LOUISVILLE, Ky. (WDRB) -- Indiana drubbed Illinois 63-10 over the weekend and its coach showed up Monday sounding like somebody had stolen his lawnmower.
Curt Cignetti is a man at war with human nature. Here’s how this goes in 2025: You knock off the No. 9 team in the country, then post the receipts and dox all the doubters. Cignetti? He’s breaking down why you can’t play Tampa 2 with a safety lined up in Gary when he’s supposed to be in Muncie.
He’s the guy who finds five “egregious busts” in a secondary that allowed 10 points. And says if it doesn’t get fixed, “We’ll get fractured.” He doesn’t mean emotionally. He means down the seam, with a wideout waving goodbye like he’s hailing a cab.
It’s not that he’s ungrateful. It’s just that Curt Cignetti doesn’t coach the scoreboard. He coaches the tape.
“You can’t put that stuff on film,” he said Monday.
Translation: Forget the score, if I see sloppy play on the video, I’m going to be ticked.
There’s a tired storyline in college football about “handling success.” Nick Saban talks about “rat poison.” In basketball, Rick Pitino used to say, “praise is poison." It’s a part of the game – and a challenge Cignetti faced faster than anyone thought he would in Bloomington.
He scribbled ATTACK on his hand before the game Saturday. Maybe he should’ve written “BURY.” His team scored seven straight touchdowns against Illinois, ruined a 53-year high ranking for the Illini, and racked up 534 yards.
They vaulted to No. 11 in the polls. A year ago, Indiana would’ve started to print T-shirts. And a year ago, looking to build buzz around his program, Cignetti would’ve let them. But this season is about sustaining success, not establishing it. This is not Intro to Winning. It's Advanced Culture 201.
So, Cignetti is over here talking about how his H-backs did not block a soul in the second half. And how Iowa won’t beat itself, so his guys had best not celebrate like they’ve seen the mountain when all they’ve really done is buy a pair of hiking boots.
If you want to know what Cignetti respects, listen to how he talks about Iowa.
“They’ve been running basically the same defense for a long time,” he said, admiringly. “… But the thing about Iowa in general, they will not beat themselves. You will have to beat them. They're not going to beat themselves and they play really well at home.”
You’d think Kirk Ferentz invented oxygen the way Cignetti reveres him. Not because he’s flashy, but because he’s consistent.
He values that. Cignetti doesn’t want Indiana to be a blip on a poll. He wants them to be a problem on your schedule every week.
That’s why he’s allergic to his own headlines.
A lot of coaches say they don’t read press clippings. Cignetti acts like they’re printed in invisible ink.
“We just need guys to do what they’re supposed to do,” he said.
He could’ve talked about Fernando Mendoza going 21-of-23. He could’ve expounded on the success of the RPOs, or the 281 all-purpose yards by committee.
But this season is a subtle shift. Cignetti doesn’t need you to Google him anymore. You’re not going to hear him campaign. You will hear him complain. But it doesn't land like coach-speak. Here’s why. A lot of coaches say these things when their teams have success. If you look at Cignetti’s teams, they have believed him.
It’s not about what he is saying. It’s about what he is showing.
Reporters asked him Monday what was up with “ATTACK” being written on his hand, and what three names or words he had written under it?
“It’s a secret,” he said.
But the message is not a secret at all. Attack. Repair. Refocus. Repeat.
If that message hits home at Indiana, it could be another heady season.
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