Desert heat

Apologies or no apologies, Mackovic has had it

You don’t have to read tea leaves to know John Mackovic is in trouble. The last time troops complained of Mackovic acting ugly, the boss put him out on the street.

No, the story out of the Arizona desert isn’t quite as surprising as some reports would make it seem. An urbane and natty chap who fancies himself a wine connoisseur, Mackovic has long been known to tick off players and even his own coaches with his snide, biting comments. The man isn’t red-faced and vulgar. Rather, it’s his air of aloofness and superiority that tends to make the blood boil.

The good news here, if there is any, is that Mackovic remains on the job after more than 40 Arizona football players aired their grievances against him in a secret meeting with university president Peter Likins. The last time Mackovic's players protested his actions, some 16 years ago, Kansas City Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt sided with the players and fired him.

Hunt probably had had enough of Mackovic, anyhow. But even now, it’s hard overlooking the role of the players and Frank Gansz, an ambitious assistant who ended up with the head job.

I come with the perspective of having been part of the Kansas City newspaper’s coverage of the Chiefs in 1986. That season, which was Mackovic’s fourth in K.C., the Chiefs improved to 10-6 and made their first playoff appearance in 15 years. But days after a playoff loss to the New York Jets, Hunt drove to the home of place-kicker Nick Lowery for a meeting with him and seven other players, including Pro Bowlers Deron Cherry, Art Still and Albert Lewis.

The postseason turmoil erupted when defensive coordinator Walt Corey was offered a job with the Buffalo Bills, followed by the resignation of Gansz, a nonstop yell-leader who oversaw special teams. Within hours of huddling with the players, Hunt fired Mackovic and handed the job to Gansz, whom I later reported had fibbed about his military and coaching background and who himself was gone two seasons later after compiling an 8-22-1 record.

Behind his back, some K.C. coaches referred to Mackovic as Mouse-ovic. They spoke of him as being whiney and unwilling to take blame when the offense, his specialty, faltered.

In fairness, he isn’t a bad guy or a sideline ogre. You never heard a peep about his demeanor in subsequent stops at Illinois and Texas. In fact, if you can get past his aloofness he probably operates a program with as much class as anyone.

The last I ran across him was at an ethics in sports seminar before he landed his gig at Arizona. Trust me, not many coaches -- even those looking for work -- show their face around this kind of a crowd. But there was Mackovic on a panel debating, if memory serves me, how athletic programs can fully embrace Title IX requirements and remain successful in the money-making sport of football.

And say what you want, in a sport where the bottom line is W's, critics have never accused Mackovic of playing loose with the rules or cheating to land players.

What triggered the player mutiny at Arizona was Mackovic acting ugly again. He himself has admitted it stems from his behavior after a Sept. 21 loss at Wisconsin. And he’s apologized for comments made to his assistants and the Wildcat players, including a remark to junior tight end Justin Levasseur that his performance was a “disgrace to his family.’’

Mackovic probably saved his job by expressing his guilt and offering apologies during a Wednesday news conference, but this bizarre public spectacle only bought him time. You’re in trouble when your team is 0-6 in the Pac-10, and 3-7 overall. Even more, if you want to stay around as the leader of the program, you can’t be standing in front of reporters and cameras, fighting back tears and asking for your players’ forgiveness.

As tender as the moment may have been, Mackovic is toast. He can never wipe the slate clean with the players, not when it’s so ugly that half the team goes behind his back to the president. What’s more, his recruiting pitch will never sound the same. Rival programs will rehash tales of the player mutiny and, if that doesn’t work, they’ll paint Mackovic as coaching on borrowed time, with Arizona more than capable of paying off the $2.4 million remaining on his contract.

As for the desert mutiny, Mackovic never saw it coming. Which reminds me of his words after his undoing in Kansas City years ago: “It was a surprise, I think that’s a safe thing to say."

Mike Fish is a senior writer for CNNSI.com.

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