"We're going to do the same things, and we're going to do them better."
That was Brian Ferentz's complete message at Thursday's news conference, when asked what Iowa plans to do differently this season, after consecutive seasons mired near the bottom of not only the Big Ten, but FBS football in most offensive production categories.
That prolonged lack of offensive production (in)famously contributed to Ferentz's updated contract terms as offensive coordinator, which set baseline team performance goals of 25 points per game and 7 wins to keep his contract with Iowa from terminating.
"We have a tried and true method," said Ferentz. "We know how we win, we know who we are. My job's to make sure we play to those strengths."
Obviously, an offensive coordinator ought to be projecting confidence, especially in the middle of April. Plus — rightly or wrongly — Ferentz's contract terms have effectively turned this season into a referendum on the Iowa offensive system as a whole, all while college football lurches toward the spread to such a degree that even Wisconsin will be going Air Raid in 2023 and beyond. It would serve little to no purpose for Ferentz to feed into that referendum.
And yet... either there's a lot Brian Ferentz isn't telling us about the offense — possible — or 2023's going to feel awfully familiar.
First, some potentially unsatisfying truths. Iowa's frequent offensive ineptitude in 2022 was heavily rooted in personnel problems. Owing to a series of short- and long-term injuries to the unit, the Iowa offensive line was mostly manned by guys who were not prepared for the challenge. And in the event of a breakdown up front, starting quarterback Spencer Petras was not equipped to successfully improvise his way out of danger. Both were readily self-evident throughout last season.
Thus, a more experienced (and healthier) offensive line and a quarterback with Cade McNamara's footwork will, by themselves, make Iowa's offense (and, presumably, its coordinator) look smarter simply by reducing the amount of broken plays and other disastrous outcomes.
Presuming, of course, that both parties deliver on that opportunity come fall.
That all said: Iowa's situational tendencies on offense are jarringly predictable, and have been for years. For example, Iowa never threw the ball on 2nd and 1 in 2022 — a situation that even the greenest of TV color commentators know means "the whole playbook is open."
The Kirk Ferentz program model may come down to teaching execution above all else, but that execution is a whole lot easier when defenders need another half-second to figure out where the point of attack is.
On top of that, Thursday's appearance might just have been little more than Brian Ferentz being inscrutably coy. When questioned on player statements about changes to the offense, Ferentz only danced with the subject long enough to put it back in the bucket of Things Staying The Same:
"Our job as an offensive staff is to get together every year and tweak the things that we do, and figure out how to do the things that we do better. I don't know if there's been any notable changes — if that's what the players think, that's super, that's great. We're just trying to move the football and win games."
In other words, some of the changes to the offense that Iowa fans want to see might just be wrapped up in what Ferentz calls "trying to move the football and win games."
Or... they might not.
Though Brian Ferentz also provided numerous interesting updates on personnel during the press conference, the commitment to keeping fans in the dark on the coaching side was undeniable.
Ferentz capped that commitment perfectly near the end of his appearance, when a reporter asked for a message to fans running out of patience, and Ferentz simply responded, "I don't have a message to them."
Non-message received, Hawkeye fans.
Now, the scenario certainly exists where Brian Ferentz is perfectly justified in his steadfastness, where everything the current offense needs to succeed is already at his fingertips, and all of this drama and attention dissipates before the Big Ten season kicks into gear.
Few, either in the Kinnick stands or on its sidelines, would be disappointed by that outcome.
Maybe there's a scenario where Ferentz already knows — or at least expects — that this is the end of his line, too. Maybe it even is regardless of whether the benchmarks get met. Eleven years is a long time in one job in college football, usually. As Ferentz said Thursday, "if this is my last year being offensive coordinator of Iowa football, I'm at peace with that."
Hopefully he's right about that part, too. Regret can be a lonely road to walk.
As it stands, Brian Ferentz has pushed all his chips in on the Iowa Way, for better or worse. If the system's not the problem, this season is his last, best chance to prove it.
