They’re Selling You a Lie
Let’s get one thing straight. That 38-28 win over Maryland at Ford Field wasn’t a sign of life. It was a sedative. It was a carefully crafted piece of public relations designed by the people in the ivory tower—the ones who never have to sit in the freezing rain to watch their team collapse—to make you feel a little better about the dumpster fire of a 4-8 season. They think the fans, the real heart and soul of this program, are stupid. They think a shiny object at the end of a miserable year is enough to make everyone forget the profound, systemic rot that has set in.
It’s an insult. Plain and simple.
The Hollow Victory
Think about it. A neutral-site game against a middling Maryland team that had already packed it in for the year. This wasn’t a gutsy win on the road against a rival; it was a glorified scrimmage put on display to give the illusion of momentum. The powers that be are desperately trying to sell you a narrative of ‘growth’ under Jonathan Smith, pointing to this meaningless game as Exhibit A. But the real fans, the ones who have Spartan blood in their veins, know the truth. The evidence isn’t in one orchestrated win; it’s in the eight crushing losses that defined this season. It’s in the team’s inability to show up when it actually mattered. This victory wasn’t a building block; it was a coat of paint on a condemned house.
They’re counting on you to have a short memory. They’re hoping you’ll buy the cheap souvenirs and forget that the whole theme park is falling apart. We can’t let them get away with it.
The Deafening Silence from the Administration
So where is the leadership? As the season mercifully ended, the official word on Jonathan Smith’s future was… nothing. Crickets. This isn’t careful deliberation; it’s cowardice. The administration is hiding, hoping the storm will pass. They’re letting rumors swirl and allowing uncertainty to fester because they don’t have the guts to make a real decision. It’s a pathetic display from a group of people who are supposed to be the stewards of a proud football tradition. A tradition built by men of action, not by committees and focus groups.
This silence speaks volumes. It says that they are utterly disconnected from the fanbase. They don’t feel the anger and the frustration that bubbles up in every sports bar, in every living room, in every text chain across the state. They see spreadsheets and revenue streams; we see our identity being dragged through the mud. While they hem and haw, the program is bleeding. Top recruits are looking elsewhere, the transfer portal is a looming threat, and the very soul of Michigan State football is being eroded by indecision. They are failing. Utterly and completely.
‘Cut and Run’: The People Have Spoken
And what do the people say? The real stakeholders in all this? They’re ready to “cut and run” from Jonathan Smith. That’s not some media hot take; that’s the raw, unfiltered voice of a fanbase that has been pushed to the brink. This isn’t about being impatient. This is about recognizing a mistake before it sinks the entire ship. The fans had reasonable expectations: show some fight, be competitive, maybe claw your way to a bowl game. Instead, they got a 4-8 capitulation. They were promised a step forward and were delivered a giant leap backward.
The ‘cut and run’ sentiment is a vote of no confidence not just in the coach, but in the entire leadership structure that hired him and is now protecting him from accountability. Fans are tired of being told to ‘trust the process’ when the process is clearly broken. They are the ones who buy the tickets, the merchandise, the TV subscriptions. Their investment—both financial and emotional—is being squandered. And they are saying, loud and clear, that enough is enough. The question is, are the people in charge even listening? Or are their office doors soundproof?
A Future on the Brink
The stakes couldn’t be higher. We are entering a new era of college football. The Big Ten is becoming a coast-to-coast monster conference, a brutal shark tank where only the strong and decisive will survive. Programs like Ohio State, Michigan, USC, and Oregon aren’t waiting around. They are reloading, adapting, and preparing for war. And what is Michigan State doing? It’s sitting on its hands, paralyzed by mediocrity.
This isn’t just about one season or one coach. This is about the next decade. The decisions made (or not made) right now will determine whether MSU remains a relevant national player or fades into the background as a permanent middle-of-the-pack team. A stepping stone for more ambitious programs. Is that the future we want? To be an afterthought in our own conference? To have our legacy of grit and toughness replaced by a culture of corporate-speak and managed expectations?
It’s a terrifying thought. The soul of the program is on the line. The administration needs to wake up and understand they are playing with fire. Their indecision isn’t just frustrating; it’s an existential threat. The fans see it. Why can’t they?
