LORAN SMITH: College athletics fund-raising looks much different these days

WINDER — You may have seen where the University of Alabama is embarking on a $600 million campaign for athletics, simply another confirmation that the arms race in college football has, like coaching salaries, taken another quantum leap.

Costs across the board are spiraling upward, which begs the question, “Is there a downside, will Armageddon rear its ugly head? We should all pray that the perfect storm does not rain on our parade.

If a disclaimer is in order, I am happily a drumbeater for facility expansion at Georgia. Why? Because the timing is right, the passion to compete with the best is gathering momentum, and the market is there. I often think what $50 million would mean to the Kirby Smart objective. But $600 million! Will the head coach have a gold-plated bathroom? Does that mean that other coaches will want one?

As I stood in a peaceful corner of the Rose Hill Cemetery on the edge of this Barrow County community, I thought about all that as a modest group of mourners laid to rest the long time mayor of this town, which is suddenly little more than arms-length from Atlanta. Buddy Ouzts was a respected businessman who enjoyed selling cars, fishing for his supper, ably running the city that birthed him and to which he was devoted, and unabashedly vocalizing his support for the Georgia Bulldogs on Saturday.

There was a time when Georgia needed an innovative assist with its athletics function, and Buddy stepped forward. The big perk for coaches in the 1960s and 1970s was a car. It was commonplace throughout college athletics for athletics associations to offer ticket priorities to car dealers who in turn would provide a demonstrator for a coach to drive. The coach was paid mileage for official use, the dealer was allocated premium seats, and everybody was happy.

Today, athletics associations can underwrite the cost of cars for its coaches, but when a dealer program was put in place at Georgia, it was a welcomed de rigueur.

Buddy teamed with Cliff Brooks of Brooks Motor Company in Crawford to recruit dealers over the state to support the program. Soon all football coaches and selected staff enjoyed the benefit of driving a car without making monthly payments.

Cliff and Buddy were birds of a feather — Chevrolet dealers who wanted to make life better for Bulldogs coaches with the goal of helping their favorite team win football games and hopefully championships.

Soon the program was expanded to provide dealer cars to coaches of other sports. This was in contrast to the days when many coaches of winter and springs sports always purchased the biggest possible cars or station wagons on their own so that they could ferry their teams to competition on the road as comfortable as possible.

The only financial consideration they got for team travel was gas money. In those days when a coach bought a car, it was a losing proposition financially. Even so, coaching had great appeal to many athletes after their competitive days had ended.

Musings about dealer cars and the past days of austerity allowed for levity to seep in, recalling one of the unforgettable stories about Georgia coach Jim Whatley who was a classic raconteur and colorful character. A multi-sport player at Alabama, Whatley, after the war, became a football assistant and head coach of the basketball and baseball teams at Mississippi.

The Rebels were on the way to Tuscaloosa for a basketball game, Whatley taking half the team in his car and his war veteran manger, Butch Lambert, driving the rest of the team in the lead car. After a refueling stop, Whatley went to pay for the gas. The lady cashier said, “One of your guys forgot to get his change for the pack of Lucky Strikes he bought. Would you give it to him?” The grinning Whatley said gleefully, “Yes mam!”

Whatley let the boys in the lead car enjoy a smoke for a few miles and then passed them. He stopped and motioned for them to pull over. He walked back to the car and demanded to know who “was smoking those Lucky Strikes.” Lambert didn’t want any of his teammates to lose scholarships and admitted he was the culprit.

After checking into the motel in Tuscaloosa, Butch knocked on Whatley’s door to apologize, knowing he had probably lost his managerial scholarship. Whatley played hard ball with him for a few minutes before laughing loudly and telling Butch everything was OK.

Greatly relieved, Butch headed for the door, but stopped and looked at Whatley and asked. “Coach, how in the world did you know it was Lucky Strikes we were smoking?.”

College athletics has come a long way since World War II. Wonder what it will be like when our great-grandchildren show up on campus.

Loran Smith is co-host of “The Tailgate Show” and sideline announcer for Georgia football. He is also a freelance writer and columnist.