An open letter to Coach Dan Hawkins

Hi Coach, Phil Here. My friends call me Philly, even though I hate. it. Just thought I'd share that, since I'd like this to be as genial as possible. I started writing this in the Oakland airport bar while waiting on my flight, so I apologize if this isn't as eloquent as I would like. Last week, I left a note on your facebook page, saying that I would be going to the Cal game. I said I was the one in the glasses, and that I would wave at you. I was, and I did, but you didn't wave back. And that the crux of my problems laid out here. 

Now obviously, I didn't expect you to actually wave to me, because I'm not an idiot. The point is, the fans did their job. They, WE, showed up 7 thousand strong. We painted the Bay Area black and gold. We sang the fight song on the train, and introduced toddlers to a cheer with a curse word. We were proud. And it was glorious. Nothing quite compares to attending a college football away game. People randomly high five you and give you hugs. You meet old drunk men who buy you tallboys in a paper bag on the way to the stadium. This happened, not in a traditional college town setting, but in San Francisco. I may or may not have paid a large amount of money to get a lap dance to the CU fight song (note- I did not, but not for lack of effort on my part). You might not know this, since your entire professional career has been spent coaching these games, not attending them. I still intend to go to Hawai'i next year, if I can convince anyone to join. I spent the second half planning black and gold flowery shirts. Because I absolutely could not spend the second half watching football. Because you didn't show up to play.

There's no other way to put it. It has been going on for 5 years now, and I don't claim to have all the answers, but obviously neither do you. Now, I'm not the type to call for anyone's ouster. I believe you to be a good man, with a good heart. But when we were down 14-0, I knew that we were cooked. At one point, someone was called for a chop block, and I complained profusely. Not because it wasn't a penalty- hell, I don't know, I was on the other end of the stadium. I complained because "chop block" implies "block," and you didn't block anyone all fucking day. 

<b>We deserve an apology.</b> We deserve something other than platitudes and "we just need to tighten things up." We deserve to know that our humiliation in Berkeley does not fall on deaf ears, and that you understand and empathize with us. The great thing about college football is that we are one. We are a Buff Nation, and we deserve better. I don't know what else to say. We deserve better. Hell, we deserve an EFFORT, to justify us putting aside our lives for a few days and traveling from far and wide to root on YOU. I was going to say "root on your program," but that's not right. It's our program. You may be the captain, but it's our ship. We lay claim to it for better or worse. Right now it's worse. For my continued support, I need to hear fire and brimstone. I need to feel pain in your voice, like I endured the pain of walking through frat row down 40 some odd points, hearing that goddamn gun shot go off again. I need to know that you understand what it feels like to be a college football fan. At some point, being a good man with a good heart is not enough. You have chosen a ruthless employment path. And if you cannot be equally ruthless, then you must go elsewhere. I say that not as an enemy, but as someone who loves my school and my athletic program. I understand that the eleventh highest paid coach in a twelve team league should not be expected to produce national champions year in and year out. But we deserve to be more than four points better than UC- Davis. 

Shoulder to shoulder,

Phil Fraser

(caveat- written without hearing any press conferences or seeing anything other than a few player tweets. I was busy with some margaritas. Pictures and coverage to come)