SAN DIEGO — Bo Pelini had just checked off another responsibility on his lengthy to-do list — giving a talk to local high school football coaches after Nebraska’s practice — when he got the news from an affable scribe.
“Hey, did you hear about Urban Meyer?’’
“Yeah, I heard that yesterday,’’ Pelini said. “Too bad, huh?’’
“No. I mean, today. Meyer is just taking a leave of absence. He’s going to be back next year.’’
Pelini was not surprised. If anything, he immediately understood.
“I know Urban, and I think he’s a good guy and a good family man,’’ Pelini said. “Forget football at that point. I figured there was something medically going on. I just wish him well. I hope he comes back. He’s good for college football. He has great integrity. He’s the total package as far as I’m concerned.
“I think he just looked at the commitment he has to his other family, his players, the school. It’s hard to walk away from all that.’’
Talk about miracles of modern medicine. In a madcap, upside-down 24 hours, Meyer went from a burned-out, broken-down coach with health problems to a suddenly rejuvenated coach who promises to do all those lifestyle changes he meant to do a long time ago.
Should we be surprised? No. College coaching, at the highest level, is an addiction. The stress, nonstop hours and demands are just part of the rush.
Should a 45-year-old husband and father get off the merry-go-round to save his life? Absolutely. But when it comes to coaching, you can’t expect these junkies to quit cold turkey.
Most of these cowboys would rather die with their boots on than quit. Bobby Bowden would have, if they had let him.
But this is no country for old coaches anymore. The guys like Bowden and Tom Osborne — the three- and four-decade guys — are going to be a thing of the past. Joe Paterno? He’s a miracle. Who knows how to explain that, except to say you won’t ever see an 80-year-old coach on the sidelines again.
Today’s game is as fast and furious off the field as it is on it. Today’s elite coach isn’t in it for the parade at the end. He’s here to go as long and hard and as fast as he can until he falls face first, either on the sideline or in a booster buffet line.
As Meyer looked in the mirror the last few days, every coach from Palo Alto to Coral Gables was doing the same. And that included the two fireballs here at the Holiday Bowl named Pelini and Mike Stoops, Arizona’s coach.
“I don’t think people realize sometimes what we do and the amount of hours and the stress and the emotional stress it causes you,’’ Pelini said. “But it’s part of the deal. Everybody’s wired a little bit differently. Everybody deals with it a little bit differently. You have to have balance.
“You have to find a way to handle it and keep it all in perspective. The sun will always come up tomorrow. Sometimes it’s hard to realize that. You get caught up in things. Coaches are competitive people, and they wear their emotions on their sleeve all the time.’’
Exactly. Meyer has won two national championships and makes millions each year. If that’s a stressful situation, sign us all up.
But they sign up for a lot of other stuff along the way, too. That doesn’t mean we should feel sorry for them. But we understand when they hit a wall. Actually we are amazed they don’t hit it more often.
“We’ve all been through it as coaches, with the way we’re scrutinized as coaches at this level and the amount of money that is out there,’’ Mike Stoops said. “That’s something that we all struggle with, finding the right balance for you, your team, your family and your alumni. You try to be a lot of different things to a lot of different people, and you can really wear down if you don’t watch it.
“Sometimes that becomes overwhelming for coaches to enjoy a normal life. To go out and eat dinner with your kids and not have people come up to you 24-7 and respect your time and your family. That’s what we all struggle with. We enjoy the financial gains, some of the luxuries that come with it. But there’s a lot of other stuff that comes with it as well.’’
Pelini certainly fits the Meyer profile. Driven. Intense. Tightly wound as a Swiss watch. Is Pelini headed for this kind of story one day? He says it’s all about perspective. While he can’t make many of his kids’ games, he tries to get to practices. He also arranges his schedule to come home for dinner and go back to work after the kids are in bed.
“My number one job is to be a husband and a father,’’ Pelini said. “You have to find time to get away from it, to spend time with your kids. I’m very involved in my kids’ lives and my wife. That’s number one. If it ever goes the other way, I’d be the first to do what Urban did and walk away.’’
A year ago, on the eve of his second national championship, Meyer said, “I’ll be shocked if I’m still doing this in 10 years.’’ He already knew he was on the clock, given the job. Pelini isn’t thinking about hitting the wall. The way he goes, he would probably just crash right through it.
“I’ve never really thought about it,’’ Pelini said. “I enjoy what I’m doing, and I’m committed to it. When I’m not enjoying it any more, I’ll be the first to say it’s time to walk away.’’
And probably the first to come back. Or, the second.
Contact the writer:
444-1025, tom.shatel@owh.com
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