Arizona Wildcats Football

A former administrative assistant for recently fired Arizona head coach Rich Rodriguez has accused him of sexual harassment in a notice of claim, the step before a lawsuit, according to Dan Wolken of USA Today. 

The assistant accused Rodriguez of multiple incidents of harassment: 

"The claim also alleges Rodriguez behaved inappropriately toward her on several occasions, including calling her into his office in January 2017 when he began discussing his marital problems and then grabbed her, 'embraced her, touched the side of her breast, and tried to kiss her.'

"She managed to pull away, the claim said. 

"Another time he touched himself inappropriately in front of her. He also made 'incredibly inappropriate comments to her,' the claim said, such as telling her his underwear 'visually enhanced' his genitalia."

She also said "Rodriguez and his closest aides followed a 'hideaway book' that detailed such sayings as 'Title IX doesn't exist in our office,' referring to the federal gender-equity law," according to the Arizona Daily Star.

The former employee and two assistant coaches also reportedly referred to themselves as the "Triangle of Secrecy," as they were "tasked with lying to Rodriguez's wife to cover up an extramarital affair, according to the claim, and were ordered to protect the coach's reputation above all else."

She also said Rodriguez would call her at all hours, be it to make travel adjustments or to handle the coach's "personal emergencies."

The allegations were first brought against Rodriguez in Oct. 2017. A school-led investigation by law firm Cohen Dowd Quigley determined that the allegations "could not be substantiated based on the evidence and witnesses available." However, it was noted the athletic department became aware of information that "caused it to be concerned with the direction and climate of the football program."

The former assistant is now seeking $7.5 million in damages from both Rodriguez and Rodriguez's wife in her pending lawsuit.

Rodriguez called the allegations against him "baseless and false." 

pic.twitter.com/PNZBbvxNTj

— Rich Rodriguez (@CoachRodAZ) January 3, 2018

Rodriguez was fired on Tuesday night without cause. His dismissal will reportedly include a $6.3 million buyout from the school, according to Wolken.

Arizona fired head football coach Rich Rodriguez on Tuesday after the Wildcats finished a 7-6 season.

According to Dan Wolken of USA Today, the school made the official announcement regarding Rodriguez's firing Tuesday evening. Brett McMurphy reported "Arizona has fired Rich Rodriguez in part after sexual harassment allegations against him that the school says could not be substantiated."

Wolken previously reported Tuesday that Arizona was "weighing whether to fire" him and noted "the school also has been dealing with a troubling allegation behind the scenes that led school officials last fall to hire an outside law firm to investigate Rodriguez for potential workplace misconduct."

Spencer Hall of SB Nation shared the official statement from Arizona, while Michael Lev of the Arizona Daily Star highlighted the portion regarding the allegations:

Rich Rod's done, there's the official statement from Arizona pic.twitter.com/zobHRwc4BB

— ¡BUM CHILLUPS AKA SPENCER HALL! (@edsbs) January 3, 2018

Key portion of letter from @UofAPres re: firing of Rich Rodriguez ... pic.twitter.com/d8b5WmjIBE

— Michael Lev (@MichaelJLev) January 3, 2018

On Wednesday, Dan Wolken of USA Today noted the claim states that the woman and two other employees "referred to themselves as the 'Triangle of Secrecy' because they were asked to lie to cover up Rodriguez's extramarital affair."

Per Wolken, the claim alleges Rodriguez called the woman into his office and "began discussing his marital problems and then grabbed her, 'embraced her, touched the side of her breast, and tried to kiss her.'"

It also states Rodriguez "touched himself inappropriately in front of her. He also made 'incredibly inappropriate comments to her,' the claim said, such as telling her his underwear 'visually enhanced' his genitalia."

The Arizona Daily Star also reported Rodriguez and his "closest aids followed a 'hideaway book' that detailed such sayings as 'Title IX doesn't exist in our office,' referring to the federal gender-equity law."

Rodriguez released a statement in which he admitted to having an extramarital affair but denied claims of harassment:

pic.twitter.com/PNZBbvxNTj

— Rich Rodriguez (@CoachRodAZ) January 3, 2018

Rodriguez, 54, went 43-35 in six seasons at Arizona. He previously coached at West Virginia and Michigan.

The Wildcats went 33-20 in Rodriguez's first four seasons, winning three bowl games and emerging as a solid mid-tier program in the Pac-12. But things have fallen off each of the past two years, with Arizona posting a 3-9 record in 2016 before struggling to establish consistency again this season.

"In our competitive situation the way the Pac-12 is going, you've got to—especially at a place like Arizona—you better be a little bit fortunate and really on top of your game in all aspects to have a chance to compete," Rodriguez said in March, per Kyle Bonagura of ESPN.com.

