There are certain givens for every new coach's introductory press conference. There are obligatory well wishes for the people left behind at the previous stop and the proper genuflection towards those who have just made the hire. Regardless of whether or not the position is seen as a destination job, on this day it is. Head coaches will almost always express gratitude that they've finally reached their dream job, even if the people listening know that they haven't. There are smiles, handshakes, and jabs at the rival and enough optimism to make Charlie Brown blush.
Troy Taylor certainly hit all those marks when he met the media last month for the first time as Stanford's new head football coach, but there was something that marked him different than most ball coaches who stand at the podium.
Anyone reading this knows that I carried the flag for David Shaw until the bitter end, so as I read the tea leaves during the University's hiring process, I did so with with equal parts pragmatism and trepidation. If Shaw was no longer going to be the face of the program, I wanted someone who would move the team forward by instilling new philosophies and bringing a new energy. I wasn't bothered by any of the names that bubbled to the surface, like former Stanford assistants Greg Roman or Vic Fangio, but I was momentarily intrigued when former Dallas Cowboy quarterback and head coach Jason Garrett was rumored to have the inside track. I felt like his Ivy League background would help him understand some of the unique aspects of the University, and that his NFL pedigree would show dividends both in recruiting and in the construction of an experienced coaching staff.
But the more I learned about Troy Taylor, the more I liked him. After several years of watching a stagnant Stanford offense, I found myself looking forward to the promise of the wide-open attack seen from Taylor's Sacramento State offenses. The 2022 version scored in the 50s three times, in the 40s three times, and in the 30s five times. In the Hornets' only loss of the season, they scored sixty-three.
For the first time in fifteen years, we'll be seeing a completely new offensive system at Stanford Stadium, one that appears to rely more on scheme than execution, a change that many have been clamoring for, and it will be led by Taylor himself, who will be not just the head coach, but the offensive coordinator as well. Here's a quote that leapt out to me from his presser: "Offensive football is about finding space, creating space, and different ways of doing it. We want to create as much anxiety for our opponent as possible.” Indeed.
But there was another line from Taylor that struck me just as deeply. Taylor's first head coaching job was at Folsom High School, and he coached at two other high schools and four different college programs before landing the Stanford job. When asked about this circuitous journey, Taylor said this: "It's the road less traveled, but it has made all the difference."
Robert Frost's poem is arguably the most famous sixteen lines written in American literature, so it isn't unusual to hear it quoted from time to time, but it perhaps isn't as common for a football coach to make the reference, and it's interesting to note that Taylor seems to know the poem, not just the quote.
I first came across this poem as a student, and in the decades since then I've read it enough times with my own students that it's long since been memorized. It's easily my favorite poem.
So when Taylor referenced those lines, I immediately began thinking of the poem in terms of what it said about Stanford football. It's widely seen as an extended metaphor extolling the virtue of making your own way in the world (although there are other notable interpretations), and as Stanford faced the prospect of establishing a post-David Shaw era, athletic director Bernard Muir and the rest of the decision makers stood firmly at a decision point, much like the speaker in Frost's poem.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
The landscape of college football has changed dramatically in only the past five years. With the advent of early signing day, the Alston decision, N.I.L., and the transfer portal, Stanford appeared to be falling behind. Unwillingness to change, some believed, would lead to the death of the program. Why not lower admissions requirements? Why not accept transfers from all over the map? Why not tempt prospective recruits with stacks of cash? If everyone else is doing it, some argued, why not Stanford?
Some of those issues seem to have been alleviated in the weeks since Taylor was hired. Stanford has accepted its first two undergraduate transfers in the portal era, running back Justin Williams-Thomas and linebacker Gaethan Bernadel, and both young men have already enrolled for the upcoming winter quarter.
But Taylor himself represents something of a deviation from the college football norm. As Stanford's on-field success declined over the past few seasons, the shadow of Jim Harbaugh began to loom larger and larger over Shaw's program. People longed for what they perceived was a tougher brand of football instilled by a coach seen as the model for program turnaround. (Never mind that Harbaugh's legendary status is due as much to his James Dean existence at Stanford as anything that happened on the field.)
There were many fans who wanted a Harbaugh personality as Shaw's replacement. At his introductory press conference in 2007, Harbaugh famously spoke about approaching the job with "an enthusiasm unknown to mankind," and not long after his arrival, he began toughening up his roster of players the only way he knew how. He reportedly ranked each player according to his own perception of their worth to the program, ranging from "warriors" to "nobodies" or -- worse -- "busriders/steak-eaters," players he felt were there only for the scholarship.*
Harbaugh and his ilk represent one possible road. Taylor is the other. During Taylor's press conference he spoke about... love.
Our job is to lead with love. Love is the most powerful force in the world. There's fear, that's pretty powerful, and there's love that is more powerful. You can change the world with love. That human connection, that belief in somebody, belief in a group of people.
Some people will tell you that fear is more powerful than love. We probably all have been scared in this room. It will make you do some incredible things. But love is more powerful. If you want to argue about that, I would. I would say most of you, if you have children, would run into a burning building to save your child. So love can change the world, it can change people, and it can change our football program.
We are looking for student-athletes that absolutely love football and love Stanford and are going to love each other. If that leads us, I don't think we'll ever go wrong.
I don't mean this a criticism of Harbaugh. I've said and written many times that Jim Harbaugh was probably the only human being on the planet who believed in Stanford football in 2007, and therefore the only person capable of making that transformation. Even so, the juxtaposition of those two divergent points of view is striking. Troy Taylor is different.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
It's Taylor's philosophy about love that intrigues me even more than his theories about offensive football. Just as the speaker in the poem was tempted by the road so many had travelled before him, the lure of the taskmaster is strong. He promises toughness and determination, he holds a rolled up gameplan in his clenched fist and gnashes his teeth as he paces the sideline. Whether his name is Vince Lombardi or Mike Ditka or Jim Harbaugh, he wins. Doesn't he? At least sometimes he does.
Troy Taylor is the road less traveled, which makes him a perfect fit for a football program committed to doing things its own way. We know that a perfect fit doesn't guarantee success, however, and it will be ages and ages hence before we're truly able to evaluate this hire with the perspective that wins and losses will bring. For now, though, it feels right.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
*As reported in Rags to Roses by Joseph Beyda, George Chen, and Sam Fisher.
