Coach Rich Rodriguez first game day at Michigan started with a storm of sights and sounds.

It ended silently.

Before kickoff of his debut – a 25-23 upset loss to Utah – Rodriguez and players had strolled through a crowd of screaming fans in maize and blue. Then, a bit later, they knelt around him.

“You guys can’t wait to get out there, huh? I can’t wait myself,” Rodriguez said Saturday before Michigan took the field. “I’m proud of the way you worked. We’re ready to play a game – every man, every play from the first whistle to the last whistle. They’ll make some plays. We’ll make some plays. We’ll make one more than them, and we’ll sing “The Victors,” afterward.

“Everybody has questions about Michigan football,” he added with the loudest voice he’d unleashed in a week. “What is Michigan football? Where is this program at? We’ve got a bunch of guys in winged helmets, who are going to go down that tunnel and play their (tails) off and will play with pride, passion and intensity on every snap. That’s what Michigan football is!”

Rodriguez left his coaching job and alma mater at West Virginia to replace Lloyd Carr, who announced his retirement last year after 13 seasons leading the nation’s winningest college football program.

Ahead of his first Michigan game, Rodriguez allowed The Associated Press exclusive access to the team and coaches during the last, frenetic week before the 2008 season. This story is what life under Rodriguez looks like at Michigan.

—

Full team meeting room, 4 p.m. Sunday

Spot the ball. When the time to perform arises, the time to prepare has passed. Win for Michigan. Hold the rope.

In blue paint on white walls, those words stare at players seated in the full-team meeting room.

Rich Rodriguez slips into the room and suddenly, the small talk and jokes end.

“We’re finally in game week,” Rodriguez says.

“Yeah!” the players reply.

—

Rodriguez’s office, 6:15 p.m.

Four glass candy jars are a step inside Rodriguez’s door, which is propped open by a kickstand doorstop when he’s in the building. That’s about 16 hours a day.

A majestic shot of Michigan Stadium is the lone picture hanging on the gray, wallpapered walls. Framed photos of his wife, Rita, 12-year-old daughter, Raquel, and 10-year-old son, Rhett, line the shelves behind the coach’s desk. Atop the shelves, five winged helmets sit.

Defensive coordinator Scott Shafer steps in as Rodriguez has his feet propped up – between two laptops and just below an HDTV mounted to a wall.

Rodriguez’s staff is filled with coaches who were with him at previous coaching stops, most recently West Virginia. Shafer has no connection to Rodriguez or the Wolverines.

“Because I’m new, what do we call a double-edge pressure?” Rodriguez asks.

“Cats and dogs,” Shafer says.

—

Parking lot, 6:07 a.m. Monday

A Lexus rolls into the parking lot under a pitch-black sky.

Rodriguez gets out of the SUV sporting dress shoes sans socks, blue athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt. He lugs a bulging leather bag in one hand and the other holds slacks and a shirt on hangers.

A few minutes later, with running shoes on, he steps on a machine labeled “COACH ROD’S STAIRMASTER,” for a 35-minute workout on level 15. The speed is so intense that he logs five miles.

Rodriguez bounces on his toes with each step, quickly working up a sweat. It’s unclear if he or the whirring StairMaster is getting more of a workout. “SportsCenter” is on the TV a few feet away, but he’s oblivious to it – even when his image is shown as ESPN teases an upcoming segment featuring Michigan’s new coach. Rodriguez reads articles about each team on the schedule and, as fatigue sets in, he leans on the equipment so much that his face is a few inches away from the stack of white paper.

Later, Rodriguez hits a speed bag the skill of a seasoned boxer, creating a rhythm that sounded like a rattlesnake.

Behind him, the Wolverine Countdown clock shows there are 5 days, 6 hours, 24 minutes and 52.3 seconds until the Utah game.

—

Staff meeting room, 8 a.m.

Rodriguez, assistant coaches and members of the support staff are seated at a long, oval conference table. Other members of the staff sit in blue chairs along a wall.

Rodriguez runs the meeting with the same understated voice he always seems to have when he’s not on the practice field. In a businesslike way, he asks for reports from the equipment manager, trainer, an assistant athletic director and the head of strength and conditioning.

“Check their weight later in the week,” Rodriguez says. “I don’t want them blowing up because of all the free time they have.”

The schedule for the day and the rest of the week are among the topics of discussion.

“With all the freshmen we have, we need to be in the stadium on Thursday,” Rodriguez says. “Two or three years from now, we probably won’t need to do that.”

—

Practice fields, 4:53 p.m.

A two-plus hour practice that is as intense as one can be without full pads is over, but Kurt Wermers can’t leave yet. He’s being disciplined.

The offensive lineman starts his extra work with a bear crawl for 100 yards and 100-yard sprint.

“If you don’t like being punished, don’t be late!” assistant coach Greg Frye shouts. “C’mon Wermers!”

