So we now live in a world where party clowns feel unsafe in their environment, their schlocky schtick no longer protecting them from those mean street toughs on college campuses.
My god, what has happened to Pat McAfee?
Who took the one guy who didn’t give a flip what anybody said about him — and made tens of millions of dollars, and built a cult following doing it — and stuffed him a middle school gym locker?
If it weren’t so utterly ridiculous, I’d swear it were part of his act. Only it’s not — it’s now part of his unraveling.
Full disclosure: I love McAfee. Loved him as a player at West Virginia, loved him with the Indianapolis Colts when he didn’t back down to anyone during the five seconds of terror on kickoff and punt team. As the punter and kicker.
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Now he’s backing down to young men and women who hurt his feelings with a video released on the University of Utah official X page. A video showing — in the horror of horrors — young men and women attempting McAfee impersonations.
One college student — again, a college student — did the unthinkable, calling McAfee a corny, shirt-ripping clown. Well, McAfee wasn’t happy, and took to his daily ESPN show earlier this week to voice his displeasure.
ESPN broadcaster Pat McAfee looks on before a game between Philadelphia Eagles and Chicago Bears on Sept. 28 at Soldier Field in Chicago.
He says he was in the process of executing a three-hour “infomercial” for Utah on the set of "College GameDay", one that no doubt would’ve been more picturesque than the slopes in Park City. He’s The Show, people — not the now deeply-flawed sport of college football.
Hell, he’s holding it all together for us. And this is how the students at the U treat him?
Now, I know this is going to shock you, but the University of Utah responded by apologizing to McAfee. Surely out of an abundance of caution, and in these trying times.
Comical, no doubt. But when you’ve become larger than the entertainment network that produces your act, when they’ve banked everything on said act, things may get a little sideways from time to time.
There’s clearly space for a party clown at ESPN. Big money space.
But you can’t cry when you’re the clown. Your entire being, your worth, is the funny guy. The fall guy.
You’re the clown.
Either lean into it, or skulk away. Either embrace all that comes with it, or give way for the next clown in the ESPN barrel.
McAfee is a smart guy, he knows this. He built and cultivated an impregnable persona in a handful of years, forcing ESPN to name him Lee Corso’s successor on the popular Saturday pregame show.
Utah owner Ryan Smith and ESPN personality Pat McAfee watch a game against the New Orleans Pelicans on Oct. 23 at Delta Center in Salt Lake City.
He was so good at it, and had become such can’t-miss TV, ESPN threw him on NFL coverage, too. Dance, party clown, dance!
He has been so unique, his act so rare and engaging, he somehow survived two threats of massive legal action for comments he made on his show. Two significant missteps that led to public apologies and undisclosed settlements.
He has spent more than $6 million of his own money to fund a weekly kicking contest on the GameDay set. His very public and generous philanthropy in that space is unrivaled.
That’s what made this public takedown of Utah so odd. You can’t bank $30 million annually from ESPN for playing the party clown, then complain about the mean college students who don’t like your act.
Or worse, compare dopey college kids essentially calling you a dork on camera, to the tragic assassination of Charlie Kirk by an unhinged loner.
“Has anything really scary happened at, like, a college gathering in the state of Utah recently?” McAfee said earlier this week during his daily show. “Do you think we should be amplifying reasons for why people hate my guts as a university?”
Pat, babe, take off your shirt and scream about your pick to win the big game. Strip to your undies and jump off a high dive in Coral Gables.
Run that clown show for everything it’s worth. It’s fun, it’s entertaining, it’s a glorious release from a whole lot of ugly in the real world.
But once you snap back at the crowd that feeds you, it’s over. The unraveling has begun.
And you’re never getting out of that middle school locker.
The CFP’s 13-member selection committee will convene at the Gaylord Texan Resort & Convention Center in Grapevine, Texas, to craft its first of six weekly rankings on Nov. 3.
