David Cutcliffe is sure he’s not the only person to win a bowl game and get fired in the same calendar year, but he knows the club is pretty exclusive. Nearly 11 months after he led Ole Miss to a win over Oklahoma State in the 2004 Cotton Bowl, he was canned.

“That surprised me,” Cutcliffe says.

It had to. During his six years in Oxford, Cutcliffe’s teams were 44–29 (.603), won three bowl games, beat rival Mississippi State four times and posted a 25–23 record in the SEC. Cutcliffe was the first Rebel coach to win at least seven games in his first five years. He was done in by a 4–7 campaign in 2004 and his unwillingness to make major staff changes. Oh, and the mild-mannered Cutcliffe, who was the mastermind behind Tennessee’s offense before taking over in Oxford and had been hired by former Ole Miss AD John Shafer, lacked the fiery personality new boss Pete Boone wanted in a coach. So, Cutcliffe was out, despite having three years remaining on his contract, and garrulous, big-talking Ed Orgeron was in. Three years and 10 whole wins later, Boone had to make another change.

“They have a right to have their philosophy,” says Cutcliffe, who enters his second year leading Duke’s program. “But I’m used to guys like (former UT athletic directors Bob Woodruff and Doug Dickey) who have been around college football for a long time and understand how to build a program.”

Hey, at least Cutcliffe got six years with the Rebels. These days, that’s an eternity, what with coaches getting canned after three seasons, and some hitting the bread lines before Homecoming. The state of coaching in major college football is more tenuous than ever. There are great rewards at the top, like Alabama coach Nick Saban’s $4 million annual salary, but there are greater expectations than ever, more crushing financial pressures and an ever-growing cacophony of “experts” capable of influencing decision-makers to execute a quick switch. Not that the coaches aren’t partly culpable. Many are searching constantly for their next job, partly out of self-preservation but also due to a constant hunger to climb the ladder of success.

“Because coaches have become so business-oriented, they tend to take on behaviors we often claim younger people get caught in — like instant gratification,” says 69-year old Bill Snyder, back for a second tour of duty at Kansas State. “We say it about 18-year-olds, but we’re seeing it in 38-40-year-olds.”

With coaches moving on and up, and schools wielding a quick scythe, each year features a zephyr of activity that results in significant change and fosters a climate in which ADs look for hot candidates and coaches covet better jobs. Coaching movement is tracked incessantly by the media and is a constant source of gossip within the profession. Everyone wants to know who’s “safe,” and what jobs will open. Throw in the growing concern about insufficient opportunities for minorities and the ever-swelling influence of consultants and agents, and you have a furor that threatens to overshadow the action on the field.

“People ask me what’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me in coaching,” Florida State’s Bobby Bowden says. “It’s that I’ve never been fired. I told (Penn State coach) Joe Paterno that, and I really mean it.”

Entrenched lifers like Bowden and Paterno are practically archeological finds these days, especially after an offseason that saw 20 new head coaches hired (21 if you include Purdue’s Danny Hope). When Mark Richt is the dean of SEC bosses (at one school), thanks to his relatively modest eight-year tenure, it speaks loudly about the state of affairs in college football. “It’s trickled down from the NFL,” says Akron coach J.D. Brookhart, who spent two years as an assistant with the Broncos. “Getting the opportunity to build a program is rare these days.” Things aren’t quite as bad as the NFL, where nine coaches — 28.1 percent of the total — were fired during or after the ’08 season, but it’s getting close. Coaches used to have at least four and sometimes five years to turn around a struggling school. That is no longer the case.

“I believe Notre Dame changed college football by giving Bob Davie a new contract (in 2000) and then getting rid of him (after the next season),” says Greg Hudson, East Carolina’s defensive coordinator and a former ND player. “Then, they hired Ty Willingham and fired him (after three seasons). I think when people saw it was okay for Notre Dame to do that, they figured it was okay for them to do it.”

Whether ND’s handling of Davie and Willingham was a de facto permission slip for other schools to shrink the window of opportunity is open for debate. What cannot be challenged, however, is a climate that promotes impatience and a lack of loyalty — on both sides.

