Bold statement: The future of BYU football—and Kalani Sitake’s legacy—may be reshaped by a single decision made in the middle of a badly broken college football calendar.
This is supposed to be one of the most thrilling weeks in BYU football history, with the program preparing for a game that carries real College Football Playoff stakes. Instead of all eyes being locked on the field, the conversation in Provo has veered in a very different direction. And this is the part most people miss: the drama is not just about one coach, but about how the entire system is structured.
A huge game, a bigger distraction
Multiple national reports now indicate that Kalani Sitake has risen to the top of Penn State’s coaching wish list, making him their leading candidate to take over the program. In response to the growing speculation, Sitake tried to redirect attention back to the field, emphasizing that his focus is on winning the Big 12 championship and keeping his players locked in on football rather than noise. His message is clear: he wants the narrative to be about competition, not contract drama.
Yet the distractions are everywhere and impossible to fully tune out. Instead of simply enjoying an 11–1 season, a top-15 ranking, and a head coach who has elevated BYU into consistent national relevance, the BYU community—fans, donors, and administrators alike—is now wrestling with the possibility that Penn State is aggressively trying to lure Sitake away. What should have been a week of celebration has turned into a week of anxiety.
A broken college football calendar
The uncomfortable truth: the timing of all this chaos exposes a deeper structural issue in college football—the calendar simply doesn’t work. Championship weekend arrives just as the early signing period looms on December 3, creating a tight and chaotic window. In those few days, schools are not only preparing for season-defining games but also firing and hiring coaches, restructuring contracts, and scrambling to secure recruits.
Teams that should be fully focused on game plans and execution are simultaneously consumed by high-stakes contract negotiations, staff decisions, and recruiting urgency. Meanwhile, their opponents might be operating under far less off-field pressure, giving them a competitive advantage. But here’s where it gets controversial: the system practically encourages off-field turmoil at the exact moment on-field performance matters most.
Recent history has already shown how damaging this can be. In a previous season, for example, a coach pursuing a College Football Playoff berth at Ole Miss accepted the LSU job before the end of the campaign, taking much of his offensive staff with him. That move forced the CFP committee to evaluate a team whose coaching structure had been disrupted right before the final rankings. The problem wasn’t just the decision to move—it was the timing that the current system pushed onto everyone involved.
Even voices outside college football see the dysfunction. Hall of Fame basketball coach Rick Pitino recently pointed out how strange it is that football coaches are leaving potential championship teams before the season is truly finished, questioning why the sport’s employment calendar clashes so dramatically with its competitive calendar. His perspective mirrors what many BYU fans are feeling now: the schedule for hiring and firing coaches is completely out of sync with when games that define legacies are actually being played.
Sitake’s position: a professional in a flawed system
In all of this, one important point can easily get lost: Kalani Sitake is doing exactly what any experienced professional in his position would do. In a high-stakes, results-driven industry, he has a responsibility to listen to overtures, assess opportunities, and negotiate terms that are fair for himself, his staff, and his players’ NIL environment. No serious head coach at this level would simply ignore those conversations.
Sitake has also chosen to be transparent with his players as the rumors swirl and the speculation intensifies. He has acknowledged that, in an era where social media amplifies every report, he cannot just pretend the noise does not exist, and he views the attention as a sign that the program is performing well. That level of openness can help maintain trust in the locker room, even while uncertainty hangs over the program.
Historically, Sitake has spoken passionately about wanting to be the “Polynesian LaVell Edwards,” a long-term figurehead and culture builder at BYU. Engaging in discussions with Penn State does not necessarily contradict that vision. Loyalty in college football does not mean refusing to talk when the market comes calling; it means balancing long-term commitment with fair treatment and honest evaluation of one’s situation.
An elite record that naturally attracts offers
Sitake’s record since 2020 makes it obvious why other programs are interested. Over that span, his seasonal results have included campaigns of 11–1, 10–3, 8–5, 5–7, 11–2, and 11–1. Taken together, that adds up to a 56–19 overall mark, which translates to a winning percentage of roughly 74.7%. That figure ranks among the very best across all FBS head coaches during that stretch.
Coaches who win at that level do not quietly stay off the market; they attract attention and offers as a matter of course. Fielding calls, exploring possibilities, and negotiating better terms are not acts of betrayal—they are standard professional behavior in big-time college football. Even a BYU legend like LaVell Edwards fielded outside interest and took meetings while still building his legacy in Provo.
