An Open Letter to Ed DeChellis
“Ed has demonstrated the ability to recruit and lead student-athletes, playing an exciting brand of basketball and developing a strong program across the board. We look forward to working with Ed, his staff and players on reaching the lofty goals we have for the men’s basketball program.”
-Tim Curley, April 3, 2003
Hi, Ed.
I know I’ve been overly critical of your tenure here at Penn State, and that it’s easy to forget that you’re a real human being. As a “Penn State guy” through and through, I’m sure you’re doing everything you can to build a successful program, and you’re going at it the Penn State Way. Even if you weren’t the head coach here, I’m sure you’d feel a real sense of pride with every Nittany Lion accomplishment, and a sense of shame when we struggle.
That’s why this must be so hard for you.
It’s always difficult to admit and accept our own failures, and when you’ve floundered at something that means so much to you, that feeling of despair is only magnified. Your seven years at Penn State haven’t just reflected poorly on yourself, but on the team and the university that you care so much about.
And that’s why I humbly request, for the good of Dear Old State, that you submit your resignation to Tim Curley.
We both know that no matter Curley says, he doesn’t care about building a winning program. At Iowa, three years of Todd Lickliter were enough. At Auburn, Jeff Lebo was fired after six unfruitful years. Despite seven similarly unsuccessful seasons, you’ve got job security for another four years, no matter what happens. It’s long been determined that all that matters to Mr. Curley is maximizing profits and avoiding a scandal. But, Ed, winning matters to you. And by now, you, like the few us who still care, must know that you’re never going to be able to accomplish that.
Yes, the NIT run a year ago was phenomenal. It was fun. We packed Madison Square Garden with more fans than we ever drew to the BJC. But one remarkable run doesn’t make up for everything else. In the end, that was still another season without an NCAA Tournament appearance. In the end, we still didn’t accomplish the one goal that you and your team set out for yourselves before the season started.
And what has come from that run? It wasn’t used as a foundation to build upon, like we so hoped, but rather a high point in a seven-year career that has been fraught with disappointment after disappointment.
The excuses can be made, Ed, that’s it’s not all your fault. Penn State doesn’t have any basketball tradition, despite tremendous improvement, we still don’t have the best facilities, and we don’t have the kind of boosters that most of our competition does. It’s really a legitimate question to ask: why would any talented high schooler want to come to Penn State?
But at the very least, though, we could say we were building a family. You, like most of your assistants, came through this program as 
players and coaches, and that’s to say nothing of the fortitude of your players, who clearly never gave up, not on you, and not on each other. Even in the midst of a 3-16 Big Ten campaign, your Lions were still fighting hard until the end, overmatched but not outhustled against Ohio State and Michigan State and Purdue. We could at least hold our heads high, that even in defeat, they exemplified the courage and determination that Penn State cherishes above all us.
But that was all, apparently, a charade. When half the roster bolts for higher ground, it’s clear that you haven’t engendered in your players that sense of community that you so preach. But who could blame them? Why should they stick around and experience more failure when it’s possible—no, probable—that the success they’re chasing will never come?
This is a difficult letter to write, Ed, because you’re such a good person. From your own battle with cancer to the vast amount of charity work you’ve put in, and the public face of stoicism that you’ve shown even in the fact of what is certainly an immensely difficult time, is truly admirable. And that is where you could be of best use to the university you so love. Work in fundraising. Take a position promoting Coaches vs. Cancer, perhaps on a national, or even global scale. If that’s not for you, I’m sure you can find a coaching job in a smaller conference where you can succeed—just like you did at East Tennessee State. They’d be glad to have you back. But take a step away from the Bryce Jordan Center, and leave Penn State in the hands of someone who knows success, who can take Penn State to the promised land of the Big Dance.
Maybe all your supporters are right, not just apologists. Maybe Penn State is just doomed to fail, doomed to be “too country,” and stuck with an uninterested fanbase. Maybe, for whatever reason, this situation is just unwinnable. I know that you’d be the last one, Ed, to hide behind excuses to try and rationalize this situation. You’re too classy for that.
But as one of the few fans this program has left—maybe ever had—I’m similarly not willing to accept those justifications for our failure. I’ve got to believe that a truly great coach can experience achievement anywhere, that a young, charismatic, up and coming talent can come to Penn State and succeed.
At the very least, we owe it to the students—who really do want to care, and to our alumni—who have been waiting for so long for something to cheer about, to try something different.
Albert Einstein famously said that insanity was repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results. When every year of your career, Ed, has followed the same script, how can I believe than anything will change? This mass exodus of young, talented players is just the last straw. How can I believe in your promise of better things ahead when your own players so clearly don’t?
I wish I could have faith, Ed, that you’ll pull a complete 180. I’d like to trust that next year will be the one that not only culminates in accomplishment, but lays the groundwork for continued success. But to do that would be to ignore everything I’ve witnessed over the past 7 years. I’d only be lying to myself. The numbers speak for themselves, and I’m sure you’re as familiar with them as anyone: a 95-123 record overall, 32-87 in conference play, with just 10 true road wins in your tenure. Penn State basketball hasn’t been blessed with much of a history to speak of, but your era represents a low point, even amidst middling mediocrity.
All that said, I would like to sincerely thank you for your service. Were it not for that NIT championship a year ago, we would never have set the bar this high. Until last year, we were content to not even consider that Penn State had a basketball team worth following. When no one else cared about this team, you did. And, having personally visited the basketball offices, I can attest that you’ve managed to build a state of the art facility that any coach would be glad to inherit. But you’ve taken this program as far as you can.
Ed, there’s only one way out for the Penn State basketball program. Please, make the noble decision, and sacrifice yourself for the school you love. For the good of this team, become a martyr. You’re the only one that can be trusted to change the program for the better, and the only way you can do that is by stepping down.
And then, we can both pray that the next “national” coaching search brings in a more qualified candidate than the last one did.
Take care, Ed.
Sincerely,
Those of us who still care
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