Idaho: Kermit Davis Stepped Here

The sincerity oozed through the telephone line. Something oozed, anyway.

“This is the toughest decision I’ve ever had to make in my career,” Kermit Davis said.

Yeah, it’s quite the dilemma.

Mayflower? Or Bekins?

Of course, Kermit Davis should be in line by now for a lifetime achievement award from the van lines industry, or at least have enough frequent mover miles amassed to get his furniture trucked to Baton Rouge for nothing.

Yes, friends of Idaho, your latest shotgun wedding has been annulled.

On Wednesday, 383 days after the University of Idaho rescued him from basketball ignominy and gave him the opportunity to expunge his principal public distinction as that guy who cheated - and clumsily - at Texas A&M, Kermit Davis said thanks for the memories.

He’s off to Louisiana State to assist a boyhood chum, and Idaho’s back to placing help-wanteds.

“I don’t know if this is the best professional move,” said Davis. “I know there are people in Idaho who won’t understand and I don’t expect them to. You won’t totally understand until you walk in a person’s shoes.”

We would, Kermit, but there’s no telling what you’ve stepped in.

We do know what you’ve stepped on.

Idaho. Again.

Once, OK. You were the boy genius who won 50 games in two years and twice took the Vandals for an NCAA Tournament ride. You were stumped for an encore, too hot to hide, too greedy for the big chance.

But this time?

Well, we never thought Idaho would be your retirement job, but the school did have reason to expect you’d stay long enough to get the sport coat you wore at the introductory press conference back from One-Hour Martinizing.

You were the new and improved Kermit, remember? Chagrined by the fiasco at A&M. Enlightened by the hard lessons of ambition. Committed to the long term. Grateful for the second chance to be a head coach at Idaho.

You had seen the light.

Green, as it turns out.

Let’s review what Davis said just over a year ago, after the Vandals had hired him for a second time.

“I’d like to stay at Idaho,” he said. “Idaho has been very special in my career. These people gave me a chance when I was 28. Then (eight) years later, they gave me another chance. So you’d better believe I have a ton of loyalty to the Vandal Boosters, the town of Moscow and the administration.”

A ton. Guess the physical properties of loyalty must be closer to lint than lead.

It is Idaho’s cruel circumstance to be a haven for hit-and-run coaches, athletic directors and educrats, but Davis has just rewritten the record book.

In an ethic etched in sand, commitment is something to be measured in minutes. We knew the history. He didn’t fudge the rulebook at A&M because he loved the place so much.

But why this move? We only have those Davis provided Wednesday, and we’re now quite aware of his credibility issues with the spoken word.

He assured us it wasn’t money. He acknowledged the opportunity to work with lifelong friends. But mostly he waved the unassailable flag of family.

Davis and his wife, Betty, both from the South, have two daughters. The oldest, 9-year-old Ally, has Down syndrome.

“We thought we needed some more support from our family members - that’s something that played big into this decision,” he said. “We’re five hours from Betty’s family and five from mine.”

If you say so, Kermit.

So why wasn’t this a need a year ago, when you and the Vandals were charting your futures? Why has it never been an issue as you carted your family from Mississippi to Moscow to Texas to Florida to Utah to Moscow and now to Louisiana in the space of 11 years?

It is more reasonable to surmise that Davis discovered the program that allowed him to polish his star is no longer capable of holding a shine. Instead of being one of the best basketball jobs in the Big Sky, it is one of the worst in the Big West because of location and competition.

Davis would repeat last year’s 13-17 finish before he’d ever get back to the 25-6 days, especially if Idaho’s administration was going to make him recruit the Northwest and not just empty out junior colleges in Mississippi.

And so he bailed - on the place that gave him a second chance, on the boosters who had gone to bat for him, on his players and recruits who had yet to play.

“Young kids are very resilient,” he reasoned.

There is much good to admire about the coaching profession, but most of what’s wrong is embodied in Kermit Davis.

Sometimes, Kermit, you have to say no.

Perhaps it is time Idaho learned. Davis couldn’t leave without pushing his assistant, Dave Farrar, for the job, but I don’t remember any banks letting Willie Sutton hire the tellers.

Good men may get passed over, but the old Tim Floyd-Kermit Davis-Larry Eustachy line of succession needs to be retired. They won, but they never built.

“A lot of people are upset with Kermit Davis,” Kermit Davis said. “I don’t blame them. But unless you’ve walked in another man’s shoes… “

No thanks, Kermit.

You’re going to need them to keep walking. , DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color Photo

MEMO: You can contact John Blanchette by voice mail at 459-5577, extension 5509.

The following fields overflowed: CREDIT = John Blanchette The Spokesman-Review