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by redsox907 » Today, 00:18
Chapter Thirty-Two: Fearlessly Forward
It was bittersweet watching my defense—sans a number of players who opted to sit out either in protest, draft preparation, or with intent to enter the portal—get shelled for 44 points by the Kansas State offense. It was a contest that was over by halftime, but despite the lopsided score I watched the entire game from my office in Jones-Hill House.
Not only did the hopeless look on Jonathan Smith’s face bring callous joy to my heart—an edge I freely admitted may never completely dull—but it was good background commentary as I pored over the resumes athletic director Jim Smith had sent over.
“The defensive coordinator is entirely up to you, especially since you’ve already stated a desire to continue to call the defensive players,” Jim had explained when he handed me the dossier of coaching resumes, “This is a list we’ve compiled, but feel free to freelance.”
“But,” he quickly added, procuring another folder off his own desk, “For offensive coordinator, we’d prefer you chose from the resumes we’ve selected. We’ve put together a list of credible coordinators with experience, real ball knowers. Guys that can help you understand the nuances of the game at this level from a different perspective.”
Mike Shanahan had been the clear cut favorite out of the group and for good reason. Everyone saw the work he put in with Fernando Mendoza during the Hoosiers’ magical run to the National Championship, despite the narrow loss to Miami. The Hoosiers had stumbled slightly in the years following, but his offenses still put up respectable numbers.
After Curt Cignetti’s retirement, Shanahan thought he was a shoo-in to replace Cignetti having followed from stop to stop, all the way to Bloomington. Instead, the Hoosiers hired my predecessor, leaving Shanahan jilted in the process.
He quickly accepted the job at Maryland, voicing excitement working with me, but I knew the real reason. Revenge. He wanted to show the Hoosier’s they made a mistake; and what better way than helping the former team of their hand-selected coach exceed the previous regime’s success.
Defensive coordinator was the tricky one. I wanted someone who shared my belief and scheme, someone that I could trust to keep things going smoothly when I inevitably had to focus on the other elements of being a head coach.
Over halfway through the resumes Jim had given me, I finally found my man. DeShaun Orlando, linebackers coach at Auburn, where he’d played his college football. He had played in a 3-3-5 throughout college and now had spent the last three years helping coach the linebackers in the same scheme.
To me, it felt like the perfect fit. Someone who played the same position as I did, potentially saw the field the same way, and already had experience with our base defense. My assumption was confirmed when I queued up tape of the Georgia linebackers over the past three seasons.
Disciplined, assignment-sound, and intentional. They didn’t freelance, they executed with precision. These weren’t guys going off pure instincts, they were coached right and prepared, they knew what was coming before the offense snapped the ball. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d say it was my own linebacker unit on the screen.
I quickly sent Jim the resume, requesting he set up an interview with Orlando ASAP. Just as I hit send, and Kansas State scored their final touchdown in the 44-17 rout over Oregon State, Merci Falaise—the general manager of player personnel—made his presence known with a light knock on the dark-oak door to my office.
In his hand was yet another folder, the thickness of which did not spell good news.
“Is that it?” I asked Merci, more dread in my voice than I’d intended.
He gave me a curt nod, handing me over the folder without ceremony.
I flipped through the pages, muttering to myself as I went—audible only to myself, but with each page passed, my relief was growing. The name I had been dreading wasn’t in any of the reports. I hurriedly flipped through the packet again, just to be sure, before glancing up at Merci.
“This is everyone? Not waiting on anybody else?” I asked in rapid succession, without giving Merci time to answer the first question before the second passed my lips.
He just gave another quick nod.
“So…Malik?” I asked, guardedly hopeful. Malik Washington was a former 4-star quarterback and Maryland native who had signed with the Terrapins out of high school, and had been a 3-year starter for the program.
Last season, he had put up career highs in passing yards (3,371) and while his 21 touchdowns were three shy of his 2026 total, he cut his interceptions for the third straight year. He was undoubtedly one of the most talented quarterbacks in the country, meaning he could earn top dollar if he decided to test the portal and finish his college career elsewhere.
“The One Maryland Collective gave him a handsome package to stay and he decided that finishing what he started and staying close to home were more important than testing the waters,” Merci stated simply, as if he wasn’t telling me the #1 player from last year’s squad wasn’t returning.
The quick celebratory yell that swelled out of my chest surprised even me, and definitely Merci who nearly knocked the file off my desk as he jumped away.
“Sorry, sorry,” I quickly apologized, “But aside from finding out that my wife and kids would be here within the week, this is the best news since I’ve gotten here.”
There were other key players on the list; notably junior strong safety Messiah Delhomme and edge rusher Tarik Stanley. I’d talked to both of them and they’d been up front, they didn’t want to waste their last season of eligibility on a team that had a murky future.
“Can you promise me we’re going to be playing for a conference championship year one?” Delhomme had asked when I’d met with him shortly after my introductory press conference.
“I won’t lie and promise we’re going to be there, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to get us as close as possible,” I answered. He acknowledged he appreciated the honesty, it was the same talk with Tarik. But in the end, they were going to see what they could get in the portal.
“No hard feelings,” I’d assured them both after the individual meetings, and I meant it. They had the right to do what was in their best interests. After all, how different was me leaving for Maryland, to them leaving Maryland?
The irony wasn’t lost on me, but instead of being resentful that they were chasing their own success—like my former coach and mentor Jonathan Smith—I chose to accept the reality that sometimes our visions simply don’t align. Ultimately, there was no wrong answer.
I had been able to convince a few of the veterans to stay. Junior WR Emanuel Ross was hesitant to commit at first, but ultimately decided that after being on three teams in three seasons, he wanted to see his final commitment through.
Halfback Iverson Howard was another Maryland native who flirted with the idea of branching away from home, before the thought of being halfway across the country from his family led him to re-commit to the Terrapins.
Malik had been the wildcard through the whole process. We’d met twice. Both times I’d preached legacy, the idea of being a four-year starter at a Big Ten school. Being the guy that stayed home in a generation defined by chasing the next big thing. Even mentioned that I knew Maryland’s NIL collective—One Maryland Collective—would pay him handsomely to stay.
He was as calm during those meetings as he was on-film surveying a defense. He read each line, directed it, and processed what it meant to him. Each meeting ended the same way as it started:
“I appreciate you and your feedback, Coach Leon. I’ll be in touch.”
But now it was official. He was running it back.
I apologized once again to Merci as he left my office, announcing he was heading home for the day.
I may have only been on campus for 14 days at this point, but the calendar was about to flip to 2028.
And with it, changes were coming to the Terrapins. With Malik officially on-board, I could focus a majority of the portal efforts towards improving a defense that was ranked 102nd last season.
If we got some ballers on the defense, I could make it work. If Shanahan could unlock the final step in Washington’s development? We wouldn’t just best last season’s 6-6 mark, we’d soar past it.
One thing was for sure, we were operating true to the university’s brand campaign.
Fearlessly Forward.
Last edited by
redsox907 on 27 Feb 2026, 11:44, edited 1 time in total.
