It is a cruel business to begin with, the very essence of the old song, riding high in April, shot down in May. That is the definition of coaching, right? Up and down and over and out, adrenaline junkies addicted to the roller coaster.
Even by that standard, this has been a remarkable week in the life of Steve Masiello, who seven days ago was the toast of the profession, his scrappy Manhattan Jaspers taking Louisville’s defending champs to the wire in the NCAA Tournament.
March is a month when coaches build leverage the way architects build suburban housing developments, and even before the Jaspers’ plane landed home from Orlando Masiello was what every coach yearns to be: a scorching, flaming, smoking hot property. He held every card.
Your move, kid.
And now?
His fate and his future lie in what surely will be an internal battle within the leafy boundaries of Manhattan’s Riverdale campus and its institutional conscience — a fight between the inherent compassion that is very much a part of the university’s mission and the basic tenet of the world: honesty.
It is the college that holds every ounce of leverage now, after Masiello’s pursuit of the South Florida job revealed he apparently never graduated from the University of Kentucky, as Masiello’s résumé presumably stated, as Manhattan’s own website proclaimed.
That already has lost him the job in Tampa and the cool million-dollar annual salary it commanded, plus those valuable few rungs up the coaching ladder that a job in the AAC represents over one in the MAAC. Now the question is this: how much more will it cost?
Will Manhattan take him back?
Can Manhattan take him back?
The school finds itself in an utterly unique position; whatever it chooses to do, the position is completely defensible. Manhattan announced Wednesday it has put Masiello on leave, saying he is “in the process of reviewing his degree status.” Assuming that confirms what USF’s vetting process revealed, Manhattan is well within its rights to fire him. In fact, because an undergraduate degree was a prerequisite for the job, it could well be argued that termination is the only answer.
But is it? For one thing, Masiello clearly has proven he is more than capable of the job, lifting the Jaspers from six wins the year before he arrived to the NCAA Tournament this year. There never has been an issue about his conduct or his comportment. Right up to the moment he accepted the South Florida job it sure seemed like Manhattan wanted to do everything possible to keep him in the fold for years to come.
Of course, that was before Manhattan realized it potentially had been the victim of a pretty brazen fraud.
So yes: Manhattan can fire Masiello now, can part ways with a clear conscience, can avoid having to answer some difficult questions (“Would it have been an easier decision if he was a losing coach?” “Would a political science professor have been able to get away with fudging his résumé?”).
Or it can find a middle ground. It can mete out harsh consequences for an offense that clearly runs afoul of the university mission statement (… among the hallmarks of [the] Lasallian heritage are … reflection on faith and its relation to reason, an emphasis on ethical conduct …) while also concluding that not all offenses need be professional death sentences.
Start here: a suspension covering all non-league games next season (and a corresponding reduction in salary). The insertion in his existing contract of an onerous buyout — say, $1.5 million— that would cover five years, and all but guarantee no outside suitors will pursue him for at least the length of that term. And, of course, the promise that within one year, Masiello will finish whatever course work is necessary to make sure real life properly reflects his résumé.
Too harsh?
Too bad. Coaches aren’t the only ones who build leverage in March. Manhattan has all the cards here. It can proceed any way it wishes, and that includes washing its hands and walking away. This way, it moves forward with a proven — and, perhaps more important, chastened — coach on its side, grateful for a second chance.