Matt Hayes

They unveiled the recent stadium expansion at South Carolina last week, a shiny new addition with a fancy weight room, meeting rooms and — for the first time — a place to prominently display the program's trophies and tradition. 

That case, as you might expect, doesn't take up too much space.

Want to know why Steve Spurrier is back in college football but at the opposite end from where he left? Look at that trophy case. Want to know why one of football's best coaches walked away from $5 million per year in the NFL to live in a hotel in Columbia, S.C., for the past 2 1/2 months while trying to convince 17-year-old kids that 100 years of futility doesn't mean the next four will follow suit? Look at that trophy case.

"They haven't done much here," Spurrier says. "That doesn't mean it can't change."

It wasn't that long ago that Spurrier and his wife, Jerri, were sitting in their living room in Virginia. Snow was falling, and reality was chasing it. He was uncertain about his future for the first time since 1979, when new Georgia Tech coach Bill Curry decided — in what has to be one of the more boneheaded personnel decisions — not to retain a young quarterbacks coach named Spurrier.

To this day, that single event, that fear of failure, drives Spurrier. It drove that moment last winter in Virginia, too.

"We looked at each other and said, 'What are we doing?' " Jerri says. "He's found that fire again."

In South Carolina, of all places. And it just doesn't look right. What made Spurrier who he was as head coach at Florida, his alma mater, was his loyalty to and passion for the school. Think of the most obnoxious, fanatical fan, and then give him the best offensive mind in the game and set him loose. No wonder he won so many games.

But now he's selling South Carolina, which in the body of work that is college football is somewhere near the armpit. No tradition, no history, just — as former coach Lou Holtz said — a culture of losing. In other words, the perfect place to rebound after flopping in the NFL.

"I admit it — it beat me down," Spurrier says of his two years with the Redskins. "I did a lousy job. I was embarrassed for myself the way I attempted to coach. And I won't do it again, I can assure you of that."

Coaching in the NFL isn't about taking chances; it's about playing percentages. It isn't about motivating players to perform beyond expectations; it's about baby-sitting and massaging egos. It is, more than anything, everything Spurrier isn't.

That's why he has that pep in his step again for the first time in three years. Why, for the first time in just about ever, he's bragging about a recruiting class that is ranked among the top 25 in the nation. The lowest point of humility, it seems, is the first step toward rejuvenation.

He used money earmarked for his salary to lure and hire an impressive staff, which includes four former Division I-A defensive coordinators, and has been motivated by South Carolina's rabid fan base and the university's unwavering commitment to football. The new weight room is for football only, and the 70-yard indoor training facility is as impressive as any in the nation.

Spurrier is humble and reserved, a long throw from his days at Florida. He doesn't have a quarterback yet, and he's talking about his offensive line and renewed commitment from talented tailback Demetris Summers. Says the Gamecocks might just be a running team.

Then the subject of Tim Frisby, South Carolina's 39-year-old walk-on receiver, is mentioned. The same walk-on wonder who schmoozed with Jay Leno and David Letterman, yet barely sniffed the field.

"We're going to get him a catch this year," Spurrier says with an I-know-something-you-don't look.

Thank goodness there's room in that trophy case.

They're going to need it.