GSG
Assistant Coach
Is Nebraska football too far gone, even for Scott Frost?
SCOTT FROST DROPS back at the 30-yard line in Memorial Stadium. It's hot outside -- late September hasn't surrendered yet to fall temperatures in Lincoln, Nebraska -- and though it's climbing into the 80s by 10 this morning, Frost has opted for a long-sleeved black T-shirt to go with his black gym shorts and backward red Nebraska hat. He steps back, whips to face the right sideline, then fires a bullet in the direction of a wide receiver. Dem Franchize Boyz blares from speakers -- Lean wit it, rock wit it -- and, oh right, this isn't 1997 at all.
Frost does this on Fridays, jumps into the fray of actual drills. Even from far away on the sideline, it's easy to catch that black shirt straining, easy to catch that Frost still lifts weights and does things like traverse the Grand Canyon to keep in playing shape. Which is why the Huskers' former quarterback and 44-year-old current head coach is able to tangle with freshman Myles Farmer on a kickoff, and sprint to the line of scrimmage to raise his right arm back like he's a defensive end refining his swim move, and charge at No. 99, pulling up just short of tackling him to the ground.
Frost is the redeemer come to rescue Nebraska from itself -- the (literal) prodigal son returning home; the wunderkind unleashing the prowess that turned his previous charges at Central Florida from winless to undefeated in two years' time. There's a perfect storm of gauzy nostalgia and modern-day hype, and Frost lives in its epicenter. That's why this 2019 season, with its blowout losses and alarming regression -- from the quarterback to the team's ability to even feign competitiveness with the Big Ten's best -- feels like something worse, more foreboding, than merely a lost year.
"I think he feels the weight of the thing," Osborne says.