Todd Whitten remembers thinking he had everyone fooled.
Alcohol pulled at him as his football coaching career spiraled, yet Whitten believed he had it under control. His wife, Dana, sometimes encouraged him to get help. That just caused an argument.
"At that point, I wasn't going to hear anybody really," Whitten said.
He still won games. He still got jobs. But alcohol consumed more and more of his life. Whitten remembers drinking almost a case of beer a day at the peak of his addiction, always thinking about when he could get his next taste.
Fired in 2009 after five unsuccessful years as Sam Houston's head coach, he bounced from stop to stop, his reliance on alcohol trailing him the entire way: Offensive coordinator at Lamar, head coach at a Texas high school and UTEP as receivers coach.
Then Whitten got a call from an old friend, Tarleton State athletic director Lonn Reisman.
It had been 20 years since Reisman hired a 31-year-old Whitten to be Tarleton State's head coach in 1996. Whitten stayed one year. Reisman hired him again four years later.
The first time he took over the Texans, Whitten stabilized the program, which was in its Division II infancy. The second time at Tarleton State, Whitten transformed Tarleton State into a winner, winning the program's first Lone Star Conference championship and making the Division II playoffs twice from 2000-04.
Reaching out to Whitten a third time in the fall of 2015 carried considerable risk for Reisman.
Even beyond the unconventional move to hire the same coach who'd already left the school twice, Reisman knew about Whitten's reliance on alcohol.
He asked Whitten about it on the phone. Whitten pushed back.
Reisman wanted to hire someone he trusted. Whitten wanted the job. Tarleton State represented the happiest years of his coaching life. But Reisman wasn't sure. He needed to meet with Whitten in person.
When Reisman saw his friend again for the first time in years, he noticed Whitten's swollen face, his reddened cheeks. He didn't look like the man who'd twice elevated Tarleton State football.
When thinking back on that interaction, Reisman chokes up with emotion.
He remembers challenging Whitten, telling him he had a problem.
Whitten remembers the exhaustion from all the lies -- not just to others, but to himself. The conversation broke through. Whitten said aloud what he knew all along and wouldn't admit to himself: He was an alcoholic.
Reisman, who said he believes strongly in second chances, hired him anyway. It took multiple conversations for then-Tarleton State president Dominic Dottavio to be convinced.
But Reisman believed in Whitten -- both as a coach and as a man capable of turning his life around.
Five years and a few of the most successful seasons in Tarleton State history later, Whitten walked into Reisman's office with a gift.
He handed Reisman a coin – his five-year sobriety chip from Alcoholics Anonymous.
"You saved my life," Whitten said.
Coming clean
Whitten can trace the start of his relationship with alcohol to his playing days at Stephen F. Austin. The Lumberjacks won, and the players celebrated.
"Just part of being a college guy, right?" Whitten said.
Even then, Whitten suspected he handled it differently than others. He remembers feeling anxious for the next drink. As life moved forward and more stressors emerged, he went from a weekend drinker with friends to a daily consumer.
As expectations grew, especially when Whitten moved to Sam Houston in 2005 for his first FCS head coaching job, that need began to take over.
Whitten never experienced a losing season as a head coach before arriving at Sam Houston. He went 25-28 with the Bearcats, posting losing records in three of his five seasons.
Whitten remembers the inability to sit still. He was constantly anxious. He never got arrested. He doesn't remember drinking in his office or being impaired during a game. Addiction was just a noisy need that interfered with everything else for about a 10-year period of his life.
"It's hard to be good at anything when you're an alcoholic, other than the drinkin'," Whitten said.
The eventual call from Reisman represented an opportunity to go home.
Dana prepared for the moment when her husband would stop lying to himself. When Whitten told her about the job at Tarleton State and his need to get sober, she pulled a notebook out from under their bed where she'd scribbled the information for a few treatment centers.
"Once I admitted it, she was ready," Whitten said. "I can't say enough how thankful I am for her. She had every reason to pack up and leave. … I'm ashamed of myself for letting myself get that way."
