Bo’s Farewell Is by the Book : Despite Loss, Bo Won’t Go Out Like a Lamb

It would have been a shame for Bo Schembechler’s career to end in a tie. A tie is--what? A dance with your sister, a kiss from a French general, a card game with your aunt? A title fight shouldn’t end in a draw, a war shouldn’t end in a stalemate at Panmunjom. A great career shouldn’t end in a tie.

Golfers don’t lay up in U.S. Opens, cleanup hitters don’t bunt in the World Series, tennis players don’t send up lobs in the fifth set at Wimbledon.

And Bo Schembechler didn’t fall on the ball in the 76th Rose Bowl Monday. He went out with his guns out, his boots on. He didn’t say “I’ll play these.” He faded the shooter. He wanted to go out the way he came in--breathing defiance, daring the tiger, knocking the chip off the shoulder of the bully. His way.

So, Bo didn’t go out with a whimper. His team didn’t tie one for the old Bo. Bo didn’t even punt. Bo didn’t just call. Bo bumped the pot, didn’t stand on any 18. He went for the pin.

So, he didn’t go out with a any chicken-salad tie. He went out a loser.

The situation was this: Bo’s Michigan team had somehow managed to tie the score, 10-10. No one knows how. USC was faster, deeper and, on the whole, niftier, than Bo’s team. But they kept shooting themselves in the foot.

Now, with about 7:30 to play, the situation was this: Bo’s team had the ball on its 46-yard line, fourth down and two to go. You punt in that situation. Even if you’re behind. Tied, you punt for certain.

Bo didn’t. His punter took the ball and set sail around left end for 24 yards to USC’s 30-yard line.

There goes the old ballgame, right? I mean, from there Michigan goes in to score, chewing up the clock as it goes. A game-winning call has just been made. A field goal at least, right?

Well, you have to understand Bo and the Rose Bowl. What the famine was to Job, the plague to Joseph, the Rose Bowl was to Bo--a hoodoo. A cross to bear.

Bo’s first Rose Bowl game, he had a heart attack. And the situation went downhill from there.

It wasn’t a game, it was a jinx. Bo lost two Rose Bowl games because enemy teams failed to punt on fourth down in their own territory. Stanford did it to him in 1972. Washington did it in 1978.

So, Bo finally turned the tables? Guess again. As the play is finished, this little yellow handkerchief comes fluttering out on the field. Play nullified. Victory nullified. Ten-yard penalty. Bo is entitled to say, “Me again, huh, God?”

On the sidelines, Bo goes quietly crazy. He swells up with rage, charges the official. He is berserk.

Bad Bo. Fifteen-yard penalty. Move the ball back to the Michigan 21.

Now, punt. Now, fold the hand. Take back the blue chips.

That was the pivotal part of the game. Bottom line: Bo loses again. He’s 2-8 in the Rose Bowl. This is a coach who is 194-47-5 at Michigan. He was good enough to come to 10 Rose Bowls. He always showed up with a smart, well-drilled, resourceful, take-no-prisoners, coal yard type of football team. Over-achievers, really.

He may have cost his team this Rose Bowl. The resultant punt, after Bo’s tantrum and penalty, from the 21 is barely adequate. USC is in position to mount a closing drive that produced a touchdown with 1:10 left to play.

The betting in the press interview room is even-money whether Bo will show up after this dismal loss. His mentor, the late Woody Hayes, would have stayed in the bunker and licked his wounds and cursed the Fates--to say nothing of the refs.

If he does show up, the betting is 1-to-5 he’ll be coming into the room like a crashing plane. Aflame and spewing destruction.

Bo is smiling as he enters the room. He is leaving the Rose Bowl as he entered it--a loser.

Only he doesn’t act like one. Bo is downright jovial. His team is sobbing in the dressing room, he admits, but Bo is still full of fight. Bo doesn’t cry. Bo attacks.

It is reminiscent of the time Joe Louis lay in a locker room after being knocked out by Rocky Marciano. Around him, people are tearing their hair, ripping their garments, crying out to the heavens. Louis opened an eye, looked up. “Hey!” he protested. “I knocked out lots of guys!”

Bo didn’t go out crying. He knocked out lots of guys, too.

But he didn’t forgive the officials.

“First of all,” he said, “we didn’t deserve to win the game. We were miserable in the first half. I don’t think we played well all day. It surprised me we gave up so many yards. Was SC faster than us? Well, we didn’t think so going in.”

The call that cost him all chance at the 1990 Rose Bowl game was not so charitably viewed by Bo. “Most unbelievable call,” Bo said, shaking his head. But he was smiling as he said it. “It was the most ridiculous call ever and, if I see the films and decide it was justified, I will be glad to retract. Was it a Pac-10 official? Naturally! But I will say that the worst call ever made on me here was by a Big Ten official once.

“Today, one guy said it was called because of blocking below the waist. Another said it was old-fashioned holding. I’ll guarantee you it was a late call.

“Will they take it up with the supervisory officials? Listen, I want you to know, in the history of the game, according to supervisory officials, there has never been a bad call.

“You want to know what my humble opinion is? My humble opinion is that the game has passed up (the capabilities) of all amateur officials. It’s too fast, it’s too complex. It should have competent, professional officials.”

So, the Rose Bowl is not going to have Bo Schembechler to kick around any more. It’s probably fitting he went out the way he came in. The Rose Bowl remained his bete noire to the end, the cloud over his head, his personal hex.

Bo never got the hang of it. He never lost by more than a touchdown except once when he lost by 10 points--to UCLA in ’83. He never flinched, got reckless, or even played the game of a desperate man. The Rose Bowl always knew it was in a fight.

Bo could beat Ohio State, Bo could win Big Ten titles, Bo could even beat Notre Dame if it came to that. Bo was just overmatched by a hex, not a team. Actually, he almost beat USC--and the hex--Monday. He took his shot. The Rose Bowl just got on its broom and flew away, cackling. The old bawd never gave Bo an honest cut of the cards.

Bo will miss the Rose Bowl. But not as much as the Rose Bowl will miss Bo.