American Football Sucks, and Being a Head Coach Sucks Even More
American football has long been glorified as one of the greatest sports in America, but in reality, it’s a brutal, unforgiving, and downright exhausting game. The pressure, the physical toll on players, and the constant scrutiny from fans and media make it a sport that drains the life out of everyone involved. For those watching, it may seem like a thrilling spectacle, but for those in the trenches—especially head coaches—the game is nothing short of a nightmare.
Take Josh Heupel, for example. A once-respected offensive mind, he found himself drowning in expectations, criticism, and the crushing weight of a thankless job. Fans demand perfection, boosters expect championships, and every decision is scrutinized under a microscope. One bad season, one wrong call, and suddenly, you’re the villain. The highs are never as high as the lows are low. And for Heupel, the lows became unbearable.
Coaching in college football is a relentless cycle of stress, disappointment, and frustration. You wake up every morning knowing that no matter how much work you put in, it may never be enough. Players transfer, recruits decommit, assistants leave, and no one cares about the effort behind the scenes. It’s a job where success is temporary, and failure is permanent.
For Heupel, the breaking point came as Tennessee fans turned on him. After all the effort he put in, all the hours spent recruiting, strategizing, and sacrificing his personal life, he was still seen as a disappointment. The hate messages, the media slander, the relentless pressure—it was all too much. Heupel, a man who once loved the game, now found himself questioning why he even bothered.
The depression crept in slowly. At first, it was just frustration, but soon, it became something much darker. The sleepless nights, the overwhelming anxiety, the feeling that nothing he did mattered—it all built up until he couldn’t take it anymore. He found himself in tears, broken by a sport that he once dedicated his life to.
And for what? A paycheck? A little bit of fame? None of it was worth it. The game that was supposed to be his passion had become his prison. The expectations, the never-ending grind, and the complete lack of appreciation made him realize that coaching football wasn’t a dream job—it was a nightmare.
So Heupel did what many coaches never find the courage to do. He walked away. He left behind the stress, the toxicity, and the misery. He chose his mental health over the relentless machine of college football. And while some called him a quitter, the truth is, he finally won.
Going back to a normal life was the only thing that made sense. No more 80-hour work weeks, no more dealing with entitled fans, no more pretending to love a game that had stolen his joy. He could finally be himself again, without the pressure of living up to unrealistic expectations.
For too long, college football had consumed his life. Now, he had a chance to reclaim it. He could spend time with his family, enjoy life outside of a playbook, and most importantly, find happiness again. Because in the end, no amount of wins or championships is worth losing yourself.
American football isn’t just a brutal game for players—it’s a soul-crushing industry for coaches. And if walking away was the only way for Heupel to find peace, then maybe, just maybe, he made the right call. Because nothing sucks more than giving your all to a sport that gives you nothing in return.