Whitten checked into a rehab center. After checking out, he would drive some 100 miles round-trip every day from Stephenville to Weatherford in order to attend a 7:30 p.m. Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. He went to 120 meetings in 120 days.
He made that long drive to avoid judgment. To avoid pity. It's one thing to admit something to yourself. It's something altogether different to tell the world.
Eventually, Whitten called a team meeting.
Whitten didn't really know his players well at that point. He was a first-year coach. He inherited the roster. But it was there, around his team, that Whitten spilled his soul for the first time.
He spoke of his addiction. He admitted his shortcomings. He told the story of the shakes and sweats as he cut himself off from the drink. He spoke of being like them at one point, drinking during college parties, and how allergic to alcohol he turned out to be.
The room was silent.
"The words finally came out of my mouth," Whitten said. "It was the best feeling."
When Whitten finished, his team clapped. Everyone hugged him on the way out.
A few weeks into his sobriety journey, Whitten remembers feeling scared he'd relapse.
That's when Dana suggested they attend church. It was never really Whitten's thing. But he gave it a try, picking Timber Ridge Church, where many of his players already attended weekly.
Church service is now a pillar of his life, another support system. He still regularly attends AA meetings, giving his sobriety battle a structure and a framework similar to football.
"The thing they teach you in AA, it's almost impossible to do these things by yourself," Whitten said. "I think that's a big part of my success."
Tarleton State has thrived in Whitten's third act.
The Texans went 23-2 in their final two Division II seasons before transitioning to the FCS in 2020. They've reached the FCS playoffs in both seasons they've been eligible, including a 12-2 run to the quarterfinals in 2025.
Whitten became what Reisman, now the mayor of Stephenville, always believed he could be for Tarleton State. Not only a stabilizer, but the school's all-time wins leader. Someone who's changed what's possible for a program with FBS aspirations.
Reisman, holding Whitten's five-year chip up to the camera with pride on a video call, sees a man transformed. What once was a face pained by desperation appears healthy again. He looks like the coach Reisman hired for the first time 30 years ago.
"Had he (stayed at 32), he'd be at one of the Power Four schools," Reisman said. "He's that good. … I had total belief in Todd Whitten that he could turn his life around."
'Alcohol is a rough thing'
When Whitten first checked into rehab, he had a young roommate who didn't wake for two days. When the man finally did, he asked Whitten a question.
"Bro, what are you in for?"
Whitten told him he was drunk.
"Oof," the man said. "That's hard. Alcohol and cigarettes -- those are the two hardest."
Whitten laughs, remembering it.
"I picked the hardest one," he deadpans.
"I think this stays with me forever," Whitten said. "The first thing I do every morning is I pray for another sober day. I'm afraid to let my guard down. I don't think it ever leaves me."
Every recruit and family who comes through Tarleton State hears about the head coach's battle with alcohol. Whitten thinks that's fair. They need to know who he is -- and who he used to be.
Whitten has found openness about his battle gives him a way to reach others fighting their own.
He's helped two of his former players find treatment. He told his story at a local church. He connected with people dealing with addiction in Stephenville and encouraged them to attend AA meetings.
Then there was the call he received three years ago.
Whitten is soft-spoken and almost matter-of-fact when speaking of his addiction. Yet his voice catches when he talks about his daughter, Maddie.
She called him in a state of hysteria. Eventually, she calmed down enough to tell him why.
She was an alcoholic.
The guilt was instant. Whitten wondered whether she had watched him growing up and learned something he never wanted to teach her.
Whitten did what he knew how to do.
He drove to pick her up.
A few hours later, father and daughter sat together in her first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.
Three years later, Maddie is sober.
"I would never want to go through all that again," Whitten said. "But I have been able to help some folks, and the sweetest one of all was helping her. She's just doing wonderful."
Then Whitten pauses.
"Yeah, alcohol is a rough thing."
