Deadspin, ESPN, Gene Wojciechowski, Girlfriend Hoax, Lennay Kekua, Manti Te'o, Notre Dame

The Legend of the Hoax

What do we know of legends?

They are narratives of human actions that are perceived, by both the teller and the listener, to take place within history and to possess certain qualities that give the tale some sense of probability. Basically, the legend has to feel real to both the teller and the listener.

And most legends we hear of tend to fall into a realm of both believability and uncertainty, never being entirely believed by all involved, but also never completely doubted, either.

This seems like a good time to mention that it was revealed Wednesday afternoon that Notre Dame All-American and Heisman runner-up Manti Te’o has either been a victim of a massive hoax or a party to it.

According to Deadspin.com, the story that captured a nation last fall, where Te’o’s grandmother and girlfriend both passed away within hours of each other on September 12, spurring Te’o to emotionally guide Notre Dame to an undefeated regular season, was not entirely, well, true.

This is the stuff of legend. And not the kind we’re happy to pass on through the generations.

The details are still emerging. With each passing hour Wednesday afternoon, new – and exceedingly weird – details came to light.

A hoax. A dead girlfriend who wasn’t really dead, who furthermore wasn’t really real. Rumors of either plotted connections to Te’o or from people he seems to be acquainted with. Videotape evidence and published articles and columns which contradict each other. Conspirators almost begging to get caught through Twitter feeds in December.

There isn’t enough room to dive through all of it here, but you can read the Deadspin.com article and the follow-up on ESPN.com to get caught up or review.

What this blog does is look at the angles, the shades of gray and searches for reasoned answers through all the nuance of a story, trying to draw a narrative.

Yet this is difficult.

There’s really only two outcomes: either Te’o is a gullible victim of an odd and well-executed hoax that rocked him to his core or he was a disgraceful and participating piece of a hoax that in the worst possible way garnered sympathy and publicity.

Either way, there are so many questions, it is hard to determine which version is the truth. If Te’o was a victim in all this, our first option, then why did he feed information to the media that seems to contradict his latest comments?

In his statement, Te’o said he had a phone and online relationship with Lennay Kekua. Yet in published articles and interviews, there’s a narrative of Te’o having met her years earlier after a game at Stanford, where Kekua attended. How can she be the most beautiful person you’ve ever met, if you’ve, well, in fact, never met? (And yes, the above is a link to a page from the South Bend Tribune where that story has now been removed.)

How can you develop such an emotional bond with someone on the phone and through social media? Perhaps it’s fair to assume that the generation behind me, a technology inclined generation, can believe they feel these things because in many ways they do.

All I know is that, I too, spent two or three hours per night talking to the woman who is now my wife throughout the early part of our courtship. But I also saw her, in person, nearly every day. I met her family,  she met mine. The things we told each other about the other checked out because they were visible to all our senses: I could see and touch and feel her life, her history. Pictures, real relatives, etc. This deepens any relationship.


But to hear Te’o speak so candidly with reporters in the weeks following Kekua’s death, you’d have been led to believe they spent time together – and not just in a virtual sense. And no matter what generation you are a part of, that’s hard to square away, that you can feel so much for someone you’ve never met face-to-face.

Just last month I wrote about how we’re slipping away from real and meaningful communication with one another, replacing it with technology and removing true emotion. If this narrative on Te’o is true, and he fell for this woman so hard, without meaningful contact with her, then it’s only further proving this discourse.

Then, there’s the bit of a guy who supposedly created her Twitter account and made this relationship look legit who might have a connection with Te’o prior to all this. Again, that doesn’t solve the mystery of who Te’o was talking to for four hours, every night, for four months – as he told ESPN in an interview in October. 

He either embellished that to make himself sound better, or made it up as a party to this plan.

There are phone records. This can be checked out – and maybe it will be. If there are two people out there who perpetuated this hoax, they can probably be tracked down through IP addresses, GPS, phone records. But what kind of commitment and how evil do you have to be to do this to another human being? Evading Google image searches by stealing, then ever so slightly altering pictures of someone else – that’s not clever, it’s just weird.

Certainly there is more to this option, but in the interest of pulling these threads together, let’s look at option two. It’s much more dastardly and deceitful. Many are hammering Te’o in all media outlets and social networks right now, and many are asking for reservation before making a judgment.

