After going 15-11 in his first two seasons at Cal, Jeff Tedford has turned the Bears into a national title contender in 2004. Jed Jacobsohn/Getty Images

The T-shirt was the brainchild of Bob Rose, the University of California's aptly named executive associate athletic director for communications, and it speaks to the school's football revival on numerous levels. Tie-dyed blue-and-gold, the front of the shirt features a photo of Cal head coach Jeff Tedford bordered by the words "Ted Head"; on the rear is a "tour schedule" of the Golden Bears' 2004 season, a year in which Cal has ascended to No. 4 in the BCS standings.

Located in the bluest part of a blue state, Berkeley is a place where the tie-dye outnumbers the three-piece suit and where the term "plastic surgery" conjures images of college kids turning one-gallon water bottles into, uh, turbo-charged tobacco smoking devices. For those reasons alone, the "Ted Head" shirt is brilliant, but it also taps into another, less-trivial element of Cal's counterculture: Just as needy Deadheads were ill-equipped to deal with the death of Jerry Garcia, Bears backers are struggling with the calamitous possibility that they'll be mournfully singing He's Gone shortly after this season's Rose, Orange or Whatever Bowl.

Three years after inheriting what was arguably the most wretched football program in the country and, in his first head coaching job, transforming Cal into a smart and passionate national power, Tedford is one of the hottest coaches in the country. Actually, that may be an understatement: Other than Bill Belichick, Tedford is the hottest coach in America. A 43-year-old offensive wizard and quarterback guru with a deceptively gentle leadership touch, Tedford will be actively pursued by Florida and Washington and will attract the attention of several NFL teams after the 2004 season.

Last December, Tedford turned down a five-year, $10 million offer to coach the Chicago Bears, who came back to him a second time, just to make sure, before finalizing their deal with Lovie Smith. Tedford also nailed his interview with the Atlanta Falcons, who nonetheless hired the extremely adept Jim Mora. Were Tedford officially in play, it's conceivable that schools such as Penn State, Notre Dame and Miami would consider making semi-drastic moves to enter the bidding for his services as well.

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Having lost their past two solid coaches, Bruce Snyder and Steve Mariucci, to deep-pocketed suitors (Snyder to Arizona State after '91, Mariucci to the 49ers after '96), Cal fans are insecure. Throw in an unsettled stadium-renovation project, a new chancellor and athletic director, and there hasn't been so much anxiety in Berkeley since -- well, since the night of Nov. 2, but that's a whole other column.

Now here's the good news: Tedford wants to stay. Really, he does. I know this because two people close to him have assured me this is the case. Based on what I know from sources on both ends of the equation, Cal will shock the sports world and keep him.

For Tedford to remain in Berkeley, two things have to happen. The first, as you might have guessed, involves large stacks of green-and-white bills. Should the Bears reach a BCS bowl this year, Tedford would earn approximately $1.2 million, largely because of incentives, but that's not going to cut it in a marketplace that includes salaries like those commanded by Virginia Tech's Frank Beamer (somewhere between $1.5 and $2 million annually), Michigan State's John L. Smith ($1.5 million), Maryland's Ralph Friedgen ($1.5 million over 10 years), Iowa's Kirk Ferentz (nearly $2 million), Minnesota's Glen Mason ($1.5 million) and -- try not to laugh because, to paraphase a certain failed NFL coach, this must be the dumbest contract in America -- Nebraska's Bill Callahan (just under $1.5 million).

Even at an esteemed institution such as Cal, which consistently ranks as the nation's No. 1 public university, paying market value for a coach who changed autumn Saturdays from mountain-biking opportunities to mini-Woodstocks can be stomached. And while money is tight in Arnold Schwarzenegger's California, Cal alums are in the process of securing five-year financial commitments from donors who should be able to shoulder a hearty share of the load. That said, Tedford also wants raises and housing allowances for his assistants, so it would behoove any well-off Bears fans who break into cold sweats at the memory of the team's mistake-prone 1-10 campaign in 2001 to step up to the plate, like, right now.

This brings us to our second issue: stadium renovation. During his years as Oregon's offensive coordinator, Tedford saw the majesty of Phil Knight's pocketbook at work, and from day one he has been frustrated by Cal's relatively decrepit facilities. One could call the locker room, weight room and meeting areas state-of-the-art -- so long as he or she was talking about ancient art. Memorial Stadium, while nestled into resplendent Strawberry Canyon with a gorgeous view of the San Francisco Bay, is far less beautiful once you venture inside; a state-mandated earthquake retrofit also looms, meaning Cal has a chance to make a loud statement about its future as a major player on the national football scene.