What is “fair market value” for Sitake?
At the heart of the current debate lies a deceptively simple but crucial question: what exactly counts as fair market value for a coach like Kalani Sitake? BYU must decide how to quantify the value of a coach who has produced multiple top-20 finishes, successfully led the program into the Big 12, maintained one of the top winning percentages in the country, and positioned BYU on the doorstep of the College Football Playoff.
There are several possible benchmarks. Should BYU aim to pay Sitake at least the average salary of Big 12 head coaches? Should the standard instead be the average for all head coaches across the so-called Power Four conferences? Or should the bar be set by the programs that regularly finish in the top 20 nationally, since that is the neighborhood BYU wants to inhabit?
Recent publicly available salary data suggests that the average head coach compensation across the Power Four (SEC, Big Ten, Big 12, ACC, plus Notre Dame) sits in the ballpark of about $7.6 million per year. That figure does not dictate what BYU must pay, but it does provide context for what the marketplace looks like for coaches who are consistently winning at a high level and flirting with playoff contention. But here’s where opinions will diverge: should a private, religiously affiliated school like BYU match that kind of spending, or define its own lane?
Because BYU is a private institution, specific contract numbers and fine-print details are not publicly disclosed, and might never be. That secrecy makes outside evaluation difficult. Still, the timeline of events suggests that, especially at BYU, coaches often need leverage—and sometimes real competing offers—to fully clarify their market value and push negotiations forward.
The 2024 extension: what we know and what we don’t
After the 2024 season, BYU announced a long-term extension for Sitake. That move came on the heels of a year in which he earned AFCA Region 4 Coach of the Year recognition and was a national award finalist after steering BYU to a 10–2 regular-season record and a share of the Big 12 title chase. The new deal was built on top of his prior contract, which already ran through 2027, signaling the school’s desire to keep him in Provo.
However, key aspects of that extension remain murky. It is unclear whether it included a significant pay bump, additional staff resources, or enhanced NIL backing for his roster. Historically, BYU has shied away from contracts longer than five years, so it is possible that the extension only stretches into the 2029–30 range rather than establishing a truly long-term, decade-long commitment.
From Sitake’s perspective, it would make sense if he is now pushing for financial security and structural support that more closely match his program’s performance. That could mean a longer contract, perhaps eight to ten years, and a defined path to stay involved in the athletic department in an administrative capacity after his coaching career, similar to arrangements enjoyed by other long-tenured coaches at peer institutions. Should BYU have anticipated this and acted earlier?
Could BYU have moved sooner?
Another fair question centers on timing: did BYU wait too long to be aggressive in securing Sitake’s future? As he guided the team into Big 12 championship and playoff contention, perhaps the athletic department could have proactively locked him in with a stronger commitment before outside interest reached a fever pitch.
Other schools provide examples of a more preemptive approach. During the season, Indiana announced a massive eight-year, $93 million contract for coach Curt Cignetti in mid-October, choosing to solidify their leadership well before postseason leverage could shift the dynamics. They opted to act during the grind of the schedule rather than after the dust settled.
BYU might have pursued a similar strategy—extending Sitake or unveiling a public show of support and investment earlier in the year. Doing so could have shaped the narrative, calmed speculation, and reduced the external pressure now pressing in from Penn State and the broader coaching carousel. Do you think BYU misplayed the timing, or is it reasonable for them to move at a slower, more deliberate pace?
Basketball vs. football: a growing contrast
There is also another layer to this story that many fans are talking about: the apparent difference between how BYU supports basketball versus football. BYU men’s basketball seems to operate with a budget and NIL infrastructure that track closely with other top-25 programs. The department moved quickly to modernize, invest heavily, and build a model capable of immediate success.
That investment includes a large, NBA-style support staff, which in turn helps attract future professional-level talent and keep existing stars in Provo through strong NIL opportunities. The results have shown up in improved performance and a perception that basketball is being empowered to compete at the highest levels.
Football, however—the sport often described internally as the engine that “drives the ship”—may not be receiving the same degree of backing. Kevin Young’s basketball contract only underscores this perceived imbalance. In 2024, BYU reportedly offered Young a deal worth roughly $30 million over seven years, averaging about $4.3 million annually, and later extended him again following a 26–10 season and a strong showing in Big 12 play.
