Tim Floyd Invited Trouble, Now Flees Trojans in Shame

Whether it was arrogance, defiance or one last chance to kick start a fading coaching career, Tim Floyd knew exactly what he was getting into. And he had every chance to wiggle out of the trap when Rodney Guillory, a parasite known around the USC athletic department for his unscrupulous dealings with a Trojan basketball player, wandered into Floyd's office without an appointment three summers ago and offered him fool's gold.

"How would you like to have the best player in the country?'' Guillory said. "Have you heard of O.J. Mayo?''

Right then and there, Floyd should have thrown the guy out on his rear end. If a street agent can't simply wander into Mike Krzyzewski's office in Durham, N.C., and command an instant audience, why wouldn't every big-time college coach hold himself and his program to the same discriminating standards? It shouldn't have mattered to Floyd that Mayo was one of the most coveted prep prizes of this or any decade, destined to be drafted high in the NBA and make major impact as a rookie with the Memphis Grizzlies. Dignity should have won out, particularly after Floyd told Guillory that he wanted to call Mayo.

"O.J. doesn't give out his cell,'' Guillory said. "He'll call you.''

That's right, a teenager was in power and calling all the shots. Floyd had been one of the more successful coaches in the college game, good enough to be sought for an NBA career that twice ended in failure, yet he somehow was allowing himself to be held hostage by a kid from West Virginia and a creep peddling him. O.J. doesn't give out his cell? Wasn't that a huge insult to Floyd, a pathetic lack of respect? Wasn't the coach employed by the University of Southern California, one of the nation's better academic institutions, where only the brightest and most privileged gain entry? Why couldn't Floyd see the deceit and grime? Why would he trust someone named O.J. at USC?

Because he was blinded by seduction. Because he decided to win at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing his soul. Because Tim Floyd didn't have the foresight to project what could happen if this care package, dropped right on his front doorstep, turned out to be a box of poison that ruined his career

"This ain't happening,'' he told his wife excitedly, in a narrative he provided two years ago to the New York Times. "But we've got to act like it is.''

Too bad he didn't stick with his original instinct, that the fantasy was too good to be true, that he really should have held the Mayo. Today, Floyd is out of a job, having been forced into a Tuesday resignation at USC amid allegations that he gave at least $1,000 to Guillory outside a Beverly Hills cafe in February 2007. Floyd and USC have been accused of wrongdoing by Louis Johnson, a former associate of Mayo who said Guillory was given around $250,000 by agent Bill Duffy's firm and distributed some of the benefits to Mayo. If the accusations are true, amid full-blown NCAA and Pacific-10 Conference investigations that even involve the feds, Floyd will go down in shame for succumbing to Mayo's demands and buying him off.

Floyd is telling friends that he's innocent of giving money to Mayo and Guillory. But he has yet to address the allegations publicly, preferring to send a one-paragraph resignation letter to USC athletic director Mike Garrett and run from the mess as quickly as possible. "I deeply appreciate the opportunity afforded me by the university, as well as the chance to know and work with some of the finest young men in college athletics," Floyd wrote in the letter. "Unfortunately, I no longer feel I can offer the level of enthusiasm to my duties that is deserved by the university, my coaching staff, my players, their families and the supporters of Southern Cal. I always promised myself and my family that if I ever felt I could no longer give my full enthusiasm to a job, that I should leave it to others who could. I intend to contact my coaching staff and my players in coming days and weeks to tell them how much each of them means to me. I wish the best to USC and to my successor."

He didn't lose his enthusiasm. He lost his soul. And by fleeing instead of fighting the accusations, Floyd leaves us to think the worst -- that he's guilty as sin in a sport slime-smacked by too many scandals of late. It's bad enough that Derrick Rose, the NBA's Rookie of the Year, is accused of having a stand-in take his SAT test so he could qualify academically at Memphis. It's bad enough that Kelvin Sampson would commit major violations at Indiana after committing the same violations at Oklahoma. But the idea of Floyd paying Mayo and his people for one season of basketball, before jumping to the pros, is appalling. It only feeds the common-sense argument that the NBA's 19-year-old age limit leads to a one-and-done mentality that turns academia into a sham.

