Urban Meyer: Up in the Air

In what may have been the film of the decade, not just the film of the year, George Clooney plays the role of Ryan Bingham, a man who lives in the flight paths and airports that crisscross and dot America. His business is to fire the employees employers lack the guts to fire. In a way, he's a compassionate mercenary, an angel of death but with sympathy. When he reaches a destination, say in Detroit, the message he brings to individuals changes their lives and alters their "flight plans" from a destination based on one's credentials to one determined by one's ever present mortality. The film offers some grim views on life, such as, we're all headed for the same place and the empires and kingdoms we try and build on our way to death really do not hold weight. Ryan Bingham attempts to build an empire out of frequent flyer miles and privelaged status at hotels but, ultimately, he is alone with the plastic cards of his domain offering him very little in terms of comfort; the angel who cuts others loose from their jobs, leaving them as occupational and emotional vagabonds, is indeed the consumate vagabond himself, a man without family, or love.

At the end of the film, the systematic courtesies of the airline industry ring hollow, and Bingham must find a place in placelessness (word?); and the tale of the American worker that he has helped to unravel becomes the story of finding anything to get through these uncertain times. The testimonies at the end of the film, by the unemployed, make it appear that the bonds of the family are where most will find their strength to endure, offering a very modernist undertone to the film's message on how to survive.

I saw Up in the Air yesterday with my family. When we got home, my Dad and I were shocked to hear of Urban Meyer's resignation, especially since his resignation is a result of health concerns. The fact that Meyer was hospitalized with chest pains after the SEC championship game loss to Alabama makes the label of "concerns" for Meyer's health problems appear as a bit of an understatement. No one questions that being the head coach of a major college football program is a grueling endeavor, but men who are tied to a sport since their elementary school days seldom give up their empires easily. The fact that Meyer will walk away from his position at Florida after their Bowl game shows just how serious these chest pains were and are, and our thoughts and prayers go out to Urban Meyer and his family. Sudden changes and realizations about how fragile our lives are have a tendency to strip the ground from underneath our feet, leaving us "up in the air." Hopefully, for the sake of Meyer and his loved ones, he finds a place of comfort.

Harrowing jolts of reality cause Ryan Bingham to part ways with his hard-earned frequent flyer miles. He winds up giving them to his financially struggling sister and brother-in-law, played by Melanie Lynskey and Danny McBride, and the revelation that Urban Meyer will not continue as Florida's head coach must have several SEC coaches feeling as if they just received a donation of miles to travel from basement dwellers and runner-ups to SEC championship games and beyond--the sky's the limit now.

I do not mean for this point to sound like a celebration of Urban Meyer's departure. He leaves under a veil of circumstances that reminds all of us that our travel plans, our destinies, are in the hands of storms we can not see brewing and gears of a clock we can not hear ticking; we are, at times, victims of fates already written. Of course, Meyer's actions do not completely give in to determinism. He does have a choice, and he's made a rather refreshing and valient one, to focus on being the best father and husband possible, by stepping away from the game that has been his passion. The move did not have to be made for publicity reasons, a la Tiger Woods, but was made from a place of integrity. Urban Meyer has the respect of SEC fans, not only as a coach but as a man.

And the fact that his departure may have other coaches, like Mark Richt, Lane Kiffin, and Nick Saban, smiling is less a celebration of his bad fortune than it is a testament to how great of a coach he is. While the decade began under the dominance and surehandedness of Pete Carroll and Bob Stoops, it was Urban Meyer who soared through the skies, winning two championships, and shaking hands with the ghosts of coaches past. Now, the SEC has a chance to reshuffle the deck and begin anew.

Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. A good New Year. And get well, Coach Meyer.