If BYU is willing to invest at that level in basketball, a natural question emerges: if the basketball coach is making north of $4 million per year, what should the head coach of BYU football earn? Football generates the bulk of athletic department revenue and provides national visibility that few other sports can match on a consistent basis. A reasonable standard, many would argue, is that the football coach should be paid meaningfully more than the basketball coach and positioned near the Power Four average if BYU genuinely wants to retain elite coaching talent.
Why would Sitake leave his dream job?
On paper, BYU is the job Kalani Sitake dreamed of, and he has said so many times. So why would he even consider leaving? Several explanations come into play, and some of them might be uncomfortable for BYU fans to think about.
First, there is the competitive drive. Sitake may feel that he has pushed BYU close to its ceiling under current circumstances and could be intrigued by the challenge of leading a program with different resources, recruiting base, and national profile. Highly competitive coaches often crave the next mountain to climb.
Second, there is the possibility of a “generational” financial offer. Another school might present a package so life-changing that it secures the future of his family for decades. In that scenario, criticizing a coach for taking care of his loved ones becomes difficult to justify. How many people in any profession would turn down that kind of opportunity?
Third, he could be feeling constrained or undervalued by the institution itself. If Sitake believes he does not have the autonomy, support, or respect necessary to fully execute his vision for the program, that frustration could gradually outweigh even a deep emotional connection to BYU. For someone who prioritizes relationships and synergy, feeling undermined can be particularly painful.
Those who have interacted with Sitake often describe him as deeply people-centered, someone who values human connection and collaboration above all else. If it were only about chasing the biggest paycheck, many believe he would have left already. From that viewpoint, what he seems to be seeking is respect that matches what the basketball program has been given—robust resources, specialized staffing, and the freedom to build.
Life after Sitake: what if he goes?
If Sitake ultimately accepts the Penn State job, BYU would immediately launch one of the most consequential coaching searches in school history. The choices made in that moment could define the next decade of Cougar football. But here’s where it gets controversial: would BYU use his departure as a wake-up call to fully invest, or would it double down on a more conservative model?
Potential candidates, at least on paper, could include several familiar and intriguing names:
- Jay Hill, the current assistant head coach and defensive coordinator
- Kelly Poppinga, who oversees special teams
- Jason Beck, a rising offensive coordinator with strong BYU connections
- Bronco Mendenhall, the former BYU head coach now at Utah State
- Kellen Moore, currently serving as an NFL head coach with the New Orleans Saints
- Ken Niumatololo, a proven program builder who may be nearing the later stages of his career
The stakes rise even higher if Sitake leaves and brings a significant portion of his staff and player core with him to Penn State. In the modern era of the transfer portal and NIL, it is increasingly common for coaches to bring loyal assistants and key players along when they change jobs. BYU would then be tasked not only with replacing a head coach but also with rebuilding a substantial chunk of its roster and infrastructure.
The real issue: BYU’s willingness to compete
When all the noise is stripped away, the core of this situation is less about Penn State’s pursuit of Sitake and more about BYU’s willingness—or reluctance—to compete in the current landscape. Is the school prepared to invest in football at the level that Sitake believes is necessary to consistently operate as a top-25 program? Or will it draw a line and accept a more modest competitive ceiling?
Over the past day, two very different storylines have emerged from well-connected sources. One is a hopeful scenario: Sitake has met with BYU leadership, and they have reached a tentative agreement that still needs approval from upper campus and the board of trustees. Under this plan, Sitake would be entrenched as the long-term face of BYU football, with enough support to continue competing near the top of the sport.
The other story paints a far more troubling picture. Penn State, with its vast resources, is confident that it can not only hire Sitake but also give him the financial backing, staffing budgets, and NIL ammunition to recruit and retain elite talent on a national scale. In that version of events, BYU simply cannot match what is on the table, and it is only a matter of time before Sitake signs and moves on.
So here’s the big question for you: should BYU stretch to match big-time offers and fully empower Sitake to build what he envisions, or should the school hold firm to its own financial and cultural boundaries, even if that means losing a coach who calls this his dream job? Do you believe BYU is doing right by Kalani Sitake, or do you think the program is risking its future by not stepping up more aggressively? Share your take—agree or disagree—in the comments, because this is a debate that will shape how BYU football is defined for years to come.
