<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
9001010903
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
900108
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Monday, January 08, 1990
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
NWS
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1A
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
43 YEARS LATER, BO RETURNS TO DIAMOND
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
It began two years ago, after his second open heart surgery, when Bo
Schembechler finally realized that coaching football could not go on forever.

  "What would you do if you had to give it up?"  he was asked one day by
his friend, Tigers President Jim Campbell.

  "Well, Jim," Schembechler said, grinning, "to tell the truth, I want your
job." 
  "Heh-heh. Yeah."
  "I'm  serious."
 Campbell looked at him. "You are?"
  He is. And today, it comes to pass. Schembechler, until his retirement
last week the winningest active major college football coach in the country,
will take leave  of the university he has called home for the last 21 years,
and step in as Campbell's successor, the new president of the Tigers. 
  Let me predict the first of a million headlines: "Does Bo Know Baseball?"
  He will. Although he would confirm but not officially comment Sunday,
Schembechler told me last week at the Rose Bowl that he thought he could do
the job. "It's exciting, it's sports. I want a  challenge after coaching. . .
. 
  "It's true, I'm not used to paying players $3 million a year.  But I've
been dealing with budgets, administrations, tickets, all that stuff for a long
time at Michigan.  That's what a president does. . . . 
  "As for working for  somebody else, well, I've had to answer to a ton of
people at Michigan --  the president, the faculty board, the administration.
Hell, answering  to just one guy (Tom Monaghan, the Tigers owner) would be
easy after that."
  At the time, Schembechler spoke only under strict confidentiality, because
he still had not made up his mind. He did not  want to abruptly sever his ties
with the university. And although the move was speculated on in this newspaper
more than once, he refused to be quoted because it might distract from his
team and the  Rose Bowl.
  But the morning after returning from California, he met with Michigan
President James Duderstadt, and by Sunday, according to sources, the two had
cemented this plan: Schembechler will take a "leave of absence" as athletic
director of Michigan. Jack Weidenbach --  who shared the job with Schembechler
the past year and a half -- will take over as "interim" AD.
  If true,  it's a  rather clever  arrangement. Michigan can still call
on Bo in certain situations. And --  although I doubt anyone will admit it --
the university gets to avoid a lot of red tape with search committees  and
interviews for a new AD. Sure, the  fairer thing would be to open both the AD
job and the Tigers presidency to all candidates. But that is not how the real
world works. Michigan wants Weidenbach. Monaghan wants Schembechler. They get
their men.
  And the feisty, frumpy football coach who was once a talented high school
pitcher, returns to the diamond.
  Forty-three years later.
Bo is adored,  but . . .  Now, it's no secret that Bo is adored by
thousands in this state. But is this a good move for him? I'm not sure. I have
never been that crazy about Monaghan, his ways are a little bit odd,  if you
ask me, and while Bo insists "Tom is a good guy," the thought of Schembechler
having to answer to him for anything is a bit unsettling. 
  Nonetheless, you can't begrudge a man's wanting to  work. Obviously, his
background is in football, not baseball. But this much I have witnessed: When
Bo sets his mind to do something, he gets it done. And he seems genuinely
excited about the Tigers'  possibilities.
  "I've been close with Jim, Sparky and Tom for a long time," Schembechler
said last week while mulling the position. "I wouldn't even think about taking
the job if I didn't know I could  work with them and be effective."
  Bo would love nothing better than to help turn the Tigers around, boost the
sagging farm system, and restore a winning team to Detroit baseball. He
believes -- and  so does Campbell -- that he can learn the ropes of the
presidency in a year, which is how much longer Campbell will stay on to advise
him. Then, if all goes according to plan, Campbell, now 65,  will retire or
move upstairs in some capacity, leaving Schembechler in the office.
  Question: What happens when a player goes into a slump?
  Answer: That's not Bo's problem, it's Sparky's.
  Question:  What happens when another team wants to make a trade?
  Answer: That's not Bo's problem, it's Bill Lajoie's.
  Don't be confused: Bo is not taking over the Tigers on the field. He won't
be pitching  batting practice. He will handle the overall direction and
finances of the team --  as the chief representative of the owner. That's the
role of president.
  Is he qualified for such a job? Sure. Good  management is good management.
Good people skills are good people skills. Bo has plenty of both. What do you
think, the athletic program at Michigan ran by pushing a button?
  And before people start  screaming about Bo's lack of a professional
baseball background, let's look around the country. While a few American
League clubs, such as  Cleveland and Kansas City, have former baseball men as
presidents,  most do not.
  The president of the Yankees, when last season began, was someone named
Michael Luczkovich. The president of the Texas Rangers is Michael Stone, a
former business executive and right-hand  man of the owner. The president of
the Toronto Blue Jays is Paul Besston, a former accountant. The president of
the Chicago White Sox is Eddie Einhorn, a cable TV mogul.
  Some clubs don't even have  presidents. The owners handle all business
affairs; the general managers handle all the baseball.
  The biggest prerequisite for the job of president is a solid working
relationship with the owner.  And on that, Schembechler is secure. Monaghan is
crazy about him. He has lent him his private plane for use in Michigan
business. He gave Schembechler a Domino's franchise back in 1982.
  "I wouldn't  take the job if if didn't get along with him, obviously," Bo
said.
A marquee name for Tigers  So, really now, what does all this mean? It means
the Tigers have a marquee name in their front office,  a positive image, which
can only help, considering the sinking reputation of the current regime. 
  It means a few good Bo quotes during the summer, instead of the fall.
  It means, perhaps, a greater  intensity in the front office, once Bo learns
the ropes.
  And it means --  and I wonder how much people are considering this --  that
a man this state has adored, admired and celebrated for three  decades gets to
continue his life in a productive fashion, instead of retiring to a
shuffleboard court.
  As for Michigan? It means the athletic program will be in the hands of
Weidenbach alone, instead  of his and Bo's. While the latter would be better,
anyone who knows Bo knows he couldn't stay at U-M and not coach. "I'd be like
a caged lion," he admitted before leaving Pasadena.
  Yes, the Tigers  job is an office job, much like the athletic director
position. But 1) There are no university presidents to answer to in baseball
(remember the Penn State deal?) and 2) Bo won't be a hindrance to Sparky
Anderson the way he might be to Gary Moeller.
  So a new era begins, both in Ann Arbor and Tiger Stadium.
  "You know," Bo said last week, "I might be different than a lot of other
baseball presidents."
  Why not? He was different than most coaches, too.
  Batter up.
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
BASEBALL; PRESIDENT; DTIGERS; BO SCHEMBECHLER;Detroit Tigers
</KEYWORDS>
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