As the late, great radio pioneer Paul Harvey used to say, “And now you know the rest of the story.”
It turns out, Scott Frost never wanted to be hired by Nebraska.
And Nebraska — at least the man in charge of Nebraska athletics — never wanted to hire Scott Frost.
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This latest revelation came from former Cornhuskers’ athletic director Bill Moos, who admitted in his new book that Frost wasn’t even his first choice back in 2017 and that he had bad vibes about Frost from the beginning. This simply confirms what always felt true: This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t alignment. It wasn’t a visionary hire built on shared conviction.
It was pressure. It was nostalgia. It was fear of what would happen if the golden boy won somewhere else.
Moos writes that he wanted to hire Chip Kelly in 2017. He flew across the country to meet him. Spent hours with him. Came away excited. Then the political winds hit him like a hurricane. Boosters protested. Regents hesitated. The name “Scott Frost” grew louder and heavier and impossible to ignore.
Meanwhile, Frost was the hottest coach in the country. He was thriving at UCF — building something modern, fast and nationally relevant. He had momentum. He had charisma. He had joy. He had control. The only thing Nebraska truly offered was more money, more prestige and more emotional gravity. It was that gravity that pulled both sides into a decision neither fully believed in.
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Nebraska didn’t hire the coach it most wanted.
Frost didn’t take the job he most wanted.
Moos wrote that when Frost showed up for a secret interview at a Philadelphia hotel the night before his undefeated UCF team played a road game at Temple, Frost was unshaven and wearing sweats. Moos’ wife reportedly thought he was “too immature” for the Nebraska job.
Or maybe, just maybe, Frost was sending a message that he didn’t want the job.
Here’s my UCF-centric conspiracy theory: Frost knew that if Nebraska formally offered him the position, he couldn’t say no. Not to his alma mater. Not to Tom Osborne. Not to former teammates. Not to boosters. Not to friends and family who believed he was destined to restore the ‘Huskers to their glory days.
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But if the offer never came?
He’d have an out.
He could stay at UCF, where he had turned a winless team into an undefeated team in two years; where he was in the middle of a recruiting hotbed; where luring Florida speed made more sense than trying to transplant it to the plains.
Sweats and stubble might not have been immaturity.
It might have been Frost’s way of self-sabotaging his chances of getting the job he didn’t really want.
Moos has now admitted he felt he had to pursue Frost. He worried that if Frost succeeded elsewhere, he would be “screwed.” That’s not strategic leadership. That’s fear management.
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Nebraska didn’t hire the coach it believed in most.
It hired the coach it felt obligated to hire.
And Frost didn’t leave UCF because Nebraska was the best job available.
He left because Nebraska was the job he felt obligated to take.
That’s a football version of a forced marriage.
From here in Orlando, that 2017 season wasn’t just magic; it was proof of concept. Frost built something aligned with where college football was going. Tempo. Creativity. Energy.
After he left, UCF went undefeated again the following season under Josh Heupel. That doesn’t happen by accident. That happens when infrastructure and culture are built for the modern game.
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Nebraska, meanwhile, has spent the last quarter-century chasing memories. Since Osborne retired, the sport has changed dramatically. Conference realignment. TV contracts. NIL collectives. Transfer portals. Media markets. Recruiting footprints. Nebraska isn’t the gravitational force it once was. It’s a proud brand navigating a completely different era.
When Frost was asked at Big 12 Media Days what he learned from coaching at Nebraska, he quipped to a reporter at the Athletic, “Don’t take the wrong job.” And ‘Husker Nation erupted.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth:
He wasn’t wrong.
He didn’t say Nebraska was evil. He didn’t say it was hopeless. He said it was wrong — for him.
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There’s a difference.
At the time, Frost also had a legitimate path to the University of Florida job, where he would have had geographic advantages and a clearer road back to national contention. If he was going to leave UCF, that would have been the cold, calculated football move.
But Nebraska wasn’t cold or calculated.
It was sentimental.
Frost knew then it was a bad decision. In fact, Moos said in a recent radio interview to promote his book that when he commissioned one of Frost’s former teammates to gauge Frost’s appetite for the job, “There was no interest. (Frost) was appalled at what was happening at Nebraska.”
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Frost knew he was happy in Orlando and even admitted during his introductory news conference when he returned to UCF: “When you’re climbing the ladder of success in life, sometimes they forget to tell you to stop when you’re happy.”
That line might be the most honest thing any coach has said in years.
But Frost allowed loyalty to override clarity. He let outside voices drown out internal instinct.
And when doubt sneaks into the foundation of a decision, it eventually shows up in performance.
You can see it in close losses and tight fourth quarters. A coach coaching out of obligation rarely coaches free.
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This isn’t just about Frost failing at Nebraska and being fired with a 16-31 record after four-plus seasons. It’s about something bigger.
Don’t do things you know are wrong. We’ve all felt it; that pause before accepting the promotion, the relocation, the partnership. The sense that something doesn’t quite align, but the pressure to comply is overwhelming.
Yes, nostalgia is intoxicating, but the gut usually knows the real truth.
Nebraska never really wanted Scott Frost.
Scott Frost never really wanted Nebraska.
Both talked themselves into what sounded right instead of what felt right.
And both paid for it.
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The healthiest thing both sides can do now is shut up about it and move on.
Email me at mbianchi@orlandosentinel.com. Hit me up on social media @BianchiWrites and listen to my new radio show “Game On” every weekday from 3 to 6 p.m. on FM 96.9, AM 740 and 969TheGame.com/listen
