The blue and gold is far too good for you, ol' Todd. (Photo by Justin K. Aller/Getty Images)
Mr. Graham Todd:
I can call you Todd, right? Right?
After all, I feel like I've known you all my life. Sure, it's only been a year. Okay, so not a year, but a full season. Well, since Pitt technically still has a bowl game left, not even that, but you get the point I'm sure.
I'd love to tell you there are no hard feelings, but that wouldn't exactly be accurate. There are ... plenty.
That's because we trusted you, Todd. Now, I didn't want to at first. I've got to be honest, I was never really all that thrilled with your hire. But after a while, the readers (yes, I'm blaming them) reeled me in. I thought this could work. Then I thought it would. And after your used car salesman approach worked with the recruits, it was like you were too good to be true. Seriously, how'd you do that by the way? How'd you save an entire class from utter destruction?.
Your slick-talking, of course. That's how you did everything. You didn't really ever accomplish anything at Pitt, you just talked about it. But we bought it ... and we're fools for having done so. Coaches play the game and let me say - you played the game. Pretend as if you care, sell others on it, and BAM - instant credibility.
We liked you, Todd. Sure, you didn't talk like us. Well, like most of us, anyway ... you fit right in with those Marcellus Shale folks. But heck, we didn't care. There's always been something cool about a slick Texan dreaming big, thinking big, and ... talking big.
It was fun. What was it, 'High octane' you said. Man, that was real cool. Only problem is we never saw it. Okay, so there were 35 points against Buffalo and Maine, but you promised us it was just the tip of the iceberg. Then the little offense we saw disappeared. It came back for one magical Walt Disney-esqe night against South Florida, but, well, they're South Florida.
Points dried up and homecoming against Utah was sickening. You blamed Tino. Then again. 'If only you had a quarterback,' you thought. Then everything would be perfect, right? You had Anthony Gonzalez but felt the offense was so starved you needed to make him suffer a position change. Yeah, you paid for that one, alright.
But you know what really gets under our skin, old Toddy boy? You promised ethics. After the close loss against West Virginia, your wife even took to Twitter and promised CLASS would win out in the end. Class?!
Do you mean the same class that you showed by emailing a Pitt staffer to let your team know you were gone. The same class you exhibited when Steve Pederson reportedly asked you not to interview for the Arizona State job? Or would that be the same class you showed when you reportedly have been sending out feelers for other jobs?
You told the players you wanted them to do things the right way. Heck, you forced them to. Swearing was out, manners were in. It was integrity, class, and respect that was forced upon them - you know, all those fancy words you liked to throw around, but never really meant anything.
While we were too busy mocking West Virginia about their coach, it was really you we should have been worried about. Sure Dana's had some ups and downs already in Mountaineerville, but at least they knew what they were getting.
And by the way ... he won.
Now comes the hard part, Todd. The part where we part ways. Parting is such sweet sorrow, isn't it? I'll be watching you out in Arizona State, Todd. Don't get me wrong - there's no way I'll root for one of your teams. You've joined my list of people I'll love to see fail. That's because, Todd, you're the worst type of person.
You're a fraud.
We don't expect to hear back from you ... unless it's by email, that is.
Your friends at Cardiac Hill