When USF Athletic Director Doug Woolard announced that head football coach Skip Holtz was through after three seasons, the last one (3-9) USF’s worst ever, he said all the requisite things. To wit: It’s always a “difficult decision” to fire someone–but “the expectations of coaches, players, students, administrators and fans are high.” His responsibility, he stressed, was “clear.” It was striving “to put a more successful football program on the field.” Woolard underscored the priority that is the Bulls’ “loyal and faithful fan base.” And it was a rhetorical given that “brighter days are ahead.” Etc.
But Woolard also referenced something else. He praised Holtz for raising USF’s academic bar. The Bulls continually set team grade-point-average records under Holtz. Too often in big-time college football and (especially) basketball the term “student athlete” is an oxymoron. Too many are athletic Hessians majoring in eligibility. Holtz never saw it that way. Not at Connecticut or East Carolina, where he was successful, not at USF, where his successor will soon be named.
Woolard also said this: “It’s not easy to part ways with such a good man. I am thankful for his friendship.”
I get that part. Skip Holtz is one of the good guys–just not good enough, as it turned out, where it mattered most to a program looking to become the next big thing in football-frenzied Florida.
Before his first spring practice in 2010, I sat down with Holtz in his on-campus office. In previous incarnations I had been a high school coach and sports writer and always found the athletic arena the journalistic equivalent of a busman’s holiday. Talking shop on the job. But always refreshing when a coach can get out of jock character. That was Holtz.
He didn’t want to talk personnel, schemes and such until he had literally seen his players on the field. He talked the logistics of relocation, where his kids would go to school, the regional market and Tampa’s “small big city” ambience. His enthusiasm was palpable. He was notably affable, gracious and focused, neither Vince Lombardi nor Jim Leavitt.
Despite his iconic lineage, there was never a hint of entitlement about Holtz. He was “Skip” not Lou Jr. He was well liked wherever he had been in large part because he made it a point to carve out his own identity by getting involved in university communities, especially charities. He treated people well. Personality-wise, he seemed ideally suited to the charge of a head coach as he defined it.
“In a way, it’s like being a CEO,” he explained. “You wear a lot of hats. Reaching out to fund-raisers, alumni, doing public speaking, leading people, relating to your players, having a vision.”
By all accounts, Holtz was well liked in the locker room, around campus and in the greater community. But being a helluva nice guy who took USF from being a Big East also-ran to a Big East after-thought had another label: loser.
Under Holtz (16-21), USF had lost 14 of its last 16 Big East games. Staffing had become an issue. Recruiting wasn’t stellar. The Bulls weren’t just losing games, they were losing credibility. It happens when Ball State and Temple are among the losses.
Awful clock management and other questionable strategic decisions elicited incredulous criticism from ESPN broadcasting booths. A player stormed off the sideline and into the locker room against Pitt, before being cajoled back by teammates. It wasn’t overlooked on TV.
The Bulls were no longer Leavitt’s “underachievers,” falling frustratingly short of the “next level,” a BCS bowl. They had become the worst team in a bad league. UCF can now look down on the Bulls, who were ranked 94th in the final Sagarin College Football Ratings, behind the likes of Sam Houston State, Middle Tennessee and Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. The “CEO” was turning USF into Enron.
They were devolving–way beyond anything attributable to key injuries–in front of our disbelieving eyes. Then the ultimate bottom line: Fans were staying away in droves. Only 18,000 turned out for the loss to Pitt last Saturday–and too many who did show up were wearing “Fire Holtz” paper-bag masks. Embarrassing, cringe-inducing optics. He was serenaded with boos after the lackluster 27-3 loss.
All parties deserved a better outcome. No longer would a pricey ($2.5 million over 5 years) buyout, one that was ironically, if not inexplicably, extended this summer, be a deterrent to firing Holtz. With all the conference scrambling still going on, USF could ill afford to look clueless and football-challenged heading into the Brave New Gridiron World of 2013.
Put it this way: If Gene Chizik could be fired two years after an undefeated, national-championship season at Auburn, Skip Holtz could be canned two years removed from 8-5 and a Meineke Car Care Bowl win. Big-time college football is a brutal, uber competitive business. But a $2.5 million buyout is the other half of that parallel-universe equation.