‹ Back

 

Time’s Up, Coach: When the Zamboni Outperforms the Bench

 

It’s come to this: the clinking of the skate steel has grown louder than the pep talk, and the goal horn more reliable than the game plan. The decision has been made—good riddance to the era of coach Dane Jackson (and yes, I said good riddance, no petty euphemisms). Enough of the lip service, enough of the “we’ll get ’em next time” speeches, and most of all, enough of watching our hockey program perform like a car that won’t start on sub-zero mornings.

 

The Case for Firing

 

First, let’s review the evidence: When the players skate out of the dressing room, the assumption should be “here comes the game” not “here comes the same result.” But if the best we’ve been able to do on the bench is replicate mediocrity—and sprinkle in some creative excuses about “process” and “identity”—then the basement has begun to feel like home rather than a bad night out.

A school with the proud tradition of the North Dakota Fighting Hawks shouldn’t be content with average or “top three in the conference twelve of the last fifteen years”—comfortable middle-of-the-pack is not the goal. 

When your penalty kill is good but your offense is frolicking aimlessly like it’s on a ski holiday in April, you know something’s off.

If a coach’s mantra is “we have to modernize the program” and “we will out-work, out-compete, out-prepare” yet the scoreboard says otherwise, then please send someone upstairs with a mic so we can all hear the definition of “preparation.” Grand Forks Herald And if part of that modernization means hiring a General Manager to handle recruiting because you’ve realized you might not have been doing that well enough… well, maybe you should have started last decade. https://www.valleynewslive.com

 

The Firing as Theater

Make no mistake: the firing is as much spectacle as it is necessity. Athletic directors love a good reset. They love press releases with strong phrases: “a new direction,” “raising the bar,” “bringing back the tradition of winning.” And our dear coach Dane—who started as the loyal assistant for 19 years (!) before being elevated—gets the window cleaned, the fresh marker board, the new whistle. He’s got the name on the door and the 30-second introduction. 

But let’s be honest: it’s also a handy way to shift blame and say “we tried something different.” Even if the same faults remain—recruiting lapses, weak offense, disappointing tournament absences. You know you’re in trouble when your definition of progress is “not missing the tournament for three out of every five seasons.”

 

Why It Needed to Happen

    1.    Expectation vs. Execution – If you tell the fan base you’re going to win national championships and then your trophy case is… well, under renovation for five years running… then words deserve the silent treatment.
    2.    Recruiting momentum – When kids touring the campus whisper “they used to win those green banners” with a little sigh, you know nostalgia can’t carry the team into next season.
    3.    Fan patience expired – At some point the concession stand becomes a comfort zone for disappointment. The fans don’t just want better—they expect better.
    4.    Signal to the program – You want the message sent loud and clear: “If you don’t perform, there’s a replacement waiting.” Not a glum threat, but a reality.

 

The “But…” Section (Because They Always Have It)

“But he was loyal… he built the penalty kill… he’s a former player…” Yes, yes, and yes. All of which makes him the perfect candidate for the assistant role. The time for being nice and nostalgic is gone. In the brutal business of college hockey, even the nicest guy with the best intentions counts for nothing if his team can’t win.

And let’s not pretend tradition alone wins games. A coach’s past as a player or as a longtime staffer is only valuable if he converts that into championships. A rousing pep talk doesn’t count unless it leads to wins.

 

Final Word

 

So here we are. The decision is made: fire the coach (or don’t renew him, or reassign him—whatever the official term might be) and pull the curtain on comfort and complacency. A program that once prided itself on being elite can’t keep playing like the underdog. It’s time for fresh energy, new ideas, and a coach who doesn’t just say they’ll modernize but actually does.

Coach Jackson, thank you for your years of service. But your tenure at the helm ends now because in college hockey, “good enough” is the same as “not good,” and “almost” is a painful euphemism. The puck’s dropped, the clock’s running, and the next generation needs someone who knows the schedule doesn’t care about your legacy—it only cares about results.

If we’re lucky, this ends up looking like the moment when the program turned a corner. If we’re not… well, you’ll hear about it in another satirical column next year.