TRAGEDY OF SCOTT FROST

 

Scott Frost’s trajectory from the heights to his firing reminds one of a Greek tragedy, replete with the chorus chanting his virtues.

He presents himself as a really nice guy who got sucked up by this machine we call Major College Football. Lots of money, lots or scrutiny and the inevitable requirement to win.

Let’s step back a bit. Scott Frost’s parents were athletes, his dad played at the University and I played softball against him “back in the day.” I have often told the story about how we had him trapped between second and third, we were performing the run-down play and all of a sudden, he was on third. He had that exceptional athletic skill, like his son. His mother was an Olympic athlete, discus as I recall. Then they returned to small-town Nebraska, coached football and raised their son.

Another big-time football coach has ties to Nebraska, specifically Genoa—Lane Kiffin. His mother was a year older than me and lived with her grandmother in Genoa for a while. When we were in the eighth grade or so, she threw a birthday party that remains in my memory, vividly. She was so pretty. Anyway, left Genoa, married Monte Kiffin and their son Lane has made quite a name for himself. Kevin ran into them in Florida and they were thrilled to meet someone from Genoa.

I compare the two, Scott and Lane. Both have been through the meatgrinder. I’m going to predict that Scott will do just fine, maybe return to the mayhem of football, maybe retire to small-town Nebraska and coach some football.

Think about how different the world looked this morning when he awoke and realized he didn’t have a job to go to.