“It has been worse the last five years than I have ever seen it,” Texas coach Mack Brown says of the coaching climate. “Offensive and defensive coordinators are being fired during the season. As salaries have risen, the demands are higher.”

As Brown says, the primary motivation is monetary. Football programs at big-time schools are the sugar daddies for the rest of the athletic department, and unsuccessful seasons have dramatic impacts on the overall bottom line. Losing hurts attendance and all of the ancillary revenue streams (premium seating, concessions, parking, merchandise sales) that come with it. Further, it drains the enthusiasm from a program and makes it harder to solicit donations from wealthy alums and boosters, who are far more likely to make a big contribution after a bowl win than following a 4–8 season. With government funding for public institutions decreasing, the need to find outside sources of cash is greater than ever. Even the most successful athletic departments receive some contribution from their schools, and if that dries up, it’s time to squeeze the big checkbook crowd even harder. “I think we all know we have to have enough success to keep the entire athletic department rolling,” Richt says. “In these economic times, there is even more emphasis on being successful.”

Last fall, Kansas State decided to fire Ron Prince three games short of the end of his third year at the school. Prince’s win total dropped from seven in his first season to five in his final two, and that meant bad news for KSU’s financial picture. Had Prince been an established head coach with significant school ties (and, some say, not an African-American), he might have banked enough good will to warrant another year. But a 5–7 record doomed Prince and led AD Bob Krause to bring back Snyder, even though the veteran coach’s final two teams (in 2004 and ’05) were a combined 9–13. Krause maintains his decision was based purely on dwindling funds.

“It’s a brutal business,” Krause says. “A lot of our donations are tied to premium seating, and that’s where we saw a fall-off. When we began to put together projections for future sales, the backlash from that season was pretty dramatic. All of a sudden, our main economic engine was not producing. At a place like Kansas State, more than other institutions, we have a very thin margin.”

With the bottom line so important, the notion of a five-year window for a turnaround is almost quaint. Coaches must either win quickly, or they’re gone. That wasn’t always the case. Virginia Tech coach Frank Beamer had losing records in four of his first six seasons before breaking through in 1993. Missouri’s Gary Pinkel was on the wrong side of .500 in three of his first four seasons. They were given the chance to succeed. Others aren’t. “Our society wants a winner fast,” says Miami coach Randy Shannon, who many believe must win big this year — his third — to save his job. “People don’t want to hear that you’re building for the long term.”

Before the 2008 season even began, Syracuse AD Daryl Gross intimated that coach Greg Robinson, who was entering his fourth year, faced dismissal if he didn’t win. “Greg’s been in the business a long time, and I’ve been in the business a long time,” Gross said. “If you don’t have success, it may not be your fault, but changes might have to be made. But we want to give Greg a chance.” That “chance” lasted until late October, when the New York Times reported Gross had hired consultant Chuck Neinas to administer the search for Robinson’s successor.

When the Orange limped home 3–9, Robinson was out. Some considered it more a referendum on Gross’ decision to hire Robinson than on the coach’s inability to lift Syracuse into Big East contention. This had been Gross’ first high-profile move, and its failure had left him vulnerable to criticism. At a time when ADs are judged on their balance sheets more than anything else, the program’s lack of success was ultimately his responsibility. If his new hire, Doug Marrone, does not work out, Gross will be the one dealing with speculation, rumor and ultimately unemployment.

Because of the uncertainty, coaches are in a constant quest for security. That can come in the form of contract extensions and high salaries that will provide financial safety. The money part of it is fairly well delineated; schools either pony up at market value, or they won’t get top-flight talent. Stanford AD Bob Bowlsby says he needs to hire coaches who “want to be here,” and that’s true. But he’s not so naïve as to think desire trumps cash. “You keep coaches with compensation,” he says. Lately, the financial particulars of contracts have been the easiest things to negotiate. When Mike Leach engaged in a death struggle with Texas Tech over an extension in February, the monetary particulars came into place quickly. The trouble came over clauses regarding interviewing for other jobs, the penalties for moving on and the ability to earn outside income. “These aspects are becoming the battleground in contracts,” says Gary O’Hagan, Leach’s agent. “It’s not so much the money. It’s the freedom, and the restrictions and the termination issues.”

