Darrell Royal quit at 52, a milestone that seems younger by the day, but you could see it coming. Exhausted by recruiting and Frank Erwin and Barry Switzer, he looked beaten, battered, bleached.
So what to make of Bob Stoops' shocking retirement at 56?
Forced out because of his record? Hardly. Besides the fact that he beat Bud Wilkinson and Barry Switzer in career wins with 190, he was riding a 10-game winning streak, including a Sugar Bowl win over Auburn. He would have gone into this fall with a Heisman favorite at quarterback and a Big 12 he'd have been favored to win for the 11th time, a league record.
Recruiting? Just turned in a Top 10 class. Cheating? He wouldn't still be on the payroll.
Health?
"My health was not the deciding factor in this decision," Stoops said in a statement, "and I've had no incidents that would prevent me from coaching.
"Now is simply the ideal time for me and our program to make this transition."
You can take that statement as the whole truth, and maybe it is, but it's not the way to bet.
No doubt Stoops is glad to be succeeded by Lincoln Riley, a key player in the latest fad in coaching. Who knows what David Boren would do if he had time to look around for a head coach? Maybe he'd go for a bigger name and thicker resume. By resigning now, so close to the start of another season, Stoops forced Oklahoma's hand.
Like Royal did in leaving Earl Campbell to Fred Akers, Stoops also leaves a Heisman contender in Baker Mayfield. In his debut, Riley has as good a shot as anyone outside Columbus, Ohio or Tuscaloosa to get back to the College Football Playoff.
Certainly, if you love the program you've led for so long, you want to give it to the next guy with a ribbon on it.
Still, unless he thought Riley might bolt for Lubbock if things didn't work out for Kliff Kingsbury this fall, Stoops could have just as easily coached this season or five more, for that matter. No one was chasing him off. On the Mount Rushmore of Oklahoma football coaches, there's Bud and Barry and Big Game Bob, and then you can argue whether Chuck Fairbanks deserves it more than Bennie Owen. But Stoops comes in a solid No. 3.
His exit is a loss for Sooner fans and anyone who has any hope left for the Big 12. Stoops dominated it in his 18 seasons. In the state of Texas' greatest annual sporting event, he beat Texas 11 times, including several of the ugliest losses in Longhorn history.
If he didn't exactly live up to the early promise that saw him win a national title in only his second season, and if his bowl record was a modest .500, and if the Sooners didn't always go out with a bang, let me say this: Check out their record the decade before he hit Norman.
Not since Switzer's heyday had Sooner football enjoyed such heady results. He didn't win as many national titles as Switzer, but he likely didn't offend the NCAA as much, either.
By all accounts, Stoops has been loved by his players and coaches. Prickly at times with the media, he's the subject of one of my favorite personal anecdotes.
Early on, after a postgame news conference in the wake of a win, Stoops was forced to endure a two-on-one with me and Berry Tramel, literary champion of the Daily Oklahoman. A question posed by yours truly elicited one of the sharp replies for which Stoops would become famous. In my subsequent column, I included a description of the comment in the interests of general color, not rancor.
The next day, I got a call from Stoops, who said he wanted to apologize. I told him that I considered the previous comment funny, not insulting, and no apology was necessary. I didn't tell him it was also a first.
Frankly, it's hard to think of Oklahoma without him. The news conferences at the State Fair won't be the same. Sooners fans can only hope there's not as much difference on the field.
As for Stoops, let's hope he's telling the truth about his health. He wouldn't be the first to lie about something so personal. And there's a family history to consider, too.
In 1988, Ron Stoops Sr., patriarch of all those Stoops boys, was coaching defense as usual for Youngstown, Ohio's Cardinal Mooney High when he became ill. He died on the way to the hospital at 54, a victim of heart disease, often a genetic condition.
So it's certainly possible that Ron's second son _ two years older than his father lived to be _ received a similar diagnosis and decided not to go out like dad did.
Or maybe he just knew how to make a good exit. Few coaches do. Maybe none.
Here's hoping he realizes the memories he made for thousands of Sooner fans, and he gets to spend a long time enjoying them.
