Publication:Chattanooga Times Free Press; Date:Sunday, August 20, 2006 ; Section:Sports; Page:34 Orange Crushed Editor’s note: Today and next Sunday, the Chattanooga Times Free Press will be running excerpts from staff writer Darren Epps’ chronicle of the 2005 Tennessee Volunteers’ season, "Orange Crushed." Chapter 5: Nobody Knows Anything One of the most memorable weeks of Rick Clausen’s life — and in Tennessee football history — started with Clausen cursing out Phillip Fulmer in his Neyland-Thompson Sports Center office. Considering the bizarre, often acrimonious events leading up to the Tennessee-LSU game, a string of obscenities from the quarterback’s mouth aimed at the head coach was really quite standard. That same week, University of Tennessee president Dr. John Petersen and athletic director Mike Hamilton exchanged heated barbs with SEC commissioner Mike Slive and LSU athletic director Skip Bertman. Members of the offense fumed at their own production. Parys Haralson’s mother, among other parents, exploded at the thought of the Vols playing in Baton Rouge, La., with Hurricane Rita looming in the Gulf of Mexico. And Fulmer exploded because the parents exploded. Everyone wearing orange was turning red. Clausen, the popular, laidback California native, was the first to vent. Clausen was already unhappy before Fulmer called him into his office two days after the loss to Florida. Clausen had supposedly won the job with his performance against UAB but threw just five passes for zero yards in the 16-7 loss to the Gators. He didn’t even play in the second half. Some starting job. So a grumpy Clausen turned furious when he sat down at Fulmer’s desk and found out that Erik Ainge, who was completing 44.2 percent of his passes, was now the starting quarterback. And not just Fulmer’s original definition of "starting quarterback." Ainge was the starter — as in, he could throw passes underhanded and not get benched. "Erik doesn’t have to be looking over his shoulder," Fulmer said, and he apparently meant it this time. "It’s the same things as before. He gives us a little bit more mobility and a stronger arm. That doesn’t mean that he’s a lot more mobile or has a lot stronger arm. It just gives us a better opportunity to make plays down the field." The rotation was over. "Hindsight is twentytwenty, and I was trying to be fair to all concerned. Rick had played really well for us. It’s not working out," Fulmer said, then hinted that Clausen expressed anger during their meeting. "You know, there’s 117 schools in the country, and I’d say there’s 117 notvery-happy second-team quarterbacks." During the week that Clausen expected to face the team that didn’t want him, Clausen, in fact, wasn’t going to face the team that didn’t want him. He was going to sit on the bench at Tiger Stadium, just like he had when he played there. No revenge, no retribution, no payback. ... Nothing had changed. Little Clausen was on the bench again. These were likely the thoughts that circulated through Clausen’s head when he cursed at the coach who had rescued him from a potentially dire situation at LSU. And Clausen, who had waited six years for an opportunity to play SEC football, was ready to walk away after coming so close to winning the starting job. Normally the eager quarterback anxious to watch film, Clausen slumped back in his seat during quarterback meetings and paid little attention to Sanders like a bored fifth-grader listening to a monotone history teacher meticulously describe the War of 1812. That Wednesday, Clausen called his parents in California and said he was packing his stuff and coming home. "It came to the point where I thought I might as well coach Jimmy," Clausen said, referring to his younger brother, also a quarterback. "It came to that point. I just didn’t understand. ... He’s the head coach, and he makes the decisions. But I really didn’t understand at all." It was the theme of the week. No one understood much inside the Neyland-Thompson Sports Center. "Nobody," as screenwriter William Goldman used to describe Hollywood, "knows anything." And the saying applied to the Vols, particularly on offense.
Interesting read, I'm not surprised that Clausen might let a few rip, after all he had the #1 spot before Fulmer punted him to the sidelines for Ainge and the other kid. Then he comes back and plays well after the rooks go down and has a great Cotton Bowl. Then he's punted back to the sidelines again, now granted it's his job to play so well that Fulmer couldn't do that, but still you'd have to see how he could be a little bit frustrated. Terry
Clausen <t>Still, does a head coach let one of his players...even the QB...cuss him out and get away with it? Johnny Majors wouldn't have tolerated it. <br/> <br/> Would Spurrier, Bobby Bowden, Tom Osborne, or any other of the top coaches let one of their players cuss them out and get away with it?<br/> <br/> Just my humble opinion...</t>
Yeah I'd agree with you, I doubt if any kid could do that to Charlie Weis and survive either. I'm just sayin' I feel his pain!