Arizona entered 2017 facing a bit of an uphill battle because of its youth-laden roster. The defense, in particular, had as many as six freshmen competing for significant playing time during training camp.

The Wildcats started 6-2 and appeared to be heading in the right direction, but the defense struggled in losses to USC, Oregon and Arizona State down the stretch, allowing more than 40 points in all three games. The defense also struggled in a 38-35 loss to Purdue in the Foster Farms Bowl.

There is some optimism moving forward for the program, considering quarterback Khalil Tate was only a sophomore in 2017 and thrived with 1,591 passing yards, 1,411 rushing yards and 26 total touchdowns, but he and the rest of the team will be led by a new coach in 2018.

Arizona football coach Rich Rodriguez could be fired amid allegations of workplace misconduct.

According to Greg Hansen of the Arizona Daily Star, a claim was sent to the Attorney General's office alleging a hostile work environment as well as sexual harassment.

Dan Wolken of USA Today reported school officials are mulling the decision to fire Rodriguez without cause, attributing the dismissal to on-field performance.

The school reportedly hired an outside law firm last fall to investigate potential misconduct, but the probe found nothing.

With two years remaining on his contract, Arizona would owe Rodriguez a $6.3 million buyout if he is fired without cause. He also has $3 million vested if he is still the coach on March 15.

Citing his on-field struggles could be legitimate after a disappointing end to the season. After a 6-2 start, the Wildcats finished 7-6, including a loss to Purdue in the Foster Farms Bowl. They also struggled to a 3-9 record in 2016.

Rodriguez had a 26-14 record in his first three seasons in his current job, including a trip to the Fiesta Bowl and a 10-win season in 2014. The squad is just 17-21 in the three years since.

The 54-year-old has spent 16 years as an FBS head coach with Arizona, Michigan and West Virginia.

When Arizona sophomore quarterback Khalil Tate woke up Sunday morning, he had a few new things to deal with. His name was in the FBS record books, the media requests had begun rolling in and, worst of all, his teammates were plotting to call attention to something they hoped the relentlessly humble Tate would be awkward about.     

"We started calling him a superstar," wide receiver Cedric Peterson says. "But it doesn't faze him."

No, from what we've seen so far, it fits him. Coming off the bench in the first quarter Saturday after starting quarterback Brandon Dawkins left with a minor injury, Tate ran for 327 yards and four touchdowns on just 14 carries in a thrilling 45-42 win at Colorado, also completing 12 of 13 passes for 153 yards and one touchdown. The rushing yards set a new FBS record for a quarterback and had his own coach, Rich Rodriguez, scratching his head.

"We knew he could run a little bit," Rodriguez says. "But he was even faster than we thought."

How fast is he? Turns out he's not quite sure. Tate says that he thinks he ran the 40-yard dash in 4.6 seconds the last time he was clocked, but that he doesn't keep close track of things like that. He doesn't spend much time on Twitter, either. Tate doesn't care much for hype in general.

"He just sits back and kinda laughs at it," Peterson says.

Lets the stats do the talking. But was there any indication at all that they'd be this loud when they did?

At Junipero Serra High School in Gardena, California, the 6'2", 215-pound Tate was a 4-star recruit listed by 247Sports as an athlete. As a senior in 2016, he had scholarship offers from USC, Texas A&M and Florida State, but he had committed to Arizona in 2015 and stuck with the commitment, excited for a chance to compete for snaps at quarterback right away.

Everybody at Arizona knew Tate was talented, but rarely in practice had he made it look as easy as he did against Colorado. The plan was for him to redshirt as a freshman, but he had to burn the redshirt year because of injuries, running for 79 yards and throwing for another 72 in relief duty at UCLA last October in his first of seven appearances.

Rodriguez says he looked more composed in that game than he ever had in practice. Peterson agrees.

"In practice, he's more serious, he's more in tune," Peterson says. "Come game time—he's been so hard on himself at practice—game time is time to go out there and have fun, don't think too much, don't think about the mistakes he could possibly make. It makes everything so much easier for him in the game."

Still, Tate was content to come into this season competing for playing time.

"I wasn't really thinking about it," he says. "Whatever happens, happens."

He lost the QB competition to Dawkins in camp, and he had only attempted nine passes this season coming into Saturday. With every reason to have jitters, he showed his relaxed in-game demeanor immediately with two first-quarter rushing touchdowns, and from there he sure looked like he was having fun.

Despite all the attention the National Player of the Week has received since Saturday, he does not appear to be reveling in the spotlight.

He says he has work to do as a passer. And while his running ability has college football fans thinking about guys like Lamar Jackson, Tate's own quarterback hero was Donovan McNabb, a mobile guy who was nonetheless better known for his accuracy and arm strength.

