Did Fisch Misread the Room? Or is Williams' Departure a Universal Sign of the Times?

By Stalin

In the gray drizzle of a Seattle winter, Jedd Fisch stands as the CEO of a revival—or so the story went. He'd arrived at Washington two years back, a wanderer from the NFL's polished sidelines and Arizona's sun-baked turnaround, to conduct triage to a program bleeding out.

The Huskies, reeling from Kalen DeBoer's bolt to Alabama, needed a steady hand, a man who could judge character amid the chaos of NIL deals and transfer portals that have turned college football into a mercenary bazaar. Fisch, with his car salesman smile and obvious sharp mind, seemed that man to many. He'd flipped Arizona from 1-11 despair to 10-3 glory in three seasons, proving he could take Arizona to the top!

At Washington, a 6-7 debut in 2024 gave way to a 9-4 rebound in 2025. This progress movement was centered upon Demond Williams Jr., the lightning-fast quarterback from Chandler, Arizona, Fisch's prized recruit.

But it was January 6, 2026, when the bombshell dropped—not with a press conference roar, but a quiet Instagram graphic, timed oddly during a Sunday memorial service, as if to underscore the betrayal's sting. "After much thought and prayer," Williams wrote, "I will be entering the transfer portal."

Just days earlier, he'd inked a lucrative extension to stay at UW, a deal brokered in the shadows of agents and boosters, binding him to the purple and gold for his upcoming junior year. Now, with a do-not-contact tag slapped on—signaling a prearranged escape, perhaps to LSU or another powerhouse—the move reeked of fractured trust. Washington brass began mulling legal challenges, but the damage was done. Fisch, the supposed master builder CEO, had lost his cornerstone.

This wasn't just a roster hit; it cracked the facade of Fisch's judgment. He'd wooed Williams with visions of legacy, drawing on his own Arizona roots, promising stability in a program Fisch had inherited decimated. Yet here was the kid, ink still drying on a new contract, bolting after two seasons. It begs the question: Did Fisch misread the room?

In the NIL era, where loyalty is a commodity, Fisch's persuasion skills—honed in NFL war rooms with Belichick and Harbaugh—seemed well-suited to ambitious young men with dreams of getting to The League.

Fisch's defenders point to his resilience, the way he patched a UW roster gutted by departures.

But Williams' exit raises doubt: Can Fisch truly succeed here, in the Big Ten's big-time arena, if he can't hold onto the prized talent he courts? Judgment isn't just X's and O's; it's reading souls, forging bonds that endure the portal's siren call.

In Seattle's misty fog of January, the 2026 season looms in the distance. With it are many questions left unanswered, and the portal's void echoing like a dropped Jaydon Mickens pass in an empty Husky Stadium.