Brick by Brick: Framing Systemic Racism for the Vols Fan

Preface

If you’re a Ph.D. in philosophy, social sciences, etc., then this probably isn’t the post for you, unless your particular brand of schadenfreude concerns the suffering of University of Tennessee Vols football fans. And if that’s you, then I get it. We are the hottest of hot-messes.

Here’s the point of the post: Deep divergences remain between white folks and people of color when it comes to understanding, or even acknowledging the existence of, systemic racism. This post is meant to be a low-stakes way of framing the discussion without yet getting into complex analyses of how systemic racism functions in society. Enjoy.

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Despite the commonplace slandering of southerners that occurs, Southeastern Conference (SEC) fans are actually brilliant.

This is not trolling. I’m serious.

Florida fans can tell you how each variation of their high-powered offenses have varied from Steve Spurrier to Urban Meyer to Dan Mullen.

Crimson Tide devotees know the physical measurements of the running back depth chart so thoroughly that they can tell you while they’re excited about their current stud, they’re actually waiting to see the # 3 back who is supposedly Derrick Henry’s clone.

Mississippi State Bulldogs know that Mike Leach’s Air Raid offense will look different once he gets “his guys” into it and have probably already watched 36 hours of Gardner Minshew game-film, squinting a bit so that Cougar crimson begins to look more and more like Bulldog maroon.

SEC fans are capable of complex thought; they routinely consider decades of development or regression within their program. The SEC’s motto sums it up perfectly: It just means more. And, because it means more, they—(ahem) we—throw ourselves into it, learning as much as we can about each new roster and its possibility.

I’m a lifelong Tennessean and Volunteers fan, but it wasn’t until I moved to Knoxville that I realized how different fandom is when you occupy the space. You learn the city and its patterns, particularly those decades-in-the-making habits during the spring and summer, game-weeks, and game-days. It’s an orange-shaded gravitational field that pulls you into its orbit, whether you want to be or not. Such is life for many SEC fans.

The all-too-normal rhythm for Vols fans also includes slouching into January for our annual gripe-fest lamenting how and why we will never ascend to the heights of the late nineties. This collective nostalgia trap worthy of Uncle Rico begins by relitigating the last dozen years of gridiron futility, trying to narrow down one precise moment or villain where it all went sideways. There’s a cottage industry in the Knoxville orbit that attempts to explain this persistent problem, whether via local radio or in print like Mark Nagi’s aptly named Decade of Dysfunction or more recently, David Ubben and Bruce Feldman’s piece for The Athletic.

For where two or more Vols are gathered and asked, “What is the problem on Rocky Top?” you will receive at-minimum two dozen answers.

The annual rite of self-flagellation takes place on text threads and email exchanges, message boards, radio shows, and social media. Everyone has a favored theory and a preferred scapegoat. Individually, though, none of the figures, enumerated moments, or even tinfoil conspiracies answer the question “Why do we suck?”

Vols fans know this terrain well, but if you’re among the uninitiated to this special brand of masochism, here’s a quick primer.

Phil Fulmer:Working like heck

(Photo: Tennessee Athletics/UTsports.com

When legendary football coach Philip Fulmer began what was unbeknownst to him his final season at UT in 2008, his program wasn’t exactly reeling. Fulmer had a Top 5 recruiting class coming in for 2009, and he had won 10 games in three of his five previous seasons.

But Fulmer had endured just his first losing season (in 2005) before logging his second losing campaign in his final year (2008). Recruiting, the lifeblood of college football programs, had begun to yo-yo between good and subpar years for Fulmer, the previous lord of the living room, and recruiting dips lead to pink slips in the SEC.

Defeats in national recruiting equaled losses on gameday, especially against UT’s main rivals—Georgia, Florida, and Alabama—and an increasingly stacked coaching league. Fulmer had set an unmatchable standard for himself and the fans, amassing from 1995 to 1998 a mind-boggling 45-5 record including the magical run to the 1998 national championship. Who could sustain such a run? Not Fulmer, as Chris Low points out: Fulmer went 11-16 against UGA, UF, and Bama from 2000-2008.