Tate started playing football with older kids when he was four years old. When he was in high school, there were questions about how well he'd fit into a typical spread offense, which places so much emphasis on passing efficiency. As a high schooler, Tate was described as having faulty footwork in the pocket, and eager to leave it, so Arizona made for an interesting fit—because of what Rodriguez had accomplished with another run-first quarterback in Pat White at West Virginia.

"We saw a kid who was obviously extremely athletic—he was kind of a man-child out there," Arizona quarterbacks coach Rod Smith says. "He's a big, strong kid, and he was still young, but his athleticism was off the charts."

In the recruiting period, there was talk of Tate being moved to other positions, and Smith says he thinks a big part of the reason Arizona won his commitment is that the Wildcats saw him as a quarterback all along.

But Tate's style is even more run-oriented than White's was. Tate seeks out contact like a running back, and given that his height has been listed as low as 5'11" in some places, he has the build of one, too.

"Not many quarterbacks can run through linebackers and defensive backs like he can," Peterson says. "He's setting his own type of standard for a different type of quarterback."

Broadly speaking, this characterization—great runner, questionable passing mechanics—is the same as was applied to Tim Tebow and Vince Young, among others. Those are lofty comparisons, especially for a guy who hasn't even been named Arizona's starter yet. But they show there is a path to college football stardom with this skill set. And besides, Tate went 12-of-13.

You can credit his grandmother, Oma, for that. She's the one who taught him to throw a football, and it's his effortless throwing that made Rodriguez and his staff so sure Tate was a quarterback.

"He wasn't the most polished guy in high school throwing the football, but, man, he could naturally let it spin," Smith says. "You could just see the ball coming out of his hands. Now it would just be a matter of giving him some fundamentals. … He can make any throw there is."

Dawkins has completed 62.3 percent of his passes with five touchdowns and three interceptions this season. If Tate can do at least that well through the air, he could be a major blessing for Rodriguez. Many around Pac-12 country speculated this summer about the heat under Rodriguez's seat as he entered his sixth season in Tucson. After winning at least seven games in each of his first four seasons—including a Fiesta Bowl appearance in 2014—the Wildcats went 3-9 in 2016 and were 2-2 when Tate took the field in Boulder.

What Khalil Tate has to say about all this is that it was a great team effort, and the receivers did a great job of blocking downfield, and he's just going to do whatever he can to win.

"It's pretty great," he says. "As long as my team is winning games, that's all I care about."

Good luck pulling off that act around Peterson, though.

"He kinda has that Mike Vick to him," Peterson says.

Arizona Wildcats safety Scottie Young Jr. was reportedly arrested Wednesday and charged with misdemeanor assault/knowingly causing injury. 

According to Caitlin Schmidt of the Arizona Daily Star, Young was arrested "in connection with a domestic violence incident." 

As Schmidt pointed out, head coach Rich Rodriguez said last season the program has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to domestic violence. 

"We have a rule. You put your hands on a woman, you're done," Rodriguez said. "That's it. If you did it, if you put your hands on a woman in any way, shape or form, you're done. Next."

Young, 18, has recorded 20 total tackles, including 1.5 for loss, through the Wildcats' first four games—all of which have been starts. 

Among the hundreds of college quarterbacks in America, Donavan Tate might have the most intriguing and unusual backstory: After being drafted out of high school with the third pick in the 2009 MLB draft by the San Diego Padres, he struggled with injuries and substance addiction and never made it to the major leagues. Now he's a 26-year-old freshman quarterback at the University of Arizona, seeking one last chance to make it as a pro athlete. He spoke to B/R's Michael Weinreb about overcoming his troubles, and about his hopes for the future.

   

I can't imagine I'll ever forget the day I began to change my life, but in case I ever do, it's literally tattooed on my right shoulder: January 27, 2013. I was in northern California, checking into a rehab facility thousands of miles from my hometown in Georgia, and I still wasn't entirely sure what I was doing there. A couple of days to detox, I thought to myself, to get my mind straight and get the drugs out of my system, and then I'll be out of here as fast I can.

I'd almost made it to rehab a few weeks earlier when my mom helped stage an intervention for me. I'd flown all the way to San Francisco Airport after telling her I wanted to do this alone, and I stood at the gate, knowing my counselor was waiting outside. And then I changed my mind, slept at the airport overnight, turned around and flew back to Georgia, and partied with my friends for a couple more weeks.

It was a struggle for me to admit to myself that I needed the help. I'd already been to a monthlong rehab in Tucson, Arizona, a couple of years earlier, after being suspended 50 games for a violation of Major League Baseball's drug policy, but I wasn't ready to confront my demons then either. I was an elite athlete, after all, a bonus baby center fielder with a fat bank account working my way up the minor league ladder. I assumed I could get to the big leagues whether I kept using or not. How bad could it be?

