When I sat inside CC's Smokehouse in the middle of November as a fill-in radio host for the Clint Conque Coaches Show, the feelings of optimism in the Stephen F. Austin football program's direction hadn't escaped me.
I was positioned across from the namesake of the show, a couple days before a blowout loss in the season finale at Northwestern State. I lobbed softball questions—it was his show, after all—and visited with both coordinators, Jeff Byrd and Gary Crowton, on the air.
We neared the end of the last week in another lost season and fans were probably more interested in the basketball team's bout with an NAIA team across town—but the mood was upbeat.
Mine too. Despite the growing "Fire Conque" movement, I knew where the program really was, I thought.
My well documented defense of former head coach Clint Conque was difficult to justify sometimes. Under his leadership, the Lumberjacks hadn't enjoyed a winning season since his debut season in Nacogdoches. SFA wasn't terrible—in the minds of fans, they were something worse, perhaps: mediocre.
But, like the Houston Astros went from laughing stock of the American League to World Series champions with a little bit of foundation, a dramatic youth movement, and lots of talent development, the foresight Conque had for the SFA program kept me believing.
His vision was specific, measureable, and real.
"All I can do is show you what we're trying to build," he told me before the 2016 season. "I've always believed that if you do it the right way, the results will follow."
And show me he did. The relationship I had with the Lumberjacks former leader was the kind sports writers dream of. Our conversations—whether in the bowels of Gerald J. Ford Stadium at SMU, his office past the north endzone of Homer Bryce Stadium, a little corner at the Southland Conference media days, a bench outside the field house, and even a practice field, once, where his son was finishing a final workout before jumping on a plane to join the New York Jets—ranged from football to life in general.
Nothing was off limits in those talks. Occasionally, "off the record" was firmly planted before an answer, but Conque believed if someone could see below the surface into the true character of his team—the good and the bad—they'd walk away believing in what he was constructing. He asked in return only that I tell his team's story.
For three years, I did.
For three years, I knew I would get the unfiltered truth, even in the lowest moments.
"Knowing what you know now about the state of the program," I asked him once after a particularly gutting loss, "do you still take this job?"
"I do," he said without hesitation. "I needed a new challenge and I know where we're headed."
Even when he felt it necessary to dismiss Crowton, his former mentor, he still made time to talk to me about it.
I always pushed for details. Most of the time, I got them.
Most. The only text I sent to Conque left unanswered was the last. It was one, on June 18th of this year, where I asked if there was anything he could tell me about what led to his suspension. It was the day his run in Nacogdoches ended.
Whether the youth movement he orchestrated over the past years proves successful or not, it will happen sans Conque and the vindication he craved from fans.
And Jeff Byrd, a veteran defensive coordinator, "just a country boy from Mississippi," as he introduced himself during a live broadcast of our Purple Lights Podcast last summer, a humble character whose hire last year was certainly one of the bright spots of the Conque era, will enter a tumultuous 2018 season as the new flag bearer for its product.
The lone carryover, whose quiet demeanor inexplicably commands respect, may just be the perfect candidate to lead this group through this inarguably difficult period.
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If he manages to find the kind of success in 2018 that eluded his predecessor, the interim head coach may remove the asterisk from his title and keep the ship headed in the same direction.
If he crashes and burns, few will blame him. No team is prepared for the kind of late turnover forced upon this squad.
But if the latter outcome becomes reality, the growing pains of a rebuilding program these past years should be considered the new normal for at least a few more. To say a lot is riding on 2018 would be a colossal understatement.
Between a wide open league and a host of talented young players on SFA's roster who have been waiting years for this coming-of-age season, there is more than enough reason to still believe. But as Lumberjacks football enters fall camp, uncertainty is the only thing certain.
That evening in CC's, a short eight months ago, now feels like an eternity past. "He really outkicked his coverage, didn't he?" Conque asked my football-oblivious wife of me when he met her that night ("he thinks you're hotter than me," I translated for her later).
The smiling and laughing that night, in spite of a difficult season, has long since faded. Of the three leaders of the program present, only Byrd remains today.
But the lone carryover, whose quiet demeanor inexplicably commands respect, may just be the perfect candidate to lead this group through this inarguably difficult period.
The Lumberjacks are probably a few bad losses away from blowing up the whole thing and starting over. With new athletic director Ryan Ivey leading the charge, they may even be closer to the reset button than that.
"We're going to have a football team we can be proud of," Ivey told me during an evening phone call last month. "We're going to find a great coach."
But, depending on what happens over the next few months, that button may still not be pressed.
"Who knows?" Ivey continued. "It might be Jeff Byrd."
