It is odd and counterintuitive in the extreme.
It goes against everything else we see and perceive in these 128 men who are head coaches of FBS college football teams.
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The passion, the commitment, the dedication to a sport and one’s players.
The sleepless nights, the constant recruiting, the tireless attempt to coach football and build a program a little bit better than yesterday.
These characteristics of coaches, and the working conditions in which they operate, reveal these 128 men — and all who work in the coaching profession at this level — to be admirably dedicated people. Coaches give their lives to a sport and the craft of teaching it. They sacrifice a lot of their time and energy (and sleep, and privacy) so that they can coach better. Their wives and families sacrifice so much to make their careers possible (in the first place) and sustainable (if the career is ever able to get off the ground).
There’s so much to like and admire about coaches. A part of many of us wishes we could be the man in the booth with the headsets and a laminated playsheet. Many of us have dreamed of scheming up a storm, of being the man on the sideline who leads dozens of football players onto the gridiron for Alabama, or USC, or Notre Dame, or the school which captured our allegiance and imagination when we were kids.
Coaching college football — it’s a great calling, and you have to be a highly resourceful and driven person (with a bit of an ego — healthy yet large) to succeed in the profession.
Why, then — why? — do coaches sometimes broadcast to the whole world that they just aren’t interested in winning a game long before it’s actually over, and when there’s at least a small shred of possibility that something can be done about the matter?
Do coaches prematurely give up on games? You’d think this is the last thing coaches would ever do, but it happens more often than you might have previously considered.
Just look at a couple of examples from this past Saturday of games, when coaches — as impressive as they are in so many ways — simply struggled to measure their decisions.
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With about five and a half minutes left in the third quarter, Ole Miss trailed Florida by 25 points (25-0). The Rebels had already used one of their three second-half timeouts, which meant that even if they rallied to create a one-score game (say, 25-21), they probably would have needed an onside kick in the final minutes. Lacking a full complement of timeouts necessitates an onside kick, so the larger point was obvious: Ole Miss lacked leverage for reasons beyond the scoreboard margin.
Surely, as the Rebels faced a fourth and goal inside the Florida 5, there was no choice, no decision to be made. Of COURSE Hugh Freeze would go for a touchdown. There was no alternative after a nine-minute, 30-second drive had already consumed most of the third quarter.
For some reason, Freeze kicked the field goal. Down by 25, a field goal still left Ole Miss down by 22, meaning that the Rebels needed a 2-point conversion to tie (unless they could have scored four touchdowns, which was naturally quite unlikely). As soon as Florida kicked a field goal to push the lead back to 25 later in the half, the game was already — essentially — over.
That’s example No. 1.
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Later on Saturday night, Colorado was trailing Oregon, 38-24, with just over seven minutes left in the fourth quarter. The Buffaloes faced fourth and four on their own 31. They punted.
THEY PUNTED.
Forget the fact that Oregon controlled the ball for over four minutes and scored a game-sealing field goal on its next drive. That’s not even the heart of this discussion. What matters is that in no way can punting be rationalized when it occurs down 14 points with under 7:30 left in the game. Maybe, maybe, if a team has fourth and 27 from its own 1, a punt could be justified, but except for a severe situation such as that, a punt can’t be defended in a court of logic.
Moreover, Part 1: This was not a 14-0 14-point lead for Oregon. This was a 38-24 14-point lead. In other words, this was a 14-point lead in an offense-first game, or at least a game in which the offenses had enjoyed a reasonable degree of success. Giving the ball back to a bad offense? MAYBE you could justify that. Giving the ball back to a 38-point offense? NOPE.
Moreover, Part II: This was not fourth and 14 or 24. This was fourth and FOUR. This was not from the CU 1-yard line, but the 31! This was not a uniquely daunting fourth down in terms of distance to make or location on the field.
Mike MacIntyre simply gave up on this game — there is no other way to say it. Yet, being down 14 with over seven minutes left (while obviously not an ideal situation) is certainly not impossible.
A Colorado fan living in Denver captured the spirit of the moment, and a very famous Colorado alum — though wishing his team had fared better — couldn’t help but smile:
.@TheStudentSect
We'll roll up a mighty punt
Time to give in
Shoulder to shoulder
We will punt, punt
Punt, punt, punt!#NewCUFightSong— @MileHighBrendan was here (and still is sometimes) (@MileHightheGrey) October 4, 2015
@brendanloy @TheStudentSect ouch. But Have to admit it brought amused smile.
— Chris Fowler (@cbfowler) October 4, 2015
It was baffling enough when the coaches of FCS teams — Jacksonville State and Cal Poly — failed to go all-out in the attempt to win a few weeks ago.
This past Saturday, FBS coaches pulled out the white flag well before it was time to acknowledge that all hope was lost.
How does this happen? I’m at a loss… just as Hugh Freeze and Mike MacIntyre accepted a loss much earlier than they ever should have.