I'd been drinking heavily for a few years—I would have drunk all day long if I could—and I'd smoke weed sometimes, but I'd recently started hanging around with the some of the same friends I'd known since I was a star football and baseball player at Cartersville High School. I also got into harder drugs for the first time. I'd been drafted third overall by the Padres out of high school in 2009 and been given a club-record $6.25 million signing bonus, but injuries and my addictions caught up with me that winter. I don't like to use the whole "rock-bottom" cliche, but you can call it whatever you want. So when my mom held a second intervention—this time she even brought in someone from my agent's office, and the dude from the rehab place was there, too, to hold my hand every step of the way—I figured I'd at least give it a try for her sake.

I'm about 6'3", and my ideal weight was around 215, and I had no idea how bad it had gotten until I stepped on a scale and realized I weighed 135 pounds. I spent five months at that center, examining my life, reading books about addiction, speaking to counselors, talking to my roommate and trying to determine what had led me to such a dark place. I'd been cutting off so many emotions for so long, and I was afraid to confront them. But when I look back with nearly five years of hindsight, it's like I'm reflecting on a different Donavan Tate.

I'm back in Tucson now, chasing my childhood dream of becoming a professional athlete in ways I never could have imagined: I'm a soon-to-be 27-year-old father of three who also happens to be a freshman walk-on quarterback on the University of Arizona football team. I know this is my last chance to live up to the dual-sport athletic brilliance I displayed while in high school, when nearly every college in the country would have begged me to sign with them in either football or baseball. I have no idea how this will wind up, but I know where I've been, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I'm not going to take the present moment for granted.

My father Lars was a hell of a football player himself. He was the Gatorade National Player of the Year coming out of high school, and after a few seasons as a running back at the University of Georgia, he was drafted in the second round and played three years in the NFL. But as far as my relationship with my father, I didn't really have one. We'd talk every now and then, but he lived in a different city, and he wasn't in the house.

I don't mean to use that an excuse or as a way to blame someone else. My failings are my responsibility. I just bring it up because it's one of those things that I'd never really dealt with. And at least up through high school, I didn't think I had to. It was just me and my mom in Cartersville, and we got along fine—we weren't exactly rich, but we got by. I figured I'd bring in the money someday.

Everything came easily to me in those days. I was a dual-threat quarterback and a star center fielder on the baseball team with pro potential in both sports. My high school football coach, Frank Barden, said I was a kid with no ego; my baseball coach, Stuart Chester, said I had the presence of a movie star and that he never had a single issue with me. But my senior season, I was exhausted from playing so many All-Star baseball games over the summer, and I decided to skip football and get ready for college and improve my stock in the MLB draft. But I couldn't let down my teammates. I came back in the second week of the season, and in the state playoffs, I cracked a rib throwing a touchdown pass in frigid 20-degree weather and then threw three more touchdown passes after that in our 42-28 loss.

I was enough of a local hero that they even had a Donavan Tate Day in my hometown, and I'll admit I didn't mind being in the spotlight. I thought I could handle it. I addressed reporters as "Sir." I was even conscious of the way I dressed.

I'd signed a letter of intent to play baseball and football at North Carolina and was prepared to do both until the Padres picked me just behind Stephen Strasburg and Dustin Ackley in the draft. I owed it in large part to Ash Lawson, the scout for the Padres who'd first seen me play baseball as a sophomore when he was sizing up one of my teammates. I had a loose swing back then, and Ash saw me as a freakish natural talent—the best all-around athlete in the draft that year—and a potential five-tool star, even after I'd bulked up a bit by my senior year.

I was a hard worker, too. I'd hit 200 balls off a tee every day during the baseball season, and I'd watch film at night during football season. I could run like crazy and never be out of breath. Ash did all the research on me that he possibly could, so much so that Coach Chester joked that the guy must own real estate in Cartersville or something. Ash even followed me home from games to see what I would do, who I would hang out with and what kind of food I would eat. And we clicked right away. The first time we talked on the phone, for 45 minutes or so, it was like we'd known each other for 20 years.

After I got drafted, I thought long and hard about going to college. I even spent a couple of weeks up at UNC practicing with the team. But given how high I'd been picked, it was hard to pass up the money; I don't have any regrets, but I will say it forced my hand a little bit.

Then I got to the minor leagues, and that's when the problems began.

First there were the injuries, which started right away. When I showed up to work out in Arizona, I had a stress reaction in my pubic bone. Then I had surgery for a sports hernia. Before my first spring training, I broke my jaw in an ATV accident, and then I hurt my shoulder diving for a ball. I had knee problems, I had wrist problems, and amid all of that, I began to question a lot of things.

I don't know if I can pinpoint a moment that began my downward spiral or whatever you want to call it. I don't want to attribute it to the pressure I felt because I'd always put a lot of pressure on myself growing up. I think I just started to take it all for granted. I was 18 years old, I had all this money and I was on my own—I thought, Hey, I'm going to make it as a baseball player, but I'm going to have my fun at the same time. I didn't really have many people to guide me, and I made some bad decisions: Within a month of being drafted, I'd failed a drug test.

