What was and what would never be under Jeff Tedford

Jeff Tedford spent 11 years at Cal, becoming the school's

winningest coach. (AP Photo)

The press room was unusually quiet as I and my Daily Cal cohort walked into the Hall of Fame Room at the Old Memorial Stadium. The usual banter before the postgame press conference was replaced by whispers, the soft rustling of papers and the echoes from disgruntled fans outside, walking home in disappointment. It was also late in the night, and the old veterans who worked for newspapers had to pound out the early editions of their stories, so that people in the far reaches of the Bay Area could at least have a couple of paragraphs to describe what had just happened in Berkeley.

What would be revealed—if anything—at the presser would have to go online and would be on the front pages in San Francisco, Oakland and San Jose—where delivery trucks don’t have to stray too far away from their printing presses.

So, in addition to what seemed like ambient noise was the steady click-clack that came from reporters typing on their laptops. One of the reporters phoned in to his editor. His story was finished. He was going to add the quotes in later.

We had to take seats in the table at the front of the room, something that we never did. There is something awkward about sitting at the front of a press corps, especially when you’ve barely reached the legal age to drink. Usually, we—and by “we” I mean the crew that wrote for the student paper—gave deference to the professionals. They’ve been doing this a long time. They should ask the questions. They should be sitting in the front.

Not tonight. No, tonight was different.

And usually, I’m one of the first in the Hall of Fame room for the press conference. Even before the clock hits zero, I’ve tried to make my way up, just to save my crew a spot in the press room, to save a couple of outlets and to be the first to grab the final stat book that the sports information guys print out. Tonight, we were one of the last people to walk into that press conference.

This night was Oct. 13, 2007, and the reason why the mood was different in the Hall of Fame room that night was because Cal had just dropped its first game of the 2007 campaign. It was a heartbreaker. The final score 31-28 with one freshman mistake being the deciding factor in the game.

Sure, in other seasons, in different eras, under another head coach, this would have been not out of the norm. Losing, however, was not the norm under head coach Jeff Tedford, especially in 2007.

Tedford had led the Bears to a 5-0 record heading into that autumn evening in Berkeley. Cal opened the season with a drubbing of No. 15 Tennessee, then a perennial national contender. It was coming off an improbable road win over No. 11 Oregon, in what is the most inhospitable stadium to play in on the West Coast (college or pro). And, with the tumult that was ravishing the college football landscape, the Bears found themselves with a No. 2 ranking.

No, that loss was no ordinary loss. It was The Loss. It is The Loss that has defined the second half of Tedford’s 11-year tenure at Cal, which ended last week. But it isn’t the loss that led me to believe that Tedford would never take the Bears to the next level. It was that postgame press conference that told me more about Tedford and the state of the program than any on field performance ever would.

****

It was a cold December night in San Diego—my home town—and I was standing in the stands in the east end zone at Qualcomm Stadium. And I had a bad feeling for what was about to happen in the ensuing four hours.

It was, after all, just two years removed when Cal last played in the Holiday Bowl against a team from Texas. On that night, what was the No. 4 team in the country and what was supposed to be a team playing a few days later in Pasadena in the Rose Bowl looked like a team that did not even belong on the same field as Texas Tech. The Red Raiders humiliated the Aaron Rodgers-led Bears. The 45-31 final score does not do the actual game justice. At one point, Texas Tech held a three touchdown advantage.

That loss in 2004 spoiled what was the best season of Cal football in a generation. As the clock wound down in that Holiday Bowl loss, a few of the Cal students in my section began to take out their frustration on the Qualcomm Stadium furniture. A few of us began to jump up and down on the plastic seats; stomping away as if Pete Carroll or Matt Leinart or Mack Brown’s face was plastered on the seat below us. A few of us were successful and left The Q with a souvenir.

And it was that game that was giving me nightmares as I watched the Bears and Texas A&M warm up an hour before kickoff. I was in the same end zone, almost in the same seats. In 2004, Cal was unable to compete with the gimmicky spread offense that Texas Tech employed. In 2006, the experts were saying that A&M was going to be too physical for a soft, West Coast football team like Cal to handle. I believed every word.

To my surprise, it was the other way around, as the Bears manhandled the Aggies behind the physical running of Marshawn Lynch and the stellar pace of Justin Forsett. The two future NFL running backs combined for 235 yards rushing. That physical Texas A&M team was reduced to cow manure.

Tedford hoisting the Holiday Bowl trophy in 2006.

I stood on those same plastic seats, not in disgust as I did two years before, but in celebration. As I watched the gold-clad Bears awarded the Holiday Bowl trophy, I was a bit surprised to see that the usually quiet (but grandstanding) Cal receiver from Long Beach had something to say. DeSean Jackson wasn’t being awarded the offensive MVP trophy—that went to Lynch. But he was on the microphone anyway, with these words ringing off the hills of Mission Valley:

“We’re going to win the national championship next year!”

