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DULUTH — Jim Malosky never had to explain why. He didn’t run a democracy, didn’t waste time with player panels or wellness checks, and certainly didn’t care about your social media footprint. You ran the play. You made the block. And if you couldn’t? There was the door. No hard feelings. But don’t let it hit you on the way out.
That’s just how it was under Malosky — the legendary, no-nonsense leader who turned the University of Minnesota Duluth Bulldogs football program into a hard-nosed, blue-collar machine that bled discipline and spit gravel.

He coached here from 1958-1997. That’s four decades of barking orders and building men, not followers. He won 255 games, 9 NIC titles, and never once — I repeat, never once — had a losing season. Think about that. He was the winningest coach in NCAA Division II history at the time of his retirement, and he did it without NIL deals, transfer portals, or “Load Management Mondays.”
Before the whistle, before the headset, Malosky was a warhorse of a player himself — a quarterback at the University of Minnesota and a starter on the Gophers’ 1948 Big Ten championship team. Drafted by the New York Giants, he had the talent to play pro, but life tugged him toward coaching instead. Lucky us.

Malosky’s players — they were a different breed. Tougher than cheap steak, and proud of it. These were sons of northeastern Minnesota, grandsons of miners, kids who shoveled snow for breakfast and didn’t flinch when Mo grabbed their facemask and let ’em know exactly what he thought of a missed assignment.
A former player once told me, “Coach Malosky didn’t yell because he liked the sound of his voice. He yelled because we needed it.” And that was the gospel truth.
You wonder, though — what would Malosky make of today’s college football landscape?

Athletes now ask why. They want to collaborate. They want to understand their role, their reps, their brand alignment, and whether their coach follows them back on Instagram. They’re empowered, thoughtful, curious. And honestly? That’s not a bad thing. Today’s coaches have to be better communicators. They should explain the why. The days of barking orders and expecting blind obedience are long gone. For better or worse.
Then there’s the monster creeping in: NIL. Right now, it’s reshaping Division I, but don’t kid yourself — Division II won’t be far behind. When money changes hands, so does the power dynamic. Loyalty, development, and buy-in take a back seat to the almighty dollar. It’s hard to build a team when half your roster has one eye on the transfer portal and the other on their Venmo notifications.
Coach Mo loved his family, football, and UMD, and his players, former players, and fellow coaches loved him, said local sports authority Fred Friedman.
“But he was set in his ways and his play calling was predictable from the stands,” Friedman said. “For whatever reason, he always said hi to me in the hallways. It would be very difficult for him to adjust to today’s game of wide-open offense, national recruiting, far more assistant coaches, fundraising, and constant transferring. He was all about loyalty and current football, both players and coaches certainly are not.”
And still... I wonder.

I wonder if maybe we’ve thrown out a little too much of what made programs like Malosky’s great. The discipline. The clarity. The sacrifice. The understanding that you were part of something bigger than yourself. That team-first wasn’t just a slogan on the locker room wall — it was the oxygen you breathed.
I can’t say how Malosky would’ve adapted. He was smart, fiercely competitive, and cared deeply about his players — even if he didn’t show it in warm hugs and emoji texts. Maybe he would’ve learned to explain the why. Maybe not. But I know this: he would’ve still found a way to win. Because tough coaching still has its place, and young men still want to be challenged, led, and held to a standard.
“He pushed you like no one could – ask most who played for him,” said former Bulldogs lineman Scott Lyons of Duluth. “Do not give up. You can push yourself more than you think. Discover your potential. Nothing is easy. Your team (group) needs you. Help those that need it.

“His teaching and coaching might not work with kids today, but he had a knack for finding players who would overachieve. His athletic teachings helped us all in life. He helped many of us after graduating in our vocations.”
We’ve changed the game, sure. But that doesn’t mean we should forget the men who built it.
And Jim Malosky? He built it like a brick wall.
And then dared you to run through it.
