By MONTE DUTTON

On Monday, Presbyterian College honored Steve Englehart for being the national football coach of the year.

On Tuesday, Englehart reportedly accepted the job at West Georgia University in Carrollton, Ga.

This, of course, is no surprise. This is what happens at PC after winning seasons. Dustin Kerns had a winning record in men’s basketball and left. Alaura Sharp pulled the same feat with the women. Kerns and Sharp both went to Appalachian State. I liked each of them.

As Willie Nelson wrote, If you can truthfully say / That you’ve been true just one day / Well, that makes one in a row / One in a row / One in a row.

Ever since the Blue Hose charged out of the gate with upsets of Mercer and Furman last fall, it was a question of where, not if. PC gave Englehart a chance to rebuild his reputation after Florida Tech allowed COVID to erase his 44-35 record there.

Steve’s a really good guy. He and his staff rebuilt PC football after Kevin Kelley bulldozed its East Wing. The Blue Hose had a hell of a ballroom last fall.

Throughout the fall, everywhere I went, on the high-school sidelines of Union and Chesnee, in the press box of Furman, at the Waffle House, in the grocery-store line, the question was the same: “Where’s the PC coach going to go?”

About once every three years, Presbyterian College athletics conjures up a miracle. Then, poof! It’s gone. It’s the way of the world. There are no more Cally Gaults or Don Quixotes.

Hell, I’m one to write. I’m going to leave town, the only one I’ve ever known, too. Until Tuesday night’s 11 o’clock news, all I knew about Carrollton was that it’s on the way to Talladega. On icy Monday at Templeton Center, they cut a cake and raised a banner. They did not sign a contract. Steve was uncommonly standoffish and defensive. The strategic informationists announced there would be no press conference. Everyone played along. A couple weeks ago, in contrast to most everywhere else, PC announced no new recruits. Steve was a finalist at UAB. Another finalist took the job at Coastal Carolina.

I didn’t know where the bell tolled, but it stood to reason it was tolling somewhere.

It’s 5:15 a.m., and I’m writing because I gave up on sleeping.

My late father was an auctioneer, and I grew up taking bids. I’d bang a wooden walking stick on the rails of a sale barn, yelling, “Two-fifty! Got a bid for $250!” In my dream, it was a new way to recruit college athletes. Then it occurred to me that it looked like a slave auction. A basketball phenom was dribbling around the ring. Coaches were making bids.

You’ll drive to campus in a luxurious, brand-new Cadillac Escalade! Your Escalade features a 10-speed automatic transmission with on-demand four-wheel drive, adaptive cruise control, lane-keeping assist, rear-seat entertainment system with streaming capability, leather upholstery, wood trim and customizable ambient lighting. You’ll receive an all-expense-paid education, professional tutoring services and a generous stipend. It’s all yours if the price is right!

I thought about it some more and decided each talented teen could issue his invitations, 10 maybe, and accept bids for his services. Each conference could televise its “draft.” The Big 10 and SEC would be on ABC, others on ESPN and small leagues on ESPN+. At the end, all decisions would be nice and contractually binding.

I used to say that stock-car racers were the most affluent slaves in human history.

These aren’t my ideas. I’m not sure whether the inspiration comes from George Orwell or Aldous Huxley.

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