As the two sides fight for control, and administrators are bound more and more to the bottom line, schools are hiring more and more ADs whose background is in marketing, business or anything but athletics itself. Oregon’s Pat Kilkenny, who is stepping down this summer, is a former insurance executive. Iowa State’s Jamie Pollard never coached at the collegiate level, but at least he had athletic administrative experience before taking over in Ames. The days of former coaches moving upstairs after completing their careers on the sidelines are largely gone, and don’t think it doesn’t anger current coaches that their performance will be judged by people who don’t know what it’s like to build a program.

“I’m still amazed how little informed the people are who are making the decisions,” Pitt’s Dave Wannstedt says. “It’s mind-boggling when you realize they’re not informed, so they’re going to turn to outside people and friends and coaching (search) firms to help them make their decisions.”

Those “outside” influences have become a huge part of the problem, because once administrators begin to listen to voices beyond the department’s boundaries, they are vulnerable to speculation, rumor and innuendo. It’s bad enough when boosters have significant power in hiring decisions, as has been the case at Auburn for years. At least coaches can make an attempt to build relationships with those people during their tenures. But there is no face on the Internet, and when an AD or school president starts reading message boards and monitoring chat rooms, coaches are in jeopardy.

“It’s big,” Bowden says. “People can say anything they want to say (on the Internet), and it doesn’t have to be the truth. You could live with it, if some of it wasn’t totally false.”

Once the boundaries of the program have been breached, it’s hard for anyone involved to stay committed to the charted course. Coaches feel insecure. Players wonder about their futures, and ADs try to figure out whether they have enough accumulated power to weather a maelstrom of criticism should they hang on to a coach for an extra season. Perception becomes reality. Cutcliffe chuckles as he tells about how he’ll get a call from one of his sons talking about another coach or program based on what they heard on TV or read online.

“They’re quick to criticize and point out what’s wrong,” Cutcliffe says. “There’s so much information, and everybody’s an expert. All you have to do is tune into SportsCenter and find out what people are doing wrong. My son will call me and tell me what a coach is doing wrong. I’ll say, ‘Is that a fact?’ He’ll say, ‘Yeah, I heard it on ESPN.’”

That mentality changes the priorities for some ADs when they do make a change. The next coach had better “win the press conference.” It doesn’t matter whether he can coach, so long as he creates initial excitement, and by extension, a financial boon. “A search firm told one of my (coaching) friends, ‘They’re looking for the sizzle, not the steak,’” Brookhart says. Sometimes, that means it’s about finding younger candidates than some more experienced, proven veterans. Kansas State didn’t worry about that, bringing back Snyder after ousting Prince, but Snyder is a Purple icon in that state. Tennessee replaced 58-year old Phillip Fulmer with 34-year old Lane Kiffin. New Mexico boss Mike Locksley is nearly 20 years younger than his predecessor, Rocky Long. Clemson’s Dabo Swinney is 15 years younger than deposed Tommy Bowden. And so on. “You have to prepare for not coaching as long as you would like,” Brookhart says. “I’m 44 years old, and I hope to have earning power for 20 years or so. But I’m seeing guys looking for jobs, and there are some phenomenal coaches who can’t get hired because of their age.”

Sometimes, it’s a combination of age and record. Walt Harris, who fashioned an impressive turnaround at Pittsburgh but lasted only two seasons at Stanford, wanted back into the business this year but couldn’t find a job, in part because he’s 62 and also due to the Cardinal’s 1–11 record during his final year there (2006). So, he’s working this year for Brookhart, his old offensive coordinator at Pitt, as Akron’s passing game coordinator. Mitch Browning, 52, will be a — get this — graduate assistant at Tennessee this year. He’s still being paid by Syracuse, where he was offensive coordinator under Robinson, but it’s surprising one of the top offensive line coaches in the country wasn’t snapped up after the Orange purge.

Or maybe it isn’t. Given the state of the coaching profession these days, Browning should be happy he isn’t filling water bottles. Then again, that job may have a little more stability than the average spot on a staff.

This feature appears in every 2009 Athlon Sports regional college football magazine. Click here to purchase your copy.

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