But it is not hard to say that if Te’o was a party to this hoax, it’s one of the more despicable acts I’ve heard of. What it to garner sympathy for Heisman votes? Was it to gain more publicity? He was already a well-regarded linebacker and by all accounts, a man of faith and integrity. Why risk that? Why through that image away? To what point and purpose does that serve?

Perhaps, if this option is true, Te’o is lonely. It’s not a sexy plot line, but plausible all the same. And not quite as sick and twisted.  Yet even still, parts of the story don’t add up from his end.

In a transcript of a press conference from early October, Te’o talks about finding out when they were closing the casket at her service and how emotional that was. He sent roses. To where, exactly? Did he talk to her “family”? How does all that emotion actually work without actually having spent time with her in person?

Te’o got a call in Orlando in early December, from the woman he believed to be Kekua, who told him it was a hoax. Why wait two weeks before telling his coaches? Why let the story and narrative run through the BCS Championship? Even in embarrassment, the longer the hoax runs the worse it gets.

He says he wanted to be there, wanted to see her at the funeral. When he’d not met her? It seems an odd coincidence she told him that if anything happened, not to come, but to play for her.

Outside of just Te’o, the hoax has its own effects on our society, our media. No one vetted this out? Not ESPN, not Sports Illustrated, not writers and editors across the country who published all these “facts”?

As Deadspin reported, when probed on SportsCenter Wednesday night, well regarded ESPN.com senior writer Gene Wojciechowski said he couldn’t find an obituary while researching an article on Te’o and his incredible story. He couldn’t find a record of Kekua’s accident – a seemingly small piece of the account of their tale, from that South Bend Tribune story, yet anyone who’s ever read a local paper knows they publish police reports.

Wojciechowski says he probed Te’o about these missing records, but stopped when Te’o told him to back off. So he did. And in doing so, he committed a journalistic sin: he didn’t follow through on the sources and became too objective and involved with the subject of his writing.

There was a massive failure of many in the media to scratch below the surface of this story. They are culpable in some ways of cultivating this hoax.

No doctors of Kekua’s, who was said to have lost a battle with leukemia, were ever contacted for quotes or interviews. If you’re Te’o, and you’re that close to this girl, wouldn’t you be suspicious? Wouldn’t you want pictures? Wouldn’t you just do a quick search to find out more about her? Like where she went to high school, who she might have dated before you? Wouldn’t you ask to Skype? Why is a leukemia patient, who’s taken a turn for the worse, be on the phone until the late hours every night? Not trying to be glib, but don’t they usually suggest rest in situations like that?

This could go on and on, really. And it very may well. Was he a victim? Possibly. A liar? Maybe.

Thus a legend is born of a hoax.

And where does this leave us, those fans who followed it all and were moved by it? All I can think of is sad and cynical.

My 10-year-old son wore Manti Te’o’s jersey the night of the BCS Championship. We were angry when he didn’t win the Heisman. We were moved by his integrity, his perseverance through all of this tragedy and how hard he worked.

I had to look my son in the eyes Wednesday night and tell him most of the story, because he would hear about it at school. His friends would talk about it at lunch.

He handled it alright, but I didn’t. 

Whether it’s Lance Armstrong, Tiger Woods, Barry Bonds or this weirdness, we’re losing our ability to believe in anyone or anything. And we’re losing all sense of innocence, for our children and whatever sense of it we held ourselves from childhood.

On some level, that’s a good thing. Hero worship is dangerous, as heroes are not perfect and are bound to crumble and fall. This is proven time and again. 

Yet, we still need them. We still want inspiration to cling to. It’s why we believed in Lance. It’s why this hoax was so believable, because we’re so very gullible ourselves.

In the aftermath, the lasting impact of this story will be felt by everyone, from Te’o and his image, to the media and how they report, to how we as a society believe anything that doesn’t quite add up.

Yet here’s where our priorities are: this was the story of the day, perhaps the month. Meanwhile, Congress has yet to pass a budget for over 1,350 days. There’s gun control legislation proposed just today that could change the course of history. We have real issues and real problems facing this nation, yet our unquenchable thirst for gossip and dirt has us entrenched in a story over a college football player’s fake dead girlfriend.

We are losing our way, more and more, each day. From this hoax itself and all its nuanced angles and shades of gray, to the way we – very much including myself – have chosen to respond to it.

