When Good Isn’t Enough
On James Franklin, Leadership Ceilings, and the Courage to Move On
By Bryan J. Kaus
I didn’t plan to care this much. But when the alert hit that James Franklin had been fired, it landed harder than I expected. Not because it wasn’t justified — it was — but because it confirmed a truth that never gets easier to face, whether on a field or in a boardroom:
A leader can build something meaningful… and still become the reason it can’t go any further.
That paradox is what too many people miss in moments like this. This isn’t about betrayal, failure, or disloyalty. It’s about reality. Leadership has a curve. And eventually, even strong leaders hit a ceiling.
What Franklin Built Was Real
Let’s be fair. James Franklin didn’t inherit a thriving powerhouse — he rebuilt one. He walked into the long shadow of sanctions and skepticism and brought Penn State back to national relevance. He brought energy, modern recruiting, and NFL stars like Saquon Barkley and Micah Parsons. We weren’t just “back”… we believed again.
People forget that in the anger. They shouldn’t.
Franklin’s tenure wasn’t a disaster. It was progress. But progress alone doesn’t guarantee permanence. And that’s where this turns into a leadership story, not just a football one.
Hope Turned Into a Ceiling
Just weeks ago, Penn State sat at No. 2. Playoff hopes weren’t dreams — they were expectations. And then, almost overnight, it fell apart.
Oregon hurt. UCLA stunned. Northwestern confirmed it: this wasn’t just a bad run. It was a pattern.
Penn State under Franklin became synonymous with one phrase: “Good — but not breakthrough.”
Big games? Almost. Playoff runs? Almost. Momentum? Almost.
And at some point in leadership, almost becomes evidence. Not of incompetence — but of limits.
When Experience Becomes Stasis
If you’ve ever carried the weight of leading something long enough, you know this moment:
The experience that once propelled you becomes the very thing holding you in place.
That’s the hardest leadership reckoning there is — when loyalty wrestles with trajectory. When respect collides with reality. When the leader who raised the floor can no longer raise the ceiling.
Franklin wasn’t losing control. He had simply stopped advancing.
Business Has Its Franklins Too
This isn’t just football. Corporate history is full of leaders who built well — then stayed beyond their optimal era.
When Leaders Stayed Too Long
Jeff Immelt — General Electric
He inherited one of the world’s strongest companies. But his misaligned bets and extended tenure weakened a legacy employer. Not from incompetence — but mis-timed persistence.
Bob Chapek — Disney
Operationally strong, but disconnected from the culture and creative heartbeat. Stakeholder trust eroded so deeply that Disney brought Bob Iger back. That’s not nostalgia — that’s governance.
Howard Schultz (Return Era) — Starbucks
A visionary founder whose own presence became a dependency. When an organization cannot evolve past one leader, it stops evolving at all.
When Renewal Saved the Enterprise
Satya Nadella — Microsoft
Succeeded Steve Ballmer and transformed a stagnant giant into a cloud, AI, and innovation powerhouse. A textbook case of evolution via leadership change.
Alan Mulally — Ford
An outsider with fresh vision who stabilized Ford without government bailout during the automotive crisis. Not because the prior leadership was bad — but because the moment demanded different.
These aren’t stories of failure. They are proof of a single principle:
What was built can be honored — and still no longer be enough.
The Myth of Family — And the Trap of Sentiment
Sports and companies love to call themselves “family.”
But here’s the problem: Families protect you. Boards hold you accountable.
When leaders say “we’re a family,” it’s often sincere. But when that sentiment is used to delay necessary change, it becomes dangerous. It suffocates evolution. It confuses loyalty with permanence.
Franklin wasn’t fired because people stopped caring. He was fired because caring wasn’t enough to carry us further.
Pat Kraft: How to End an Era Without Eroding It
Pat Kraft, Penn State’s athletic director, handled this with rare precision. In his press conference, he thanked Franklin for rebuilding the program, acknowledged his humanity, and then — without hesitation — made it clear: It was time to turn the page.
That’s leadership. It’s not always easy - but that is leadership. That’s what boards often fail to do — acting before decline becomes collapse. Ending well is just as important as building well. Franklin deserved respect. The program deserved renewal. Both can be true.
I’ve Seen These Decisions Up Close
I’ve been in those rooms — when a leader has clearly reached the limit of their arc, but silence wins because people are afraid to be the one to say it. I’ve seen organizations drift for years because no one had the courage to distinguish gratitude from trajectory.
The hardest call isn’t cutting the weak. It’s replacing the good or even the great — when the mission demands something new.
The Point Taken
Change is not betrayal.
Endings are not verdicts.
A leader’s value is not erased because their chapter closes.
Franklin gave Penn State relevance. He built something to be proud of. But what he built also revealed the wall he could not break through.
In leadership — real leadership — your duty is not to sentiment. It is to the future.
The greatest respect you can show a legacy is refusing to let it become a limit.
We can thank the past for getting us this far — for the foundation laid, the standards raised, the belief restored. And we can recognize that gratitude and renewal are not opposites. They’re partners in the same difficult truth: what carried us here may not carry us forward. That’s not failure. That’s evolution.
Penn State now moves forward. That’s not disloyalty. That’s stewardship.