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DETROIT FREE PRESS
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Wednesday, January 26, 2000
METRO FINAL
1E
Photo
Dick Vermeil
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 2000, Detroit Free Press
WHAT'S VERMEIL DOING HERE? JUST FINE, THANKS
If Super Bowls carried subtitles, then the line beneath this first Big Game
of the Millennium would surely be: "What-Are-These-Guys Doing Here?"
You would say it about the Tennessee Titans, a movable franchise with four
homes in the past four years. What are they doing here? You would say it about
Kurt Warner, the St. Louis quarterback who came out of arena football to be
this year's MVP. What is he doing here?
Mostly you would say it about the trim and grinning man now standing at a
podium inside the Georgia Dome, about to receive a crystal award. His
shoulders are square. His jaw is granite. His hair, as someone once wrote,
"agreed many years ago to lie perfectly in place for the rest of his life." It
does so now. His smooth face suggests a man at least 20 years younger than his
driver's license indicates.
His name is Dick Vermeil.
He is 63 years old.
He is being named Coach of the Year.
What is he doing here?
Wasn't Dick Vermeil the symbol of 1970s overwork and 1980s burnout? Wasn't he
the coach so obsessed with organization, discipline and achievement that he
slept at the stadium, ate meals on the toilet, started meetings at 6 a.m., and
finished meetings at 1 a.m.?
Wasn't he the man who once posted a sign in the Philadelphia locker room, "The
best way to kill time is to work it to death"? Wasn't he the guy who thought
two-a-days were only half of four-a-days, who demanded chin straps on and
buckled, all the time, a guy who took an overachieving group of Eagles to
Super Bowl XV in January 1981, getting there through tireless work and
dedication, only to lose to the Oakland Raiders and see the defeat blamed on
-- what else? -- too much tireless work and dedication?
Wasn't he the guy who walked away from football in 1982 a broken man, prone to
self-doubt and inner torture? Didn't he become synonymous with workaholics'
crash? "Careful, buddy, you don't wanna be another Dick Vermeil."
Wasn't he gone from football for 14 years?
Coach of the Year? At age 63?
What is he doing here?
He needed a break -- 14 years
"The last time I was at a Super Bowl," he is saying now, "I was much younger
and much more intense. I was much more ...narrow."
He pauses, setting his jaw. Narrow. A good word. Some coaches think it's a
compliment, suggestive of focus. Not always. A reporter asks Vermeil if it's
true that in the week before the 1981 Super Bowl, he didn't tell his players
there were free cars available for their use because he didn't want them going
anywhere.
"I never said that," Vermeil says. "I didn't even know there were cars
available."
What's that line from "Amazing Grace," "Was blind, but now I see"? Dick
Vermeil admits to being blind -- to himself and his family. He admits to
missing the value of balance, love and leisure. He took 14 years to get his
priorities straight.
Not that he's joining Cheech and Chong. This is, after all, Dick Vermeil, the
NFL's first-ever full-time special-teams coach, the man who went 15-5-3 in two
years at UCLA, upset Woody Hayes' No. 1 Ohio State Buckeyes in the Rose Bowl,
then jumped to the NFL and took Philly to its only Super Bowl four years
later.
He's never going to join the Pro Tanning Tour. But he didn't leave coaching
for a year or two, either, as Jimmy Johnson and Bill Parcells did in their
previous "retirements." Vermeil was gone for a long time. A lonnnng time. When
his return was announced, three years ago, there were some people who actually
said, "Dick Vermeil? I thought he was dead."
Bringing the Rams back to life
Perhaps they had him confused with the franchise. The St. Louis Rams were
indeed dismal -- as were the Eagles when Vermeil took the reins. The
temptation to bury himself in the rebuilding was juicy.
He didn't bite. He built a staff. He trusted other people. He lightened his
touch, and he saw that today's players are different than players 20 years ago
-- and he was too demanding on the ones 20 years ago.
"Why did you come back?" I ask him simply.
"Why?" he says. "I didn't like how I left. I allowed the game to consume me.
Because I loved it so much, it blinded me to my health, my wife, my kids.
"And I wasn't the kind of football coach I wanted to be when I left."
He is now. His Rams are the story of the year. His offense is high-flying.
Vermeil himself has broken down in tears of joy so often, Kleenex is
considering an endorsement deal.
And though his iron fist may have pounded the energy out of the Eagles during
Super Bowl week in 1981, this time around "There are no bed checks. No team
meals, except brunch in the morning."
Vermeil then laughs and says that, if the Rams lose, critics will say, "You
should have had a curfew."
At least he's laughing. During his press conference, someone asks about the
ring he wears from the 1981 Super Bowl appearance. The coach admits he never
takes it off.
"But," he says, "if we win Sunday, this ring will be retired."
Replaced by a happier version.
Like the man himself.
MITCH ALBOM can be reached at 313-223-4581 or albom@freepress.com. Listen to
Mitch's radio show, "Albom in the Afternoon," 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM
(760).
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
COLUMN;DICK VERMEIL;SUPER BOWL XXXIV