A quick story about Pete Carroll, who has never met a man he deems incapable of change:
I’m sitting in the Seahawks coach’s office about a year and a half ago, interviewing him about his work with A Better Seattle and A Better LA. Carroll launches into a passionate speech about bringing out the best in people.
“OK, let me give you an illustration,” Carroll says. “Let’s say, after all the stuff that we heard about what was going on in Iraq, we sent 10,000 people to Iraq as peacefully as we could go. And we walked wherever they would let us go, and we just talked to people and listened to what their issues were. And then we tried to figure out the best way we could support them and change things, as opposed to bombing (expletive) thousands of people with shock and awe. It might’ve taken us longer to influence change, but nobody would’ve died. And the power that we could’ve generated by just being willing to listen and see if there was a way we could answer their call and help them, whatever they wanted.
“Not tell them what to do. Not change them. Just help them go where they wanted to go. What if we had done that? How much money would that have cost us? Give me a thousand peace workers that would go over and do that. Just listen and talk. Think of what we could’ve done, as opposed to killing hundreds of thousands of people or whatever we did. And leave the wrath of what we did.”
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Carroll is trembling with intensity. His eye contact is so powerful that you can’t look away from him.
“It’s the truth,” Carroll says. “People can change through vision, just by altering their vision of what can come about. As long as you stay with it.
“What could we do? Yeah, we could change the world.”
That’s Carroll at his idealistic best. It doesn’t matter whether you agree with his thinking. You still should respect his audacity to believe in people.
This is why Carroll has been successful with players who seem to be at the margins of the NFL. This is why Marshawn Lynch returned to being Beast Mode in Seattle, why Bruce Irvin’s past didn’t scare off the Seahawks in the 2012 draft, why general manager John Schneider was able to build a championship roster in an unconventional manner.
And this is why Percy Harvin burned them.
As the Seahawks recover from the damage done by Harvin’s anger-management issues and move on without a player they invested a fortune in to be a game-changing offensive weapon, the lesson is clear: You can’t rescue every soul. Not even Carroll can do it.
It was a gigantic mistake to give up three draft picks and sign Harvin to a megadeal, only to be forced to trade him the next year for a conditional sixth-round draft pick. It’s a blunder unlike anything we’ve seen in the Carroll/Schneider era. But if you think the Harvin debacle should spark a change in philosophy, then you really don’t know Carroll.
It’s safe to assume that Carroll and Schneider will never go over the top again to acquire a troubled player. It’s safe to assume they’ve learned much from the drama. But Carroll’s desire to coach reclamation projects isn’t going to change. Even after this disaster with Harvin, the approach has benefited the franchise more than it has done harm.
Carroll is a football coach for two primary reasons: To win games and to change lives. When Seattle drafted Irvin, Carroll was giddy about how “cool” it was that he could give him a chance to continue his transformation.
Carroll is coming to terms with failure this week. In larger media sessions, he has stood behind a podium, fidgeting, while talking about Harvin. For the first time since the Seahawks won the Super Bowl, the coach looks uncomfortable.
He has answered questions as vaguely as possible. He has shown agitation, belying his reputation as the coolest man in the room. On Monday, he even made a gesture to end his news conference before it got more awkward.
But during his weekly interview Monday on “Brock and Salk” on 710 ESPN Seattle, Carroll offered more insight into his internal struggle.
“I competed at this thing and couldn’t make it work for our team and for the players,” Carroll said. “I was disappointed because I told (Schneider) I’d get this done. I thought I could when we made the decision.”
Harvin is a player that Carroll had known since high school. The coach understood Harvin’s anger issues and thought he could get through to him. He thought he could show him something better and alter his life. He thought the winning culture of the Seahawks would influence Harvin in a positive manner.
It didn’t work. The acquisition was weird from the beginning, with Harvin’s strange hip injury, the time he missed recovering from surgery and how he left the Seahawks in limbo during his comeback attempt. The relationship didn’t begin in ideal fashion, and it only got worse. The Seahawks didn’t lose Harvin. They never found him in the first place.
It’s rare for Carroll to have to admit defeat in dealing with a person. It’s rare for him to have to accept it.
But change? No.
If anything, Carroll will be more eager to get it right with the next wayward athlete.
Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com.