Mike Cox I pulled into a parking spot at my doctor’s office, behind an old Dodge pickup. The rear window of the rusted truck was plastered with bumper stickers and decals. A faded one in the upper right corner of the window caught my eye. It read:

How Do You Spell Relief? H–O–L–T–Z

My first thought was wow, this guy must never replace bumper stickers. I looked for a Gerald Ford for President sticker, or a See Rock City decal, but didn’t see either. I guess the driver never changes his mind about anything.

The other thing that came to my mind is how the faithful always have hope when a fresh coach comes to town. The newly hired savior of the program stands at the podium and tells everyone how proud he is to be there, how much talent and tradition is already there, and how much he expects to accomplish.

The ex–coaches who will be selling cars or doing TV in three years say the same things the successful ones do. And we all like what we hear. The local press and the fans all say how positive the new guy sounded. Nothing resonates like hope.

In 1954, Alabama hired J B Whitworth to take over the football program. He talked of the talent in place, the great Alabama tradition he expected to build on, and all the terrific fans. In four years, he won three games.

His successor was a guy named Bryant, who stayed 25 years and won six national championships. The Bear said about the same thing as Whitworth, he just made it happen. The seven guys who came after Coach Bryant all had similar things to say.

Dennis Franchione, or as he is known in Tuscaloosa, Pinocchio, had his speech memorized. When Coach Fran came to Alabama, his words were identical to the ones he used to accept his previous job, and would be the same at his next one, too.

Franchione abruptly left Alabama for Texas A&M, and his speech there was so similar, Alabama TV networks ran bits of the two news conferences in tandem. The only way anyone could tell any difference was the color of the weasel’s coat.

Just once, I’d like to see the newly hired coach admit he was in over his head. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to turn things around. We’ll be lucky to win more than we lose with the lack of talent I’m stuck with. And, quite frankly, I’m not sure why you people hired me in the first place.”

But no coach ever says that. Each one is proud to be where he is and impressed by the players already there. He expects to either turn things around or continue the great tradition the alumni and fans are used to, whichever circumstance applies.

When Lou Holtz came to USC, he promised to do his best to raise Gamecock football to a higher level. For the most part, he has done that. Now, another guy comes along, who is perceived to be capable of doing more than Holtz.

Steve Spurrier, who no one has ever accused of being stupid, kept his objectives fairly conservative in his first news conference. He didn’t promise a national title in four years. He actually didn’t promise anything. He did say he saw no reason why USC wasn’t capable of winning an SEC conference championship.

Most Spurrier observers believe he’s here because he thinks he can win a national championship at USC. It would bring him great satisfaction to do it by beating his former school, and alma mater, the University of Florida.

If the Ol’ Ball Coach beats Clemson on a regular basis, he’ll stay as long as he wants to. If he delivers a conference title to the Gamecock faithful, he can run for governor. If Spurrier does win a national championship for USC, he can be elected Pope.