Renck: Bill McCartney gave lost CU Buffs football program direction, and it was breathtaking to behold

If Colorado ever meets Nebraska on a football field again, it won’t feel as important anymore because Bill McCartney won’t be there to watch it.

As part of CU’s football recovery, McCartney declared Nebraska a rival. Never mind that the Cornhuskers didn’t feel that way. They hadn’t lost to CU since 1967 and were too busy hating Oklahoma.

As a directionless program, CU required a compass to navigate the road to redemption.

“Better dead than red,” McCartney famously said.

McCartney died Friday night after suffering from dementia for nearly a decade. My mind raced back to my days chronicling the team as a CU student, remembering his wry sense of humor.

McCartney arrived in Boulder in 1982. My twin brother, Tracy, and I followed in 1989. The events were not related but became intertwined, shaping our lives and careers.

I attended CU not because the football team was percolating, but because of my love of writing. My dream was to become a sports journalist, and staying in-state was a necessary financial concession for our parents.

What unfolded from 1989 to 1993 was a breathtaking experience as we covered the Buffs for The Colorado Daily and student-run KUCB radio station during the school’s greatest stretch on the gridiron. McCartney played for a national title, won a national title, and went 2-1-1 against Nebraska. It is through that lens that I remember the winningest coach in school history.

I was nervous attending CU practices, and the subsequent press conferences. The CU beat featured proven journalists John Henderson, B.G. Brooks and Craig Harper, to say nothing of columnists like Woody Paige and Bob Kravitz.

McCartney was perceptive. But he did not create a caste system with the media. He responded to the question, not the person asking it (at least in most cases). So, it wasn’t long after attending workouts, that I recognized how they were preparing for an opposing receiver that week on the scout team. McCartney appreciated the observation, and I was told later by assistant coach John Wristen, from Pueblo like me, that McCartney thought I knew what I was talking about.

Affirmation from a coach does not matter in my profession. But at age 20, with a blend of fake confidence and real doubt, it meant something to hear that. It was then that I believed I could write for a living.

His players shared similar experiences. McCartney noticed when they were doing the right things and constantly reminded them that they “would get what they earned in life.”

McCartney had a gift for talking. He could captivate reporters with anecdotes, metaphors and inspirational quotes. He was more of a preacher than a professor.

I remember watching CU practice and play and being convinced that the NFL could not be much better than this. And the truth is, it wasn’t. There were years when every CU starter was drafted or considered a prospect.

It was a remarkable time. McCartney’s skill in dealing with reporters was amplified with his players. He could relate to people from all sorts of backgrounds and get them to think the same way.

Respect was at the core of it. I didn’t know what I didn’t know in college. If I covered him now, I would have seen him as more complicated, perhaps more flawed. But his complexities were balanced by raw honesty.

I did not necessarily agree with his view of the world. I wasn’t attending church in Boulder. Like a lot of students, I was losing my religion. But McCartney was interesting. There was something about Coach Mac that made you want to be near him, to hear him.

He was both, as Kravitz once wrote, “contradictory and extraordinary.”

During games, he was not considered a master strategist. By the end he didn’t even wear a headset, showing trust in his assistant coaches to call the games. His strength was on display at practice, when no wrinkle seemed too small to iron out. His genius was in cultivating a roster of players who believed in the team’s mission and embraced competition. Some of the best CU moments I saw were during practice.

Have a conversation with Coach Mac, and It was easy to see how he motivated players with pregame speeches, pushing buttons about specific matchups, while assuring them that they would be put in position to succeed.

Success was a word rarely associated with the program before his arrival. McCartney inherited a school dealing with the nuclear financial fallout created by Chuck Fairbanks.

I was lucky. The teams I covered were powerhouses, on the level of Ohio State, Alabama and Texas today. They won games with crazy option pitches by Darian Hagan, crushing sacks by Alfred Williams and Kanavis McGhee, huge punts from Tom Rouen, and jaw-agape catches by Michael Westbrook.

The 1990 team won the national championship, sealed by a victory over Notre Dame in the Orange Bowl when McCartney kicked to Rocket Ismail and was saved by a clipping call.