We always knew that it would complicate things, change them, make them feel dirty, but now money is taking over the game that Americans really hold dear to their heart: college football.
When I watched that terrible excuse for a coach, Lane Kiffin, stand in an untucked white polo in front of the press in Knoxville last night and say “There wasn’t one day that I didn’t work my hardest for this program,” I wondered, “How?”
How could that be true?
If it was true then you would be too damn proud of your blood, sweat and tears to walk away. These young men’s lives would mean too much for you to walk away like that.
You would be able to see their mothers and fathers faces in June lit with pride, whose hands you shook when they invited you into their home and then dropped their sons off for camp after high school graduation. You’d hear the small talk you made with their little brothers about being a Volunteer one day in your office.
You know that’s a lie, now, right?
I’ll explain. When you told some young man’s mother that her wildest dreams would come true and her son would play on the biggest stage in the Southeastern US, get a free degree, and become a man under your watch, you lied.
I not saying that in signing a contract Kiffin had an obligation. Contracts are broken all the time. I’m not saying that the game of college football requires Paterno-esque loyalty, or the optimistic constancy of Bobby Bowden.
Sure, I was a little miffed when Rich Rod left West Virginia, but I wasn’t that mad last year when Jeff Jadgosinski left my alma mater to go and fail in the NFL. I was a little ticked at Brian Kelly when he left Cincy, but glad he got roasted by Mardy Ginyard on SportsCenter.
What Kiffin did, though, was unacceptable. Absolutely and wholly.
Lane, you gave some of the most loyal fans in the country hope after they had to do the equivalent of pulling the plug on their grandfather, Phillip Fulmer, because he just couldn’t keep fighting. You took this position, one of the most prestigious jobs in the country, with a huge check, in the process knocking Urban Meyer and singing Rocky Top all the way.
Then you give them one 7-6 season, and walk out the door.
You’re like a guy who knocks a girl up, marries her, and then walks out when the kid turns one.
You’re the grandkid who inherits your grandfather’s hard earned estate, waits until the will clears, and then sells the house your grandpa built with his bare hands.
You’re a f—ing excuse for a man. Stick to something. See it through. The grass is not always greener. Doing what you want won’t always make you happy; doing what is right, however, will.
Do I need to sign you up for the free inspirational quotes app on your IPhone? Hasn’t anyone ever told you that commitment and honesty are virtues?
I imagine your dear old Dad tried.
I always loved Monte Kiffin. His faithfulness and career in Tampa Bay made my 2001 season as a Bucs fan one of the greatest sports moments of my life. His relationships with Tony Dungy, and then Gruden, and with players like Derrick Brooks and Ronde Barber, were models for professionalism, at least in front of the camera.
Lane, however, used his time in front of the camera for a sloppily dressed sound clip to say thanks for the memories but, sayonara! Hey, I tried! That Lane Kiffin press conference will be a splinter in college football’s side for a long time, reminding us that it is a business and that capitalism plays by the golden rule – beat the other guy by any means necessary and make more money.
It’s no surprise, though, because those are the same rules that closed the door on Boise State. Kids play the best season that they can, win each and every game, and do it the right way through commitment to a program. Then, the big boys will shut the door in their faces because they’re not sure the Boises of the world can bring in enough money.
The money and its poster boy, Lane Kiffin, have tainted our game. It has created a mentality of “what’s in it for me” and has left fans of the college game wondering how the stink from behind closed doors got “baseball bad”.
College football used to be a place where boys were given a fair chance to become educated because they could play the game, where coaches took the spotlight off of themselves and managed to immortalize their players, games, and moments as some of the most pure and joyful in a sports’ fans memory.
The heat of money and the spotlight are drying it out, though. College sports don’t have that refreshing, honest taste to wash down the rest of the world with. We’ll try desperately to water it, to revive it with Cinderella stories – you know, overcoming improbable odds at the buzzer, Rudy doing it for his Mom, coaches bringing a town together – but it won’t taste the same because the smell of dishonesty will linger with images of men like Lane Kiffin, wandering away from questions, ripping the hearts out of fans and players with no regard for anyone but himself.
History will write the true story. Lane’s choice will live in infamy and his story will never be better, just bigger.
Unnecessary Note re: Boston College – I was furious initially, but the thought of
being such a liar and a deadbeat made me love the idea that he was gone. Plus, Frank Spaziani is the f—ing man, and every good man gets his due. In my mind, Spaz can have the job for the rest of my life. Leave the mustache and the towel on the sideline until they show his highlights next to Flutie’s as the only notables in BC history.
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* – Lane Kiffin photo credit: AP Photo/Wade Payne via Rocky Top Talk
