The fallback springs forward: Tyrone Willingham wasn't Notre Dame's first choice to coach its storied football program, but he restored Irish glory with the right mix of passion and poise - Sportsman Of The Year

The first of 16 speeches Tyrone Willingham gave on a night in June started at 7 o'clock. Charles Lennon, the president of Notre Dame's alumni association, had heard and read the same things about Willingham everybody else had: That he rationed his words no matter how hungry his audience was for information; that Willingham's personality fit the public demands of being Notre Dame's football coach as well as a monk with a vow of silence fit the role of talk-radio host; that Willingham lacked the gravitas required for this particular position, a college football calling.

But Lennon knew better because Lennon knew Willingham long before Notre Dame hired him and long before Willingham became the first college football coach to be named TSN's Sportsman of the Year. The two met six years ago when Notre Dame was playing Stanford and the schools' alumni groups co-sponsored a luncheon on the Palo Alto, Calif., campus a day before the game. Lennon and his wife, Joan, parked in the wrong lot and entered the wrong building. The Lennons were lost until a gentlemanly black man asked if he could help, even though he was in a hurry. "He just told Joan and me to follow him," Lennon says.

Of course Willingham did. Leading the way is what he does--then, now and back on that warm June night on the Notre Dame campus. He finished the first speech to an alumni reunion dinner crowd in about 10 minutes, hopped on a golf cart and headed to the next. At each stop, the emcee introduced the man that Domers, still scarred from the previous winter's losing and lying, were desperate to hear. "He talked to 16 different alumni groups that night and said something different each time and got 16 standing ovations," Lennon says.

By 10 o'clock, Willingham had wrapped up the last of his shake-down-the-thunder sermons, this one to the Class of '77 celebrating its 25-year reunion, Willingham made this his final stop so he could renew old acquaintances with Michael and Cynthia Parseghian, the son and daughter-in-law of Ara, a Notre Dame legend. A few years ago at Stanford, Willingham got to know the Parseghians after quietly sponsoring a charity event to raise money for the Ara Parseghian Medical Research Foundation. The foundation strives to develop a treatment and cure tot the rare Niemann-Pick Type C disease that has claimed the lives of two of Mike and Cindy Parseghian's children.

"The only thing I remember Ty saying when he got done talking after his last speech was that he was very emotional about what he had just experienced," Lennon says. "And how happy and proud he was to be able to do it here at Notre Dame."

He compared himself to a Martian. When talking about his impact on college football, Willingham didn't compare himself to past successful Notre Dame coaches such as Ara Parseghian or Lou Holtz. When talking about his social importance off the field, Willingham didn't compare himself to legendary black sports figures such as Eddie Robinson or Jackie Robinson. Instead, Willingham compared himself to a Martian.

"What do we really know about Martians?" Willingham says. "Do they exist? How do they live? Yet I'd say we probably have a bias against them. But if we became more educated about them, we wouldn't have that bias, would we? If we knew more about Martians, we would think differently about them, wouldn't we? If we're going to live on Mars, I need to know more about Martians."

Willingham is one of three black head coaches employed by the 117 Division I-A college football programs--he's the Martian in his analogy--and the first in any sport at Notre Dame. According to the Black Coaches Association, only 17 black head coaches have been hired for 348 Division I-A openings since 1982.

When Willingham was asked before the Notre Dame-Florida State game about his views on the BCA's proposal that one of every five vacancies be filled by a black head coach, he politely declined. That makes him a focused coach but hardly a reluctant pioneer.

Willingham grew up in the 1960s in Jacksonville, N.C., which prepared him for a world that often has different rules for blacks and whites. As a boy, he had to watch Old Yeller at the Onslow Theatre from the balcony. He watched Georgetown High, a black school where his mother taught, mysteriously burn to the ground on graduation day. Four years later at Jacksonville High, Willingham beat out a white quarterback for a starting position when the concept of integration was as comfortable as North Carolina's humidity.

