Dear Deion Sanders. When the season begins this is what you will do…
As the college football season prepares to kick off with all the energy, optimism, and controversy we’ve come to expect, one figure already looms large before the first snap is even taken—Deion “Coach Prime” Sanders.
Once a transcendent NFL Hall of Famer and now the headline-grabbing head coach of the Colorado Buffaloes, Sanders has captivated audiences over the past year with his unapologetic swagger, media dominance, and unrelenting brand of bravado. But as the new season begins, a growing segment of fans has a simple message for Coach Prime: sit down, take a breath, and let the team do the talking.
In a passionate open letter going viral across sports forums, one fan writes, “Don’t take your ass to the stadium. Don’t try to convince the coaches to let you hang out on the sidelines. Don’t post any trash talk or critiques of the management crew.” The message? Less showmanship, more football.
At the heart of the criticism is the concern that Deion’s larger-than-life presence—once a major boost to a struggling Colorado program—might now be eclipsing the growth and autonomy of the team itself. Sanders has brought attention, NIL deals, and high-profile transfers. But some argue it’s time to stop being the main event and start being a steady influence from a distance—especially when it comes to his sons on the team, particularly quarterback Shedeur Sanders.
The fan continues: “Leave your son alone and let him be his own man. Cut the damn fatherly umbilical cord already.” It’s a sentiment that resonates with many who feel Shedeur, talented in his own right, deserves the space to build his identity outside of his father’s looming shadow.
And then there’s the call to stay off social media—a plea for Sanders to curb his frequent online commentary. Whether he’s clapping back at critics, throwing shade at rivals, or posting motivational monologues, Sanders’ digital presence has become as talked about as his coaching strategies. For some, it’s become too much.
“Just sit your damn ass down in your Lazy Boy and just watch the damn game on your 96″ television,” the letter sarcastically urges—an exaggerated appeal that captures a deeper truth: fans want to see results on the field, not theatrics off it.
Of course, Sanders’ charisma, confidence, and “Prime Time” persona are part of what made him a cultural icon in the first place. And to his credit, he’s brought energy, recruitment success, and national visibility to a program that had long faded from serious discussion. But with great visibility comes greater scrutiny, and this season, fans want to see whether Colorado is more than just a media circus.
Ultimately, the message from fans like this one isn’t rooted in hate—it’s rooted in hope. Hope that a program with promise won’t collapse under the weight of ego. Hope that a great player-turned-coach will evolve into a mentor who can empower, not overshadow. Hope that Deion Sanders, in all his brilliance and boldness, can learn when to lead loudly and when to lead quietly.
As kickoff nears, all eyes will be on Boulder—not just to see what the Buffaloes can do, but to see whether Coach Prime can take a step back, trust his staff, and finally let the game—and his players—speak for themselves.
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