Patrick Reusse: Beautiful stadium means no more excuses for losing

John Williams was a standout tackle for the 1967 Gophers, the last Minnesota football team to gain as much as a share of the Big Ten title. Williams went through TCF Bank Stadium with teammates Jim Carter and Ezell Jones last month and, when finished, offered a concise review: "This is the Taj Mahal."

Twenty-seven years earlier, Gophers coach Joe Salem brought his team to the Metrodome for a precamp media day. He looked around the shiny blue room and said:

"This will be the Taj Mahal of college football."

Salem's euphoria lasted through two home games, both impressive victories before crowds of more than 50,000. The third home game was the Big Ten home opener against Illinois that brought both the CBS cameras and a crowd of 63,684 to the Dome on a Saturday night.

The Gophers were blown out in the second half and lost 42-24. It was the first of 18 losses in Smokey Joe's final 19 games. He was followed by another handful of coaches -- Lou Holtz, John Gutekunst, Jim Wacker, Glen Mason and Tim Brewster -- who were unable to make Minnesota a Big Ten contender while in the Dome.

Mason was the first influential person to promote the idea of an on-campus stadium in December 1999. The idea of building a stand-alone stadium for the Gophers, when the Vikings also had started to make noise about a new home, seemed beyond absurd a decade ago.

Yet, there it was on Saturday -- a 50,000-seat stadium on the east end of the main campus, and certainly a Taj Mahal compared to Memorial Stadium, the brick house in which John Williams competed, and to the Metrodome, which was home to the Gophers for 27 seasons and never propelled them to a Big Ten record better than 5-3.

Overall, the Gophers were 18-36 in the previous 27 seasons against Iowa and Wisconsin, the programs against which they always should be judged.

As of Sept. 12, 2009, all excuses are gone.

No one can any longer explain Gophers' mediocrity by mentioning atmosphere. Three hours before the kickoff to Saturday's 20-13 victory over Air Force, there were tailgaters frolicking in nearby parking lots as enthusiastically as if this was Camp Randall or Kinnick Stadium.

There was the same ratio of gold (or maroon) among the partiers as you will find red in Madison, Wis., and black (or gold) in Iowa City.

Inside, the arena was smaller, but the newness enabled the Gophers' home to avoid the erector-set look that you find in all the old Big Ten stadiums -- even Ohio State's magnificent Horseshoe.

No one can be taken seriously if they continue to explain Gophers' mediocrity by mentioning the difficulty of getting athletes in school. The Gophers hired Brewster in January 2007 because of his reputation as a recruiter, not because they were impressed with his talent as a tight ends coach.

The administration has made every accommodation for Brewster, allowing him to gain admission for any athlete other than those who require twice-a-day watering.

The atmosphere outside the stadium is filled with smoke and laughs and footballs being tossed. The brick walls and the glass of the exterior are so inviting as to create an urge to put down the cold ones and get inside early to take it all in.

Once there, the newest FieldTurf is so advanced as to pass for grass and advertise for speed. The stadium is a three-sided canyon that's energetically loud even when greeting the band for its Block M 10 minutes before kickoff.

The University of Minnesota has provided its football program with a spectacular home. The administration has done contortions academically to give its ace recruiter every chance to land elite athletes.