That first positive test got kept secret. Maybe that made me think I could continue to get away with it. I didn't want to talk to anybody or take anybody's advice. I wanted to hold it all in and deal with it the way I thought I should. I thought I had the world figured out, and I didn't trust anyone fully. I worried if I did confide in someone, that person might judge me.

I did start figuring it out on the field in 2011. I hit .288 and had a .410 on-base percentage in 39 games, but in June of that year I tested positive for drugs again and got a 50-game suspension. This time, it wasn't kept secret. Everyone knew. I was playing in Class-A Eugene, Oregon, that year for Pat Murphy, who's now the bench coach of the Milwaukee Brewers. He's one of the best people I've ever been around in my life, and I opened up to him. He wasn't stupid—it was pretty obvious when I drank all morning and then showed up at the field wasted.

That's when I went to rehab for the first time, in Tucson. I spent 30 days there—I turned 21 in that facility—and I think that time, I went to rehab to please my family and please the Padres, but I didn't really want to be there for myself. I still felt like I needed to drink to have fun, and I wasn't ready for that to end.

Things were OK for a while afterward, but then the offseason came in 2013. I wish I knew what I was thinking or how to explain it, but I got home to Georgia and was hanging out with some old friends and some random folks, and I made one bad decision after another. Things spiraled pretty fast. I knew I wasn't taking care of my body, but I didn't know how bad it had gotten until I stepped on that scale in northern California and saw all the weight I'd lost.

The world slowed down for me once I got into rehab that time. My mind slowed down. When one of the women working there told me after a couple of days that I had detoxed and I was free to go, I thought, I don't want to go back to that environment. That was when it clicked. I started thinking about who I was, about what kind of life I wanted to lead. I didn't really talk to anyone in the outside world on a regular basis, except for Kensey, who was then my girlfriend and is now my wife. I lost touch with Ash, and when he called my agent to try to get a contact for me, they told him they didn't have a number for me either. I didn't even really speak to my mom.

Kensey and I went to high school together, and we weren't together the whole time, but something clicked with us then. We talked on the phone every couple of days, and we kept on talking the whole time I was in rehab. We got married in September of 2013 and had our first daughter, Nevaeh (it's "heaven" spelled backward) the following March. We've had two more kids since, a girl named Ivory and a boy, Donavan Jr., who's just a couple of months old. If that doesn't change your outlook on life, nothing will. You can't be selfish anymore.

But my sobriety is also a constant struggle, and in case I need a reminder of that, I think about Dillon, my roommate in California. We stayed in touch for a couple of months after we both got out of the facility, and we were doing well, and then he started struggling with his demons again. I was in Arizona trying to get back into baseball and told him to come visit me, and he was going to fly out that week from the East Coast, but then I got a call from his mom.

Dillon had overdosed, she told me, and he'd passed away.

I barely thought about baseball at all in rehab. Kensey sent me a couple of gloves, and I'd play catch sometimes—that was about the extent of it. But when I got out, I was still young, and I felt refreshed and happy. I called Ash, who was living in the little town of Athens, Tennessee, and he told me to come up. Kensey (who was a few months pregnant) and I could live in his basement, he said, and we'd train for a month that winter. Mostly, I just ate, slept and trained; I was really enjoying baseball again. The only semblance of my old life was the Porsche I drove around town.

One day I was working with a trainer, doing a speed and agility drill, and I felt something pop in my lower leg. I knew it was bad. It turned out I had ruptured my Achilles. We went out to Ash's car and I broke down, and I'm pretty sure he broke down, too. I was finally doing everything right—it felt like I was at a turning point—and then this happens. It was like, "What am I supposed to do?"

Then we tortoised all the way to the car 😄 @dtate20 pic.twitter.com/LGcdXo7Y

— Kensey Tate (@KenseyTate) October 9, 2012

Baseball wasn't the same after that. I played one more year in the Padres system, got picked up by the Dodgers and pulled my oblique in spring training. First game back, I got hit in the hand with a pitch and broke it. I asked for my release in 2016, went home and started being dad. Then in January of this year, I started thinking, What am I going to do with my life? And one day I looked in the mirror and thought, I want to play football again. I went into the bedroom and told my wife, and she said, Let's do it. I called Coach Barton, my high school football coach, and started working out with him the next day.

Most of the football coaches who recruited me—like Pete Carroll at USC and Butch Davis at North Carolina—were long gone. I was calling pretty much any number I had, and Ash helped connect me to a few folks, too. Coach Rich Rodriguez had recruited me when he was at Michigan all those years ago, so I got in touch with him. As a provision of my contract, the Padres would pay for my schooling, so he wouldn't have to spend a scholarship on me. All he had to do was give me a chance to prove myself.

