On a crisp August morning in 2025, Lee Corso will step onto the College GameDay set for the last time. At 90, with a grin that’s warmed Saturday mornings since 1987, he’ll don a mascot headgear—one final, glorious pick—before slipping into retirement. Kentucky fans, gathered in living rooms and tailgates, will pause, their red solo cups tapping together, saluting the heart of college football. The man who made college football feel like family is retiring, and the game will never quite shine the same.
Corso’s voice wasn’t just a soundtrack to autumn Saturdays; it was a heartbeat. “My family and I will be forever indebted,” he said in a statement released by ESPN, his words soft but steady, “for the opportunity to be part of ESPN and College GameDay for nearly 40 years.” He spoke of friends, memories, and “unusual experiences,” but to fans, he was the friend—the uncle who’d wink before picking an underdog, the storyteller who made every game feel like a saga.
In Lexington, where Wildcats flags snap in the breeze, fans aren’t just mourning a broadcaster. They’re grieving the end of an era. You’d laugh, you’d yell at his picks, but you always listened. He made you feel like he was right there with you. Posts on X echo the sentiment, with Kentucky fans sharing photos of Corso in headgear—Buckeyes, Tigers, even a Wildcat once—each image a stitch in the tapestry of the South's most popular past time.
Reece Davis, his GameDay colleague, called him a trailblazer. “Lee showed us it was okay to laugh,” Davis said. Before Corso, college football coverage was starched, all Xs and Os. But Lee? He’d slip on a leprechaun hat, butcher a mascot’s name, and suddenly, the game felt human. He didn’t just break the mold; he tossed it out with a chuckle.
Stephen A. Smith put it plain: “Lee Corso is the soul of College GameDay.” Kirk Herbstreit, added, “You’ll be missed more than ya know.” They’re not alone. Since 1996, when Corso first plopped a mascot head on for his weekly pick, he’s been the guy who made Saturday mornings sacred. Kids grew up mimicking his “Not so fast!”; dads planned tailgates around his segments. In Kentucky, where football is a tailgate social, Corso was a bringer of joy.
His final bow comes August 30, 2025, just weeks after his 90th birthday on August 7. ESPN will no doubt roll out tributes, but for fans, the real goodbye is quieter. It’s the empty feeling when GameDay kicks off without him. It’s the memory of his picks, each one a tiny gift to a sport he loved. “I’ve got a treasure,” Corso said, and he’s right. But so do we.
Lee didn’t just cover football, he made you feel like you were part of it. That’s the magic Kentucky fans will carry, long after the headgear’s packed away. Lee Corso wasn’t just college football’s heart—he was its home.