Fulmer’s lack of success against top coaches was also a deciding factor in his demise, too, marked by a .333 win percentage against Mark Richt (3-4), Urban Meyer (0-3), Nick Saban (1-3 at LSU and Alabama), and Steve Spurrier (5-8 at Florida and South Carolina).

Enter Lane Kiffin.

Lane Kiffin’s Burning mattress and other tales from the punk scene

(PHOTO: Sam Greenwood/Getty Images)

UT athletic director at the time, Mike Hamilton, remains a curse word for his unceremonious pumpkin-chuck of Fulmer, as if the former national champion was a lingering yard decoration into November. Lane Kiffin brought plenty of swagger with his famous last name from the West Coast (if not any corresponding victories from his Raiders stint) along with an all-star coaching staff, including his legendary father, Monte, and ace recruiters like current LSU coach Ed Orgeron. Kiffin was the Sex Pistols to Fulmer’s George Strait, and his crew brought flair and 5-star recruits back to Knoxville for 14 months of chaos, arrests, endless trash-talking, and the most fun 7-6 team you’ve ever seen. Kiffin unexpectedly left for his dream job at Southern Cal (USC) very late in the recruiting process and the annual coaching carousel, leaving Tennessee to settle for Louisiana Tech coach Derek Dooley.

156648552-tennessee-v-vanderbilt.jpg.jpg — Derek Dooley: Orange Britches, Bamboo, and the bama way

(PHOTO: Frederick Breedon/Getty)

It was bad enough that Derek Dooley inherited a depleted roster from Kiffin, who ousted several Fulmer players, and those recruits that weren’t charged with crimes (Google it) left, as well. But, Dooley didn’t do himself any favors. By his own admission, Dooley said he needed to be humbled upon getting the UT job. Dooley’s failure wasn’t for lack of intelligence: He earned a law degree from the University of Virginia and served simultaneously as Louisiana Tech’s football coach and athletic director. Dooley would pepper his press conferences with references to the military strategies of Nazi general Erwin Rommel, bamboo growth habits, and any other non-football topic that sparked his imagination.

But Dooley’s micromanaging style, presumably learned as a longtime Nick Saban assistant, did not work at Tennessee. Subpar records led to diminished recruiting success, including the shocking fact that Dooley’s staff failed to land a single offensive lineman one year, the foundation of any SEC football team. He soon experienced a revolving door of assistant coaches, the last of those being Alabama assistant Sal Sunseri, who led Tennessee to a historically porous defense, sealing Dooley’s fate. New athletic director Dave Hart started in 2011 and ended Dooley’s tenure: a 15-21 overall record punctuated by an abysmal 4-19 conference record.

A smarting fanbase needed a people-pleaser, preferably one who looked and spoke like a football coach, rather than a history professor.

Butch Jones: A slogan for every occasion

Butch Jones came to UT in 2013 after a good run at the University of Cincinnati. He was hired by Dave Hart, bringing with him a winning tradition, albeit one riding the coattails of his predecessor Brian Kelly, now the coach at Notre Dame. Butch utilized enough catchy slogans and gimmicks to make Harold Hill proud.

“Brick by brick.” “Championship of life.” “Five-star hearts.” “Dinkin flicka.”

There were warning signs from the beginning, when he didn’t retain key Vol staffer, offensive line-guru Sam Pittman. Jones’ offensive system was a stretch for the remaining talent, and the years of subpar recruiting showed. In particular, the under-recruited offensive line was in tatters by Jones second year and young players were forced into action prior to being game-ready in the uber-physical SEC. Additionally, Butch and staff didn’t show a knack for developing players, famously treating current New Orleans Saints star Alvin Kamara like a complimentary player rather than the focal point of an offense.

The brilliant Joshua Dobbs bailed out Butch’s coaching missteps in several games getting the Vols back to the doorstep of respectability until key coaching and execution errors sent Jones into a do-or-die year in 2017. Dobbs quarterbacked the record-setting offense in 2016, but his graduation left Jones with the unenviable position of replacing his most irreplaceable player. He could not, and Butch Jones was fired, leaving UT with a 34-27 record, respectable for the SEC, but not up to Volunteer fans’ expectations. A whole host of other issues surrounded Butch, ranging from his handling of player injuries, strength and conditioning, and his alleged physical contact with players. (Again, Google it). Butch had recruited well but had neither developed the talent he had nor had he handled the glare of the SEC spotlight.

