Gen. Neyland: Locking his jaw

By Tom Mattingly

In 1926, Captain Robert R. Neyland had to “lock jaws” with Dean Nathan Washington Dougherty and take on the baseball and track coaches to get enough players to hold spring football practice.

“You hired me to coach football,” he told members of the athletics board, “and if we are going to have a football team, we must have the best spring practice we have ever had. If I can’t have every single one of the players as long as I want them, I can’t operate.”

After that soaked in, Neyland played a stronger card.

“Let somebody else take the job. I won’t have it. I’ll leave it with you.”

The exact details of what came next are not known, but Dean Dougherty later told Neyland to go ahead with spring practice. Neyland said it turned out good enough, which was very good, a key part of the success of the 1926 season and the years to follow.

 

In 1955, Bowden Wyatt lost his best running back on the second day of his first spring practice. The new coach and Tom Tracy, a 1954 All-SEC selection who rushed for a team-leading 794 yards, developed a different point of view.

“Tom was not a proponent of strict training rules,” Marvin West wrote.

In a scrimmage, Tracy suffered leg cramps and lay in a heap on the field. He called out for trainer Mickey O’Brien.

“Mickey.” Then louder, “Mickey!”

Wyatt moved the team down the field, and drills continued.

“Tracy was offended by this lack of official compassion,” Marvin added. “That evening, he threatened to leave. Wyatt dispatched two assistants to help him pack.”

The impact was two-fold.

“Losing Tracy was a sizable setback. Establishing authority enhanced Wyatt’s influence.”

There were any number of players who said they’d “run through a wall” for Wyatt.

 

In 1964, Steve DeLong had a running disagreement with new coach Doug Dickey that West recounted in his second book, “Legends of the Tennessee Vols.”

DeLong was, indeed, a legend, a 1963 All-American at middle guard. He seemed more than willing to help the rookie coach. Dickey wasn’t very receptive.

“He called me into his office for a meeting,” Steve said. “I had been through enough by then to not be intimidated. Coach Dickey said he wasn’t sure he could use me on the team. He said I might make it as an offensive tackle.”

The idea of DeLong as an offensive tackle after a season of defensive honors seemed equivalent to running Secretariat in a race at the county fair.

There was a fundamental difference of opinion. Dickey wanted his middle guard to play the position. DeLong wanted to chase and catch whoever had the football.

Dickey and DeLong compromised – somewhat, sort of, more or less. Doug allowed Steve to make enough tackles to repeat as an All-American and win the Outland Trophy as the nation’s best interior lineman.

DeLong, always respectful of the coach, stayed at home at middle guard for all plays that looked to be coming his way.

 

In his autobiography, John Majors recalled a memory about spit cups early in his tenure at Tennessee.

“The first time I met with the players after the announcement that I was to be their new head coach, some of them showed up carrying snuff cups.”

Bad move.

“Now I know a number of fine people who go around with a big chew of tobacco in their mouths, but I didn’t think our athletes should show up at a squad meeting dipping snuff. That rule went into effect right away.”

 

Finally, there are often times reality comes calling, albeit with a personal cost.

There were times National Signing Day was the culmination of a full year of recruiting. Optimism abounded. All signees were great. The outlook was oh, so exciting. The sky was the limit.

Fans believed better days were just around the corner. Fans began chalking up Volunteer victories.

A few months later, when reality started to set in, some of the young players could play. Some couldn’t. Some needed seasoning. Some needed to be at Maryville.

When reality comes, you can see it in body language. Eyes are the key. When a player is thinking about leaving, eyes provide the clues. Soon thereafter comes a press release, stating that a certain player has “left the squad.”

That was the summation of choice. Sometimes the head coach said, “We wish him well.” Sometimes he didn’t.

What followed was a recapitulation of that player’s career. Critics, 99 times out of 100, blamed the coach for faulty recruiting judgment or “mistreating” or “misleading” a suddenly popular player, particularly one from the Knoxville area.

As is often the case, the truth was almost always somewhere in between.