The Jagged Edge
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. — I do not like monsters--in movies, books, under the bed, anywhere.
I like Jaguar Coach Tom Coughlin.
I understand the contradiction.
The stories, after all, are true.
When two of his players flipped a car while crossing a bridge the night before a playoff game last season, narrowly avoiding death, Coughlin fined them both $500 for being late to a meeting.
As the joke goes here, had they died, the old crank would have fined their estates.
It’s not enough that he has hire-and-fire power over every quaking employee in the organization. When he didn’t like the white and blue walls in the belly of Alltel Stadium, he had them painted in team colors, then painted again when he didn’t approve of the shade, and then repainted as they had originally looked.
He’s obsessed with discipline and rules, telling his own daughter, overcome by the heat and lying on a bench in training camp, to stand up, insisting over her sickly protest, “Nobody sits down.”
Viewed from afar on TV, this is the Tom Coughlin most know, the tyrant, the control freak, the unhappiest looking man in America.
“I like to be in control,” he says with authority.
The questioner expecting confrontation or condemnation, Coughlin is asked about the perception that he’s some sort of ogre.
Surprisingly, there is no reason to duck.
“Oh, no question,” he says. “I know that’s how some people look at me. [The negative image] does get to me. It does. It bothers me. But on the other hand, there have been plenty of opportunities for people to choose what they would like to write in recent history. They choose not to do it. It could be ignorance, or not taking the time to listen to what I have to say. In that regard, I view it as laziness, accepting someone else’s story.
“I’ll tell you where the image came from, and it shows you the nearsightedness of the reporting media, OK. . . . “
Liking Tom Coughlin doesn’t always mean liking everything he says.
“That image was cast from our first training camp and the reaction of the players. It was like, ‘Holy cow, who is this guy?’ Quite frankly, it was a very motley locker room with people from all walks of life, and I had a plan when I started here, a process in mind, and I knew what I wanted to do.”
Hired 19 months before the first game to coach an expansion franchise, Coughlin insisted on doing everything his way. That was everything from picking the food the players ate to the people who would wash their uniforms. A former hard-nosed wingback at Syracuse, where he blocked for Larry Csonka and Floyd Little, Coughlin tried to break the team’s first recruits.
“When I first came here, I was thinking about early retirement,” tackle Leon Searcy says.
But like a modern-day Clifton Webb playing the old-fashioned father--empirical, aloof and unbending--most of it was in the delivery, the crust maybe not as thick as most might think.
“Trust me, he’s lightened up,” Searcy says. “He had to, or else he’d have killed us.”
The Jaguar regimen, however, received tremendous national attention as Coughlin worked to weed out those who could not maintain his pace. Coughlin was vilified for his slavish attention to detail.
“When I see those types of comments in print, as a competitor, what do you think that makes me do? It burrs me up a little bit,” he says.
And so he appeared gruffer than he usually does, which is to say he looked like a real grump.
“I have a serious demeanor,” he says. “This is serious to me. I’m an intense person. I want things to be done in an exact certain way. I want their attention. I don’t believe in a jovial light-hearted atmosphere 24 hours a day. I think when people go to work, and there’s a specific meeting or practice, there ought to be attention paid to what is trying to be accomplished.”
It’s like your mom and dad said, “I know what’s best for you,” and so far he has known. The Jaguars and Carolina Panthers were established at the same time and under the same guidelines.
The Jaguars, at 49-31, have the best lifetime winning percentage of any team currently in the NFL, 61.3%.
The Panthers are 38-42, and Carolina’s first head coach, Dom Capers, is now Jacksonville’s defensive coordinator.
“This is the business of winning,” Coughlin says. “Being an overachiever, this is the way I’ve accomplished things in my life. I think it’s a good script to follow for all people when it comes to trying to be the best that you can be. Now, is it the only formula? No. But it’s the one for me.”
But much gets lost in translation, the perception of the unapproachable Coughlin obscuring his outstanding coaching job. Some of it is the Bill Parcells wannabe in him, but there are also not enough minutes in a day to satisfy his drive.