Melancholy and the infinite sadness (the quick version)

(PHOTO: Dale Zanine)

Most sports fans recall the fiasco of the UT coaching search in late 2017, ignited by the hiring of former Rutgers coach Greg Schiano by new athletic director John Currie. (Oh yeah, UT hired another athletic director). Currie’s wild coaching search culminated in his firing, Phil Fulmer’s return as athletic director, and Fulmer’s decision to hire Alabama defensive coordinator, Jeremy Pruitt, who inherited such a depleted offensive line (again!) that he didn’t have enough linemen to hold a proper spring scrimmage.

Three years later, Pruitt was terminated for cause over alleged recruiting violations, finishing with a 16-19 record. Fulmer “retired.”

Additionally, consider this from Marvin West, which adds further context to the ongoing mess:

“From 2005 through 2020, the University of Tennessee has had four presidents, five chancellors, four athletics directors, five head football coaches and nine losing seasons. The turnover is inexplicable, borderline insane. Blame the board of trustees and powerbrokers behind the scene for an assortment of mistakes, bad decisions, poor choices.”

If you’ve spent any time in higher ed, then you know this is ridiculously high turnover.

Following West’s article, UT hired yet another athletic director and another head football coach, their fifth and sixth, respectively, in the last decade and a half.

So, to recap: Who or what is to blame for the downfall of UT football?

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Every Tennessee fan knows this story. We can explain it in detail: The wrong hire at the wrong time, the flawed offenses, the porous defenses, the dysfunction at the university level, the subpar recruiting followed up by inadequate player development, etc. In a word, they can explain the systemic flaws that have caused us to waste countless hours of our lives, contemplating what feels like a hopeless cause.

So, back to the matter of understanding systemic racism: If you can connect the dots of the UT football program’s missteps, of understanding, for example, what Dooley’s failure to recruit even a single offensive lineman connects to Butch’s struggle five years later, or how uneven quarterback development has shaped the program’s fortune, or how administrative dysfunction at the highest levels of the UT system can trickle down through athletics, then the complexity of understanding systemic racism is not too heavy a lift.

Seriously. Connect the dots in this totally incomplete rundown of the history:

While different people groups have always existed, racial categories were created for the sake of enriching some by enslaving others.
These false ideas of racial superiority infused every area of life through laws, bad science, philosophy, and even religion.
The South’s agriculture-based economy was propped up by slave labor, leading to a Civil War.
Post-Emancipation the fight continued to maintain the old caste system through terror through the Reconstruction and Redemption periods.
Laws, followed by cultural norms, separated us from each other creating segregation (aka “Jim Crow”).
More laws ensured that generational wealth could be created and passed with significant obstacles for people of color.
For example, pre-and post-WWII housing laws excluded people from joining the growing U.S. middle class. Cheap housing helped create the suburbs, which left cities underfunded.
Brown v. Board ends legal school segregation (1954), but it took decades to begin even approximating the law’s intention. Meanwhile, private schools popped up across the country ensuring the continuation of some form of school segregation.
The civil rights movement led to legal victories, but new rights could not undo four centuries of financial loss or the generations of false myths perpetrated to degrade people of color.
“Law and order” policies were targeted efforts that led to mass incarceration, over-policing, drug wars, and militarized police forces, which helped a nation be “tough on crime” but not so “smart on crime.”
Many Americans settled into homogenous spaces in school, work, and church.
Combine that physical homogeneity with media and social media choices that ideologically reinforce one’s beliefs, and divisions deepen.

This is obviously not an exhaustive list, but even these bullet points represent hundreds of thoroughly researched books. If you can understand complex, failing systems—like UT football—then you can understand the underlying causes of one of our nation’s enduring critical issues.

Hear me clearly: I’m not equating the frustration of UT football to the moral abomination of multi-generational racism. The only point is that if you have painstakingly considered the multiple things that have landed UT football into this decade-plus of disarray, then you are well-prepared to begin the journey of considering the centuries-upon-centuries of practices that have built upon each other to bring us to where we are today.

You know…Brick by brick. (Sorry. I had to.)

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