I have a lot of thoughts on James Franklin’s firing, and I’m finding it difficult to put them all down on paper. I wrote a pretty heavy-handed article after the UCLA loss calling for James Franklin to be fired (or to quit), and followed it up with another article explaining my thought process on how Penn State could extricate itself from Franklin’s seemingly insurmountable buyout.
Turns out I was overthinking it, and Pat Kraft was more than capable of firing James Franklin, regardless of buyout, after
the loss to Northwestern.
Given all that, you’d think I was elated on Sunday when the notification popped up on my phone that Franklin had been fired. Instead I was mostly numb.
First, as much as I called for James to be let go at the end, I was as big a fan of his for as long a time as most anyone else. Many friends and family had turned on him long before I did. I kept thinking to myself that one more coordinator, or one more transfer, or one more facility renovation would finally do the trick, and get the team over the hump.
And yet they just kept coming up short.
I wanted him to succeed as much as anyone out there, and perhaps it was sunk cost fallacy on my part that I didn’t see the shortcomings sooner.
I think a large part of it is remembering back to exactly where Penn State was in 2014 when James came on board. Bill O’Brien had just left, and while the ship had stabilized, it was still in the throes of the sanctions. The Lions needed someone who could more or less completely rebuild the program, and do it the “right way” without any off-the-field issues.
In came James Franklin, the hot coaching commodity, and injected a sense of fun that the team hadn’t had for some time. Grit, determination, perseverance, the team had in plenty. But not fun.
Then came the win over UCF in Ireland, with James hugging Sam Ficken after the game-winning field goal.
Then came the win over Boston College in the Pinstripe Bowl, the first bowl since the sanctions had been put in place.
Then came the overtime win over Minnesota, followed by the upset win over Ohio State, leading to a Big Ten Championship and a Rose Bowl appearance.
Then came the 2017 season, and the Lions marching to a 21-3 second quarter lead over OSU as the #2 team in the country, to me the high water mark of the entire James Franklin tenure.
The team was fun. James himself was fun.
Then came the losses. First the collapse against OSU in that very same game. Then the monsoon game against Michigan State. Losses to those same two teams in 2018. The loss to Minnesota in 2019. The 0-5 start to 2020, and a 7-6 season in 2021.
Just when it seemed like the program should move on from Franklin, things turned around.
A remarkable 11-2 season in 2022 with a Rose Bowl win.
A repeat 10-3 season in 2023 with a Peach Bowl appearance.
Then the fantastic 13-3 season in 2024 with two College Football Playoff wins, and a close 3-point loss to Notre Dame in the semifinals, what I would consider to be the second high-water mark under James Franklin.
Which brings us to 2025. Here come all of the players that were thisclose to playing for a national championship. Here comes Jim Knowles, the best defensive coordinator in the country. Here comes all of the national media putting Penn State on a pedestal before the season even started, and all of the pieces were in place to finally – FINALLY – get back to that 2017 level again, but this time finish it all.
And with the Lions leading Oregon 24-17 in overtime in the White Out, it seemed like it was actually going to happen.
Until it didn’t.
This may be hyperbolic, and is 100% speculation, but I think that Oregon loss broke James Franklin. And by extension, the team.
I think the loss to Oregon was the last in a long line of “big games” that Franklin couldn’t win, for whatever reason, dating back to that 2017 game against Ohio State. He’d put all of his chips in the 2025 team’s basket, had the big win within his grasp, and couldn’t quite do it.
And I think the last little bit of fun that was in James Franklin was extinguished.
I could see it slowly being sapped away after each big game loss, and the coach that had showed up doing the Carlton slowly faded away.
The team that he’d built went from happy about any victory, to expecting every victory. Beat the little guys? You’re supposed to, in fact why didn’t you beat them by more? Can’t beat the big guys? You should be able to, what’s wrong with you?
James Franklin of the last 2 weeks before his firing was a shell of himself. The fun was gone. He didn’t enjoy it anymore. And for as much as he’s built up the team as being a family, I think the players saw their proverbial father figure despondent if not depressed, and let it bleed into their play.
Players simply seemed disinterested after the Oregon loss, or only started to give too little when it was too late. Poor play begets poor play, losses beget losses.
And there we were, Saturday evening, with a chorus of boos raining down, watching Franklin take an extra few minutes on the field, soaking up the last few minutes as head coach before slowly walking down the tunnel to hug his daughter, and then giving what would be his final press conference as the Nittany Lions’ head coach.
It’s very hard not to feel bad for the human element here. Oh sure, monetarily he’ll be fine. He’s guaranteed $8M per year through 2031, whether Penn State pays all or part of it. That’s generational wealth.
But it’s hard to see just how hollowed out Franklin was at the end there, contrasted sharply with how happy he was in 2014. Coaching is a tough gig, and is well-compensated as a result, but money doesn’t take away how the pressure grates on people.
So for building the program up from 2014 and the depth of the sanctions to coming within a field goal of playing for a national championship, I say thank you James. You did things the right way, and the program is in a position to thrive thanks to your efforts. I would have loved more than anything for you to be the first Black head coach to win a national championship, and to do it at my alma mater, and I am deeply disappointed for you that things unraveled so, so quickly.
Best of luck from here. I’ll be rooting for you.
