Mariucci's style didn't mesh with rebuilding Lions

	Steve Mariucci's teachings failed to reach his young team in Detroit. Simon Bruty/SI

Of all the times I've watched Steve Mariucci strolling the sidelines as an NFL head coach, I've never seen him look bleaker than he did in the waning moments of the Detroit Lions' 27-7 Thanksgiving Day loss to Atlanta. His eyes scanned the turf as if searching for answers buried deep beneath the rubberized carpet on Ford Field. His shoulders sagged and he continually ran his fingers through his thick mane of black hair. Mariucci didn't merely look defeated as the Falcons ran through his squad. The man seemed tired.

It took four days for the Lions to finally fire Mariucci after that debacle, but he certainly sensed his tenure with the organization was over that afternoon. Even worse, he knew his failings in Detroit carried far more weight than those of any other coach who has tried to turn the Lions into winners. Mariucci wasn't an outsider. He had grown up in Michigan and enjoyed a celebrity status in his Upper Peninsula hometown of Iron Mountain. Even though he rooted for the Green Bay Packers as a child, he knew plenty of people who lived and died with the Lions' long-running misery. He wanted to change that.

Mariucci acknowledged as much when I first talked to him after he got the Lions job in 2003. There's a deep sense of hometown pride in the man and it's coupled with his optimistic belief that dreams really do come true if you work hard enough. In this case, Mariucci wanted to elevate the Lions in the same way his dear childhood friend, Tom Izzo, revived a mediocre Michigan State basketball program a few years back. It would all be in storybook fashion. The two homegrown buddies, working nearly an hour away from each other, one in college, one in the pros, and each winning in the same way they had throughout their lives -- with hard work, high spirits and hopeful fans believing in them every step of the way.

What we now realize is that Mariucci -- despite having coached Hall of Famers in San Francisco and having led the 49ers to four playoff appearances in six seasons -- was painfully overmatched. As badly as he wanted to change the Lions, he eventually learned that it's a nearly impossible task. There is something septic about this franchise, a gnarly force that exposes the flaws of the most high-minded individuals and rarely gives fans reason to appreciate their finer qualities. With Mariucci, we discovered that being a nice guy didn't pay in Detroit, at least not with this team.