I got some interest from good schools, a lot of mid-majors, even some Division III programs. But as Ash says, I'm still the kind of person who thrives in the spotlight, so when he heard a Pac-12 program was interested, he figured that'd be where I'd land. I bought a plane ticket and met with Coach Rodriguez and his staff during spring practice, and I knew it was the right fit.

Coach did his homework, and after speaking to some people about me, he agreed to give me a shot. In his offensive system, the quarterback often takes a pounding, and he'd played five quarterbacks in 2016, so he needed depth. I still have my speed, and I'm a pretty good size now—6'3", about 210 pounds—so it seemed like an ideal spot for me. I can provide that depth for now while I get up to speed, and hopefully step in and start eventually.

I'm not going to lie: It's pretty strange being a 26-year-old freshman. I took an online course over the summer, and I got to know some of my teammates, but I was almost more nervous about the school stuff than I was about the football stuff. I'm taking English 101 and psychology this fall; my first in-person class was oceanography, and when I walked into that giant lecture hall, it was a little bit nerve-racking.

As for the football, it's only been a few weeks, but it's coming back to me piece by piece. (After the first full-contact practice, I was pretty sore.) I'm doing everything I can to learn the read-option system that Coach Rodriguez pioneered—I'm asking questions and studying the playbook and taking notes in every spare hour I've got. It's like mastering a new language. And I've still got some old baseball habits to work through, especially in terms of throwing the ball, but I'm getting there. My quarterbacks coach, Rod Smith, says I've got a sturdy build like Dak Prescott—some schools even recruited me as a safety out of high school—but I also know I've got miles to go before I can even earn a spot on the field, let alone be in Dak's orbit.

Still, I'm not the first quarterback to start his career late: Chris Weinke did it at Florida State, and Brandon Weeden at Oklahoma State, and Drew Henson went to the NFL after playing baseball, so there's a path there for me.

I'm moving my wife and kids into a rented house near campus, but the first few weeks I was here, I hardly even had time to miss them—I was practicing and lifting weights and taking classes, and I was even busier than I imagined I'd be. Sometimes I get so caught up in the day-to-day grind that I forget there's an age difference between me and my teammates; I almost start to feel like a kid again. (At least until they start calling me "Grandpops" or "G-Pops.")

Coach Rodriguez says he's going to coach me like everyone else, but he also knows it's a unique situation. And I know that I've got a responsibility to share my wisdom with these six other guys in the quarterback room—or anyone else on the team—so they don't make the same mistakes I did. Maybe I won't tell them about the specifics of my life story, but I will tell them that they've been gifted with an opportunity, and that they're going to regret it if they don't make the most of that opportunity.

All three of my kids are too young to absorb those lessons now, but I plan on sharing those lessons with them as they get older. I know what it was like to grow up without the influence of a father, and I'm going to be a leader, and I'm going to be there for them, no matter what. They're the most important thing in my life now. If I succeed in football, that's just a bonus.

I've learned how to let people into my life. I have a small circle of folks who I trust, who I can confide in when things get hard, who know what I've been through. And when I see my teammates lose perspective, I can remind them how the outside world works. Because I've been through it, and I've suffered, and whether I make it or I don't, I'm not going to squander this chance.

    

Michael Weinreb (@MichaelWeinreb) is the author, most recently, of Season of Saturdays: A History of College Football in 14 Games.

Rich Rodriguez's former representative, Creative Arts Agency, filed a lawsuit against him for breach of contract Wednesday and is seeking $230,250. 

According to ESPN.com's Kyle Bonagura, CAA alleges that Rodriguez agreed to an oral contract in 2011, and that the agency negotiated his contracts to become head football coach at the University of Arizona and an analyst at CBS Sports Network.

The suit alleges Rodriguez was supposed to pay CAA four percent of his Arizona deal and 10 percent of his CBS Sports Network contract.

Rodriguez and CAA ended their relationship in 2015, but the agency alleges that Rodriguez still owes it money from the agreement it reached prior to their separation.

The 54-year-old Rodriguez has been head coach at Arizona since 2012, registering a 36-29 record during that time.

He led the Wildcats to a bowl game in each of his first four seasons with the team, but they fell to 3-9 in 2016.

Rodriguez's work with CBS occurred in 2011 prior to his hiring at Arizona.

Donavan Tate—the No. 3 overall pick in the 2009 MLB draft—is reportedly headed to the University of Arizona to play quarterback, according to the Arizona Daily Star's Michael Lev.

Tate, 26, was a top-100 football recruit in 2009 before he decided to pursue a career in baseball, according to Rivals.com's Matt Moreno.

