It’s not the clichés. It’s what they say.

Mike McCoy can’t deviate from a limited script – not with the media, not when addressing his team and not when managing a game.

That’s a problem.

On its own, McCoy abruptly walking away from an almost-finished news conference this week because he didn’t like/couldn’t handle an overly aggressive line of questioning is of no consequence. Attending a McCoy presser is almost always a futile exercise anyway. It is silly to expect questions will lead to meaningful answers.

How a coach acts toward the media is irrelevant – except in cases such as this where it speaks to that coach not trusting himself and being unable to think on his feet.

Seriously, McCoy couldn’t be creative enough to turn things around on the reporter who was provoking him? He couldn’t even make a joke? He couldn’t give an actual answer to a pretty simple query — or, like most NFL coaches do, at least give a response that pretends to be an answer?

No, he couldn’t.

Like he can’t bring himself to go for it on fourth down except in dire situations. Like he can’t coerce more creative game plans or take over in crucial junctures during games. Like he seems to have lost whatever touch he once demonstrated in pulling the right strings at the right times.

McCoy’s ability to inspire derives its source almost entirely from winning. To a large extent, victory is the capital against which all coaches borrow. But it was apparent long ago that McCoy, whose voice initially carried weight because it wasn’t Norv Turner’s, would especially need to continue making the playoffs to have his message of austere accountability remain effective.

He simply doesn’t connect enough on a human level to be able to get much of a reprieve without results. He also doesn’t have the resume.

Yes, New England Patriots coach Bill Belichick famously refuses to substantively answer most questions. But it’s not because he’s scared.

How do we know? Because Belichick actually gives thoughtful answers on occasion. Oh, and the four Super Bowl rings and 13 straight seasons with at least 10 victories give some authority to his lack of words.

When McCoy refuses to leave the comfort of his cliche yard, it is because he is not assured enough to actually show personality or give insight. He doesn’t trust himself to not hurt his team.

That’s a flaw that is directly relatable to his shortcomings in leading a team.

So here the Chargers are.

Not making the playoffs last year has been followed by this horrid season, in which the Chargers take a six-game losing streak to Jacksonville, their longest skid since 2011.

McCoy almost certainly won’t suffer that nebulous fate of “losing the locker room,” primarily because of the strength of leadership at the top. But that doesn’t mean this locker room is behind him like it was a year ago.

Let’s just say many of his players have gone from being amused by McCoy’s refusal to say anything substantive in public to being indifferent toward it or even annoyed by it. That owes, in part, to the fact his internal messages are falling flat as well.

His players see he is coaching by numbers. He’s got algebraic equations memorized, and sometimes a coach has to solve calculus. He’s comfortable humming when sometimes belting out some damn Marvin Gaye is what’s called for.

We’re three years in, and McCoy is as obstinately frightened as when he first uttered, “We’re looking for the best 53.”

If there were signs he were learning, it could be fathomable McCoy deserved to work the final year of his contract. But other than some subtle tweaks to the way he deals with players and the occasional feigned bravery in game management, he seems incapable of modification.

He and his staff massaged the heck out of the roster in 2013, his first season as a head coach, and ultimately made the playoffs when the Chargers executed a brassy fake punt in the season finale. That would be ironic, if not for the circumstances – that McCoy was livid that Eric Weddle called for the fake on the field. Then it’s even worse.

There has not been another time McCoy has even come close to surprising anyone.

Sure, were it not for an avalanche of injuries, the Chargers would probably be better than 2-8 and headed to Jacksonville as underdogs. But even before the unfortunate series of setbacks, the ceiling was a third straight 9-7 campaign, in large part because McCoy is too often content to let a path to victory meander into defeat.

To keep his job, McCoy must show in these final six games what he is made of. Rather, football operations boss John Spanos must assess whether McCoy has the capability to make core changes.

If the coach cannot take any sort of uncertain steps — and there is scant evidence he can — McCoy will have to understand that Spanos has to do what is best for the team.