In the past year, Gophers athletic "director" Joel Maturi has rewarded football mediocrity, sanctioned the dismantling of the women's basketball team and left CSI-quality fingerprints all over the embarrassment that the men's basketball program has become.
It seems unlikely that one man could have such a deleterious effect on one department until you delve into Maturi's past and unearth the roots of the greatest deception since CIA agent Aldrich Ames sold secrets to the Russkies.
Maturi isn't incompetent. That's just his cover.
What he is, is a mole.
More specifically, an embedded Badger.
From 1987 through 1996, Maturi worked in the Wisconsin athletic department, sometimes under the auspices of esteemed AD Pat Richter. There, Richter, making like the spymaster Karla in John le Carré's Cold War novels, hatched a plot to insinuate Maturi into the Gophers athletic department.
Richter dispatched Maturi to the University of Denver, then Miami of Ohio. Thus insulated from his Badgers roots, his cover in place, Maturi infiltrated Dinkytown.
Now the Red Menace has done his worst. He has made Gophers hoops -- that bastion of passion -- the object of apathy. He has made Williams Arena, the best sporting venue in town, a convenient place to take a nap.
Through nothing more than his indecisiveness with Monson, Maturi has set the program back at least a year.
In March, Maturi left university president Robert Bruinink's office with permission to fire Monson. He choked, leaving Monson as the worst kind of lame duck -- the kind awaiting official confirmation of his demise.
At a news conference called then so Maturi could display his support for Monson, Maturi said that, had this been the NBA, he probably would have fired Monson, offering the most damning vote of confidence in sports history.
Thus emboldened, Monson scraped together another lousy recruiting class and moped through the beginning of the season, looking like a man who just received a bill he can't pay.
Those who attended the Gophers' 90-68 loss to Clemson on Wednesday night at Williams witnessed a quaint moment evocative of the days when you had to arrive early to get a parking spot.
During the last minutes, the Minnesota student section rose and pleaded for the insertion of the tiny guard on the end of the bench.
Only this wasn't 1996, and this wasn't Hosea Crittenden ripping off his sweats. No, the small, bored crowd was trying to entertain itself by cheering for Clemson's moptop reserve, Chris Poole.
Other than that sad moment, the place was so quiet you actually could hear a single fan coaching the Gophers on how to break a full-court press.
Meet the pass! he chanted, to the tune of "Let's Go Gophers."
Monson and Maturi combined to create this mess. Maturi's willingness to fire Monson seven games into the season is an admission that he blew it last March.