Selected third overall by the San Diego Padres eight years ago, Tate projected as a future franchise cornerstone.

However, his career never got too far off the ground due to failed drug tests and struggles with addiction. As he told the San Diego Union-Tribune's Jeff Sanders in 2015, the 2012 offseason marked a low point.

"Up until that point, I considered myself an alcoholic," Tate said. "I loved to drink and I drank a lot. I would have drank all day, every day if I could. I drank. I smoked weed. But that offseason, for some reason I got involved with the wrong crowd. I had never touched anything besides alcohol or weed. I had never known what that stuff was like.

"I have a very addictive personality and it caught up with me—big time. It spiraled out of control."

Tate proceeded to turn a corner when it came to his struggles with substance abuse. However, his baseball journey was sidetracked by a torn Achilles that forced him to miss the entire 2014 season. As it turns out, he never made an appearance for the Padres in MLB.

Now he'll turn his attention to football in hopes of climbing up a crowded Arizona depth chart that already features Brandon Dawkins, Khalil Tate and Zach Werlinger at quarterback.

"I'm just here to play football."

With that all-business, stick-to-sports tweet, University of Arizona recruit My-King Johnson could have been just about any athlete responding to the media buzz around national signing day—but he's not. Johnson, a 6'4", 225-pound defensive end from Tempe, Arizona, forced three fumbles and had 21.5 sacks his senior year, making him the No. 52 DE in his class nationally, according to Scout.com.

He's also the first openly gay Division I recruit, ever.

"When I saw that tweet, I thought, 'God, that was exactly the way I felt,'" says Katie Hnida, who at 17 years old (Johnson's age) was in a similarly groundbreaking position. As the No. 1-ranked kicker in Colorado, she was invited to walk on at the University of Colorado-Boulder in 1999. She'd later become the second woman ever to suit up for a Division I game and eventually the first to score in the FBS. "I was a little naive in thinking, 'I'm not trying to make any kind of political statement.' The reality is that being who I was, it was a statement no matter what."

Hnida's blase attitude toward breaking barriers is similar to that of many young athletes, who have often spent years learning to stay humble and defer their interests in favor of those of the team. Standing out in the hyper-masculine, homogenous world of football is hard, but increasingly athletes whose gender or sexuality is deemed headline-worthy are coming out publicly during or after their careers. Players barely into adulthood (or in Johnson's case, who are still technically children) are accepting the mantle of being "first," whether with their team, division or league—inspiring both plaudits and pressures. Just in the past month, center Darrion McAlister (Marian University) and linebacker Kyle Kurdziolek (University of St. Francis) have come out in the press.

Johnson elected to come out publicly via a profile in the Arizona Daily Star last weekend (Feb. 25), sparking headlines about his signing everywhere from the Guardian to the Washington Post. In the piece, he revealed that he had come out to his family and friends when he was 12. Prior to that, all the press Johnson received was solely about his talent as a pass-rusher (save a brief Q&A on WildcatAuthority.com that reveals his favorite athlete is Serena Williams, his favorite musician is Beyonce and his role model is his mom). "I do feel like when I say that [I'm gay], it can put a target on my back—but whatever," Johnson told the Star.

pic.twitter.com/Lq4dhw8Cju

— My-King Johnson (@kingj9943) February 2, 2017

"He seems very nonchalant about it, and that's good," says Wade Davis, a former NFL player who came out in 2012 and current executive director of the You Can Play Project, a nonprofit dedicated to eliminating homophobia in sports. "But will he just be allowed to play football? When you're the first in anything, people want to focus on that."

Davis, a former cornerback who came out about a decade after injuries forced him to stop playing, wasn't the first NFL player to openly discuss his sexuality after retirement—that title belongs to David Kopay, a running back who spent eight seasons in the league and came out in 1975, three years after he retired. "I used to hit the hole too quickly, instead of dancing to find a better one, because I didn't want anybody thinking I wasn't tough enough to take on the next guy," says Kopay, now 74. "It was a different time—they were still saying that gay people should get lobotomies. I think sometimes I must have been crazy to come out."

Since Kopay went public, five NFL players and more college players have taken their stories to the press, many without realizing that there was precedent. Michael Sam, of course, changed all that.

Signed with UofA today. I'm extremely grateful and thankful for the opportunity that has been given to me. #wildcats #beardown ⬇ pic.twitter.com/9OGte98bg0

— My-King Johnson (@kingj9943) February 2, 2017

"[Sam] opened a lot of doors, but as a community we put so much intense pressure on the guy," says Conner Mertens, a kicker at Willamette University who became the first active college player at any level to come out publicly when he told Outsports he was bisexual in January 2014. A few weeks later, Sam, then a senior at the University of Missouri, told ESPN he was gay. He was drafted in the seventh round by the then-St. Louis Rams, making history as the first openly gay player in the NFL. Ultimately, though, Sam would never take a regular-season snap.

