On Dec. 4, I was returning from Penn State’s men’s basketball game at Pitt when I had a 20-minute phone conversation with Bill O’Brien, who was himself driving on what he said was a recruiting trip.

It was then that I had a pretty good idea he might not be the head football coach at Penn State much longer. Because he told me so.

I was not at liberty to quote him then because the dialogue was agreed upon to remain strictly off the record. But it was clear to me when the call ended that O’Brien’s incongruous two-year marriage with Penn State was in jeopardy.

I initiated the conversation the day before on the way to Pittsburgh with the intention of interpreting the reasons for assistant coach Ron Vanderlinden’s departure from the program. O’Brien was very guarded about those reasons, repeatedly using non sequiturs and clichés in place of rationale. Meanwhile, Vanderlinden politely but firmly refused to talk about it, either. It sounded like a human-resources deal, both having agreed not to speak publicly.

I ended up ferreting out the most logical reasoning I could and wrote a subsequent column about it that both parties seemed satisfied with. I learned a while ago that if two opposite principals in a disagreement are unwilling to speak about its evolution or resolution, it’s best to discard any tangential interpretations from various third parties and leave it alone.

What I did confirm that day instead was how frustrated O'Brien seemed to be at Penn State. I grew to like the guy over two years because his personality is one I can understand. Like me, he tends toward boil-overs with multiple and often comical strings of F-bombs. While some people don't understand that type of behavior, I think such venting is healthy as long as it doesn't verbally abuse anyone. And O'Brien wasn't venting at me, just to me.

Some of his frustrations revolved around what he saw as the lack of leadership at Penn State and his desire simply to fulfill his job description as the football coach, not university figurehead. I wrote about this a few days ago when I thought the time was apt.

Now you could argue that someone earning $3.6 million annually, more than three times the salary of anyone else at the school, has pretty much agreed to become a university spokesman in addition to simply a coach. But considering that the role of politician and glad-hander is one he abhors, O’Brien actually did a fairly decent job of that, too. I mean, Iowa’s Kirk Ferentz makes more; in comparison, is he a riveting public personality?

O’Brien’s ire also was raised that day by my suggestion that a faction of Joe Paterno-era loyalists seemed to me to be miffed by Vanderlinden’s departure or dismissal, depending upon their view, and that they might want some sort of explanation. The former linebackers coach had been the second-longest-tenured member of the staff, dating to 2000, one of only two remaining staff members hired by the legendary coach. This really got O’Brien going:

“You can print this: You can print that I don’t really give a ---- what the ‘Paterno people’ think about what I do with this program. I’ve done everything I can to show respect to Coach Paterno. Everything in my power. So I could really care less about what the Paterno faction of people, or whatever you call them, think about what I do with the program. I’m tired of it.

“For any ‘Paterno person’ to have any objection to what I’m doing, it makes me wanna put my fist through this windshield right now.”

He was just getting started:

“I’m trying to field the most competitive football team I can with near-death penalty ----ing sanctions. Every time I say something like that and somebody prints it, it’s skewed as an excuse. And I’m not an excuse-maker. I’m trying to do the best I can for the kids in that program. That’s all I care about is the kids in that program. As long as I’m the head football coach here.”

I didn’t add exclamation marks where they could have been applied. Otherwise, it might look like something a fan texts after a frustrating loss – with strings of them (!!!!).

I didn’t print the quote right away, either. I did him a favor there. I thought it reflected momentary rage that I had partially induced from my own perception and it wasn’t quite fair.

But now that O’Brien has left and people want to know why, I think it makes sense to print it. It helps explain.

Anyway, I was already a bit stunned because the bombshell had come a few seconds earlier when O’Brien said, off-the-record: “That’s why, in probably about a month, they’re gonna be ----ing looking for a new coach.”

I just let him go after that and listened. Near the end of the call, when he’d settled down, I asked, “You’re not really leaving, are you?” And he replied, “I’m not leaving.”

I mentioned that quote in a column a few days ago. But now you know the context I couldn’t tell you and why I never really believed his assurance.

A few minutes after we hung up, O'Brien texted me: "Thank you for listening." I guess venters know how to let venters vent.

So, with all this unloaded, is it more accurate to say O’Brien is running from Penn State or running toward the Houston Texans? I think it’s the latter. He’s made no secret that the NFL is his destination. He adores the pro game, the purity of it, without the university politics and pretense of the college version. And this is the time to get there.

O’Brien parachuted into an insane situation of which he could not fully know the context or ramifications. Really, neither did the people who hired him. No one could have known NCAA President Mark Emmert’s plans for executive decree and the sanctions that followed. It was all unprecedented and blindsided everyone.

Considering all the unknowns he juggled and the hand he was dealt, it’s a borderline miracle that Penn State went 15-9 during his tenure. And he probably fretted that he was one Christian Hackenberg injury from going 4-8 next season and maybe not getting nearly so many NFL bites in December 2014.

Now part of that miracle was due to a lot of players deciding to stick with O’Brien when they could have transferred without even sitting out a year, per NCAA order. For a moment there, the players had the power and the clout, and the million-dollar coach had to beg to them – a real switch on the norm of major-college athletics. Almost all of them stayed. But the few who didn’t had every right to leave. I said that then, and what you’re seeing now is why.

The ones who did stay? They did it not just for each other but for O'Brien. Hackenberg, for one, could have gone to Alabama. Now, O'Brien's bolting on them. Suddenly, they have, um... no leadership. As always in the rich, character-building landscape we call revenue-sport athletics, it's the kids left holding the bag. No revenue in there for them but there is a nice slice of franchise pizza for the bus ride.



I won’t stand in judgment of anyone here because the whole crazy situation is so pretzel-twisted and unique that there are really no easy moral standards to follow. I’ll just say that any underclass Penn State players who decide they are angry with O’Brien now certainly have the right. But that should be their call, no one else’s.

What I can say with some certainty is that, as perfect as Bill O’Brien was to lead Penn State’s football program at the time of his arrival, it’s now clear to me that it’s time for him to move on.

The man from Massachusetts left Penn State’s football program in a much better place than where it was two years ago. His status as an outsider was exactly what the program and the place needed.

Now it might be time for more stability and maybe an inch or two back toward its roots. It also might be a good time to find a new Penn State president who's not just a replacement in time for Rod Erickson's scheduled retirement but one who can be a dynamic figurehead of the university. You know, instead of a football coach.

This was never O’Brien’s destination job. He came at the height of a 100-year storm and somehow kept the house intact.

Now that the skies appear to be clearing, maybe someone can come to Penn State to call it a home. And really mean it.

DAVID JONES: djones@pennlive.com.