ROANOKE TIMES

                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: FRIDAY, March 9, 1990                   TAG: 9003091663
SECTION: SPORTS                    PAGE: B8   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Bill Brill
DATELINE: CHARLOTTE, N.C.                                 LENGTH: Medium


CORRIGAN GUIDES ACC THROUGH A DIFFICULT ADOLESCENCE

Gene Corrigan has raised seven children, and none of them has given him nearly as much heartburn as the members of his constituency.

Corrigan is the commissioner of the Atlantic Coast Conference, a league that prides itself on being at the forefront, on being a leader rather than a follower.

Unlike most athletic conferences, there is genuine togetherness within the ACC, a desire to see everybody achieve success.

So, it is with great frustration that Corrigan reads his daily paper, knowing full well it will bring him more bad news.

Clemson football. Maryland basketball. Jim Valvano.

Ask about the ACC's image and Corrigan reacts angrily.

"I don't feel we have to be apologetic," he said Thursday on the eve of the conference basketball tournament. "Does anybody ask who graduates the most people in football and basketball?"

It is a rhetorical question, and he knows the answer.

"Does Carolina have to apologize for its program? Does Duke? Does Virginia? These are some of the cleanest, best programs in the nation," he said.

Corrigan, who for a decade was the athletic director at Virginia, is weary of being asked about the present problems.

And he is angry because he knows the schools want the problems solved. "I know how our schools want to conduct their programs," Corrigan said.

"We will be in the forefront," he said, "in establishing the model conference." Corrigan will, he said, be supported in that goal by the Big Ten, Pac-10 and Big East.

But that model needs some interior burnishing.

Corrigan's children have gotten into the mud puddle.

How did it happen? It was simple, really.

Maryland had a weak chancellor, who, having forced out Lefty Driesell, hired an unqualified coach without conducting a legitimate job search.

The school had no athletic director at the time, and the man who had left, Dick Dull, had been inefficient.

The present Maryland regime must carry the burden of a two-year probation, issued Monday. But the guilt falls on John Slaughter, who asked only the opinion of Georgetown coach John Thompson, then hired Bob Wade as his coach.

The first thing that the new athletic director, Lew Perkins, did was hire a compliance officer. It was Maryland that discovered what a mess Maryland was making.

It was Maryland that turned in Maryland. And now Maryland must pay. The fault, though, begins - and should end - with Slaughter, long-since departed. He refused to follow procedures or ask for assistance.

Wade was a fraud who should have been exposed earlier.

N.C. State's situation has much the same genesis.

This time the problems began with a chancellor who loved sports, Bruce Poulton. Who rode in a red Cadillac provided by N.C. State boosters. Their goal was to build a bigger and better basketball facility than the Dean Dome.

Poulton was the boss, and he was out of control. He gave the athletic director's job to Valvano, a popular coach who needed to be reigned in, not given additional titles.

It was Poulton who agreed to admit Chris Washburn. It was Poulton who signed an agreement with Charles Shackleford, letting him back into school after he flunked out.

With Valvano pushing and shoving, who was the only one who could have halted the stream of athletes posing - fraudulently - as students?

Poulton.

Danny Ford is gone at Clemson for one simple reason. Image.

Clemson wants to be like the rest of the ACC schools, and, no, that doesn't mean on probation.

The Clemson administration wanted to clean up its football act, and that meant muscling Ford out.

Except for N.C. State, which has yet to hire a chancellor or an athletic director, the ACC is ready to take a step forward.

The wrong chancellors are gone. So are the wrong athletic directors.

The league will go ahead with its revolutionary model, knowing some of its coaches will scream because it has the support of the schools' administrators.

But that is in the future, and Corrigan knows it isn't the kind of thing that will get much publicity anyway.

The bad news is what hurts.

He's a dad, and he knows that even the best children make big mistakes. But that doesn't make them bad children.

He knows that. But Gene Corrigan also knows that, right now, nobody's listening.



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