Here's where things get tricky. Until now, Cal's bureaucratic gridlock, politically charged community and institutional distrust for letting athletics overshadow academics have conspired to create a fatalistic assumption that such notions of grandeur will never come to fruition in Berkeley. This is what they're saying in Gainesville and Seattle -- Cal has no hope of tackling such a project because of, well, its very Cal-ness.

Yet those who have been paying close attention to the school in recent years have cause for optimism. The inspired hiring in 2001 of crew coaching legend Steve Gladstone as athletic director, and his subsequent recruiting of a stable of lieutenants (executive associate ADs Mark Stephens, Dan Coonan, Teresa Kuehn and Rose) and terrific coaches lifted the program to uncharted heights. The Bears finished ninth in last year's Director's Cup standings and are on the rise in virtually every sport, and the school employs at least a half-dozen coaches -- including Tedford -- whom are as good as or better than anyone in their field. Yet football, both economically and spiritually, is what drives a school's athletic program, and the ancillary benefits of a season like Cal is having in 2004 are numerous.

For example, with dozens of recruits in various sports making official visits timed with football home games, is it any wonder that so many student-athletes (most recently swimming sensation Jessica Hardy) are committing to school?

This is the question with which new athletic director Sandy Barbour, hired to replace Gladstone two months ago after serving as Notre Dame's deputy director of athletics, will be confronted in the coming weeks. Keep Tedford in the fold and she has a chance to preside over a broad-based athletic program that will be the class of the nation. Lose him, and she begins her new job with an 0-2 count and Jennie Finch on the mound.

It's an urgent undertaking that will require support from the recently installed chancellor, Robert Birgeneau, who chafed many big-time donors by choosing Barbour over Stephens. Consider that one potential stadium/facilities project, which would also provide space for the law and business schools, could cost as much as $180 million. Yet if that figure turns out to be too steep, there are viable, cheaper alternatives that could spruce up the stadium and construct a separate building which could serve as Tedford's Taj Majal.

If ground isn't broken on a new stadium by Dec. 15 -- and it won't be -- Tedford's contract calls for the buyout clause to be reduced from $1 million to $500,000 and the elimination of a clause prohibiting him from jumping to another Pac-10 school. Those are mere technicalities. Tedford is realistic enough to know that stadium projects take time, and he won't leave Cal because a deadline passed. What he seeks is enough positive body language to assure him the perceptions about football in Berkeley aren't true -- a somewhat intangible sense that the school has a viable, reasoned plan and is fully prepared to carry it out in the not-so-distant future. My expectation is that later this month, Tedford will like what he hears from his superiors.

This landmark opportunity, even more than the very real possibility of Cal's first Rose Bowl appearance since 1959, is the true payoff awaiting the school. Keep Tedford, upgrade the facilities, and the campus will soon become as known for athletic triumphs as it is for free speech, academic achievement and tie-dyed-in-the-wool hippies. As Barbour, her bosses and the donors they solicit consider what's at stake, they'd be well-served to remember a certain blue-and-gold article of clothing: No, not the "Ted Head" T-shirt, but the one that began turning up in the student section early in Tedford's first season in Berkeley:

"Tedford is God."

GOOD MORNING, MR. PHELPS: When you are a 19-year-old Olympic hero whose entire marketing strategy is based on image, it's not a great thing to be nailed for DUI, as Michael Phelps was in Maryland last week. Yet let's give the kid some credit -- unlike so many others who have been confronted with a situation like this, he has been contrite and self-critical without making excuses. Considering his youth and lack of freedom to this point -- the Baltimore Bullet has spent most of his time staring at black lines at the bottom of pools -- it's not entirely surprising that Phelps would make a mistake. If he seizes this opportunity to begin making better decisions, he'll be a much more compelling role model when all is said and done.

HIP-POP: Ron Artest might want to take some notes from rap legend Luke Campbell, who coached his youth football team, the Liberty City Optimist Club, to a Super Bowl championship in the 130-pound division of Miami's Pop Warner league. Luke's crew heads to the national Pop Warner tournament, beginning with Saturday's game against Cypress Lake of Naples, Fla.

For a man once arrested onstage for uttering explicit lyrics, Campbell sure has sullied his image as an enemy of the state.

DUMB AND DUMBER: A year after Callahan's infamous comments regarding his players' intelligence helped seal his demise with the Raiders, two NFL coaches, Bill Parcells and Jim Haslett, last week dropped the D-word into interviews when assessing their respective teams.

Gentlemen, this is 21st-century America: Don't you know dumb is the new smart?

Sports Illustrated senior writer Michael Silver sounds off weekly on SI.com.