The call came early, you imagine. Somewhere between the first tee and the last green. Somewhere in the middle of a fairway, in the middle of a backswing, in the middle of a nightmare.
It was there, you think, that the familiar tune came tinkling from Steve Spurrier's pocket. If you listened carefully, the ring sounded a lot like The Boys of Old Florida .
Answer the phone, Steve.
Momma is calling.
His school needs him, again. The program is a mess, again. The day needs saving, again. The coach has been fired during the season, and underachievement is all around. The fans are confused, the administration is confounded and the players keep getting conquered.
And so, once again, the University of Florida looks toward the Ol' Ball Coach and wonders:
Gee, Steve. Won't you come home?
In their darkest hours, the Gators always have looked toward Spurrier to lead the rescue party. That was true when he was a player, back when he won the Heisman. That was true when he was the coach, back when he won the national championship.
It is a difficult job, separating the swamp from the quagmire. More than ever, the Gators need a coach to clean things up. More than ever, they need a visor flung in disgust, a quarterback pulled in disappointment, an opponent left in disarray. More than ever, they need Spurrier.
Now for the key question: Does Spurrier need the Gators?
Would he come back? Should he come back? Do the Gators act as if Zook was only a bad dream and the last three years were only a trial separation?
In other words, the Gators are suddenly in the position that secondary coaches across the SEC know well. They're trying to play a guessing game with Spurrier. Good luck to them.
As coaches go, Spurrier has always been a difficult read. He can think one way in the morning, another in the afternoon. He can be interested today, disinterested tomorrow. He can be pulled by loyalty and by longing, by stubbornness and by emotion.
When it comes to guessing what Spurrier will do, know this: No one knows. No one. Not even Spurrier.
That said, here's my gut feeling:
Pursued properly, Spurrer will return.
Judging from Florida's news conference Monday afternoon, that might be the big question. It was amusing to watch school president Bernie Machen and athletic director Jeremy Foley tap-dance around Spurrier's name, as if to suggest that if Spurrier wants the job, he can fill out an application like everyone else. Of course, they don't know what Spurrier is thinking, either.
Who does? Even now, there are those who will say Spurrier wants a new challenge, not an old one. There are those who say he won't want to live up to the standards he set before. There are those who will talk of how you can't go home again.
For Spurrier, however, Gainesville always has been where he was happiest. His wife, Jerri, loves the place. The high school coaches know him. The club pros, too.
Spurrier belongs in Gainesville. Can you imagine him on the sideline at Texas or Notre Dame or Alabama or North Carolina or Kentucky or Washington or Nebraska or at any of the other colleges where his name has come up in rumors? Of course not. Spurrier is a Gator.
There are those who still imagine him as coach of the Miami Dolphins, those who insist that he is driven to prove he can be a success in the NFL. Maybe. But don't you think Spurrier had his fill of millionaire backups while with the Washington Redskins? Hey, there are a lot of Danny Snyders in the NFL. If a coach isn't careful, they will eat your reputation.
Spurrier should know that better than anyone. He was so unhappy with the Redskins, he walked away from millions. They may laugh about him in Washington, and they may doubt him in Dallas, and they may question him across the rest of the NFL.
In Gainesville, however, his name is still royalty. They believe in him at Florida, the way few places believe in few coaches.
Frankly, the Gators need something to rally around. The Gators could not wait to fire their coach, and as a result, the program is embarrassed, fractured, desperate. If you remember, that was pretty much the way Spurrier found it back in 1990.
Oh, you will hear a lot of names swirling in the wind. But let's be honest. Mike Shanahan made his choice three years ago. Every time Bob Stoops gets a phone call, his contract is renegotiated. Frankly, people around here don't know Urban Meyer from Oscar Meyer. Bobby Petrino? Rick Neuheisel? Butch Davis? Maybe someone will start a rumor about Maine coach Jack Cosgrove. That way, the Gators could at least beat Mississippi State.
Just wondering: If Zook wins his final four games, is he a candidate for his job?
Seriously, it's hard to blame Florida for pulling the plug on Zook, its version of Ray Goff. In the end, it wasn't a question of "why" as much as "why now?"
It is a rare move, replacing a coach during a season. When it does happen, the usual method is for the deposed coach to leave and for an assistant to take over. What? Was Florida concerned an assistant might win his way onto the final ballot?
Either way, the Gators have turned Zook into the AFLAC duck. He is Dead Coach Walking, marking time, and nothing is going to be pretty about the finish of the season.
If Spurrier says yes, all of that changes. Order will be restored. The noise will come to a halt. The Gators will annoy the rest of the league again.
From here, it looks like time to phone Spurrier.
From here, the feeling is that he answers the call.
