To be quite frank, I'm insulted. Surprised wouldn't be the right word, as college football is as corrupt and morally bankrupt an institution as you'll come across in society. Disappointed isn't even the right word, as that would give the illusion that I was naive enough to hold out any sort of hope that Ohio State and their investigative team were doing anything other than trying desperately to dig out a loop hole for Urban Meyer to crawl into for a couple games. But insulted? That's a fair way to describe how I felt when one of most proficient liars in a sport that's packed to the gills with them couldn't come conjure up something better than claiming he, more or less, makes 7.6 million dollars a year managing a team of over 100 players at the highest level of "amateur" athletics while having early onset Alzheimer's...
Maybe I'm just jealous, as I've never had the balls to unapologetically treat my selective memory as a mental handicap in excuse making. That, however, doesn't change the fact that it's the coward's way out for someone who could likely recall the entire play-by-play from the Buckeyes' last game against Michigan, but is conveniently a little foggy on that whole long-tenured staffer that kept his high-paying job despite being a known wife-beater and an all-around deviant...
I don't want to say I expected better from a situation in which football being prioritized over literally everything else became more of a foregone conclusion with each passing day. What I did expect was a more viable justification for Zach Smith remaining gainfully employed than his boss blaming the medication like an elderly man who pooped his adult diaper. Especially since that medication oh-so-ironically didn't make him forget that his text history needed a thorough bleaching...
I honestly didn't need to see Urban Meyer actively avoid eye contact or hear him actively avoid saying the victim's name, much less offering Courtney Smith any sort of direct apology, to know that he was a bad person that lacks remorse. I just thought he could at least be counted on as a half-decent liar with a shred of self-awareness when the stakes were at their highest. I was very, very wrong, as his light punishment runs oxymoronic to the heavy load of dirty laundry whose smell he basically wafted in by standing on stage and playing the victim of his own negligence.
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