Before last Sunday, there was exactly one Colorado State coach I could name without googling. (And the only reason Jay Norvell occupies space in my brain is because his stance on sunglasses conflicts with Deion Sanders’.) But then the Rams nearly upset Maryland in the second round of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, leading for most of the game before the referees temporarily suspended the rules to allow those smug turtles to escape extinction.

Apart from Derik Queen’s obvious travel leading up to his winning shot, the takeaway from the thriller (according to the experts in my group chats) was how the Rams had salvaged what had otherwise been an uncharacteristically boring March Madness. Sure, there had been spoilers. Yes, there were close contests. But CSU-Maryland produced the lone buzzer-beater of the opening weekend of the tournament. And for that reason, suddenly everyone knew the CSU basketball coach’s name: Niko Medved.

Except when I googled Medved the next day, I discovered distressing news: Medved was leaving for the University of Minnesota, which evidently also has a basketball team. (I had to look that up, too.)

Medved grew up near the Twin Cities, went to school at Minnesota, his father has season tickets to the games—we get it. Hometown boy makes good. But though it may seem like a fairytale ending to Medved’s Cinderella run, I can’t help but think the coach made a huge mistake.

Listen, I’m not here to rip Minnesota, which I’m sure is a lovely place—though its winters are insufferable and its contribution to American culture died in 2016 with Prince. (Robert Zimmerman may have hailed from Duluth, but Bob Dylan, according to Timothée Chalamet, was born in New York City.) I only seek to caution Medved about what history tells us is a rocky road ahead.

Take, for instance, Tim Miles—maybe CSU’s first successful basketball coach. In 2012, he led the Rams to their first NCAA Tournament appearance in a decade before jumping ship for the top job at Nebraska, which, like Minnesota, has a history of irrelevance in the Big Ten. After seven pretty mediocre seasons playing second fiddle to a bad football team, Miles was fired. (On the bright side, he was still rich.) Miles is now coaching San Jose State, where he’s 53-80 in four seasons.

CSU’s most accomplished football coach of recent memory shared a similar fate. Jim McElwain capped his three-year run with the Rams with a 10-2 record in 2014 that scored him an offer from Florida—where he would eventually receive death threats (or maybe not). Either way, he was fired midway through the 2017 season. Around the same time, he was connected to an incident with a shark, and blah blah blah, now he’s retired from the gridiron.

No sharks swim in Lake Superior and, in real life, Minnesotans are far too polite to toss anyone into a woodchipper. But Medved also has more to lose than his predecessors by leaving Fort Collins. Whereas Miles and McElwain peaked only at the end of their tenures, Medved built a sustainable winner, reaching the NCAA Tournament in three of the past four seasons.

I understand that there are benefits to moving home (like being closer to your family), but there are also drawbacks (like being closer to your family). But Medved could have reaped far greater rewards by staying in Fort Collins and attempting to turn a program that’s just happy to make it to March into one that expects to partake in the madness every year.

That challenge now falls to Ali Farokhmanesh, a name I do not need to google. Medved’s successor at CSU played at the University of Northern Iowa, where he hit a couple of game-winners, including this dagger against top-seed Kansas in the 2010 NCAA Tournament. The kid (he was born in 1988) understands the power of small-school magic; maybe that’s enough to compel him to, if successful, follow the Sonny Lubick path to everlasting glory.

Lubick won six conference titles in 15 years as the Rams head football coach. Today, his name is on CSU’s field, a bronze (and, OK, kinda nightmare-inducing) statue, and a steakhouse! Farokhmanesh could someday bask in similar deification—or at least see his name splashed across Moby Arena. Meanwhile, Niko Medved will only be remembered as the guy who almost sneaked into the Sweet Sixteen that one time.