James Franklin’s Fall From Grace: Penn State’s Long-Overdue Reckoning

A record that lies
Franklin departs with a 104–45 record at Penn State, tying him for second in school history in wins. But that raw number masks fatal flaws. His teams chronically failed in marquee matchups: Franklin was 4–21 against Top 10 opponents. His Big Ten performance was uneven, and he rarely beat Ohio State or Michigan when they were relevant. In short: he padded his résumé with “safe” wins but stumbled when expectations peaked.

His record in big games was so poor that it morphed into a punch line. Yet Franklin never seemed to feel the sting — until now.

Privilege without consequences
Franklin’s exit comes with a $49-million buyout — the second-largest in college football. It’s a staggering figure for a coach whose final season collapsed so badly. That sum underscores how much Penn State bought into his narrative — and how much he got away with while delivering diminishing returns.

That buyout is a slap in the face to fans, students and faculty who saw their expectations betrayed. It’s also a testament to how coaches with halo reputations evade accountability until the failure becomes undeniable.

Ethics and character cracks
On the field, Franklin failed often in the spotlight. Off it, serious questions dogged him.
He refused to comment when two former players were charged with raping a 17-year-old student — an inaction that resonated as silence. He even walked away from a press conference rather than face questions about the case. That response falls well short of leadership when crises demand courage, not evasion.

A more damning episode came in court: a former Penn State team doctor accused Franklin of interfering in medical decisions about players. A jury awarded that doctor $5.25 million in damages. The claim, if true, shows a disregard for athlete welfare in pursuit of wins. That’s not toughness — it’s a failure of ethics.

These episodes paint Franklin not just as flawed, but as a figure who leveraged status instead of substance. He played the role of titan — until the house of cards collapsed.

He got what he deserved
A coach who markets himself as a visionary must bear the cost when vision collapses. Franklin’s failures were no longer tolerable. The losses came in the worst possible sequence: to Oregon in overtime, to winless UCLA, and finally to Northwestern — a game Penn State entered as a heavy favorite in front of its home crowd. That kind of collapse leaves no room for spin.

Penn State has long tolerated Franklin’s self-promoting rhetoric and selective accountability. But the moment his team executed poorly, and his leadership failed in crisis, is the moment institutions act. That moment came.

He wasn’t a victim of circumstance. He was a product of complacency — both his own and the university’s. Penn State can now finally move beyond a man who promised greatness, delivered mediocrity, and blamed everyone else when it crumbled.

Franklin didn’t just lose games. He lost the benefit of the doubt. And that’s a deficit no buyout can cover.