Whoever said cheaters never win was lying.
They do win, as long as they never get caught.
A deeper moralistic dive, though, would wisely say, no, they don’t win. They win the trophy, but they lose their souls. They cheat, they know they cheated and that will stay with them long past the cheers, the celebrations, the money, the empty honors.
Still, only a fool would assume that every individual, every team that ever won a championship did so completely on the up and up. Whether everyone knows it or not, triumph has flowed at times to those who broke or break the rules.
And maybe most people don’t care, gobbling down the sad and sorry if-you-ain’t-cheating-you-ain’t-trying line.
Let’s localize this thing with some hypothetical questions. If a couple of key Jazz players were taking or injecting performance enhancers en route to helping their team win a title, how would you feel about that?
If the Utes were breaking NCAA rules but that helped them win enough games to qualify for the college football playoff and win a national championship, would you look the other way? Same for the Cougars. Would you simply rationalize that everybody’s doing it? Would you excuse it or ignore it?
I do not know whether Michigan got really good at football with the help of staff underling Connor Stalions collecting — read: stealing — signs from opponents and passing that information on to Jim Harbaugh and half the people on the Wolverine sideline. I’m not sure whether the video recordings made public of Ohio State’s offense settling in at the line of scrimmage, looking over at their bench for the signaled play, and once the signal is made, a bunch of Michigan folks suddenly yell to the blue-and-maize defense that the coming play is a pass is authentic or whether the Michigan sideline was just simply suddenly fulfilling the urge to do the hokey pokey. Not sure what to make of reports that Stalions has bought 30-some tickets to Michigan opponents’ games over the past few seasons.
But if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, allegedly cheats like a duck, maybe, just maybe, it’s one scoundrel of a duck. Maybe.
I’ve seen excuses made and messages posted online, calls for Michigan coaches, players and fans to keep their heads up, to enjoy the current success they’re having, to not let these accusations ruin the Wolverines’ run for a national championship this season. It will take time for the NCAA to finish investigations, to issue sanctions, so that line of thinking goes, if, in fact, wrongdoing is eventually confirmed. The problem there is that even under the bright glow of winning’s sunshine, the lurking shadow of future sanctions and vacated wins is a long, dark one.
And it is not soon forgotten. Ask the Astros. Ask the Black Sox.
Again, it makes you wonder how many athletes, how many teams have cheated, one way or the other, how many have gone to the needle, how many have banged quietly on trashcan lids, how many have broken rules and not been nailed for their indiscretions?
Before the era of NIL, how many college basketball coaches had benefited from under-the-table payments made to players who were key to March Madness runs? How many football coaches made big money, generational cash, by cheating to get their best players? How many Hall-of-Fame players or Olympic gold-medal winners were juicing — and reaping all the acclaim and all the resources that came with that cheating?
Is it just the jealous who complain about such things? Is it envious opponents who now can’t beat the Wolverines making all the noise?
I’ve got to say, I hate it when athletes, coaches, teams cheat. I also hate it when they lie about cheating. I hate it when they get away with cheating. Part of that stems from the difficulty of the competitive journey. It’s hard to win. It’s hard to make the sacrifices necessary to win. It’s even harder when the other guys aren’t operating under the same rules.
I also hate false accusations — whether they’re recklessly hurled about super important things, like legitimate election results, or lesser things, like who properly won a league championship.
In the Michigan case, I feel for the athletes. They’ve busted their tails to become as good as they can be, individually and as a group. If coaches have utilized illicit means to help them gain an advantage, shame on the coaches. But if the players knew what was happening, shame on them for falling in line.
Winning is important. It’s what everyone wants. It’s the only thing some people value, the only virtue. But what’s the point if it’s done dirty? It takes courage to stand against such shenanigans and the peer pressure would be enormous. You’re either a team player or you’re not, right? Nobody’s naive about that.
The world, such as it is, may not buy into it. In fact, it might laugh at it. But there’s something better than hoisting a trophy. It’s competing with honor. Yeah, stifle those chuckles, knock that grin off your face. Competing fairly and honorably may not make you big man on campus. It may not make you popular or rich. It may not land you a 10-year, 100-million-dollar contract.
It will give you peace of mind, it will soothe the soul.
Only true competitive warriors resist the temptation of using the excuse, “Well, everybody else is cheating. Everyone else is doing it.”
That might or might not be true.
But even if it is, there’s a better reward found in another truth, in following this bit of advice, as coach Bill Shakespeare famously wrote it in act one, scene three of one of his best playbooks: “To thine own self be true.”
To thine own self be true, Big Blue.
