At Edsall’s Maryland, loose lips skin cats
The Maryland press release announcing the cessation of transfer hostilities between Randy Edsall and the latest Terps pining to play elsewhere landed in our inbox, and all we could think was, “This would look fantastic above a gallery of 20 or so laughing animals.” Can everybody see the camel in the second row here? Read on, and see if you don’t make that exact face.
“While at first I thought it was important to limit the institutions to which they could transfer, I have since reconsidered my decision” Edsall said. “At the end of the day, I want what’s best for these guys and I wish them well in their futures.”
When the history of Edsall is written, this gem will be enshrined in his gilded irony pantheon, alongside this passage uttered upon his departure from UConn:
“I think you can tell that I care about people. I care about players. It’s the relationships that you build with people, and I think sometimes people lose sight of that. But you know what? That’s life and you have to deal with it.”
The guy has been fileted plenty in the press and on the message boards over the past couple weeks; piling on too enthusiastically at this point would be unseemly. But consider that Edsall is in grave danger of making James “Not Men Of Integrity” Franklin into a sympathetic figure in this, and take care to remember the parties who really deserved better in this case: Danny O’Brien, his Terp castaway teammates and all other student athletes, present and future, who want to seek their fortunes elsewhere.
“As a program we are looking forward to putting this distraction behind us and to moving forward,” Edsall said at the close of his statement. “Spring practice opens on March 10 and we can’t wait to get back out on the field.” How noble of you, sirrah, to gird that upper lip and bravely stride forward past the public opinion tire-fire of your self-created adversity. That you would rather have media attention focused on rebuilding efforts from the 2-10 first season of your regime is telling, and might kindle the flickeringest ember of sympathy in the black pit where our blogger heart resides — only we’d lay good money you’re one set of new scholarship papers, signed by a quarterback you benched, away from ringing up Franklin and demanding he fly to College Park to tell the team he’s whisking away a transfer or two. At the end of the day, it’s for the best, right?