Just remember: legends are merely our perceived narrative of what transpired. They don’t have to be real, only occur within the realm of possibility.

We are all both the tellers and the listeners. Of both a legend and a hoax.

Never entirely sure, never entirely and fully doubted.  

Just drifting somewhere in between.

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Alabama football, BCS National Championship, Bear Bryant, Brian Kelly, Lynard Skynard, NCAA College Football, Nick Saban, Notre Dame

The Song of Saban


In the aftermath of “The Beating”, as a crystal football was held high into the warm winter air of Miami, the sound of Lynard Skynard’s ode to Alabama oozed out of the speakers in Sun Life Stadium.
“Sweet Home Alabama” was a befitting end to this night, this season.
No. 2 Alabama (13-1) defeated No. 1 Notre Dame (12-1) by a lopsided score of 42-14 to claim the 2012 National Championship and the school’s third national title in four years. It marked the Crimson Tide’s 15th National Championship in football (the school’s count), and for head coach Nick Saban, his fourth, cementing the claim to a dynasty.
By dominating this game in every fashion, it bolstered the crystal-clear notion that the Alabama Crimson Tide are the quintessential historic college football team. Not Notre Dame, not USC, not Texas. Never has a school and a sport meant so much to its fan base, to its state and to a region.
In hindsight, it would appear we all got a little carried away with this one. From breaking down the matchup in ways that gave Notre Dame a puncher’s chance to comparing this historic matchup with each school’s respective counterparts from years gone by.
Let’s just settle this: there will never be another Bear Bryant, another Knute Rockne. Between the Houndsooth Hat and the Galloping Ghosts, this matchup represented history on paper. Forrest Gump versus Rudy. But no hype machine on earth can make this 1973 or 1966. Rudy was an underdog. Forrest was an All-American with blazing speed. Gump was greater than Rudy on this night.
Run, Forrest, run.
But the sequence of plays that lead to “The Beating” proved that aura and mystique only take you so far, for either school. You need speed. You need size. You need precision.
Brian Kelly is a fine football coach, and as a lifelong fan of the Fighting Irish, I’m happy to have him. He’s just what was needed to restore this program to relevancy. And he has. A 12-0 undefeated regular season against a better schedule than people want to give credit for is way more than I expected this season – or frankly any of the next three seasons.
Yet there remains a vast difference between relevancy and relevant. Being in the conversation is not the same as being the center of the conversation. Notre Dame accomplished getting into the former, while Alabama has and is the latter.
When a football team and its fan base remains largely stuck in its past, as Notre Dame has, something has to change. You cannot get young high schoolers who weren’t even born the last time Notre Dame won the national title (1988) to commit based on its tradition and history. You have to show them something. And this is a fine start. This is where Alabama was five or six years ago, on the cusp of relevancy, struggling to maintain consistency.
For whatever it’s worth, Notre Dame deserved to be in this game. The only bowl-eligible undefeated team with wins over Stanford (who beat Oregon at Oregon and won the Rose Bowl) and at Oklahoma, as well as winning at USC (the preseason No. 1 team) was good enough to be selected for this game under this system. The outcome doesn’t prove Notre Dame was overhyped or fraudulent, it just proved Alabama was much, much better.
And therein is the major take away from this unruly affair: Alabama is vastly superior, vastly consistent and properly rated. As we debated over the past two weeks – following Florida’s embarrassing loss to Louisville and the SEC’s less than stellar bowl season showing – if the SEC was down and what that could potentially mean for the BCS title game, we forgot one thing: Alabama is different.
They are coached by Nick Saban, who’s been criticized by many, including me, as being an emotionless coaching droid. But what Saban’s lack of human emotion seems to stir in the rest of us really matters little; his results conjure all the emotional bond he needs with his players and fans. Take away those two lost seasons with the Miami Dolphins and the NFL, Saban’s won four national titles in eight years (he won one with LSU in 2003).
Who cares if Saban resembles the statue of himself outside Bryant-Denny Stadium – in more than just appearance – when he’s off the football field? Who cares if he allows himself and his staff just 48 hours to celebrate championships? And what does it matter if he enjoys a Gatorade bath like a cat enjoys being doused with water?
“Whether I look it or not,” Saban said following the game, “I’m happy as hell.”
Whether it matters or not, we shouldn’t care if he enjoys it. Why would Saban’s enjoyment of his life and accomplishments have any bearing on how we view them? Because we’re human, mostly. And we internalize these things and think, “Oh for pete’s sake, Nick, smile!” We would, right? If we were Saban, we’d be up there begging for more Gatorade to be dumped over our heads, for players to hug us and to sing our praises. We’d soak it all in and smile.
But we’re not Nick Saban.
I watched this game with my 10-year-old son, whom I’ve naturally and carefully crafted into a Notre Dame fan. Unsurprisingly, he went to bed in disgust in the middle of the third quarter. It was painful to watch, but only because – as I told him – the team had come so far and shown so little of what got them there. The hardest thing to do is reach the pinnacle and fall short of actually winning and celebrating.
It’s what we all dream of as kids and as adults, as fans. Those moments of cheering as the clock winds down, basking in the glow of success.
And perhaps that’s why we don’t understand Nick Saban. We’re all vastly different from him. And he’s very different from Bear Bryant. And its not the 1970s.
But maybe that’s why Nick Saban keeps on winning, because he’s different. He may not have the flair for the dramatic. He may not wear a Houndsooth Hat or have the Southern gentleman accent. 
He may not feel the glory of victory or the agony of defeat – which is what allows him to just keep going, keep working, keep pushing.
It’s what might make him the greatest college football coach of all-time, at least statistically, before it’s all said and done.
I just hope, for a moment, as the trophy was held there above his head late on a Monday night in Miami, he could hear the song coming out of the speakers and know that for an awful lot of people, it meant something to them.
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Alabama football, BCS Championship, Brian Kelly, Chip Kelly, LSU, Miami Dolphins, Nick Saban, Notre Dame, Oregon

