MEYER'S LEMON: HOW TO TARNISH A LEGACY IN 13 NFL GAMES
HIs dictatorial style doesn't work on the next level, or anywhere else in 2021 life — and everything he achieved in college football has been lost amid his spectacular Jacksonville failures
A legacy doesn't mean a hill of dirt when you're six feet under. Maybe Urban Meyer isn't concerned if he's remembered as the football version of Oscar Mayer, a wiener, after decades as an all-time winner. But those who do care about life's ultimate footprint should heed the ugly lessons of Meyer's career derailment, which threatens to bury all his previous accomplishments in a sports amnesia bin.
Why did he want to coach the Jacksonville Jaguars, again? Oh, he was a man tortured by the empty stomach of unfinished business, not satisfied with an .853 winning percentage in the college game, the best of any major coach whose career launched after World War II. He had no stress, beyond straining his vocal muscles on the Fox Sports studio set every Saturday. He didn't need what he didn't have: an NFL gig.
But there are tourniquets in emergency rooms wound less tightly than Meyer, who wasn't comfortable without a competitive challenge. He wanted to establish what Nick Saban could not — a successful run on the next level — and mirror Pete Carroll, who won national titles at USC and a Super Bowl in Seattle. So, without considering the consequences, he allowed his ego to jump off owner Shad Khan's yacht and dive head-first into one of the most unappealing jobs in sports. He would take over the Jaguars, the NFL's best excuse for relegation, a franchise many have felt should just move to London and permanently get lost in Soho.
As we now know, in a relentless tragicomedy setting new lows in shitshowdom, this is the worst idea since Bobby Petrino. His college-to-NFL leap lasted 13 games and ended with a 78-word letter placed at each player's locker — "Atlanta Falcons Players,'' it began — as he fled to become another Arkansas pig. And while Meyer hasn't quit after a 2-11 start, it's unthinkable that Khan — despite recent comments to the contrary, though Meyer's hiring is on his watch and will smudge his own legacy — will allow this farce to carry into a second season.
The rub isn't what you think it is: that no college coach, even one who won three national championships at Ohio State and Florida, can simply wander into the faster, smarter world of the NFL and expect to win. Kliff Kingsbury went 35-40 at Texas Tech before he was fast-tracked by the Arizona Cardinals, who have climbed into Super Bowl contention. But unlike Kingsbury — who is 42, dates a model, treats players like adults and has a great relationship with Kyler Murray, the superstar quarterback he was hired to groom — Meyer is a 57-year-old authoritarian still stuck in the last century.
And his players can't stand him.
And they are quitting on him.
And the same goes for his assistants, the men he hired.
His coaching style doesn't work today, not in the professional world. It is a harsh, unavoidable truth he apparently didn't investigate or even weigh. Burdened by more than a trace of megalomania, Meyer figured his modus operandi in Columbus and Gainesville would work in the AFC South. Never mind the obvious differences — he no longer can hoard five-star recruits and schedule patsies — and, yes, there is the dismal track record of college coaches who've dabbled in the NFL, including Saban, who returned from a Miami Dolphins washout to become the greatest of all college coaches, poised for an eighth national title in 19 seasons. Even Saban came to understand he should be a grandfather figure, still dressing in Italian suits and yelling on the sideline yet retaining street-cred points because he dances in living rooms and eats soul food during get-to-know-you gatherings.
Urban Meyer would power on as he pleased, dammit. He would ignore the alleged racial remarks that led to Chris Doyle's 2020 ouster at the University of Iowa — and was forced to dump Doyle as his strength and conditioning coach. He would bring in his quarterback from his Florida glory days, Tim Tebow, and invite him for an ill-fated, much-mocked tryout as a tight end while moving in next door. He would conduct organized team activities, against league rules, which cost him and the team a collective $300,000 in fines. He would bully his assistants and threaten their employment after preseason losses.
