The task set before the football coaches of the Big 12 was simple.
Each coach had to sit at a desk and field questions from journalists at the conference’s media days in July.
Most of them were softball questions: “How do you feel about your team going into fall practice?” or “You have a really good linebacker, do you not?” You know — nothing the millionaires couldn’t handle.
But what the coaches didn’t know is that they were each being tested. Every answer, the subtle physical language they displayed and even their choice of attire for the day was scrutinized. It was a personality test that revealed the most — and least — impressive coaches.
They say a college football coach is the single most important determinant of whether a program will be successful or not. So, which school’s coach had the winning personality? Who would be the most convincing in a recruit’s living room? What did their “performance” say about the present and future of their respective programs?
From worst to first:
WORST: Mike Sherman, Texas A&M (The older, burlier Bill Callahan)
Stop me if you’ve heard this before: A former NFL coach with a background in offensive line play takes over a tradition-rich school and throws away the school’s option-based offense in favor of the West Coast. He then fails miserably in his first year at the helm. Sherman and former Nebraska coach Bill Callahan both excused their first-year failings on “transition” and employ a mentality better suited for the professional ranks.
It got me thinking: What did Callahan have to say during his media day session before his second year at Nebraska? Well, he said the word “transition” a lot — five times in fact. Sherman used or was asked about the word “transition” seven times in July. Both Callahan and Sherman tried to fit a square peg into a round hole during their first year back in college. Given Callahan’s failures, this does not bode well for Aggie fans.
11: Dan Hawkins, Colorado (The overly excited jock)
The Colorado coach loves excellence.
“If you’re not a high-standard guy, you’re a low-standard guy,” Hawkins said.
When he said those words, it reminded me of Ricky Bobby’s famous motto: “If you’re not first, you’re last.” And then I thought of his father’s take on it: “That doesn’t make any sense at all. You can be second, third, fourth. Hell, you can even be fifth.”
Hawkins might want to heed Mr. Bobby’s advice because the Buffaloes aren’t finishing in first place this season. Still, Hawkins remains a hopeless optimist — albeit an overly excited and somewhat childish one. Hawkins’ high-energy tactics were perfect when he was trying to resurrect Boise State out of nothing a few years ago, but it’s the Big 12. This ain’t intramurals, brotha.
10. Bill Snyder, Kansas State (The grandpa)
The frail, soft-spoken senior citizen is like a lot of other old people: He doesn’t like technology.
“I’m a hard-copy guy because I keep losing stuff,” Snyder said.
“I’m a little slower than most,” Snyder said. “It takes me longer to do stuff.”
While Snyder did his best to downplay the importance of his age, the 69-year-old won’t be able to defy the odds this time. Snyder spent countless late nights in his office and adhered to a strict schedule when he turned around the Wildcat program the first time around. A similar effort would be required to return the Wildcats to relevancy in today’s loaded Big 12, but the hands of time are against Snyder.
9. Gary Pinkel, Missouri (The boring businessman)
The only thing missing was a briefcase — or perhaps a PowerPoint.
Pinkel came to the microphone wearing a black business suit, a professional watch and a bland, business haircut to match. There was no joy in his slow, monotone delivery. He tried to make jokes. When asked about Kansas State, Pinkel said, “I wish Bill Snyder would have stayed retired.” (crickets)
Pinkel’s opening statement became background noise — like the fan in your bedroom. You forget that it’s there, but it continues on, buzzing away in your subconscious. Pinkel did lighten up a bit in the one-on-one interview session, and his jokes got better. But the message was still the same.
“I run a company,” Pinkel said.
8. Mike Gundy, Oklahoma State (The car salesman)
I found myself wanting to believe Gundy, but I just didn’t trust him.
He talked with a certain amount of eloquence on topics such as the tie-breaker system in the Big 12 South division and how far away the North is. He was downright charming a nd witty at times. When asked who he thought was a better quarterback, Sam Bradford or Colt McCoy, Gundy said, “It doesn’t matter to me. I have to play them both.”
As I laughed, I asked myself: Is this really the same guy who went on that famous tirade about his gender and age? Then I looked at his shoes. They were as shiny as his hair gel. His pants were gray with white pinstripes, and his tie was a magenta color you could pick out from across the conference room. I didn’t trust that color, and I began looking at him with a more critical eye.
The problem with Gundy is that he’s too cardboard-cutout worthy. He looks the part, and he talks it, too. I began to realize that Gundy is the college football equivalent of a car salesman. He tells you everything you want to hear as a high school kid. I can almost hear him in some living room in Texas: “Come to Oklahoma State, where we don’t play any defense just so you’ll have more chances to run our fun ‘n’ gun offense. What do you say? Hey, tell you what, I’ll even throw in this full-ride scholarship free of charge if you just sign right now.”
But don’t be fooled by his clever gimmicks. I’m not buying what Gundy’s selling.
7. Paul Rhoads, Iowa State (The player’s coach)
Rhoads wore what he described as a “real Jeremiah Johnson-like mountain hat” to his first meeting with members of the 2009 Iowa State football team. He was referring to the 1972 movie “Jeremiah Johnson,” where the actor Robert Redford wore a furry hat with an animal tail hanging from it.
