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by redsox907 » 03 Feb 2026, 22:49
Chapter Twenty-Five: Timing Is Everything
“Well,” Jessica began, trying to play devil’s advocate in the conversation, “What did Coach Smith say about it?”
“He thinks it’s a great opportunity, but regardless of my hesitation , I should at least visit,” I sighed, closing my laptop as I walked to the breakfast bar to continue the debate with Jessica.
“It just feels disingenuous to let them fly me across the country, wine and dine me, knowing that I’m not even considering it.”
“So, be true to yourself and don’t?”
It sounded so simple when she said it. But after the conversation I had with Coach Smith this morning—about the sudden phone call from University of South Carolina Athletic Director Jeremiah Donati regarding the Gamecocks’ vacant head coaching position—nothing about the process seemed simple.
“Coach said I can’t outright turn them down, because then it could torpedo any chances of a head coaching offer in the future.”
“That sounds ass backwards. You want to be loyal to the program that gave you a shot and not bolt after one year, but it could be a black mark on your record?” sighed Jessica, throwing her hands into the air for added emphasis.
“It’s all politics. Apparently, turning down a job offer outright raises suspicions that I’m never going to accept one and they move on to the next hot shot.”
Jessica drew a deep breath, preparing another argument, until I raised my hands in defense.
“I know, it makes no sense to me either. Just gotta play the game at this point.
And that’s how we spent the weekend before the National Championship in Columbia, South Carolina—the farthest east I’d ever been in my life—being wined and dined by Jeremiah Donati and the rest of the South Carolina administration.
They put us up at the Hotel Trundle, a chic boutique hotel in downtown Columbia, gave Jessica a weekend pass to OCCO Luxury Spa while the kids were entertained at a private kids daycamp, and arranged for us to have a private dinner at Saluda’s after I spent the day touring the University campus and talking shop with Donati.
“Remind me again why you can’t take this job,” teased Jessica as she finished her seared scallops. “after the red carpet they rolled out for you, I’d hate to have to be the one to tell them ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’”
“I don’t see how I can truthfully preach to young men about building a culture, setting standards, and elevating our expectations if I turn and run to the first program that flies me out to woo me,” I argued.
The idea of switching my stance and staying in Columbia crossed my mind more than once, not because of the fancy hotel or the food, but the facility. It was SEC football and everything about it screamed, ‘We’re the best and we’ll show you why.”
The facilities were immaculate, like grand cathedrals built to worship the sport of football, not merely to exist alongside it. And the entire football facility was that way, as if it was a separate entity outside the university entirely.
But I couldn’t shake that feeling that I just didn’t belong here. Maybe sometime in the future, but not yet. Not now. I was comfortable and confident in my abilities and firmly believed I could come to South Carolina and return the program to prominence. But would I be happy? Would my family be happy?
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you what you thought about moving to Columbia,” I admitted, rather sheepishly once I realized my oversight. “Take coaching out of the equation and just think about living on the Atlantic Coast in general, your thoughts?”
Perhaps Jessica hadn't expected me to turn the spotlight from myself, or perhaps she had never considered her opinion separate from my career, but whatever the case the question clearly caught her off-guard.
She paused, suddenly the remaining kale salad forgotten in front of her, jaw working through her last bite as she processed it and the question.
“I’d hate it,” she finally sighed, “I’d fucking hate it. I’ve never liked the East Coast. I don’t like the idea of being this far from my family. And I don’t like the idea of moving the kids again in less than a year.”
“That’s why I have to say no,” I added after letting her words settle into a finality, “My father? He would take the job and leave his family behind. I can’t do that. And I can’t ask you to move somewhere for my career, where you wouldn’t be happy.
“Besides,” I added with a smirk, “I didn’t want to be a Gamecock anyways.”
The laughter we both shared was genuine, but beneath it was an understanding. It was my career, but it was our lives. And I was going to make sure that when we made the move from Corvallis, it was right for everyone. Not just Coach Mando.
Before we departed Columbia, I informed Donati that we were going to respectfully decline the invitation.
“It’s just too much, too soon for the kids,” I explained, trying my best—despite my reservations—to play ‘the game’, “We just moved a year ago and my Mom passed away shortly before that. We want them to get settled again before we make any drastic decisions.”
He said he understood, family first, and wished me the best with next season. “Hopefully, we won’t be having this same conversation again next year,” he joked.
Within an hour of our plane landing back in Corvallis—sitting in a taxi on the way back home, the ESPN notification flashed across my phone:
“ESPN: South Carolina & Liberty HC Jamey Chadwell agree to five-year deal”
I nudged Jessica with my elbow and tilted my screen for her to see, adding “Well, it’s officially off the board now.”
“Makes you wonder,” she added, her intent clear without the need to state it, “If they had a backup plan for you, or if you were the backup plan for Chadwell.”
“Doesn’t matter now, on to bigger and better things,” I reaffirmed, pulling her close in the process. “The right job will come at the right time. Besides, I don’t have time to wonder what if. We’ve got work to do in the transfer portal.
“I hope you guys are ready to watch some film,” I added with a growing smirk, “Because Family Sunday is about to become Scouting Sunday, I gotta make up for the time I lost on this trip.”
While the rest of the nation watched the Texas Longhorns bury the Georgia Bulldogs in an All-SEC National Championship, another reminder of the prestigious conference I’d just turned down, the Leon family sat in the living room watching game film from Washington vs Oregon.
Tara Lydia and AJ had set up their own play areas in the living room, while Jessica and I were curled together on the couch, each taking notes to share with each other later.
“Why are we watching your biggest rival stomp a mudhole in another regional rival, in the four quarter of a blowout?” questioned Jessica as the Ducks scored another touchdown.
“Because, my dear, half of these guys playing in garbage time, are now in the portal. Outside of high school scouting reports, we don’t have much tape. So we get what we can.”
“But why are you prioritizing Oregon and Washington cast-offs?”
“Because most of these kids are locals, at least the ones entering the portal. After feeling shunned by their childhood school, I’m betting they’re going to want a platform to prove their worth against their former program.
“And I intend to give them the platform to do it.”