Athletic Department Under the Microscope: Brian Smith Firing Exposes Ohio University's Culture of Oversight

When Ohio University's Athletic Director Slade Larscheid interrupted a meeting on December 1 to place head football coach Brian Smith on administrative leave, it marked the beginning of the end for a coach who had just delivered the program's best season in years. Two weeks later, Smith was fired for cause. Days after that, personnel files revealed the violation: bourbon in a desk drawer, occasional post-game drinks with assistant coaches, all consumed after business hours.

On its surface, the incident seems minor—almost absurdly so for a termination that will cost Smith his reputation and potentially millions in future earnings. But scratch beneath that surface, and the Brian Smith saga reveals something far more troubling about Ohio University's athletic department: a culture where oversight is reactive rather than proactive, where policies are selectively enforced, and where a new administrator's desire to establish authority may have collided with a winning coach's career.

The New Sheriff in Town

Slade Larscheid was appointed Director of Athletics at Ohio University on September 8, 2025, just three months before Smith's termination. He came from South Dakota State University, where he had served as Deputy Director of Athletics since 2020, overseeing day-to-day operations.

Larscheid inherited a department riding high. Under previous Athletic Director Julie Cromer, who departed in August for Louisiana State University, Ohio football had achieved historic success with back-to-back-to-back ten-win seasons. The football team had just won the 2024 MAC Championship—its first since 1968. Smith himself had gone 8-4 in his first full season and earned the program a bowl game appearance.

But Larscheid also inherited something else: an athletic department in transition, searching for its identity in the rapidly evolving landscape of college sports. And in that environment, establishing clear lines of authority becomes paramount—even if it means enforcing policies that may have been overlooked by previous administrations.

The Timeline That Raises Questions

The sequence of events is striking. On November 24, Larscheid and other administrators met with Smith over allegations that he had violated university policy related to alcohol and drugs. Smith acknowledged storing alcohol in his office desk drawer and consuming it after business hours, and admitted that occasionally a few assistant coaches over age 21 joined him privately for a single drink of bourbon after games.

Smith received a formal reprimand on November 25. The letter from Larscheid stated that Smith was initially unfamiliar with the policy but now understood it, and warned that future violations could result in termination.

Six days later, on December 1, Smith was placed on administrative leave. Sixteen days after that, he was fired for cause.

Here's what's conspicuously absent from that timeline: any indication of what changed between the November 25 reprimand and the December 1 suspension. Did Smith commit another violation in those six days? Did new evidence emerge? Or did the athletic department simply decide that a written reprimand wasn't enough?

The university hasn't said. And that silence speaks volumes about an oversight system that appears to operate in the shadows.

Where Were the Systems?

Ohio University's athletic department has all the institutional infrastructure one would expect of a Division I program. According to university documents, there's an Intercollegiate Athletics Committee concerned with all facets of athletics, including periodic review of governance policies relating to disciplinary practices. There's a Compliance Office dedicated to coordinating, monitoring and verifying adherence to NCAA, MAC and university regulations.

Yet somehow, none of these systems caught or prevented Smith's violations before they became terminable offenses. This raises uncomfortable questions: Was Smith's behavior an open secret that went unreported? Did other coaches engage in similar practices without consequence? Why did it take a new athletic director less than three months to discover what compliance officers apparently missed?

The answer likely lies in the nature of oversight itself. Athletic departments, particularly at successful programs, often operate with significant autonomy. Coaches work long hours, maintain irregular schedules, and occupy a unique space between employee and celebrity. In that environment, informal practices—like keeping a bottle in the desk for occasional post-game celebrations—can easily become normalized, even if they technically violate policy.

But normalization isn't the same as oversight. And when a violation only becomes visible because a new administrator is actively looking, it suggests the previous system was designed more for damage control than prevention.

The Selective Enforcement Problem

University Policy 41.133 is clear: employees cannot possess or consume alcohol in the workplace. It's a bright-line rule that leaves little room for interpretation. Smith violated it. By the letter of the law, the university had grounds for termination.

But college athletics is notoriously inconsistent in how it applies such policies. Coaches at other universities have survived far more serious allegations—recruiting violations, Title IX complaints, incidents involving student welfare—with suspensions, fines or negotiated departures rather than for-cause terminations. Meanwhile, Smith lost his job over bourbon in a desk drawer.

This disparity raises the question of proportionality. Smith's attorney has stated they will fight the termination, and they may have grounds. In wrongful termination cases, courts often examine whether the punishment fits the violation and whether the employer applied its policies consistently. If Ohio has allowed similar behavior to go unpunished in the past—or if other employees engaged in comparable conduct without facing termination—Smith could argue selective enforcement.

The university's decision to fire Smith for cause, rather than negotiating a resignation or buyout, suggests confidence in its position. But it also suggests something else: a willingness to make Smith an example, to send a clear message that the new administration will enforce policies rigorously, regardless of on-field success.

