Column: Michigan Still Champions—But Harbaugh’s Legacy Takes a Hit

It began, as these things often do, with whispers that became headlines, headlines that became outrage, and outrage that became punishment before anyone really understood the allegation.

In October 2023, the Connor Stalions’ story broke like a storm — sudden, loud, and hard to ignore. The immediate image painted by rival programs and amplified by national media was of a military mastermind, an ex-Marine with a web of spies blanketing college football. It was espionage, cloak-and-dagger football, a rogue operation worthy of Netflix dramatization. Netflix came later, of course.

And before the dust had even settled, before any investigation could run its course, the Big Ten lowered its hammer, suspending Jim Harbaugh midseason at the behest of conference rivals who demanded action “now.”

So rushed and uncoordinated that Michigan was punished while Harbaugh and his team were in the air, on a plane headed to Happy Valley. They landed in the news, the evening before what would be their biggest game of the season up until that point.

The decision was unprecedented — a conference punishing a flagship program during the heart of a national title run based on allegations that were still just that: allegations. In the end, they may have done Michigan a favor. They allowed the Wolverines to prove on the field that they were the best team, to overcome that adversity. To become champions, fair and square.

An Outdated Rule and a Modern Scandal

The supposed smoking gun was that Michigan had violated NCAA Bylaw 11.6.1, which prohibits in-person scouting of future opponents. A rule written in 1994, back when VHS tapes and grainy sideline shots were the norm, intended to save smaller programs’ travel costs. In 2023, when every snap of every game was filmed from multiple angles and packaged into readily available All-22 footage and TV broadcasts, the bylaw looked like a relic — a guardrail that barely applied to the modern game.

Here’s the first thing the national conversation got wrong: Sign stealing itself is legal. Advanced scouting happens every single week, as coaches and sign stealers trade information. Almost every program does it. You can do it from TV broadcasts. You can do it from game film. You can do it from the stands. And if you’re Ohio State, you can do it by swapping Michigan’s signs with those of other opponents. What you can’t do, by the letter of the outdated rule, is send someone to an opponent’s stadium to scout in person.

That was Stalions’ first sin — not the movie-script espionage that was breathlessly sold in the first wave of coverage, but a stubborn, poorly disguised attempt to skirt a rule that was already under discussion to be tossed entirely. He made mistakes that looked terrible optically, none more absurd than the now-infamous sight of a man who appeared to be him, incognito, on Central Michigan’s sideline during a game against Michigan State.

The breathless coverage made it sound like Michigan had the answer key to every test. In reality, knowing an opponent’s signals doesn’t mean you know the exact play that’s coming. Stalions himself explained the “cat and mouse” game and how it wasn’t about gaining an insurmountable advantage. Michigan was leveling the playing field with teams that had been stealing their signs for years.

Sometimes you’re right, sometimes you’re wrong, and most of the time, you’re working off tendencies, not certainties. If it were the magic bullet some claimed, you’d expect the betting markets to flinch. They didn’t.

And then came the scoreboard: Michigan dismantled Michigan State 49-0. Beat Penn State. Beat Ohio State. Won the Big Ten Championship. Beat Alabama in the Rose Bowl. Beat Washington to win the national championship.

Harbaugh’s Legacy — and the NCAA’s Fight to Tarnish It

This saga is inseparable from Jim Harbaugh. The fight between him and the NCAA didn’t start with Connor Stalions — it began nearly a decade earlier, when Harbaugh challenged the governing body’s sacred cows. His infamous satellite camp tour was the first shot, a brazen coast-to-coast recruiting barnstorm that infuriated SEC coaches and made him a household name nationally.

He railed against outdated rules, called for common-sense reforms, and — often enough — was right. NIL, revenue sharing, the transfer portal… all arrived exactly as Harbaugh predicted they should, even if the NCAA dragged its feet.

But that same disdain for the NCAA bled into compliance. Harbaugh was not a detail manager when it came to NCAA paperwork and protocols. He ignored red flags. Did he know about Stalions’ operation? The evidence says no. Should he have? Almost certainly. His leadership style left blind spots that others exploited.

It was those blind spots that the NCAA drove a truck through. The Stalions operation was the hook, but the organization’s real haymaker came in its finding of non-cooperation. Stalions went to elaborate lengths to hide evidence — destroying phones, encrypted messages, avoiding digital trails — and that destruction of potential records became the lever for the harshest penalties.

Harbaugh may not care about the show-cause penalty that now follows his name. He’s in the NFL, and there is no indication he’ll ever coach college football again. But Michigan’s title will always stand. The asterisk, even if undeserved, will sit in the minds of those who want it there. Time might soften the edges, but the question will linger: Was Harbaugh a rebel visionary, or a great coach undone by his inability to manage the rulebook as well as he managed the field?

Sherrone Moore’s early moves have been telling. He’s bulked up Michigan’s compliance staff, instituted new reporting structures, and tightened internal controls. It’s not about paranoia; it’s about infrastructure. The cracks that existed under Harbaugh — some harmless, some fatal — are being filled.

The program is stronger for it, but it’s also a quiet admission that those gaps existed in the first place.

The PR War and the Fallout

Michigan lost the PR war almost immediately. Multiple head coaches, some hiding behind anonymity, used podiums and press leaks to paint the worst possible picture. Anonymous sources floated wild claims in print that no one bothered to retract when they proved false. Analysts who should have known better took the bait.

And yet, all along, there were voices — coaches, former players, media members — saying this wasn’t the end of college football as we knew it. But the truth was never as salacious as the story, or as fast.

The moving on part will be a relief in Ann Arbor. This cloud has hung over the program for two seasons, a very public case that was supposed to unfold in private.

Ideally, though, the sport learns something from this: Michigan was a great football team. They bent an outdated rule. They paid the price. And they still beat everyone.

It was Michigan vs Everybody, and they won. Bet.