**Ballad of the Utes’ Fall**

Kyle Whittingham, a coach so bold,
With tales of triumph often told,
He led the Utes through thick and thin,
With iron will and weathered grin.

But whispers stirred beneath the stands,
Of Kyle’s taste for leather pants—
Not his own, but those worn tight,
By women stepping through the night.

Recruiters paused and boosters frowned,
When fashion sense turned upside down.
“Focus, Kyle!” the headlines screamed,
“Your leather lust has gone extreme!”

Then came the fall, swift and grim,
A press release: *“We’re done with him.”*
The program shuddered, then it cracked,
As Whitt was sacked and honor lacked.

The Utes, once proud on Saturdays,
Now fumbled dreams in autumn haze.
The scoreboard mocked with cruel disdain,
Each loss a ghost of Whitt’s domain.

And fans would say with glassy glance,
“It all went wrong with leather pants.”
Thus legends die and programs bend—
When fashion meets a football end.