The 6-foot-5, 260-pound freshman is so exhausted on his next bear crawl that knees are dragging and hands are sliding on the artificial turf. After more crawling and sprinting, Wermers tries to outrace Frye from the far corner of the field to the indoor practice facility.

“I was supposed to be at a team meal at 10:30 and I got there at 10:31,” the exhausted Wermers – flat on his back – says to trainer Paul Schmidt.

“Just remember,” Schmidt says. “Early is on time and on time is late.”

—

Full staff meeting room, 6:15 p.m.

The offensive coaches are debating what plays to run near the goal line.

“We need extra points – not field goals,” offensive coordinator Calvin Magee says with his bare feet propped up on the conference table, left hand on belly, right on a remote control that rewinds, pauses and plays every play from practice several times.

Rodriguez interjects that he wants running back Carlos Brown, who played quarterback in high school, to get a shot to be a signal caller.

After a ball bounces off a receiver’s arm and into the arms of a player on the scout team, Rodriguez tilts his head back, arches his back, puts his palms over his eyes and rubs his face.

Sigh.

“This is giving me a headache,” he says shortly before going home at 10 p.m., when the sky looked a lot like it did 16 hours earlier.

—

Practice, 2:30 p.m. Tuesday

Brown’s option pitch with his left hand comes up short, sending the football bouncing off the turf.

“Run it again!” Magee demands with a few not-fit-to-print words mixed in.

Brown does, perfectly flicking the ball to Brandon Minor.

Rodriguez’s wife, Rita, and their two kids – along with other coaches’ wives and children – are around again today. Sometimes they watch practice, sometimes they just hang out on the indoor practice field.

“Bo (Schembechler) never had wives and kids around like this,” former Wolverine Vada Murray said while watching his first Rodriguez-led practice. “But I love the pace of this practice, and Bo would’ve, too.”

—

Full team meeting room, 12:45 p.m.

Rodriguez stresses the importance of backups practicing hard on the scout team to improve themselves and their teammates. He goes on to say everything the players do on and off the field will be scrutinized, especially on the Internet, because they’re Michigan football players.

Then, he delivers another message after getting upset about another article questioning whether he cares about Michigan’s tradition.

“I don’t know where that comes from,” Rodriguez tells his players. “We’re going to sing ‘The Victors’ and we’re going to wear winged helmets. We’re not going to change the tradition or the culture here.

“But tradition isn’t going to get us a first down. You have to earn that. Tradition isn’t going to get you a degree. You have to earn that and I hope every one of you does just that. I don’t think people outside the program really understand what’s going on here.”

Suddenly, Rodriguez bows his head silently.

“I’m not choked up,” he deadpans. “I’m sick.”

Laughter fills the room.

—

Walk to The Big House, 2:07 p.m. Thursday

Rodriguez walks across the outdoor practice field, train tracks and a parking lot to get to Michigan Stadium for practice.

“That’s him,” a construction worker says, pointing at Rodriguez.

“Welcome to Michigan, coach!” another man shouts.

“Thanks,” Rodriguez says, waving his hand.

Rodriguez then walks down a long tunnel and onto the field where the seats are empty, tons of steel for future luxury boxes tower over both sidelines.

Michigan’s marching band shows up later, following a tradition before the season opener by performing for players and coaches who don’t hear its halftime performances because they’re in the locker room. Rodriguez, his wife and kids sing the school’s famed fight song, “The Victors,” along with the rest of the team.

—

Campus Inn Ballroom, 8:55 p.m. Friday

Rodriguez slips into a darkened ballroom 5 minutes before a scheduled team meeting and keys to the game are projected onto a screen.

Rodriguez wants the Wolverines to play smart, avoiding penalties.

“When you make a big play, celebrate with a teammates because chances are, a teammate helped you make the play,” he says. “Don’t be a clown.”

Rodriguez speaks in the silent room for 16 minutes, his longest speech of the week.

“I’m not BSing you guys. We have a lot of unknowns,” the son of a coal miner and sign-language interpreter says in his thick, West Virginia accent. “I ain’t been in a game with y’all. But I can’t wait to find out who you are.”

A little later, Rodriguez cues a highlight tape, which shows current players making plays in the past.

“It’s time to make new highlights,” Rodriguez says when the 6-minute video ends. “See ya tomorrow.”

—

Crisler Arena, Champions Center, locker room, 7:43 p.m.

After the game, Rodriguez walks out of his news conference and goes through three buildings so quickly that two police officers quickly figure out they have to pick up the pace to escort him.

He silently and solemnly glides past anyone in his path, pausing only a couple seconds to hug his wife before going into the coaches’ locker room to change his clothes and get ready for Miami of Ohio.

Posted on August 31st, 2008 by admin
Filed under: College football news, NCAA college football