I laughed. Not because I believed him, but because it was so improbable. Twice in 2006 did Cal have the opportunity to go to the Rose Bowl and twice they failed. How did anyone believe that the Bears were going to be a national title contender in 2007?

The fans in the south stands and east end zone didn’t care. They cheered when Jackson made his prophecy. Maybe the Bears could reach heights they hadn’t seen in decades. Maybe Tedford was the man to lead Cal to its promise land.

****

The public address announcer at Autzen Stadium proudly declared “It never rains at Autzen Stadium.” The forecast, however, said otherwise.

I was in Eugene, Ore., and I was in the press box at Autzen Stadium, ready for Cal’s clash with No. 11 Oregon, almost a year after Jackson declared a national championship season and a month after the Bears took down Tennessee. I was in the midst of what would become one of the most memorable times of my college career (all of that is recounted here). To be concise, I had early wake up calls on the Thursday and Friday morning before Saturday’s game to do interviews—one on ESPN’s First Take, the other to make a short appearance on Bay Area radio. I was also up at 5 a.m. the morning of the game, to watch ESPN’s College GameDay from behind the scenes from a park just outside of the stadium.

On that day, the PA announcer spoke the truth. It did not rain at Autzen Stadium during the game.

Tedford after Cal defeated Oregon in 2007. The
Bears became the No. 3 team in the country

after this win, and eventually rose to No. 2 a
week later. (Daily Cal/Salgu Wissmath)

But, in the final seconds, as the clock wound down and the Bears began to celebrate a program-defining win, the rain finally did come. The Ducks limped off the field. A smattering of Oregon fans stood in the stands in disbelief. They had come so close to upsetting the No. 6 team in the country. So close that they were almost in the end zone. Actually, Oregon was in the end zone, but the ball was fumbled out of bounds, turning the ball over to Cal. It seemed like the makings of a dream season. It was definitely a dream ending in Eugene for Tedford. He spent time at Oregon as its offensive coordinator and every return trip to Autzen ended in a loss. 

Not this time. All smiles, he ran to the small contingent of Cal fans in the southeast corner of the stadium. He raised his arms triumphantly, the beads of rain dripping from his cap.

Who knew what Tedford could make this Bears team do in 2007? The thought that ran through the minds of Cal fans that September afternoon had to have been: With USC the No. 1 team in the country, the Rose Bowl must be in sight. Even if we lose to the Trojans, they’ll be in the national title game and we’ll get redemption for that screw job back in 2004.

A day later, Cal was the No. 3 team in the country, and Cal fans stopped dreaming about roses. They had a higher prize in their eyes.

****

It’s not easy rooting for Stanford. It’s not easy at all. But there I was, with members of the Daily Cal sports staff, stuffed in my editor’s apartment in Berkeley, rooting for—gasp—Stanford.

This was Cal’s week off, and we were watching the Cardinal play No. 1 USC at the Los Angeles Coliseum. And we were mesmerized.

The plucky Stanford team, which a year before finished with a 1-11 record, was on the road and had a shot at beating the Trojans.

Down 23-17, quarterback Tavita Pritchard and the Stanford offense faced a 4^th-and-20 with less than two minutes to go. Pritchard somehow found Richard Sherman on USC’s 9 yard-line, converting the 4^th-and-long and giving the Cardinal new hope.

Three plays later, Pritchard again faced fourth down. And again, he converted, hooking up with Mark Bradford in the end zone. After the ensuing extra point, Stanford led No. 1 USC 24-23.

But there was still time and this was still USC.

Any hopes, however, for a Trojans come back ended when John David Booty threw an interception to Bo McNally.

The apartment erupted.

We all knew that Cal was now the No. 2 team in the country.

****

It wasn’t a surprise to hear that the rankings did not matter to Tedford or any of his players. They were playing the expectations game, just like the Obama and Romney campaigns did before their first presidential debate earlier this year.

Even after ascending to the No. 2 ranking in both major polls, Tedford and his player were practicing the coach-speak.

“I didn't even think about that,” he said at the weekly press conference prior to Cal’s game with Oregon State, its first game as the No. 2 team in the country in more than a half century. “Again, it really makes no difference. It's no different for us if we're 2 or 6 or 3 or 12 or whatever. It really doesn't matter until the end of the season, no matter what you're ranked.”

Added linebacker Greg Van Hoesen: “I think it's a great thing for our school and great for our reputation, but the rankings don't mean much until December…We can't afford to look ahead.”

****

I stood, stunned, as the Oregon State football team ran to their corner of the stadium to celebrate with their band and their fans. There were four of us remaining in the “press box” at Old Memorial Stadium. Everyone else—the other reporters, the sports information people for both schools—had either gone down to the field to catch the end of the game or watch in the press room, where it wasn’t so frigid.

