http://www.collegefootballnews.com/2004/Columnists/MZ/IA_Saban.htm I was thinking the other day if Saban had staid at LSU he had an opportunity to affect hundreds of young men in a positive manner.
I'm pasting the article and bumping the thread: Saint Nick? Not in Baton Rouge It has to be too much for LSU football fans to contemplate. Here’s this guy named Nick. He had been revered in the Bayou for bringing a national championship to the Tigers in fairly short order, not to mention two SEC titles as well. In Cajun Country, Nick Saban was Saint Nick, for all intents and purposes. But then the bearer of gifts, on Christmas Day—if you can possibly believe it—chooses to bolt for the NFL and the Miami Dolphins, just when he had the chance to affirm himself as a college football and SEC icon. On Christmas Day, Saint Nick decided to stuff some coal into LSU’s stocking. This 2004 season had a pretty bad taste already, from the lousy offense to the lifeless September; the BCS controversy to the Cal-Texas flap; the Ty Willingham firing to the David Cutcliffe firing; the paucity of bowl teams to the brawl in the Palmetto State between Clemson and South Carolina. But now, after many coaches have been treated like garbage, it was a coach himself who—while not acting immorally or unethically—nevertheless dealt a blow to a community of fans and, worse, to the sport of college football. It’s not a happy day for any sport when one of its coaching giants leaves in a premature fashion. Nick Saban’s decision is premature—maybe not for Saban himself, who obviously sees the full control of the Dolphins’ operation as the right situation at the right time in his career, but certainly for LSU fans and college football in general. Along with USC’s Pete Carroll and Oklahoma’s Bob Stoops, Saban was one of the elite coaches in college football. Yes, guys like Kirk Ferentz (who, ironically, will be Saban’s final LSU coaching opponent in next week’s Capital One Bowl), Bill Snyder, and Frank Beamer have done particularly amazing jobs over an extended period of time at their schools, but what Saban did in Baton Rouge over the past four seasons was matched only by his competitors in Norman and Los Angeles. Saban enjoyed considerable excellence at the very highest level of competition, so much so that LSU was one of the few programs in America that stood a legitimate shot at being a long-term heavyweight over the next decade, the same way Florida State, Miami, Nebraska and Florida owned the sport for decade-long periods of time over the past 20 years. When you consider the exodus of seasoned, top-shelf talent from Auburn next season, it was hardly a stretch to think that in 2005, LSU could have begun to truly entrench itself as the colossus of the SEC West and a program that would rack up big numbers of SEC titles, with legit chances for additional national crowns on a virtually annual basis. Bob Stoops and Pete Carroll, based both on what they’ve done and what they seem likely to do in the next decade, have put themselves in position to be all-time college football legends, people talked about in the same sentence—in Norman and LA, respectively—as Bud Wilkinson and John McKay. Saban, it would be fair to say, had already eclipsed national championship coach Paul Dietzel and decorated coach Charlie McClendon as the most successful head coach in LSU history. Had he stayed in Baton Rouge for the long haul, the SEC legacy of Steve Spurrier would have been well within reach, and with a few lucky bounces over the next two decades, Saban could have had a chance to approach Bear Bryant’s level of accomplishment at Alabama. Saban had the kind of program, the kind of money, and the kind of stature where he could have become one of the ten most decorated, remembered and revered coaches in college football history. He could have been for LSU what Woody Hayes was for Ohio State, what Bo Schembechler was for Michigan, what Tom Osborne was for Nebraska, and what Bobby Bowden has been for Florida State. But he chose to work for Wayne Huizenga in a sad-sack soap opera of a franchise in South Florida. No, Saban didn’t do anything wrong in any moral or ethical sense. But in light of the fact that he had already had a few tours of duty in the NFL, one wonders why Saban would feel the need to go back to the pros when college football immortality was at his doorstep. Moreover, the fact that Saban’s contract became only more lucrative after the 2003 national championship season makes one wonder just how much he truly felt at home in Baton Rouge. If Saban was deeply satisfied at LSU, his Christmas Day decision indicates otherwise, and while that’s not a violation of any legal provision or moral code, it’s nevertheless a pretty big smack in the face, a stern rebuke, to the LSU fan base and college football. Yes, the pros—in any sport—are supposed to represent the highest challenge, and to a certain extent, that will always be true. But when will coaches begin to value quality of life? I’m waiting for the time when there will be a sea-change in our coaching culture, a deeply-rooted shift in philosophy and priority that will begin to lead football coaches down a different path, where the stability and excellence offered by the college game—being appreciated where you are, and being the best where you are—will count for more than the chance to coach in the pros. Nick Saban wants the power and the money, and in this materialist culture of ours (which is never more evident than at Christmas; it’s therefore incredibly fitting Saban made this choice on Christmas Day), we’re conditioned to applaud this kind of a move, saying “more power to him.” But look at what Saban’s former SEC foe (and newly-returned SEC coach) Steve Spurrier experienced with the Washington Redskins: instead of having the ultimate X-and-O challenge, Florida’s former coach was undone in DC primarily because he couldn’t manage egos, and because he was dumb (or naïve?) enough to expect professional athletes to act professionally at all times, without any threat of sanction or penalty from himself or any other member of the coaching staff. Furthermore, in a league where the tightness of hashmarks instantly homogenizes offenses, and where defensive players crave any respite from pounding they can get, Spurrier often had to run the ball with the Redskins for the simple purpose of keeping his defense happy. The experience of pro ball was so fully set against the exercise of real football creativity that Spurrier walked away from $15 million Dan Snyder dollars to preserve his sanity and eventually return to the game where he was successful, comfortable, and spiritually at home: SEC college football. Nick Saban can do whatever he wants, but on the pure merits of his decision, I fail to see why going 10-6 and winning a wild card playoff game in one of the next five seasons in Miami will give Saban more pleasure than winning four SEC titles and another national crown at LSU, with Tiger Nation going berserk and elevating Saint Nick to an outright deity. Oh, for the day when college coaching giants will stay at their school and relish—get this!—adulation, the affirmation of their own legend, and tremendous annual success, losing only some money and institutional power in the process. In college football, the rewards gained by the greats should outstrip the thrills of the challenge and money posed by the NFL. Nick Saban loudly disagrees, and it’s his right to do so. But that doesn’t make his decision smart, and it doesn’t help college football one bit—not after a season dominated by negativity just got a little more depressing on Christmas Day.
