Two issues ago (or however many months ago it was for you) I predicted the records for the state’s major college football programs (and yes, apologies to UCF, which is undefeated as of this writing) and though it’s early, it’s time for a reset. Unfortunately, my prediction for my alma mater is looking overly optimistic when I predicted a 3-9 finish. As of this writing, the state’s flagship university, proud though it may be, is looking right down the barrel of a 1-11, or 2-10 season. All of the problems some of us foresaw are much worse than expected – be it poor preparation, poor development, or a lack of physicality, this year’s squad is the culmination of bad recruiting, mishandling of the transfer portal, and in general, a classic case of a staff overmatched for the job. The only issue is when the firing of head coach Billy Napier, tempered by his 26-million-dollar-buyout, will take place. Understand, this is not a fun discussion for anyone: not the players, the administration, the fans, the alumni, the coaches, or their families.
And it’s that last group I want to focus on in this column. In many ways, watching the disintegration of a program is much like watching an iceberg melt. We on the outside see only the most obvious points of reference – the head coach, his staff, and the team. But behind the scenes, whenever a storm of controversy approaches, it’s not just the coach who feels the heat – it’s anyone connected to him (or her) as well. I was reminded of this stark reality while viewing a picture of the Gator coach, hugging his obviously distraught wife, following Flor ida’s disastrous loss to Texas A&M at home. I don’t know Mrs. Napier, but you can be sure, when her husband loses his job, she will feel it as deeply as he will, albeit for different reasons.
We as fans and interested alumni may bemoan the fact our favorite team is now among the worst in the country. And it’s fair to be upset with that fact. But what’s not fair is what the family of the soon-to-be deposed coach will endure. It means having to probably sell your house, it means probably moving to another town, it means taking the kids out of school, all the while facing the indignities of listening to catcalls and disparaging comments everywhere you go, be it the mall or the grocery store. Any venture outside the house becomes a test of resilience – and that’s not fair. Yes, I know the 26 million will soften any blow, but it doesn’t change the reality of what any of these families will endure.
So the next time you’re tempted to lash out at the coach and his staff, just remember that coach will go home to another mess, and will have to wait until storm subsides before picking up the pieces and moving forward.
Here’s hoping they find success the next time.