At precisely 1:15 p.m., the door to the media room opens and Coughlin walks in, like the president, imparting a crisp and almost challenging, “Good afternoon.” The mood in the room is serious, even though this is all about a game to entertain. The answers to questions are delivered in three- or four-word bursts. The team’s publicity director stands with his hand on the knob, waiting to fling the door open upon Coughlin’s abrupt departure.
The local reporters follow him down the hall, questions flying, the publicity director moving ahead to key the combination to another door that will spring Coughlin’s release, and that’s the way it is--every day.
Coughlin, contrary to what one might expect, actually laughs when the scene is described in that manner to him later.
“Let me tell you, in my house, I’m the center of all the jokes,” he says, while graciously breaking his rigid schedule to answer more questions. “I’m sitting in a chair asleep at home, and they take a picture of me with my mouth wide open and then send it out this year as our Christmas card.”
That’s not the image most people see, and because he’s not much for chit-chat--whether that’s the fault of those who shy away or his own demeanor--it leaves his decisions and behavior open to speculation and ridicule.
“When those two kids flipped the car and I fined them, no one asked me about it,” Coughlin says. “But they wrote about it: ‘That SOB fined those two kids.’ It was like, ‘Look here, we got him.’ Everyone was saying, ‘Geez, they could have been killed; why did he fine them?’
“Let me tell you why I did that. They knew exactly what was expected of them, they failed and they needed to learn. They were jeopardizing the focus of this entire organization so they could spend another 10 minutes somewhere before rushing back. To me, they missed the message about the team. They didn’t get it, and sometime in their lifetime they are going to have to learn what the grand picture is all about. I wanted them to know they screwed up in more ways than just flipping a car.”
It all makes sense when explained, which unfortunately no longer makes him the easy target for criticism. From afar, he could look like a goon. But in person, he has a plan with a purpose, and although he may take controlling his own destiny to an extreme, he’s really not that far out there.
Well, there are exceptions. He does not allow his assistant coaches to speak with reporters without his explicit permission, which is seldom granted.
“I believe you speak with one voice,” he says. His voice.
He says three of his former assistants have been hired as head coaches, so the lack of attention obviously is not hurting their careers. Still, it seems kind of silly to muzzle grown men. It’s as if he has his thumb pressed on them at all times.
“Well, the thumb is down,” he says. “When I hire a guy, he knows exactly what’s going on here, and my expectation level is very high.”
Ask him a question, and there is a direct reply. Irritate him, and there will also be an immediate response, delivered sometimes in colorful language. But even his most ardent critics will tell you the man carries no grudge.
So why the national rebuke for looking so glum when he should be taking a bow for a job well done?
Chuck Knox used to call it “fine focus,” but Coughlin’s tunnel vision seems to allow no joy after reaching the final objective. Without it, it’s more difficult to accept and appreciate the no-nonsense Coughlin drive. After all, what’s the point?
“I enjoy it,” he insists. “I enjoy sharing that moment in the locker room with the team. But about an hour later, I’m thinking about the next game. I’ve always been very much guarded about complacency and satisfaction. I fight like heck to make sure it never enters my thinking, and I watch for it like a hound with our players.
“I know what we’ve accomplished, but I’m not going to sit back and enjoy it. I do take great satisfaction, but it’s a constant battle to win, and as the leader I don’t want a lot of people in our organization seeing me showing any sign of enjoyment.”
A smiling monster? Now how would that look?
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Winning Tradition
The top five all-time winning percentages among current NFL teams:
Jacksonville (49-31) .613
Miami (308-200-4) .605
Dallas (352-236-6) .598
Oakland (348-237-11) .593
Chicago (612-428-42) .574
NFC PLAYOFFS
Washington at Tampa Bay
Saturday, 1:15 p.m., Channel 11
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Minnesota at St. Louis
Sunday, 9:30 a.m., Channel 11
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AFC PLAYOFFS
Miami at Jacksonville
Saturday, 9:30 a.m., Channel 2
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Tennessee at Indianapolis
Sunday, 1 p.m., Channel 2
A Quick Rise
Tom Coughlin’s record as Jacksonville Jaguar coach in the AFC Central. The Jaguars advanced to AFC championship game in 1996 (* qualified for playoffs):
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Season Record Finish 1995 4-12 Fifth 1996 *9-7 Second 1997 *11-5 Second 1998 *11-5 First 1999 *14-2 First Total 49-31
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