Willingham, 48, knows all about racial tension and will talk about it with passion and purpose. Funny how more people than ever on the Notre Dame campus, where 3.2 percent of the undergraduate students are black, have joined the conversation.

"It is a crime," Willingham says of the lack of black head coaches in college football. "Any time we as a people don't allow another person to express their talents based on color, religion or sexual preference, we deprive someone the ability to reach their potential. It's a crime. It's not just a black thing."

He applauds the BCA's initiative. He longs for the day when men like Willie Jeffries can view their profession with more pride than anger. When Jeffries was hired at Wichita State in 1979, he became the first black head coach in Division I football outside of historically black colleges. "It's racial," Jeffries says. "Most of the athletic directors making $150,000 with perks don't want to go out on a limb, and that's 50 percent of the problem."

More than half of the solution, Willingham acknowledges, involves winning. He readily acknowledges that without being the first coach in Notre Dame history to win 10 games in his first year, without beating as many top 25 teams (four) as any program in America, without doubling the Irish win total from last season, he still would be considered a work in progress. Not a legend in the making.

"When one sees that someone can handle the requirements of a certain job, that is an education," the son of a teacher says. "Education makes it easier for change to occur."

So he educates, one person at a time.

He played with kids during a promotional photo shoot at the Boys and Girls Club in South Bend, the same center where about a dozen Irish players showed up every Monday to play pingpong and video games. Thirty of those children accepted Willingham's invitation to be guests at Notre Dame's final pep rally.

He has spoken to Saint Mary's College students, high school football teams, black church congregations and mostly white civic groups. People--regardless of race, creed or color-are hanging on his words like they have hooks.

"I don't think we've had a sports leader make the type of impact he has had in this community," says Rev. Donald Alford of the Pentecostal Cathedral Church of God in Christ. "He has united people in the community and begun to change the image of what young football players are today, and even change the image of this community."

Community activism comes naturally for Willingham. His parents, Lilian and Nathaniel, once converted part of their home into a place where at-risk kids could spend time. Lilian Willingham, the first black on the local board of education, contributed so much that there is a Jacksonville parkway named after her.

When Tyrone Willingham arrived in South Bend, his definition of needy went far beyond the football depth chart. "It's my belief that this is a great community but one that has struggled with its own identity," he says. "There were a lot of people saying, `You shouldn't take that job. You were 25th on the list of 26 candidates.'"

He peeks out his office window. It's 28 degrees and snowing. He arches an eyebrow and grins.

"And people in this community, partly because of the weather say, `Why would you come to South Bend from Palo Alto?'" he says. "Well, what's wrong with South Bend? There's nothing wrong with South Bend."

The man Notre Dame players call "The Prophet" took a similar tack with his football team: There's nothing wrong with you. Willingham didn't worry about coaching the Irish from the shoulders down until August, if then. The first team meeting last January set the tone for an attitude overhaul, which is as responsible for the team's turnaround as quarterback Carlyle Holiday or cornerback Shane Walton.

Willingham used a 45-minute power-point presentation that concluded with a single click of the mouse and the word "WIN" appearing on the screen. The room erupted with hope, which had been destroyed. The program's dysfunction started to dissipate that day.

Almost a year later, Willingham has had such a profound effect on his players that senior wide receiver Arnaz Battle said after his final home game that Willingham is "like a father to me."

"We're all seeking some type of spiritual peace, some type of oneness in the world in which we live," Willingham says. "I do know that those individuals who find their place spiritually find their place in the world. If one is at peace with self, that is an amazing accomplishment. If one can create love, love is frictionless. I've been taught things run smoother the less friction you have."

Each day as Willingham walks out of his office, he walks past a large gray stone on the floor. Engraved in capital letters is the word "INSPIRE".

