Through week ten of the college football season, the ledger on what universities owe their former coaches in buyouts was nearly $185 million.
It all commenced in week three when Virginia Tech decided to fire head coach Brent Pry who was owed a buyout of $6 million. Not to be outdone, UCLA followed suit, dismissing DeShaun Foster and incurring a $6.43 million tab. By week four, Oklahoma State joined the fray, cutting ties with Mike Gundy at a cost of $15 million. Week five brought Arkansas into the spotlight, as Sam Pittman’s exit added another $8.7 million to the coaching carousel’s ledger.
Then came the avalanche.
Over the next month, four more programs opened their wallets: Penn State’s departure from James Franklin carried a staggering $50 million price tag; Florida’s split with Billy Napier cost $21.2 million; Colorado State let go of Jay Norvell for $1.5 million; and LSU’s decision to move on from Brian Kelly topped the list at a jaw-dropping $53 million. On Sunday, Auburn fired coach Hugh Freeze who signed a six-year, $39 million deal before the 2023 season, is now owed $15.8 million.
In the whimsical world of college football, a “buyout” is the sport’s version of a consolation prize for losing except instead of a pat on the back, it is a multimillion-dollar check and a polite shove out the door. Technically, it refers to the liquidated damages owed when a coach is fired “without cause,” which is legalese for “the boosters have had enough.”
Buyouts range from modest to mortgage-a-small-nation. UCLA’s DeShaun Foster walked away with a humble $6 million, which in football accounting is basically couch cushion money. Meanwhile, Texas A&M’s Jimbo Fisher was handed a $75 million farewell bouquet, the largest buyout in college football history and possibly the most expensive “thanks but no thanks” ever recorded outside of royal divorces.
For mega-dollar contracts, buyouts often include a portion of the coach’s remaining compensation covering base salary and guaranteed supplemental income. In essence, it is a golden parachute for an impending crash landing.
James Franklin’s Penn State buyout lands somewhere between $48 million and $50 million, a figure that reads less like a severance package and more like a small endowment. The payout includes his $500,000 annual base salary, $6.5 million in guaranteed extras, and a $1 million yearly life insurance benefit, all stretching through the end of the 2031 season when his contract was set to expire. That alone costs roughly $48 million. Add in the remainder owed for this season, and the total swells to $50 million.
These outrageous buyouts are not always as catastrophic as they initially appear. Buried deep in the fine print are clauses that can save universities millions provided the ousted coach does not spend too long perfecting his putting.
Many contracts include “duty to mitigate” and “offset” provisions, which essentially require the coach to seek new employment in high-profile coaching or media. Once they land a new gig, the original school only owes the difference between the new salary and the buyout. It’s the contractual equivalent of saying, “We’ll pay you to leave, but not to loaf.”
Penn State’s James Franklin and LSU’s Brian Kelly had these clauses baked into their deals. Texas A&M’s Jimbo Fisher and Florida’s Billy Napier, on the other hand, were handed buyouts with no such strings attached – none.
Athletic directors are the ones officially swinging the ax, but let’s not pretend they are the lone executioners. Firing a head coach is a group project, and everyone wants a turn with the red pen. University presidents, trustees, and donors all chime in, but it is the boosters those with deep pockets and even deeper and exaggerated sense of importance who often demand front-row seats at the decision-making table.
Because when tens of millions are at stake, nothing says “fiscal responsibility” like a committee of emotionally charged alumni arguing over play-calling and buyout calculus.
After all, when millions are on the line, consensus becomes a team sport.
Buyout money does not typically flow from the university’s academic coffers. Instead, schools tap into a blend of athletic department revenue and donor generosity. In cases where the payout is hefty and urgent, fundraising efforts may resemble a booster telethon.
At Penn State, when James Franklin was shown the door, Athletic Director Pat Kraft confirmed that the entire buyout would be covered by the athletics side of the university.
Congressman Michael Baumgartner has thrown a legislative flag on buyouts by introducing the Correcting Opportunity and Accountability in Collegiate Hiring Act (COACH). Nothing says “fiscal restraint” like a named bill that is reverse-engineered to fit a sports term. It is legislative branding at its finest.
One can only assume the next proposal will be the BENCH Act (Bringing Equitable Negotiation to Coaching Hires), followed by the TIMEOUT Act (Targeted Intervention for Mismanaged Overspending Under Athletics Trustees).
Honestly, it is impressive. Congress managed to turn a multi-million-dollar severance problem into a branding exercise worthy of a bowl game.
This COACH’s Act is aimed at curbing the runaway costs of coaching buyouts. The measure would grant public universities a limited antitrust exemption, allowing them to cap coaching compensation.
This is not the first time salary limits have been tackled. A prior court ruling struck down caps on assistant coaching pay, declaring such restrictions illegal. Baumgartner’s bill, however, attempts a legal end-around, hoping to sidestep precedent and rein in the fiscal fireworks. The legislation would limit any athletics salary, including football coaches, to no more than 10 times a school’s tuition costs.
In the high-stakes circus of big-time college sports, some schools shell out cash to win. Others fork it over for silence. And a select few spend millions to not let the door hinder one’s departure.
The fiscal fumble is still uncovered.
Stay tuned.
