But no worries: Starr was known to kneel in prayer in the locker room with his football coach, Art Briles.

When Briles recruited a troubled player, Sam Ukwuachu, from Boise State, a student publication advised that the football player was known as a fine gentleman.

That fine gentleman was later convicted of a brutal sexual assault of a female soccer player.

We in the news media are not blameless. We love finding down-home pleasures such as Coach Briles, whom we described as a turnaround specialist. “Given the timbre of his magnificent voice and his knack for telling a story, a more apt comparison for the coach might be Johnny Cash,” Sports Illustrated noted a few years ago.

That same coach took no action to protect young women even when top officials were “aware of a potential pattern of sexual violence by multiple football players.” The coach and his staff “affirmatively chose not to report” – that is, to cover up – “sexual violence and dating violence” to college administrators.

The report is delicate as to what Starr knew, or not. He is, however, central to this narrative. When he walked into Waco, he proclaimed himself a new man. He didn’t like to talk much about his time as a federal judge and special prosecutor in Washington.

He did talk endlessly about football and the joy of amateur athletics.

Early last season, my colleague Marc Tracy noted, Starr fixed his hand into the shape of a bear claw and led thousands of freshmen on a raucous charge across the football field. And he raised hundreds of millions of dollars needed to build a new stadium that calls to mind the Great Pyramid of Cheops.

Long ago, I was a political writer for The Washington Post’s Style section, and I covered the Roman circus that was Starr, Monica, the libidinous Bubba and an impeachment trial.