A man accused of cheating, especially in a high-profile endeavor such as college sports, shouldn't be timid in his response. Floyd has yet to say a word, a strange approach for a coach known as outgoing, opinionated and aggressive in his baiting of officials. On the same day Floyd claimed to lose enthusiasm, Philadelphia Phillies outfielder Raul Ibanez provided a powerful how-to course in proactively attacking accusations. Angry at a blogger who suggested that his breakthrough season might be attributed to performance-enhancing drugs, Ibanez fired back with a memorable verbal blitz in the Philadelphia Inquirer.

"I'll come after people who defame or slander me," he said. "It's pathetic and disgusting. There should be some accountability for people who put that out there. You can have my urine, my hair, my blood, my stool -- anything you can test. I'll give you back every dime I've ever made [if the test is positive].

"I'll put that up against the jobs of anyone who writes this stuff. Make them accountable. There should be more credibility than some 42-year-old blogger typing in his mother's basement. It demeans everything you've done with one stroke of the pen. Nobody is above the testing policy. We've seen that."

I'd like to have heard similar fire from Floyd. The possibility exists that he cut a deal with USC, allowing the school to use him as a sacrificial lamb when the NCAA comes down with a verdict and penalties. As it is, the university is dealing with charges surrounding former football star Reggie Bush and his family, accused in 2006 of accepting $300,000 in gifts and free rent from two charlatans trying to sign the Heisman Trophy running back as a client. Now, the basketball program is in similar turmoil, giving rise to an inside joke that L.A. actually has one pro football team and three pro basketball teams.

Still, I can't believe Floyd, the son of a coach, would just take the escape hatch without an explanation if he was innocent. He is too proud and has been in the coaching game too long to let wrongful accusations hang over him. Only weeks ago, the arrow was pointing upward for a USC program that had made three straight NCAA Tournament appearances, was returning several starters and was welcoming a hot recruiting class. But then the whispers started about Floyd, and the walls came tumbling down. The team's best three players -- DeMar DeRozan, Taj Gibson and Daniel Hackett -- slipped away to the NBA Draft. Three recruits decided to abandon the Trojans and go elsewhere.

Like that, Floyd was history.

We should have known his situation was shaky in April, when he showed up for a job chat at Arizona. Though Floyd advertised it as a legitimate interview, the Arizona AD, Jim Livengood, said he never had serious thoughts about hiring him. Livengood did ask him about Mayo. "He said there's nothing to that. So end of question,'' the AD said. "We didn't go any farther. We didn't need to go any farther.'' Why would he? Livengood hired Xavier's Sean Miller, a much better idea without any scandal stains.

Where does USC go from here? Oregon State's Craig Robinson, best known as President Obama's brother-in-law, might bring some prestige to the muck. But who wants this job if the program winds up on probation? Pittsburgh's Jamie Dixon, for one, already has said no.

Having covered Floyd during his ill-fated run with the Chicago Bulls, I always thought he was naive in certain ways. He came to town thinking he'd replace Phil Jackson and still be able to coach Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen. Little did he know that Jackson, Jordan and Pippen were attached at the hip in their hatred of management, leaving Floyd to coach a bunch of hapless scraps after the three Hall of Famers departed. The post-dynasty Bulls were one of the NBA's worst doormats ever, unable to sign superstars or really anyone of much worth. Floyd was doomed to flop.

He finally resigned one very weird Christmas Eve. Snow was falling, and when I arrived at the Berto Center facility, only seven or eight reporters were on hand because the news conference had been called abruptly. Floyd's wife and daughter were sitting on the floor -- no chairs -- and the man who hired Floyd, Jerry Krause, was at the podium in an agitated state when he saw me entering the gym and brushing snow off my coat.

"And Mr. Mariotti, you can wipe that smirk off your face right now,'' Krause barked.

I had no smirk. But I did have a retort.

"Merry Christmas,'' I bellowed.

In retrospect, maybe Floyd should have quit coaching that day. It would have saved him the pain of meeting Rodney Guillory.