Eye on the Tigers: January 2011

This column by Tom Sorensen of The Charlotte Observer might not win any awards. And if it generated buzz in our little niche of the sports world, I didn't see it.

But it's possible that truer words have never been written than the following, which Sorensen made his lead paragraph in a column about Roy Williams:

Those of us who make our living in sports occasionally forget who pays our salaries. The further we climb, and the more space we put between ourselves and the commoners, the more likely we are to devalue the fans.

In a time that seems like ages ago but is actually not that far back, I'd have grabbed a pair of scissors, clipped the passage out of the newspaper and stuck it on my refrigerator or stuffed it in a drawer.

Now, I bookmark it and also hit Control-P. They are words to remember and live by when you're in a profession that's filled with cynical sportswriters who look down their noses at fans from the soulless, insulated world of press boxes.

The central aim of Sorensen's column was Williams' tirade that followed last week's win over Clemson. Two nights after an ugly loss at Georgia Tech -- and one night after hearing some questions he didn't like during his weekly coach's radio show -- Williams went ballistic in his post-game press conference.

"I'm really proud of these kids. Everybody talked about how poorly they played at Georgia Tech. My radio call (show on Monday) night stunk. Everybody was talking about how they were Carolina fans for nine million years and how bad we are. I don't give a damn how long you're a Carolina fan. Those are kids in the locker room, and they played their buns off tonight."

He added: "Don't call me next week and say how good we are. Keep your damn phone calls to yourself."

(Sorensen, by the way, came up with a super one-liner after relaying the text of Williams' fire-breathing: "The diatribe is one more reason I will never wear a sweater vest.")

Anyone who has ever listened to a coach's radio show knows they can be trivial exercises. If a coach's patience is tested when one of his players doesn't have his shirt tucked in or chin strap buckled correctly, then it's not going to be easy to sit for an hour and listen to some of the stuff fans come up with.

I don't listen to these shows religiously, but I will tune in if I'm able because sometimes you'll hear some good insight from Dabo Swinney or Brad Brownell.

I would pay my own money to install a video camera on the set so we could see the coaches' reactions to some of the more inane questions.

There always seems to be someone who's under the impression that these coaches spend 15 or 20 hours a week on their jobs instead of 80 or 100.

"Coach, have you thought about running a double-reverse pass flea flicker? I really like that play."

Or:

"Coach, Auburn's got this kid named Cam Newton and he looks like he could be a good one. I really think we need to stop him."

My all-time favorite came from a guy who, years ago, had done some work on Swinney's house.

Last year, he calls in and his question was:

"Just wanted to see if you remembered me."

So this probably isn't something the coaches look forward to. They get enough hare-brained questions from us media types during the week, so surely they don't have much of an appetite for more.

But here's the catch: They get paid lots of money to do this. Williams brings home four ... hundred ... thousand ... dollars ... a ... year to spend an hour a week listening to the praise, questions and concerns of fans who help pay his salary.

Sorensen nails it again here:

Williams might coach the Tar Heels, but the program does not belong exclusively to him. It also belongs to fans.

Some of them pass their love for Tar Heels basketball from generation to generation the way other families pass photographs and jewelry.

They invest their money on tickets and T-shirts and they invest their emotion on the outcome. North Carolina wins? We're happy. Tar Heels lose? The week is ruined.

That's their team down on the court. After nine million years, you think they're entitled to care?

Fans don't know nearly as much about basketball as Williams. But what are they to do if they have questions about what they're seeing - wait quietly until the great and powerful Roy descends from the mountaintop to dispense sweater-vest wisdom?

The craziest thing about Williams' rant is that, during the same radio broadcast that offended him so thoroughly, he spent time ripping his players to shards for their entitlement mentality and their lack of investment in basketball.

"In today’s culture, it’s hard. I’ve got half of the guys on my team that their mom and dad and their friends and everything think that they’re going to make $88 million. They could give a flip whether we win a game or not. They want their guy to get 37 shots and play 50 minutes in a 40-minute game. The culture is hard on kids nowadays, and I understand that, but it makes coaching harder…

"It’s something that I’ve told many teams – if you cared one-tenth about it as much as I do, [gosh] it would be a lot of fun.”

Sounds like 'ol Roy is in the habit of blaming everyone but himself when things aren't going well. If it's not the spoiled players who aren't walking to and from campus each day in the snow, uphill both ways, it's the crazy fans who have the audacity to voice their displeasure during a radio program whose sole purpose is for the fans to present their opinions (while filling the pockets of the head coach).

Maybe Roy should start giving some of that money back.

LW