Free Three and Out by John U. Bacon Page A

threw thirty-eight touchdowns against only six interceptions, breaking Danny Wuerffel’s record 178 quarterback rating with a 183.
    â€œI can’t remember Shaun missing a single open touchdown pass all year,” Rodriguez said.
    In a 49–35 win over Navy, King became the first quarterback in NCAA history to pass for 300 yards and run for 100 in the same game.
    With Shaun King showing just what the spread offense could do, the Green Wave rolled into its last regular season game against Louisiana Tech with a 10–0 record and a seventh-place national ranking—but there were already rumors that Tommy Bowden might be headed to Clemson.
    The Superdome was packed—a far cry from the paltry fifteen thousand who showed up to see their first game the year before. The fans got what they wanted. Tulane scored on its first possession. And the next. And the next. And kept it up for ten straight possessions. Well, except two: at the end of the first half, and at the end of the game, when Shaun King took a knee.
    â€œThat place was rockin’!” Rodriguez recalled. “Everybody was happy.”
    When the team ran off the Superdome field, the crowd started chanting, “Stay, Tommy, Stay!”
    But a few days later Bowden announced he had accepted the job at Clemson. The papers and radio shows all figured Rodriguez was the heir apparent.
    Tulane interviewed Gary Crowton, the head coach at Louisiana Tech; Chris Scelfo, a Louisiana native and assistant at Georgia; and Rodriguez. After Rodriguez’s interview with athletic director Sandy Barbour went smoothly, “she tells me the next step is to meet with the president at his house that Saturday night.
    â€œI go through my little speech with him, too. We chat, and after two hours or so, we shake hands and I walk back to my office. Sandy comes over and says, ‘The president was really impressed. Everything looks good. We’d like to have a press conference Monday at eleven. I’ll call you tomorrow at three to go over the details.’”
    But by three o’clock that Sunday, Rodriguez still hadn’t heard from anyone. Rita said, “Rich, something’s up.”
    Monday morning, still in the dark, Rodriguez got to the office by six, as usual—but this time he was wearing his green Tulane jacket and tie. He had started on his paperwork when the line coach, Ron West, poked his head in to say, “Looks like we got a new coach.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Rodriguez replied, not sure if he was referring to him or someone else.
    West held up the New Orleans Times-Picayune , which announced Tulane’s new coach: Louisiana native Chris Scelfo. As Rodriguez read this, Sandy Barbour stopped by, still wearing her sweat suit from the night before.
    â€œWe decided to go in a different direction,” she said.
    â€œYeah, I can see that,” Rodriguez said, pointing to the paper. “Tell me, did I blow something in the interview?”
    â€œNo, no,” she said. “Your interview went great. But we just decided to go in a different direction.”
    When she left, Rodriguez slumped back in his seat and loosened his tie. He decided he should meet with the team. “Guys, I don’t want to have to tell you this, but I’m not gonna be the head coach.”
    Rodriguez didn’t want to go to the press conference, either, but figured if he didn’t, everyone would assume he was off pouting somewhere. So he found a spot on the third floor of the athletic department atrium, looking down at the press conference below. “Man, that was embarrassing. I felt like a junior high school kid all over again, like you wore the wrong shirt and everyone’s looking at you. ‘What kind of loser is that guy in the balcony?’
    â€œI just wanted to go—anywhere.”
    Bowden couldn’t believe it and offered Rodriguez the coordinator job at Clemson. Bowden sent Clemson’s private