BEARCAT BEGINNINGS
Cincinnati and its fans are living what Tim Murphy started in the early ’90s
I am sitting in University of Cincinnati football coach Tim Murphy’s office in 1991, days after an 81-0 loss at Penn State. He is trying to describe how he felt on the sidelines.
“You get a little bit numb,” he says. “You really feel for the players. Helpless is a good word. I felt like that when we played Florida State last year.” That one was 70-21.
“This,” he says, “was maybe the next degree.”
I like Tim Murphy. I respect what he is trying to do at UC and how open he is trying to be with me. I feel for him, and I am not alone. His friends have tried to call since the worst loss in program history, and he is grateful, but he is not ready to answer them.
He also appreciates the understanding fans continue to show him, despite his two one-win seasons and a growing list of blowout losses, as he tries to rescue the program from the abyss.
“People have been much more empathetic than I would have thought,” he says. “People have been great. I almost feel bad about them having to do that. I hate putting people into the position where they have to feel sorry for me or us.”
A month later, I am back in Murphy’s office. This time, it is days after a 30-7 win at defending Fiesta Bowl champion Louisville, UC’S first victory in a calendar year. How shocking was this? His wife’s father called her to ask, “Is that the right score, or did they get it backwards?”
There is a knock on Murphy’s door. It is a law-enforcement officer. He wants to congratulate him. Everybody does. A neighbor brought ribs Saturday night for Murphy and his nine-months pregnant wife. Murphy celebrated with his first beer since July. He had vowed to wait until a win.
Murphy wanted his players to drink in the moment, too.
“I told our kids, ‘Go out and really enjoy this. Stay out of trouble, but celebrate, because that’s the way it is in life. You should reward yourself,’ ” he says.
Thirty years later, I am sitting at my laptop and thinking about what Murphy told his team: Reward yourself.
I am thinking about Bearcats fans. It does not if whether you are old enough to remember the abyss, or if you jumped on board recently: Really enjoy this.
The Bearcats reached the College Football Playoffs, and you can wait a lifetime for a moment like that weekend and never experience it. UC took the road not taken, a road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.
We as fans love a great story line, and sometimes we mold it to fit our views. How do you see UC?
You might view the Bearcats as finally getting what they — and you — deserve after being hosed in the past. UC stood for Undefeated Cincinnati twice but meant squat in the rankings! No. 3 and out of the two-team 2009 BCS race?! No. 9 and miles out of the fourteam 2020 bracket?!
Fair enough. We as fans have every right to want what we want, what we believe our team earned but what we see others get. We might feel disrespected and look for blame or, yes, a conspiracy.
Is this perception or reality?
Or you might view the Bearcats as getting what they — and you — deserve and the beauty of how they got here. The conference, resume or preseason ranking might have worked against UC in the past, but here we are, anyway.
Fair enough. We as fans have every right to take a step back and admire the view. A mind-altering win before Touchdown Jesus at Notre Dame ... a perfect ending to a perfect season because you were there again this year ... and, yes, a perfect storm befalling other contenders, because a little magic never hurts.
Is this perception or reality?
You might see a little bit of all of this, or something completely different. The truth is out there. How do you choose to view it?
How do you choose to celebrate it?
I was cheering for UC.
I love what this does for the city. I was there when the UC basketball team reached the 1992 Final Four, when the Bengals reached the 1989 Super Bowl and when the Reds won the 1990 World Series.
I also was there when Murphy took over UC football in 1989. I need a crowbar to lift my jaw off the ground every time I think about how far this program has come, and I marvel at the job he did to begin this ascent.
This is how I choose to look at all this. Think about what Murphy inherited. The Bearcats were a mess. They were coming off six straight losing seasons. They had no conference. They had 59 scholarship players, when 95 were allowed, and NCAA probation would cost the program another 19 scholarships in his first three years. Nippert Stadium needed more than Bob Vila to fix this old house.
When Nippert closed for renovations in Murphy’s second season and Riverfront Stadium filled in, eight of the 11 games were played on the road — including Iowa, Florida State and Alabama. Nippert was back the next year, but seven of the 11 games were on the road, starting with the season opener at Penn State.
And you know what happened there.
In the aftermath of 81-0, Murphy is telling me how he deals with a loss like this. His manner is to “grit your teeth” and internalize his feelings. Pumping iron or running helps him burn off the emotions. A little.
“But it’s very difficult to lose,” he says. “Very, very difficult. The only thing for me is, there’s power in the ability to see the big picture. It doesn’t make it any less painful. But for me and hopefully — I believe certainly — my staff and players, there is light at the end of the tunnel.”
One month later, in the aftermath of 30-7 at Louisville, Murphy is calling this his most satisfying moment in football, a moment his players and coaches deserved for their perseverance. He recounts the message he delivered in a team meeting: You can use this game for the rest of your careers and lives. You can come back.
This win, Murphy tells me, is UC’S “turning point.”
“I told our kids, ‘Go out and really enjoy this. Stay out of trouble, but celebrate, because that’s the way it is in life. You should reward yourself.’ ”
Murphy completed his portion of the rise of the Bearcats in 1993.
He led the Bearcats to an 8-3 record, tying a school record for wins and ending a run of 10 losing seasons. The abyss he inherited was gone. And now so was he. Murphy left UC for Harvard. “We’d accomplished exactly what we were hired to do,” he said at the news conference.
In the ensuing years, a group of successors would try to further levitate the program he revived. The ride was not always smooth to the College Football Playoff, but how many rides are?
I love a great origin story. To me, it is a fitting bookend to this Group of Five school crashing the Power Five party 30 years later, although the final chapter remains unwritten.
For now, this is what you have as a UC fan, and there is no disputing this is something. Celebrate. Really enjoy the moment. And try living life the same way. Murphy told his team that 30 years ago, when he was both football coach and life coach to program that needed both.
And look at what he started.
Tim Murphy, Former Bearcats coach on defeating Louisville 30-7 for UC’S first win in a calendar year