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Hayes: Mike Leach, the beautiful mind who saw everything differently, including football

Matt Hayes

By Matt Hayes

Published:


The beautiful mind never played college football. And yeah, well, so what?

โ€œItโ€™s not rocket science,โ€ Mike Leach told me a few years ago, when asked to explain the obvious juxtaposition.

He grabbed a piece of paper and pen off his desk and quickly scratched out some Xโ€™s and Oโ€™s. Crossing routes, of course.

โ€œOK, so you go here, and you go here, and you get here,โ€ Leach continued. โ€œAnd you, the guy with the ball? You throw it to the guy whoโ€™s open.โ€

He crumbled up the paper and threw it at a trash can about 6 feet away. Nailed it.

โ€œThere,โ€ he said, โ€œYouโ€™re a football coach.โ€

Weโ€™ve lost an original, everyone. Mike Leach, 61, who turned left for nothing outposts at Texas Tech, Washington State and Mississippi State into must-see funhouses, died Monday night after suffering a severe heart attack Sunday evening.

In a hard-charging, win-or-walk profession that functions not by year or month or even week, but by the moment, Leach was cargo shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops strolling down Duval Street.

He once took a call in the middle of a staff meeting at Washington State and spoke with the caller for 5 minutes.

And had no idea who he was.

โ€œIt was a Lubbock (Texas) number, so I figured Iโ€™d answer,โ€ Leach said. โ€œGood talk.โ€

Leach was raised a Mormon, had a law degree from Pepperdine and didnโ€™t show up at work until well after most coaches already had 6 hours banked. They were juiced on caffeine and cutups and the process, he was fueled by Himalayan green tea and the latest thing he stumbled upon during 3 a.m. searches on the internet.

He was a voracious reader obsessed with learning. From cultures and their creations to crackpots and their conspiracies.

One moment he’s reciting scripture from the Bible, the next lyrics to 21st-century rap. A free thinker’s thinker.

I once asked him if he believed in ghosts, and admitting that he did was only the first layer peeled from the conversation.

โ€œYou get these Satanist types that donโ€™t believe in God. OK, so you realize you donโ€™t get Satan if you donโ€™t get God, right?โ€ Leach said. โ€œOr atheists that want to believe in ghosts. Wait, wait, wait. You canโ€™t have a two-way go on that. You want to be agnostic, be an atheist, fine. But you donโ€™t bring ghosts along with you.โ€

Thatโ€™s is how Iโ€™ll remember Leach, not as the innovative football coach who won nearly 60 percent of his games (158-107) while coaching at places that were either stepping-stones or tombstones.

Not as the narrative formed about him over the years: a quirky, odd dude who got away with being eccentric because he was such a good ball coach.

Thereโ€™s nothing quirky about knowing where you had the best hamburger in your life (a steakhouse in a casino in Spokane), or using specific movie scenes to motivate young players (Tombstone: โ€œYou gonna do something, or just stand there and bleed?”).

Or knowing how to consistently get receivers open against quarters coverage (โ€œMove the safety, and donโ€™t be afraid to throw deep.โ€).

Or a playbook that has all of 7-10 plays, from more than 70 formations.

โ€œYou know whatโ€™s coming,โ€ Mike Stoops once told me about Leachโ€™s offense. โ€œYou just donโ€™t from where.โ€

Everyone watches game tape. Everyone knew Leachโ€™s playbook was limited, and that his goal was to use formation and motion to get defenses to commit โ€” and then, in the simplest of terms, throw it where they ainโ€™t.

โ€œIf the receiver goes 10 yards โ€” and not a step more โ€” on a dig, and the quarterback throws it on time, with anticipation, it canโ€™t be stopped,โ€ Leach said. โ€œWe practice those things over and over and over, until itโ€™s second nature.โ€

Translation: It doesnโ€™t matter what play is called, weโ€™re going to run it perfectly โ€” and as long as pass protection holds โ€” we are bulletproof.

Thatโ€™s why Leachโ€™s quarterbacks were among the nationโ€™s passing leaders year after year, producing gaudy numbers for an offense built around the passing game.

Why Leach could take a 5th-year senior transfer (Gardner Minshew) or a true freshman (Will Rogers) and win games of significance with an offense that years ago was deemed a โ€œgimmick.โ€

Now that โ€œgimmickโ€ offense is all over college football, and its principles are spread throughout the NFL.

Andy Reid won a Super Bowl with Air Raid principles at Kansas City, and the NFL was so interested in Leachโ€™s offense, the Arizona Cardinals hired former Texas Tech coach Kliff Kingsbury in 2019 โ€” after a losing season in Lubbock.

Baker Mayfield and Kyler Murray ran the Air Raid offense at Oklahoma, won the Heisman Trophy and were selected No. 1 overall in the NFL Draft.

TCU is in the Playoff this season because first-year coach Sonny Dykes โ€” a Leach disciple โ€” changed everything for his quarterback (Max Duggan) and his team with the Air Raid offense.

USC coach Lincoln Riley, a former walk-on quarterback for Leach at Texas Tech, has used the Air Raid to develop 3 of the past 6 Heisman winners โ€” including this yearโ€™s winner, Caleb Williams.

Decades ago, Hal Mumme, then the coach Iowa Wesleyan, took his offensive line coach, Leach, on a trip to Florida. It was a brutally cold Iowa winter and they needed to find sunshine.

They would eventually see CFL coaching legend Don Matthews running a drill with the Orlando Thunder of the World League of American Football, and that โ€œBanditโ€ drill was the beginning of the Air Raid offense.

To this day, Mumme โ€” who is credited as the creator of the offense โ€” says Leach was always the mastermind behind the system.

โ€œBut you know what? Mike was always late, everything he did,โ€ Mumme told me a few years ago. โ€œOn the morning we were flying to Orlando, early morning, he was late again. So late, that I remember thinking, if he doesnโ€™t get here in 10 minutes, weโ€™re not going. He shows up just as I was locking my door to go back to bed. Thatโ€™s how close we were to never seeing that drill.โ€

Something tells me the beautiful mind wouldโ€™ve figured it out.

After all, itโ€™s not rocket science.

Matt Hayes

Matt Hayes is a national college football writer for Saturday Down South. You can hear him daily from 12-3 p.m. on 1010XL in Jacksonville. Follow on Twitter @MattHayesCFB

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