The first thing you should know about Jason Candle walking into Storrs like a conquering hero is that we've seen this movie before. Oh, not this exact cut, but the same tired reboot where the hot Group of Five coach gets his big Power Five offer, gives a press conference that sounds like a ChatGPT generated TED Talk about culture, and pretends he wasn’t interviewing for other jobs while telling Toledo recruits last month he wasn’t going anywhere. College football’s coaching carousel doesn’t spin so much as it wobbles, drunk on its own recycled narratives, while the rest of us pretend not to notice the tire tracks on everyone’s dignity.

Let’s start with the emotional algebra here. UConn fans just rode two straight nine win seasons with Jim Mora, which in Storrs terms is like discovering Atlantis. Remember, this program hasn't sniffed relevance since Randy Edsall was sneaking out the back door to Maryland faster than a college kid avoiding a walk of shame. Those Mora years felt like adulthood finally arriving at a program that’s spent decades eating cereal for dinner in a basement apartment. Now Mora’s off to Fort Collins chasing whatever the coaching equivalent of a midlife crisis Porsche is, and Huskies faithful are told to swap their hard won stability for a Toledo lifer who’s never coached north of the Mason-Dixon line. This isn’t progress, it’s musical chairs with million dollar buyouts.

Which brings us to the rank hypocrisy dripping from this whole transaction. College programs preach loyalty like it's scripture, demanding players sit out transfer portal temptations while administrators conduct coaching searches with the subtlety of Tinder swipes. Candle spent a decade building Toledo into a MAC powerhouse, which in today’s college economy apparently qualifies him for exactly one thing, jumping ship before the infrastructure he built crumbles without him. Meanwhile, UConn athletic director David Benedict will sermonize about Candle’s character while knowing full well that in 24 months, if some Big 12 school waves a checkbook, the same guy will be preaching about new challenges right on cue. The system’s brokenness isn’t just accepted, it's monetized.

But look beyond the press conference platitudes about facilities and community, and you’ll find the real victims of this perpetual motion machine. The Toledo equipment managers and academic advisors who just lost the boss who hired them. The UConn linebacker who committed to Mora’s system and now must learn a new playbook drafted by strangers. The high school recruit in Ohio who believed Candle when he said they’d build something special in the Glass Bowl, only to watch his would be mentor bolt for a basketball school’s football program. This churn doesn’t build programs, it burns carbon copies of the same empty promises.

Make no mistake, I’m not saying Candle can’t coach. The man turned Toledo into a MAC terror with an offense that moves faster than a frat boy’s excuses after a parking ticket. His back to back league titles prove he can develop talent better than most. But let’s not pretend this is some coup for UConn. Hiring a MAC coach isn’t swinging for the fences, it’s bunting because you lost your bat. This is the same logic that makes people buy knockoff designer bags from street vendors, convincing themselves this time it’ll be different.

And what of Connecticut’s peculiar place in this ecosystem? The Huskies are the kid who keeps changing friend groups hoping one sticks. Independent after the AAC marriage imploded, clinging to football relevance through sheer force of Benedict’s will, scheduling like a desperate Uber driver taking every fare. Those two ACC wins Mora pulled off this season weren’t just victories, they were survival tactics in a landscape where brands eat orphans for breakfast. Now Candle gets to navigate this no man’s land while ADs from leagues that wouldn’t spit on UConn football if it were on fire lecture them about scheduling philosophy. The disrespect is baked in like bad stadium nachos.

Here’s what they won’t tell you at Monday’s introductory presser while flashing graphics about facilities upgrades and academic support. For every Urban Meyer jumping from Bowling Green to Utah to Florida, there are a dozen Tim Becks crashing out of Nebraska after getting promoted beyond their competency. The Trent Dilfers of the world winning high school championships make for cute Disney+ docs, but college football’s coaching pipeline leaks more oil than a ‘78 Pinto. UConn isn’t getting the next Nick Saban here, they’re getting a guy whose biggest selling point is that he hasn’t failed yet at this level, which isn’t a resume bullet so much as damning with faint praise.

Meanwhile, down in Toledo, they’ll dust off the same playbook that birthed Candle in the first place. The Rockets will promote some energetic coordinator or raid the MAC recycle bin for a retread looking to rehab his image. Rinse. Repeat. The system sustains itself precisely because no one disrupts it. Athletic directors fear making the bold hire, boosters demand immediate results, and coaches job hop faster than court jesters angling for a better castle. The only constant is fans buying season tickets praying this time will be different.

So where does that leave the Husky faithful heading into 2026? Cautiously optimistic like a kid testing bathwater with one toe. They’ll cling to Candle’s win percentage like a life raft, ignore his lack of New England recruiting ties, and pretend the roster won’t bleed transfers by spring practice. They’ll tailgate outside Pratt & Whitney Stadium chanting about conference realignment like it’s some imminent salvation, because belief is cheaper than therapy. And when the first inevitable loss comes, they’ll tweet hot takes like they always do, because sports fandom isn’t rational, it’s faith based performance art.

In the end, though, the real trap is mistaking movement for progress. Jason Candle isn’t the hero or villain here, he’s just the latest passenger boarding the express train to somewhere else. Until colleges stop treating coaches like disposable razors and players like ledger entries, the circus keeps touring. UConn bought another lottery ticket today. Here’s hoping they finally hit the jackpot before the payout window closes again.