Compare Toledo's statement to KD's:

We have done some good things.
We are turning the corner.
I didn't believe it (beating SC) until the clock hit zero.
I want to thank Charlie Weis for the opportunity to play [that is, lose] at Notre Dame.
I forgot we had Manual White on the bench.

These are the utterances of a loser.

KD is the guy all other Pac 10 coaches want to remain at UCLA forever.

15 Reasons Mister Rogers Was the Best Neighbor Ever.
http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/5943?rss

Here is a sampling:

2. He Made Thieves Think Twice
According to a TV Guide piece on him, Fred Rogers drove a plain old Impala for years. One day, however, the car was stolen from the street near the TV station. When Rogers filed a police report, the story was picked up by every newspaper, radio and media outlet around town. Amazingly, within 48 hours the car was left in the exact spot where it was taken from, with an apology on the dashboard. It read, "If we'd known it was yours, we never would have taken it."

3. He Watched His Figure to the Pound!
In covering Rogers' daily routine (waking up at 5; praying for a few hours for all of his friends and family; studying; writing, making calls and reaching out to every fan who took the time to write him; going for a morning swim; getting on a scale; then really starting his day), writer Tom Junod explained that Mr. Rogers weighed in at exactly 143 pounds every day for the last 30 years of his life. He didn't smoke, didn't drink, didn't eat the flesh of any animals, and was extremely disciplined in his daily routine. And while I'm not sure if any of that was because he'd mostly grown up a chubby, single child, Junod points out that Rogers found beauty in the number 143. According to the piece, Rogers came "to see that number as a gift… because, as he says, "the number 143 means 'I love you.' It takes one letter to say 'I' and four letters to say 'love' and three letters to say 'you.' One hundred and forty-three."

4. He Saved Both Public Television and the VCR
Strange but true. When the government wanted to cut Public Television funds in 1969, the relatively unknown Mister Rogers went to Washington. Almost straight out of a Capra film, his 5-6 minute testimony on how TV had the potential to give kids hope and create more productive citizens was so simple but passionate that even the most gruff politicians were charmed. While the budget should have been cut, the funding instead jumped from $9 to $22 million. Rogers also spoke to Congress, and swayed senators into voting to allow VCR's to record television shows from the home. It was a cantankerous debate at the time, but his argument was that recording a program like his allowed working parents to sit down with their children and watch shows as a family.

6. He Was Genuinely Curious about Others
Mister Rogers was known as one of the toughest interviews because he'd often befriend reporters, asking them tons of questions, taking pictures of them, compiling an album for them at the end of their time together, and calling them after to check in on them and hear about their families. He wasn't concerned with himself, and genuinely loved hearing the life stories of others. Amazingly, it wasn't just with reporters. Once, on a fancy trip up to a PBS exec's house, he heard the limo driver was going to wait outside for 2 hours, so he insisted the driver come in and join them (which flustered the host). On the way back, Rogers sat up front, and when he learned that they were passing the driver's home on the way, he asked if they could stop in to meet his family. According to the driver, it was one of the best nights of his life—the house supposedly lit up when Rogers arrived, and he played jazz piano and bantered with them late into the night. Further, like with the reporters, Rogers sent him notes and kept in touch with the driver for the rest of his life.

12. He was a perfectionist, and disliked ad libbing. He felt he owed it to children to make sure every word on his show was thought out.

Sorry for the length and thanks for the opportunity to interrupt.

I don't think so.  I think this is a guy who's in the coaching club telling the rest of the guys in the coaching club that he can be fired and he will not have anything negative to say.  This means that any coach who hires him will never have to worry about anything negative when it's time to fire him.

The Mafia had a word for this -- "Omerta."

If Dohn or anyone else can show me that my thesis is incorrect, I'll change my opinion.  But until then, I think basically the same thing about statements from outgoing coaches as I do about people who leave an industry "to spend more time with the family."