Rhoad’s effort to be a likeable, yet stern force in Ames is paying off. The players say they are just happy to be playing for someone that wants to be there now. And Rhoads certainly isn’t taking his job lightly. He was the loudest and most passionate of all the coaches, and he reminded me of what I imagine current Nebraska linebackers coach Mike Ekeler will be like in a decade or so: fiery and fun to play for.
6. Art Briles, Baylor (The jester)
He was in a professional setting, answering serious questions in front of a live Internet audience, but when Briles saw a reporter he recognized, he couldn’t help himself.
“How are you doing, Dwayne? I haven’t seen you in awhile,” Briles said. “You’re conservatively dressed today for your standards. You usually throw a little silk at me.”
Briles is funny, yes, but don’t confuse him with a pushover. The Baylor coach can talk about a serious issue, make interesting points on the issue and then drive home those points with a little humor. Skills such as those can’t hurt on the recruiting trail when you’re selling a place with a history of losing like Baylor.
5. Mark Mangino, Kansas (The mildly jolly, Italian fat guy)
You have to see Mangino up close to truly appreciate his cartoonish quality. Sure, his size has been well-documented, but I was more interested in the squeaky inflections in his voice. And his mustache reminded me of the Nintendo character Wario.
Mangino loses some points as a coach for his appearance because I can imagine some recruits find it hard to take him seriously. But I think those high school kids are ill-served by judging this book by its cover. Mangino is an impressive football mind, who appeared able to swap the spit with any reporter worth his or her salt. Cornhusker fans would appreciate Mangino’s coaching philosophy — which preaches a tough, Midwest mentality to the Jayhawks — if they weren’t so busy rooting against their rival.
4. Mike Leach, Texas Tech (The stand-up comic)
When Leach stood up after fielding the last question, he noticed the next one of his peers making his way to the podium.
“Ladies and gentleman, Coach Hawkins,” Leach said, extending his arm toward the Colorado coach. Hawkins gave a sheepish, embarrassed grin. Advantage: Leach. The Texas Tech coach continued on through the exits with a crowd of reporters following him as he went. I overheard a radio host near me say, “He’s the man. I love him.” He sounded just like someone who had just seen a great stand-up act.
Indeed, Leach had the crowd laughing almost as soon as he took the stage, but I found that his sense of humor is only matched by his intelligence. As Leach waxed poetic about his vision for a 64-team playoff, I could see why they call him the “mad scientist.” My only question is if more high-end recruits will start to take him seriously enough to spend four years of their lives in Lubbock, Texas?
3. Bo Pelini, Nebraska (The serious guy)
I found the most rewarding exercise of my trip to Arlington was to watch other coaches answer questions in length after Pelini would have nothing to do with such questions. “Coach, how do you feel you’re stacking up in the recruiting wars against the powers in the South?”
“I like the way we’ve recruited,” Pelini said. Period. No elaboration. I love that Pelini doesn’t. He’s straight-forward and simple—just how Nebraska fans like it.
2. Mack Brown, Texas (The nice guy)
When Brown’s session had ended, one wayward audio recorder was left at the table in front of him. Brown raised it in the air and yelled out to alert the room. It’s just one example of why Texas’ coach is just a plain-old, likeable guy.
The first reason you’ll like him is the way he’ll talk to you. He addressed every reporter by name, and his southern drawl has a smooth, calm quality about it that makes it inviting to listen to. It’s easy to see why so many recruits decide to play for Brown after he visits with them. But the one knock on the Texas coach over the years is that he’s too nice and doesn’t have what it takes to win the big one.
FIRST: Bob Stoops, Oklahoma (The celebrity)
More photographers could be seen shuffling up and down the aisles, and none of the writers dared to get up for a refill. All the side chatter stopped. Stoops was in the house.
There’s a commanding presence about Stoops in the way he talks and in his body language that makes reporters more afraid of him than other coaches. He’s quick to bite back (Note to self: You know that whole loss in the national championship thing? Yeah, still a sore subject for ol’ Stoopsy), but that’s a fitting trait for his straight-shooter personality. His quick answers and no-nonsense approach to the process were eerily similar to the way Nebraska coach Bo Pelini attacked media days. I wonder where he learned it from.
Kris Knowlton is a senior news-editorial journalism major. Reach him at krisknowlton@dailynebraskan.com
38 comments
I understand all the hate coming from all of you. But being jealous is normal when you see that you are going to have to get used to the Big Red steamrolling you again for decades to come...I have found that all 'haters' on message boards are usually supporters of terrible football programs...(for example: Missouri's best season in school history was getting waxed in the big 12 title game and not even making a BCS bowl.....nice season...haha) A season that would be a failure to a real football program
Bob Stoops: 0 National Chapmionships, 0 BCS wins, and a 1-3 record to Texas"Remember the 2000 national championship that OU won over Florida State, I believe that counts as a BCS/National Title game. Check facts before posting
Bob Stoops: 0 National Chapmionships, 0 BCS wins, and a 1-3 record to TexasWhat else can the man do...? If this article came out in 2003, you might have a point. But it's 2009. My suggestion to you sir is to stop being lazy.