Two of the worst college football coaching hires of the century were identified by former Notre Dame coaches, and the fallout from those decisions rippled far beyond the campuses where they occurred. The realm of college football is one where legacy, tradition, and performance are tightly interwoven, and a single poor coaching hire can derail a program for years. When respected voices from storied programs like Notre Dame weigh in, it carries weight. Their criticism isn’t based on spite or personal vendettas; it’s often rooted in a deep understanding of what it takes to lead a major college football program. And when those voices call out certain hires as disastrous, it’s worth taking a closer look at the circumstances, decisions, and consequences that led to those verdicts.
One of the most glaring examples of a failed coaching hire came when Tennessee brought in Derek Dooley in 2010. This decision was criticized early on by several within the college football community, but what stood out was the reaction from individuals who had either coached at or had ties to Notre Dame. They understood what it meant to inherit a major football brand with championship expectations and a passionate fanbase. Tennessee, like Notre Dame, is a school where mediocrity isn’t tolerated and where history looms large. Dooley, who had just a 17–20 record at Louisiana Tech before getting the job, was thrust into one of the SEC’s most demanding environments with little track record to suggest he was ready.
Former Notre Dame staffers were quick to point out the absurdity of hiring a coach with a losing record at a mid-major school into a high-profile SEC job. The thinking at the time may have been that Dooley, the son of legendary Georgia coach Vince Dooley, had the pedigree and potential to lead a turnaround. But pedigree isn’t a substitute for results. The Volunteers quickly fell into disarray under his leadership, with three straight losing seasons and little progress in recruiting or player development. The program lacked identity, discipline, and any consistent signs of growth. He was fired after compiling a 15–21 overall record and a 4–19 SEC mark, one of the worst stretches in modern Tennessee football history.
Notre Dame insiders saw the warning signs early—an inexperienced coach being handed the reins of a legacy program in a hyper-competitive conference, without the necessary credentials to demand respect or instill a winning culture. To them, it was a textbook example of administrative misjudgment, of choosing a name over a resume, and of hiring for potential instead of proven competence. The decision set Tennessee back several years and required significant rebuilding under future coaches.
Another hire that drew sharp criticism from former Notre Dame coaches was the ill-fated decision by Nebraska to bring back Scott Frost in 2018. At first glance, this hire looked like a fairy tale. Frost was a native son, a former championship-winning quarterback at Nebraska, and he was fresh off a stunning undefeated season at UCF. The reunion seemed destined for success, blending nostalgia with apparent coaching acumen. But some experienced voices in the college football world, including those affiliated with Notre Dame, expressed skepticism right away—not necessarily because Frost lacked talent, but because the context of his previous success was being misinterpreted.
At UCF, Frost benefited from inheriting a talented roster and operating in a Group of Five conference with less week-to-week pressure. His offense was electric and his team played with confidence, but the jump from the AAC to the Big Ten—especially to a pressure cooker like Nebraska—was not a guaranteed success story. Notre Dame veterans knew what it meant to coach under immense historical weight, to rebuild a fallen titan, and to navigate the intense scrutiny that comes with trying to resurrect a dynasty. They saw Frost as walking into a trap: high expectations with few tools and structural problems that went far deeper than the head coach.
The results bore out that fear. In five seasons, Frost never finished with a winning record. He repeatedly lost close games, saw bizarre in-game decisions backfire, and struggled to build a consistent culture. His teams were often undisciplined, made costly mental errors, and failed to improve in critical areas such as offensive line play and quarterback development. For all his emotional ties to the program, Frost seemed overwhelmed by the enormity of the job. Nebraska’s national brand faded further under his tenure, and the mystique that once surrounded Cornhuskers football evaporated into a string of frustrating Saturdays.
What made Frost’s failure so painful—and, to some, so predictable—was the emotional nature of the hire. Notre Dame coaches who had seen similar situations unfold elsewhere warned against hiring someone simply because they were beloved by the fanbase or once wore the jersey. Coaching at the top level is about so much more than nostalgia. It’s about strategy, structure, and the ability to handle adversity. Frost’s emotional connection to Nebraska couldn’t overcome the reality that he may not have been equipped to modernize or elevate the program as required. He was fired early in the 2022 season after a home loss to Georgia Southern, cementing his legacy as one of the most disappointing coaching hires of the 21st century.
In both the Dooley and Frost cases, former Notre Dame coaches highlighted common themes: hires made on emotion rather than evidence, a lack of consideration for the unique pressures of legacy programs, and an overestimation of what past association with a program actually means. They emphasized that being part of a school’s storied past doesn’t mean you’re the right person to shape its future. And, perhaps more importantly, they pointed to the need for university leadership to make tough, sometimes unpopular decisions rooted in merit, not sentiment.
The shadow of these failed hires lingers not just because of the poor win-loss records but because of the opportunity cost. In college football, time is precious. Every year a program flounders under bad leadership is a year lost in recruiting, in fundraising, and in maintaining relevance. Recovering from a bad hire can take years, if not decades, particularly at schools where the margin for error has been reduced by years of underachievement.
Former Notre Dame coaches have experienced the full spectrum of this reality. Notre Dame itself went through periods of poor hires and mismanagement—names like Ty Willingham and Charlie Weis come to mind—before finally regaining stability under Brian Kelly. It’s this lived experience, this knowledge of how bad hires can torpedo elite programs, that informs their perspective when they critique other schools’ decisions. They aren’t speaking as bitter ex-coaches or out-of-touch analysts; they’re speaking from the scars of having seen, first-hand, how difficult it is to restore a program’s identity once it’s been lost.
Moreover, the analysis by these Notre Dame coaches extends to broader issues within college football hiring practices. Too often, athletic directors fall into the trap of chasing the next big name, the hottest coordinator, or the sentimental favorite. In doing so, they overlook less glamorous candidates who may be better equipped to lead. Leadership, after all, is about more than Xs and Os. It’s about building a culture, managing egos, dealing with media pressure, and instilling a mindset that can endure both success and failure. Hiring the right coach requires more than a flashy press conference—it demands rigorous vetting, an understanding of fit, and a long-term vision that extends beyond the next season.
In the end, the cautionary tales of Derek Dooley and Scott Frost underscore why the insights of seasoned coaches, especially those from elite programs like Notre Dame, should be taken seriously. These are not simply stories of failure—they are blueprints for what not to do. They serve as reminders that in the high-stakes world of college football, a bad hire doesn’t just cost games—it costs time, trust, and sometimes the very soul of a program. And when those who’ve lived through it sound the alarm, it’s wise to listen.