Those were his honeymoon days, actually. Since then, Meyer ignored the laws of team unity and didn't return home with his players after the Jags dropped to 0-4 in Cincinnati. Instead, he headed to his old stomping grounds in Columbus, where he was exposed as a creepy old man when he enjoyed a public lap dance with a woman much younger than his wife, who was at home babysitting their grandchild. He lost all respect and, soon enough, lost his team. Meyer never has experienced failure close to the depths of recent weeks, when the Jags have lost five straight and averaged only 10 points a game. Remember, he was 186-32 in college.
The losing has turned him into a bully, a loon. Organizational snitches are trying to get him fired — locker room, front office, everywhere — and wicked stories are starting to leak from behind the curtain. Did Meyer's criticism of the team's receivers so bother veteran Marvin Jones that he left the team facility? Did Jones have to be persuaded to come back, and when he returned, was he verbally battered by Meyer? Did Meyer tell his assistants during a heated meeting that they are losers and he's the only winner? He claimed no on all fronts — at first — but what isn't deniable is that this distracted, dysfunctional abomination might not win again this season — while quarterback Trevor Lawrence, the near-consensus top prize of last April's draft, is not developing.
How humiliating was the post-game scene Sunday, after a 20-0 loss to Tennessee and former Ohio State disciple Mike Vrabel? Asked about the swirling stories, Meyer aimed an angry response at the snitches. A more seasoned NFL head coach, in tune with 2021 culture, would have smiled and shrugged it off.
"What's the answer (when things are going badly)? Start leaking information or some nonsense?" Meyer said. "No. No, that's nonsense. That's garbage. I've been very blessed. I've not really dealt with that. I've not dealt with, 'Well, did you hear what he said?' What? No. Let's improve on offense and get our quarterback in a position to be successful. That's our focus. What someone's brother said, or someone said someone said, that will occupy very little of my time. And if there is a source, that source is unemployed. I mean, within seconds, if there's some source that's doing that."
OK, enough? No, Urban kept spewing and denying, sort of. "Calling someone a loser, that's inaccurate," he said. "I have high expectations for our coaches. I'm very demanding of our coaches and expect guys to be held accountable for their positions, and the times when they're not, we address it. But I assure you there was not whatever report ... that's nonsense.
"(Regarding Jones), I think I said something like we have some injury issues and some lack of consistency. We talked about that, and he's great. We moved on. One thing about Marvin, and there's a lot of players, especially these professional veterans, there's a lot of pride. Some guys aren't used to this, and he's one of them. But he's fantastic and we have a fantastic relationship, and I started hearing that, and Marvin looked at me -- he walked by yesterday when I saw something on TV, like a heated argument, and he goes, 'I guess we're not allowed to talk anymore, are we?' and started laughing about it. So there's nothing."
Oh, there's something. Ever been to Jacksonville? Last time I was there, the rotten-egg stench was overwhelming — something about a temperature inversion — and, these days, that smell comes from Camp Meyer. The Jaguars, who only have existed since 1995, are off to a start of 2-11 or worse for the fifth time in 27 seasons. They have dropped 15 straight on the road, nine straight in the AFC South. The owner still won’t waver. “I want to do the right thing for the team. I want to do the right thing for the city," Khan said. "That, to me, is way more important than just acting helter-skelter on emotion. I think we have a history of really looking at the facts and then really doing the right thing.”
At some point, Khan must put Meyer out of his misery. Only Urban, at this stage, has faith in Urban and his ability to win in the NFL. "I assured (Khan) that I still believe in my heart that we will," Meyer said. "It hasn't exactly materialized the way I expected it to have, the experience of winning games. I knew that this was somewhat of a build. I also really believe that we have plenty of good enough players to go win games. I still believe that. That's why I get so disappointed sometimes with our coaching staff or myself, because I think we can do better than we're doing. Really disappointed."
This time last year, he was finishing up his Fox Sports duties, taking calls from Khan, letting the NFL bounce around his fertile, restless head. He'll never admit it, but Meyer surely wishes he had a time machine to zap him back 52 weeks.
Because since then, a coaching king has become the biggest Jag of all, and I don't mean Jaguar.
Jay Mariotti, called “the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.