Everybody claims to love Colorado. But the second a former Buff opens his mouth with criticism, it turns into a loyalty test. The tension between Coach Prime’s staff and CU alumni highlights a growing divide. This is not passing internet chatter; it is coming from foundational players. This is Lawrence Vickers, one of the toughest Buffs fullbacks, sitting beside another alum, Matt McChesney, claiming the culture still feels incomplete. 

“I mess with what Prime got going on,” Lawrence Vickers said on Zero 2 Sixty Podcast. “I love it. I wouldn’t change it for nothing in the world. All I’m saying is, it’s a piece that’s missing. And the piece that’s missing is that open door policy for them to be able to touch, see, and understand what this s— meant to go here. And until you get there, it’s going to be a piece missing, bro.”

Vickers was frustrated that the former players who helped build Colorado had to fight for access in the first place. He also detailed how difficult it felt just trying to reconnect with the program.

“The door is open for m—ers who ain’t put one brick in there,” he continued. “We supposed to have our own door open. I used to have to come to Colorado, get all the players’ tickets, try to get in, but I had to do it… That shit was draining, bro. It was draining. That’s why I didn’t even come back… I wanted to go there and enjoy, but even go there and get s—t set up for us how it’s supposed to be, I had to bitch and complain, and I got tired of doing it, bro.”

When former players stop fighting to reconnect, eventually they stop showing up altogether. Vickers was a huge part of Colorado’s 2002 to 2005 football team before getting drafted by the Cleveland Browns in 2006. Older Buffs fans still remember his final season on September 3 when he bulldozed a Colorado State defender on fourth-and-goal in front of 54,972 people at Folsom Field. 

This is like building a village home with your own hands. Years later, you visit, hoping for a warm welcome. Instead, new guards demand a ticket at the gate. Vickers feels just like that. The older men who bled for this soil now feel like total strangers standing outside their own doors, watching new guests walk right in.

So when he says, “We built that $85 million complex,” he’s speaking like somebody who helped keep the brand alive before social media existed. Vickers is not alone in feeling this disconnect. Matt McChesney, who sat beside him on the podcast, experienced his own version of a closed door when trying to reconnect in an official coaching capacity. 

Long before Deion Sanders arrived, former Buffs coach Mike MacIntyre approached him about joining the strength staff back in 2015. Matt McChesney seriously considered it before ultimately staying committed to his training business, Six Zero Strength and Sports Performance. But he did make his loss obvious. 

“It’s hard to walk away from this because I’ve built it with my own two hands,” he said then. “But at the same time, my alma mater and coach MacIntyre giving me the opportunity to come up there is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do (turning it down). It’s harder than the decision when I retired after six years in the league… Maybe down the road, something can work out.”

That’s the important part. Despite turning down the offer then, he still maintained an open door. He never stopped wanting back in. But a decade later, the door closed on him. Under Deion Sanders, Matt McChesney reportedly tried twice to land an interview for Colorado’s offensive line coaching position. But it never happened.

“I do not regret trying to help my university when I think I can,” he said. “If the job opens again, I’ll try again. So, no, I’m not mad at all. I just love that place, and it’s the only place I would leave my own businesses for.”

That’s frustration from somebody who still desperately wants to belong to his old school. 

Matt McChesney gets bitter with Deion Sanders

That frustration exploded publicly after Deion Sanders took a jab at 247Sports during a press conference.

“247, they’re hiring everybody right now,” he joked. “They must be desperate.”

The comment might’ve sounded harmless in the room. But Matt McChesney, now tied to 247Sports through his Back in Black podcast, took it personally.

“I don’t think their recruiting is going very well,” he fired back. “As an alum and as an ex-Buff, they take it really personally because of the passion I have for that place that they don’t. Don’t throw shade like I’m a chump, like some of the guys you hired.”

Deion Sanders’ ally, Uncle Neely, jumped into the mess and publicly defended the Buffs head coach. He threw shade on Matt McChesney and asked where this energy was during Colorado’s 1-11 disaster years. The former Buff eventually sounded exhausted by it all.

“This is getting ridiculous, and I’m kinda over it,” he admitted. “I’m pretty secure on who I am as a man. If you weren’t talking about us and that’s the narrative you want to run with, then cool.”

But this tension was probably inevitable from the moment Deion Sanders arrived. Coach Prime runs a tight ship to limit distractions. His custom “Did I say you could come in?” doormat physically represents how strictly access is managed today. But for alumni like Vickers, protecting the program feels a lot like locking out the family.