Poor Greg McMackin. He just can't win.

Not talking about football games. He can win those, though none recently.

But the man himself has been just about set up for failure. He is in the middle of an incredible confluence of situational pressures, exacerbated by his own foibles and limitations. You gotta feel for the guy. Junk to be him (though the money is good).

Many fell in love with McMackin on the rebound after June Jones left so abruptly. Hearts were broken, promises were made. Like a rebound romance, it wasn't so much who McMackin was, just that he was close by and willing. All those dreams for the future were pinned to his round shoulders. He was a surrogate June, a June Junior, a man who stayed when others left. Then one day, Hawai'i woke up, rolled over and went, "Whoa! Who is this guy?"

Poor thing. All he's ever been is himself. That used to be good enough. Not anymore.
To make matters worse, Coach Mack is responsible for the one entity that can lift up the hearts of the entire state no matter how badly people are suffering. Jobs have been lost, companies have folded, people are taking pay cuts and losing benefits and are terrified about their children's future but if the Warriors had a winning season, it would be a miracle salve on all those wounds. It would be the greatest escape from our troubles, a beacon on which to focus hopes. UH football has that moon landing effect on the collective conscience of these islands. Hoo boy, pressure.
And now here he is, a guy who cries more than Oprah, walking a shaky rope bridge with alligators beneath him, fire behind him, arrows being shot at his head and the tethers starting to fray. Worst of all are the people cheering for him to fall. His future is the topic of conversation in all quarters, as if it's a reality show and he's about to be voted off the island. Some of the same people who applauded his hiring are now calling for his head. The bags under his eyes are getting baggier every day.
But here's where he truly can't win: Even if the Warriors won every game this season, there would still be rumblings around town about his hefty salary. While teachers are taking furloughs and university faculty are up in arms about budget cuts, McMackin agreed to a 7 percent salary cut and he's still making more than $900,000. Being the highest-paid state employee when the state is more than $1 billion dollars in the hole is a lonely place to be.