afraid to make a mistake,” replied Pollack.

Herbstreit capped it off by going with a big-picture look.

“This is Atlanta,” he said. “The SEC is going to be decided in the trenches. We can talk Aaron Murray all week long, but if his offensive line doesn’t do a good job and help him out, he doesn’t have any chance to execute. If they don’t open up some running lanes, he doesn’t have any chance.”

It was going on 11:00 a.m. in the East. Minute by minute, more and more college football fans were waking up to their favorite pregame meal. The Centennial crowd had come alive, growing in size. It was time to talk football, SEC football, and the guys were bringing it—
GameDay
at its absolute analytical best. Fitting saw it and mentally racked back to Wojo’s piece. Emmy submission, he thought.

“Mark this down,” he barked. “Feature, analytical tape and good strong points from both guys. Don’t fucking forget it either.”

“Doing it right now, big boy,” said producer Tom Engle.

The next segment featured another home run from Van Pelt as part of his “Bald Man on Campus” interview series. This time he was down in College Station probing the mind of Johnny Manziel.

“I’m watching you,” he told Manziel, beginning a typical laid-back remark, “and I’m thinking, man, that No. 2, he’s one confident dude.”

Soon it was Rinaldi’s turn, and he backed Van Pelt’s revealing interview with a standout sit-down of his own, humanizing the notoriously reticent Saban with questions like “You’ve said pain instructs. What do you mean by that?” and “Who gives you your pregame speech?” The answers: Loss breeds focus and my wife.

In a production meeting on Friday afternoon Saban told the
GameDay
crew that as a motivational tool the night before he had shown his team a video clip from the 1989 NBA playoffs between the Chicago Bulls and the Detroit Pistons. Fitting latched right on to that tidbit. Bristol was called. A production assistant pulled game three from the digital archives and fed
it down to Atlanta. Now, out of Rinaldi’s piece, Fowler was buttoning the interview with the Saban video story.

“Eighty-nine playoffs,” he began. “Jordan and the Bulls against the Pistons … and the clip he showed, Bulls down by one, nine seconds to go, and [Pistons head coach] Chuck Daly is miked at the time out, describing exactly what Chicago is going to do. Jordan is going to get the ball at the top of the key and dribble right … imploring Dennis Rodman not to let him go right … do not let him go right.”

“Roll blue,” director Lucas said to a tape operator.

“Then he plays the clip. And what happens? Jordan gets the ball. Top of the key. He goes
right
. Everybody in the world knows it.” (On tape Jordan scores over Rodman.)

Fowler, back on camera.

“Saban and the Tide. They’re like Jordan and the Bulls. You know what they’re going to do. We do it. You just can’t stop it. Predictable. But effective. His team seemed to like that analogy.”

For almost any pregame show, that would have been the end of it. But not
GameDay
and certainly not Fowler. He had Georgia on his mind and a poetic point he wanted to make.

“Meanwhile, for Georgia, their rallying cry, they might want to go with one of Ray Charles’s lines in the classic song, ‘Georgia, the whole day through.’

“Georgia, the whole
game
through. Not half a game. Like last year. But all
sixty minutes
. That’s what it will take today.”

“That worked,” said Fitting. “Awesome, nice. Chris, great job.”

No matter how rich the video nuggets turned out to be, the Michael Jordan or Ray Charles references, the compelling features or on-set guests, the most
entertaining
part of the show was, hands down, the picks. Fowler was there now, starting with the former Heisman Trophy winner from Michigan.

“Mr. Howard,” he said. “Who wins the SEC championship and goes on to Miami to take on Notre Dame in the BCS championship?”

“That’s a very good question,” said Dez, who, it was clear to Fitting, was soon taking far too long to answer.

“Let’s go …”

“C’mon!”

“I got to go with the Tide,” Howard quickly said.

Pollack was next. He showed a set of journalistic stones by picking against his alma mater.

“My heart obviously said Georgia,” he said, “but my head said Alabama. I think they win the game.”