Prepare to be Prepared


In roughly one month, Nick Saban could win his fourth NCAA college football championship. This is a big deal for a lot of reasons, all mainly to do with sports. He’s well prepared for this moment.
And thus is the Tao of Nick Saban, because nearly everything revolves around football and preparing for football games.
There will be many stories and columns written over the next 30 days, on Alabama’s current dynasty, which is playing for its third national title in four years. There will be stories about the rebirth of Notre Dame, puns about waking up the echoes (I’ve used a few myself), about how Brian Kelly stands become the next in a long line of famous Notre Dame coaches who have won a national title in their third year at the school.
But nothing is more fascinating than the blank, devoid nature of Nicholas Lou Saban.
He’s won 158 games and three national championships (one at LSU in 2003, two at Alabama, in 2009 and again last season). He wins bowl games, conference championships and it could be argued, he started the SEC’s run of dominance with that 2003 LSU team. 
 
Saban is notoriously famous for ducking questions. Any and all questions. Questions about his team, his opponents, his coaching style, recruiting practices and most notably, his emotions.
He rarely smiles, even when hoisting crystal footballs. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying life or football very much.
That’s somewhat troubling for a man who’s at the top of his profession.
Perhaps because he fundamentally believes he can control and manipulate the actions of 19-22 year-old college students, he is obsessed with micromanagement. After the 32-28 victory over Georgia in the SEC Championship that secured the Tide’s bid to the BCS title game, Saban was meticulously breaking down the failure of his players to run the defense called that was designed to stop Georgia from getting out of bounds and ending the game.
Everything Saban does is by design and when it does not go to plan, it’s upsetting to him. He wants to prepare to control. But control is an illusion, especially on a football field with 22 individuals who are reading and calculating in real time. Things don’t always go according to the plan.
And not going according to the plan is exactly how Notre Dame, as an underdog, can beat Alabama. The can prepare to be unprepared. Because it’s the only thing that can beat a calculated robot like Nick Saban.
Surprise him. Create spontaneity.
Miles, aka, the Mad Hatter, drives Saban nuts with his random ideas, fake punts, fake field goals and general zaniness. Only two teams have beaten Alabama over the past two seasons – LSU and Texas A&M. LSU did it by being flat-out crazy, with Miles calling the shots. Texas A&M did it with a quarterback, Johnny Manziel, who largely improvised once plays broke down.
You have to understand how essential preparation is to Saban. And how it’s drilled into his players, how his teams review minute details of every play call, snap count. This is a credit to their obsessive-compulsive head coach. Saban prepares to be prepared.
So when A&M ran their plays, Alabama reacted appropriately, right up to the point of finality. It looked like everyone was covered. It looked like the quarterback was sacked, or had no release valve or fifth option. Then Manziel went off the page and created something.
Same with LSU. It could be 4th-and-30 and Les Miles will run a fake punt option pitch. The least likely play is what Les likes. Especially against Saban, because Miles knows he probably didn’t spend a ton of prep time with his players on the least likely option, therefore it has the best chance to succeed.
And Georgia tried it in the SEC title game. With just seconds remaining and no timeouts, instead of spiking the ball to stop the clock and set something up, Georgia ran a play. They came up short and ran out of time. They didn’t even run the play (a fade to the back of the end zone) the way they wanted to. If they had, they would have won.
“Our players need to learn and execute things,” Saban said. “Like I told them, the most important thing in this game was to execute the plan.”