"We know athletes from professional to college, in every single conference, who are closeted, or who are out to their teams," Mertens adds. "But it's a scary thing to be the first. I can't imagine what [Sam] had to deal with."

"Part of me feels like we should just let this one play itself out," adds Davis of My-King's potential in the FBS, both as an athlete and as an activist.

Becoming the only representative of any minority often means acting as de facto spokesman, a position Sam embraced but found demanding—especially for a Division I or professional athlete.

"I would get overwhelmed, because there were so many people who wanted things from me," says Hnida, now 35. "You're a role model whether you like it or not, and people wanted to fit my story into whatever their agenda was. Realizing that my life and my story were mine, that was a really big deal."

"Early on [after coming out], I felt the need to be very, very perfect," says Mertens, who is now 22 and working on his senior thesis. "I wasn't in the closet, but I had a new mask: acting like I wasn't really struggling and depressed, acting like the things people said weren't bugging me. I censored myself all the time."

For Brian Sims, a former defensive tackle and co-captain of the Bloomberg University football team, one of his biggest fears about coming out to his team in 2000 (he later came out publicly via Outsports nine years later) was disrupting its carefully cultivated sense of unity. "Drawing so much individual attention to yourself, if you're a rank-and-file player on a football team like most linemen are, is an especially unusual feeling," he says. "In football you don't even see people's faces. Standing out can create a lot of pressure."

Consensus among people who have been in Johnson's shoes is simple: Just let him play. "The best way My-King can advocate is by being the best football player he can," Mertens says. "If you can look up to someone who represents you, there's nothing more empowering."

Sims adds: "This guy, at 17, might be a better football player than I was at 22—what Arizona was looking for was a badass football player. They got one, and we need to let him be that."

Very blessed to receive my 10th offer from USC.  #trojans #fighton pic.twitter.com/GD76k7L4DQ

— My-King Johnson (@kingj9943) June 24, 2016

The fact that Johnson is a person of color adds an extra layer to the pressures of being in the spotlight. "He's a black man, and he's a gay man—two things that, at some point in his life, haven't been viewed as positive," Davis says. "My advice for him would be to do something for himself every day to counter the negativity one gets being a black, gay man in America."

The question My-King's story begs is, ironically, when his story will no longer be relevant—when a gay athlete who's playing in college or the pros won't be worth a headline.

"Coaches need to have the courage to say 'My team is inclusive of all individuals, including people who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer' at the first practice, midseason and at the end of the year," Davis says. "They need to hold players accountable when they use homophobic language, with consistency." But those conversations are already changing, as players entering college today have grown up with marriage equality and seeing LGBTQ figures in entertainment’s mainstream.

"The truth of the matter is that every single person [My-King] takes the field with will have already known an out person in their life," says Sims, who today is a state representative in Pennsylvania, known for his work in LGBTQ advocacy. "That's new, and that's different."

Still, homophobia in sports is hardly a thing of the past. Just this week, former New York Knick Amar'e Stoudemire, who currently plays in the Israeli Basketball Premier League, told Israeli outlet Walla! Sport that if he had a teammate who identified as gay, he would "shower across the street, make sure my change of clothes are around the corner and [take] a different route to the gym." When asked if he was joking, Stoudemire said, "There's always truth within a joke." (Stoudemire has since apologized for his comments, per ESPN.com.)

"We'll no longer have these stories when we can see somebody running s--t on RuPaul's Drag Race who's also the starting quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys," Mertens says. "[During the game] the camera pans to his husband and kids in the crowd, and it's just a blink, nothing new."

For now, 17-year-old My-King Johnson is the face of progress in football—a position he probably doesn't want but can hopefully wear lightly. "The fact that he was like, 'I want to tell the world I'm gay right now, as I'm going into college,' says that collectively, we've created the circumstances for individuals to take risks," says Davis. "That's a beautiful change, and he's taken a really beautiful risk."

Johnson isn't doing any interviews beyond his initial profile, a perfect rebuttal to those who might think it's a press grab. "I can appreciate the conservative idea that we're 'shoving our lifestyle down their throats,'" Mertens concludes. "To a certain degree that might be true, in the sense that our stories are the most powerful weapons we have to combat ignorance. Putting our stories in front of people, it normalizes us, which sucks. It sucks to have to normalize a demographic of people. But the more we see these stories, the more they stop being stories at all."

     

All quotes obtained firsthand unless otherwise noted.

When freshman defensive end My-King Johnson steps on the field for the Arizona Wildcats in 2017, he will be the first openly gay scholarship player on a Power Five team in college football history.

In a profile interview with Zack Rosenblatt of the Arizona Daily Star, Johnson said he told family and friends he was gay at the age of 12 and didn't want to hide who he is.