One final commercial break. In the truck, Fitting dropped segments like the airlines cut costs. “Okay,” he said. “J 2 through 6 is dead. Be ready to lose Oklahoma State–Baylor.”

The day’s guest picker was Matt Ryan, quarterback for the 11-1 hometown Falcons, who liked being called “Matty Ice.”

“Boise State versus Nevada next,” announced Fowler, a few picks in. “The Broncos can clinch a piece of conference title … San Diego State and Fresno State also have a piece …”

“Let’s go, Chris,” Fitting said into the anchor’s ear. “No one cares.”

“I got Boise State,” said Ryan.

“
Great
pick,” said Corso. “By a touchdown and a field goal. Nine points.”

“Nine points?” said Herbstreit.

“Six minutes off,” said associate director Brian Albon.

Ryan took Pitt over South Florida.

“Not so fast, Matty Ice,” said Coach. “I’m going with South Florida in an upset. I’m from Florida.”

Five minutes off.

Four minutes off.

Ryan was still picking games. Georgia Tech over Florida State.

“Let’s go,” Fitting told Fowler. “Let’s go …”

Wisconsin–Nebraska. Oklahoma–TCU …

“Please hurry up,
please
.”

Finally, it was time for Texas–Kansas State. If K-State won, Bill Snyder’s squad was headed to a BCS date in the Fiesta Bowl.

Herbstreit liked K-State at home behind Heisman Trophy hopeful Collin Klein.

So did Corso. Only it came out “Calvin Klein.”

The truck broke up.

“It’s all good,” said Herbstreit.

Fowler lost it. He put his head in his hands. He nearly fell out of his chair.

“Look at Chris,” said Fitting. “Calvin Klein.”

Ninety off.

Fitting snapped back to the business at hand.

“Let’s go!”

With about one minute left in the show, it was Herbstreit’s moment to shine. His routine—the phone calls to coaches and keen film study—framed what proved to be the most prescient remarks of the morning.
“Georgia, I think the intensity will be there,” he said. “I think they will hang around for three and a half quarters … [but] at the end of the day I think Alabama has been there and done that, and that’s the difference. I like Alabama to win.”

One minute off …

LC time … Pick it, Coach.

“I tried to get a live elephant!” he yelled, playing things up. “Ten thousand dollars! Not worth it! Then I said, ‘How about a dog! UGA’ [the Georgia bulldog mascot]? No way!”

Thirty off …

Twenty-eight …

Knowing what was coming next, Corso’s cast mates and a roaring crowd egged Coach on. Like the skilled entertainer he was, he held back the punch line, letting the laughter and anticipation build.

Twelve … eleven … ten …

Then he yanked a floppy-eared elephant over his head and started to wave good-bye.

“Roll, Tide,” said Corso from beneath the ’Bama hood.

Seven … six … five …

Herbstreit playfully tugged the mascot’s floppy nose up and down.

Three … two … one …

GameDay
.

“We’re gone,” said Fitting. He leaned back in his chair and clapped his hands. In the row of monitors in front of his face an outrageously organic,
entertaining
moment played out on the set.

“Great job, guys,” he said. “Beautiful. Really, really good.”

Ten days prior to the SEC championship game, ESPN had pulled off arguably the biggest deal in its thirty-three-year history. In the process it slammed the proverbial door on every last one of its college football competitors through 2026.

As any conference commissioner or athletic director will tell you, there is no greater force in the world of televised sport than the Worldwide Leader. In March 2013 the gross national product—forget international—coming out of Bristol, was staggering:

Odds were, if you wanted to find men between the ages of eighteen and fifty-four during the day or night, they were watching some edition of
SportsCenter, Pardon the Interruption
, a studio show or one of those lab experiments that embraced debate. ESPN’s subscriber fee for cable operators was in excess of $5.50 a month—more than double that of the next-best cable network. In 2012 the network reportedly earned more than $11 billion in revenue.