Had they called the timeout, they might have won, too. But the odds were long. Another 30 seconds for Saban and his assistants to run through the catalog of information in their brains about what Georgia’s top four plays are in that situation. Scanning all information, Alabama would have narrowed it down, ran that right play and most likely, the game would have ended with a sack or an interception or something.
This is why it probably eats at Saban that he failed with the Miami Dolphins. There wasn’t enough stability and too much spontaneity.
In his two years in South Florida, Saban’s teams were 9-7 in 2005 and 6-10 in 2006. It’s important to note how he ran the team as opposed to how they performed. He ran it like he did and would a college program. Except these are grown men. They are professionals.
Saban also elected to pass on signing Drew Brees, because of uncertainty over the torn labrum in his shoulder. He traded for Daunte Culpepper instead. Ironically, Culpepper was the one who never recovered from injury (his knee), leading the Dolphins to start 2006 at 1-6.
It was his only losing season. He couldn’t plan for Culpepper’s failure. He spent weeks assuring fans and Dolphins owner Wayne Huizenga that he was staying. On Jan. 3, 2007, he was gone. For 8 years and $32 million to Alabama.
Saban likes the safety net of college football. He knows what he is and he knows what he’s dealing with. Not many coaches will out prepare him, if any. And he’s got the talent (and their attention, due to their age and the stature of the program).
The only time you really hear him complain is about the BCS (when it’s not going Alabama’s way) because it’s unpredictable. Oh, and that he doesn’t like Chip Kelly’s offense and the speed of games now, because it’s not good for players to go at that speed.
No, Nick. It’s not traditional. It’s hard to completely prepare for. That’s why he doesn’t like it. It makes Saban uncomfortable to be out of his element, to have something out of his realm of control.
There’s nothing wrong with this mind you. It makes for a highly successful college football coach. He produces quality talent, wins, good NFL players. It’s a solid-product in sublime packaging. It works. But it doesn’t emote. It doesn’t inspire. It’s not entirely creative and ground breaking.
And while there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s highly un-entertaining. Saban is bland, boring and frankly, kind of creepy with his obsessive attention to preparation. There’s not a lot of depth there, it would appear. Saban thinks about preparing for football games and little else. He may have charities, he may have a great heart for children and his faith, but he’s not here to change the way we think about football, to invent something new.
Saban’s purpose is to execute the plan that was prepared.
Now, the king of preparation has 40 days to prepare for a bland offensive Notre Dame team and a defense that probably, despite their high ranking, has some holes a great football mind like Saban can find.
For Notre Dame, to win this battle is to not play that game. Notre Dame must do something different, something unpreparable (yes, that’s a new word, for those scoring grammar at home). Something…Miles-esque. Manziel-like.
So for all that you’re about to read, see and hear about Alabama, Notre Dame, traditions, defenses, Brian Kelly and the Irish, national championships and whatever other buzzwords are hard pressed into our subconscious before the BCS National Championship, remember this: Nick Saban will have his team prepared for what is most likely to occur.
Nick Saban won’t go back to the NFL. He can’t be happy. And the pressure of winning at Alabama means there’s no joy to it anymore, not with the expectations so big each week. So his life and his coaching career are intrinsically linked to this feeling of an elevated notion of unhappiness due to expected success. The success isn’t a surprise because it’s so thoroughly prepared for.
But with sports, and life, it’s the unexpected, the roller coaster moments that make us actually feel alive.
If you spend all of your time preparing and things go exactly as planned, it’s a life lived.
But is it living life? 

Either way, it can’t be much fun, which is something you can’t prepare for.


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