The Culture Question

Athletic departments don't exist in isolation. They reflect the broader institutional culture of the universities they serve. And what the Smith case reveals about Ohio University's culture is deeply ambiguous.

On one hand, enforcing workplace policies consistently demonstrates institutional integrity. Ohio University can argue that it's holding everyone—even successful coaches—to the same standards, that it's refusing to look the other way simply because a football team is winning.

On the other hand, the optics are terrible. A new athletic director arrives, immediately discovers violations that apparently went unnoticed or unreported under previous leadership, issues a reprimand, then escalates to termination within days—all while the coach's team is preparing for a bowl game. It looks vindictive. It looks like an administrator establishing dominance. And it looks like an institution that prioritizes policy compliance over people.

The reality is probably somewhere in between. Larscheid likely did discover genuine violations. University counsel likely advised that those violations warranted termination under the employment agreement. And Smith likely did violate a clear policy, even if he believed the practice was acceptable.

But the speed of the escalation, the lack of transparency about what triggered the move from reprimand to termination, and the timing just before a bowl game all point to an athletic department that wasn't prepared for this moment—one where rules and relationships collided, and the rules won at considerable cost.

The Accountability Vacuum

Perhaps most troubling is what the Smith case reveals about accountability at the leadership level. When a coach is fired for policy violations, the natural question is: where were the systems that should have prevented this?

Athletic directors are responsible for overseeing their departments, ensuring compliance with university policies, and creating cultures where violations are reported and addressed promptly. If Smith had been storing alcohol in his office for any significant period—and the personnel file suggests this wasn't a one-time occurrence—then oversight systems failed long before Larscheid arrived.

Yet there's been no indication that anyone other than Smith will face consequences. Compliance officers who should have caught this aren't being disciplined. Previous administrators who may have overlooked similar behavior aren't being questioned. The entire burden of accountability falls on the coach who violated the policy, not on the systems that failed to prevent or detect it.

This creates a troubling precedent. If oversight only kicks in when new leadership arrives, and if violations only become terminable offenses when someone decides to enforce policies strictly, then the system isn't really about accountability—it's about power.

The Broader Implications

The Smith termination arrives at a moment of profound transformation in college athletics. Conference realignment, Name, Image and Likeness agreements, transfer portal chaos, and the potential for athlete compensation are reshaping the landscape. In that environment, athletic directors are under enormous pressure to generate revenue, maintain competitive programs, and navigate increasingly complex compliance requirements.

Ohio University is no exception. The departure of Julie Cromer, a nationally recognized leader who was named 2024 NACDA Athletic Director of the Year, left big shoes to fill. Larscheid inherited a department with momentum but also with challenges—facilities needs, competitive pressures within the MAC, and the constant demand to do more with less.

In that context, establishing clear authority and demonstrating a commitment to institutional values makes strategic sense. But it also carries risks. When coaches believe that policies will be selectively enforced based on who's in charge, when they worry that success on the field won't protect them from administrative whims, trust erodes. And without trust, the collaborative culture necessary for sustained success becomes nearly impossible.

What Happens Next

Ohio University has announced it will immediately begin searching for a new head coach. Interim coach John Hauser will lead the team against UNLV in the Frisco Bowl on December 23. Smith's attorney has vowed to fight the termination.

The legal battle could reveal more details about the athletic department's culture and oversight practices. If Smith's team depositions university employees, asks for records of similar violations, or examines how alcohol policies have been enforced historically, uncomfortable truths may emerge. The university may ultimately decide that a settlement is preferable to discovery.

But regardless of how the legal case resolves, the damage is done. Ohio's athletic department is now defined not by its historic MAC Championship or its bowl appearances, but by a scandal involving bourbon in a desk drawer. Recruits will hear about it. Coaching candidates will ask about it. And current staff will wonder if they're next.

The Oversight We Need

The Brian Smith case offers a cautionary tale about what happens when oversight systems prioritize compliance over culture, when policies are enforced reactively rather than proactively, and when institutional values collide with individual circumstances.

Better oversight doesn't mean stricter enforcement—it means clearer communication, consistent application, and cultures where violations can be addressed before they become career-ending. It means training that ensures all employees understand policies, not just discovering violations after the fact. And it means leadership that recognizes the difference between making an example of someone and actually improving institutional culture.

Ohio University's athletic department needs to ask itself hard questions. Why did it take a new administrator to discover these violations? How many other policies are being violated without detection? And what systems need to change to ensure that the next coach who makes a mistake receives guidance rather than termination?

Until those questions are answered, the Brian Smith case will stand as a symbol not of accountability, but of an oversight system that failed everyone involved—the coach who lost his career, the players who lost their leader, and an institution that may have sacrificed its reputation in the name of enforcing a rule.