WHY IS SCUMMY KU — OR, PAY YOU — ALLOWED INTO THE FINAL FOUR?
Bill Self wants us to have amnesia about corruption in his Kansas basketball program, but if the Jayhawks somehow win it all Monday night, their national championship should be vacated on principle
Before any “Rock Chalk Jayhawk’’ chants rip through Bourbon Street’s hangover emporiums, and before we read another gooey profile about “Hall of Fame-bound coach’’ Bill Self, let’s pause the party for a truth slap.
The Kansas basketball operation is a toxic sewage spill.
If not for America’s preoccupation with Mike Krzyzewski’s final act and North Carolina’s lust to ruin it, the Final Four conversation would center on corruption. Specifically, how could Self’s program ever be allowed to reach New Orleans — a fitting place for a sinner — as a prominent wrongdoer in sneaker-company scandals that have stained the sport forever? Before the pandemic, remember, the FBI investigated and nailed numerous big-name hoops factories, with Kansas among those accused by federal prosecutors of enabling payments to families of players.
That’s right, KU amnesiacs. T.J. Gassnola, then an Adidas-connected bag man, testified in 2018 that he channeled money with Self’s knowledge to the loved ones of recruits Billy Preston and Silvio De Sousa. Gassnola’s Adidas boss, Jim Gatto, was convicted of wire fraud and is serving time in a federal prison. The NCAA enforcement police condemned Self directly for five Level I infractions, the most severe violations in the rulebook, summarizing the scum thusly: “The institution failed to control and monitor the relationship between Adidas’ representatives with its storied men’s basketball program.’’ If Kansas responsibly had owned its crimes, as Arizona did in self-imposing a postseason ban last year and firing head coach Sean Miller, the Jayhawks wouldn’t be preparing for Saturday’s national semifinal against Villanova — and Self would be looking for a job.
Instead, with a slippery mix of arrogance and delusion, the school is fighting back. By appealing the penalties though a vague mechanism, the Independent Accountability Resolutions Process, Kansas has effectively delayed its fate beyond the Final Four. Still expected to be hit with major sanctions, such as a future postseason ban, the program stands to shame what otherwise has been a compelling and therapeutic NCAA tournament. There’s no hiding Self’s text message to Gassnola, a lowlight in the federal trial, which urged the bag man, “Just got to get a couple real guys.’’
Heeding the orders, Gassnola funneled at least $70,000 to Preston’s family, among copious gifts to others.
Imagine if Self, who was showered in confetti last weekend after winning the Midwest Regional in Chicago, clutches the championship trophy Monday night. While other dirty coaches deserved to lose jobs, including Will Wade at LSU, and rogue programs such as Louisville are paying a suitably steep price, the pride of Lawrence — where James Naismith started the program after inventing the sport, where Phog Allen’s name is on the Fieldhouse — was given a lifetime contract last year. Self even convinced his bosses to include a clause that he can’t be fired “for cause’’ if the “current infractions case’’ leads to massive consequences. So, he’s there for life, a cheater who prospered.
It’s part of the big stall, which makes North Carolina’s old four-corners slowdown look like playground ball. By defending its beloved coach with a spirited campaign — “the (allegations) are baseless and littered with false representations,’’ the school said — KU is waiting out the ongoing radical transformation in how college athletes are compensated. Though the illegal payments came long before the new financial paradigm regarding names, images and likenesses, the grand design is to escape with a light NCAA penalty amid the new reality: Just about anyone can swoop in and pay an athlete now, including Adidas, which recently introduced an NIL program that pays players as “affiliate brand ambassadors.’’ Basically, Kansas is hoping a Final Four — or, so much better, a national title — makes everyone forget about T.J. Gassnola and Jim Gatto.
All of which is too underhanded for those of us who still care about a moral code in a cesspool sport. Just because players are being paid legally in 2022 doesn’t mean we should forgive programs that slid under the table in the last decade. The stories will keep coming, the latest from Memphis, where Penny Hardaway’s program is facing violations involving the 2017 recruitment of James Wiseman, now with the Golden State Warriors. What, we’re going to forget that Hardaway, acting as a booster just before he was named coach, paid $11,500 to Wiseman’s mother?
That would be an affront to coaches who’ve tried to play by the rules. One such soul was Bruce Weber, who resigned at Kansas State weeks ago but not before challenging the NCAA to crack down on FBI-tainted programs. If it sounded like a shot at in-state rival Kansas and Self, who happened to precede Weber years ago at Illinois, it most certainly was.
“We won titles. We did it the right way,” Weber said. “I’m on the NCAA ethics committee. I was told they were going to take care of the people in the FBI stuff, so I told somebody I’m going to grow my hair until something happens. Obviously, it’s still growing.’’
It’s true. Weber walked out the door looking like a gray-haired beatnik. “That’s the sad part about our business,” he said. “(Retired coach) Lon Kruger told me the other day, all the guys in the FBI (probe) except one are in the NCAA tournament.” Then Weber shouted a message to the industry about his own future, urging “some (athletic director) out there who would appreciate a coach that graduates players, wins championships, supports the university and embraces the community. … I got into coaching — I got into teaching — because my dad and mom thought there was no better life than to help others. That’s been my goal. Hopefully, I’ve impacted people and helped them with their lives so that now they can help others.”
Self would say he has followed the same mission. The difference being, he is culpable in the biggest scandal in the history of a sport. Any number of stories last weekend referred to him as a future Hall of Famer, disregarding the stench. One was typed by the Chicago Tribune’s Paul Sullivan, who has opined frequently about steroid-bloated Sammy Sosa and why he doesn’t belong in the Baseball Hall of Fame. “Life is full of moral dilemmas. You make your choices and you have to live with them,’’ he wrote of Sosa.
The same applies to Bill Self. He cheated just as Sosa cheated. Neither belongs in a Hall of Fame. And if Kansas happens to win Monday night, its national championship should be vacated on principle … while vomit bags are distributed to the millions watching and shrieking at home. Ready for the real chant, America?
Rock Chalk … Jayhawk …
Pay You.
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Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.