But the four of us—three Daily Cal reporters and one former writer who now wrote for one of the online sites devoted to Cal—waited in the press box. We wanted to see the Bears tie the game and force overtime from our cheap seats. If overtime happened, we’d go down to the field and watch from there. If the Bears had won, we wanted to see if the fans would rush the field. No. 1 LSU lost just hours before. A Cal win would mean it would become the No. 1 team in the country. It would be a neat little photo if we could snap it from our seats in the press box.

In hindsight, that was a hallucination. And overtime never happened. This did.

With the opportunity for a game-tying field goal, 14 seconds left and the ball on the 12-yard line, Tedford sent his offense out on the field for one last gasp at the end zone before attempting the field goal.

The thing is that Tedford never reminded his freshman quarterback, Kevin Riley, to throw the ball away if a pass didn’t present itself and to throw it away quickly. Riley didn’t. He panicked. He saw the green Memorial Stadium turf and its pathway to the end zone. He saw glory. What Riley didn’t see was the two linebackers sitting in a soft zone coverage, patrolling the middle of the field. And in his mad dash for the end zone, the freshman quarterback was stopped at the 10-yard line. Time ticked away slowly. The Bears had no chance to spike the ball or send its field goal unit out for an attempt.

The dream season was over. No. 1 gone. No. 2 gone.

My editor stood with her mouth wide open. The other Daily Cal writer stood with his hands on his head, a scowl on his face, asking us why Riley didn’t throw the ball away. The fourth member of our crew just shook his head.

As Memorial Stadium emptied, we made our walk to the Hall of Fame room for the press conference. It was one of the longest walks I ever took as an undergrad.

****

I said earlier that the postgame press conference after that loss to Oregon State told me more about the state of the Cal football team under Tedford than any other on the field performance. This is, of course, all in hindsight. In the moment, I did not understand the consequences that shook the program until it fired Tedford last week.

Actually, I was looking for away to deflect any anger that would have been pointed at Kevin Riley. The freshman quarterback played valiantly, even impressively in his first start for Cal. Take away that last play, and Riley was more than effective for the No. 2 Bears. There were othermoments in that loss where Cal could have taken the upper hand, where it could have taken control from Oregon State. But it’s one play that everyone remembers.

It’s a shame that one play defined Riley’s four years in Berkeley. I don’t think he ever got over that. How could anyone? And he may never admit it, but watching him play those last three seasons, in those big games, you could tell that something was bothering him.

And whether he admits it or not, I don’t think Tedford really got over that loss either. The program never did. Cal went 34-36 after losing to Oregon State in 2007.

But none of us knew that was going to happen back on that October night.

We were naïve, as this game column written after the game points out:

“Coach Jeff Tedford will lead the team to an undefeated season eventually. 

Cal will break the OSU curse (0-for-4 at home since 1998), break the Los Angeles curse (0-for-6 since 2001), break the USC curse (0-for-3 since 2004) eventually.

The Bears will go to the Rose Bowl eventually. 

Hell, that may even happen this year.”

Only two of those five things have happened in the five years that have past since Cal was ranked No. 2 in the country. The Bears did beat Oregon State at home in 2011, albeit in San Francisco at AT&T Park. And Cal did finally get a win in Los Angeles, beating UCLA at the Rose Bowl in 2009.

But that undefeated season never materialized, that losing streak to USC continues (0-for-8 now), and the Bears haven’t made that New Years Day trip to Pasadena.

And as much as the failures of the last few seasons have been to play calling and execution, I point to mentality as Tedford’s biggest shortcoming. Shame on us that we didn’t see it in that postgame press conference back in 2007.

Let’s not, however, accuse Tedford for not caring about winning that game and for misunderstanding the historical context of that loss. He knew it. He will never admit it, but he knew it. If he hadn’t cared, his comments after the game would not have been so short., his face would not have shown the stress put on him by the weight of the loss and his eyes would not have shown the anguish he felt.

But he had to stay on message. And that is what eventually put Tedford out of his job in Berkeley. Once he reached the pinnacle of success, he became content. He never ruffled any feathers. The bravado and cavalier attitude he came to Cal with as an offensive guru gave way to caution.

The spark that many saw in Tedford when he came to Berkeley in 2002 was extinguished in that loss to Oregon State in 2007.

Before Tedford began the press conference and took questions, he offered an apology. Apparently, in a spell of passion, as the undefeated season came to a screeching halt, Tedford took his headset and clipboard and slammed it against the Memorial Stadium turf. He apologized to the fans. He apologized to Kevin Riley. And he publicly apologized to his team for the outburst.

But in that moment, Tedford could have embraced the fire that he felt. He could have taken his passion and galvanized his team with it and saved the 2007 season. Instead, he said he was sorry for it.

I was going to end this piece by talking about what I would like to see from the next head coach at Cal. How this head coach had to be different from Tedford. What qualities I would look for that could take the Bears to the next level.

Instead, I realize there is one quality that I yearn for.

Winners don’t apologize.

Coach Tedford, you brought the Cal community many great memories and many are thankful for that, but there isn’t any room for apologies when trying to win at the highest level.