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Or is it the eyelets? In the Notre Dame locker room on football Saturdays this fall, win or lose, athletics director Kevin White would stare at the ground the instant he saw Tyrone Willingham. White was not looking away from Willingham as much as he was looking inside him.

White would spot the tiny gold circle he was looking for, a medallion about the size of nickel bearing the likeness of a Catholic saint on the front, handed out at the team's pregame Mass. As a matter of routine, Willingham, a devout Methodist, took the Catholic symbol, strung one of the laces on his adidas through it, and wore it on his shoe during the games as a nod to all the people who call Notre Dame "Our Lady's school."

"To me, that's more than just subscribing to the ideals of this place; that's living it," White says. "Every time I see him with one of those medals in his shoes, I get goose bumps. When I see that, I see bow he's bought into Notre Dame, big-time."

There was a time, of course, when White wasn't so sure. The first time he met with Willingham about the Notre Dame job was before White hired George O'Leary "straight out of central casting." White wanted to see more outward signs of Willingham's passion for Notre Dame then--wanted to hear how badly Willingham yearned for that calling. It wasn't until after White called Willingham back--after O'Leary resigned for having false information on his resume--that Willingham boldly declared, "You should have hired me the first time." Had Willingham come on that strong in the initial meeting, who knows?

In White's mind he needed to hire a man with an obvious affection for Notre Dame, partly to show how strong his own is. "My interpretation of Ty (in that first meeting) could have been screened by my own insecurity," White says.

The most rewarding year of Willingham's professional life has been the most trying of White's. The man who brought Willingham to Notre Dame rarely gets credit for doing so because there is a perception White never would have asked if Jon Gruden had a less-confining contract or if Bob Stoops had a less-appreciative employer. Even Willingham has joked that he was either "three, five, seven or nine," on White's list.

White deflects credit for his hiring power to a higher power. "Divine intervention, that's what it was," he says. "The Notre Dame family prides itself in two personal characteristics: respect and humility. Ty has taken those two ideals to another level. Just by being extremely humble. Just by being himself."

Jerome Willingham has heard from his famous older brother about three or four times this football season--less frequently than when Tyrone was at Stanford. But in those precious few conversations, he heard the excitement within his brother that the public rarely sees.

"People think it doesn't affect him," Jerome says. "It has. He tells me about the pep rallies and how there's nothing like it. He's emotional; he just doesn't show it."

Win or lose. Former Notre Dame tailback Allen Pinkett, a radio color commentator for Irish football, will remember this season more for the way Willingham handled losing to Boston College than the way the Irish beat Michigan or Florida State. Pinkett even left a phone message at Willingham's office thanking him for setting such a positive example in handling defeat.

"The poise he's exemplified, that's what we alums want Notre Dame to be," Pinkett says. "It's like he was born to coach at Notre Dame."

Born to lead, he is the Ty that binds.

Previous winners

1968 Denny McLain, Detroit Tigers
1969 Tom Seaver, New York Mets
1970 John Wooden, UCLA basketball
1971 Lee Trevino, golf
1972 Charles O. Finley, Oakland A's
1973 O.J. Simpson, Buffalo Bills
1974 Lou Brock, St. Louis Cardinals
1975 Archie Griffin, Ohio State football
1976 Larry O'Brien, NBA commissioner
1977 Steve Cauthen, jockey
1978 Ron Guidry, New York Yankees
1979 Willie Stargell, Pittsburgh Pirates
1980 George Brett, Kansas City Royals
1981 Wayne Gretzky, Edmonton Oilers
1982 Whitey Herzog, St. Louis Cardinals
1983 Bowie Kuhn, MLB commissioner
1984 Peter Ueberroth, Olympics
1985 Pete Rose, Cincinnati Reds
1986 Larry Bird, Boston Celtics
1987 None
1988 Jackie Joyner-Kersee, Olympics
1989 Joe Montana, San Francisco 49ers
1990 Nolan Ryan, Texas Rangers
1991 Michael Jordan, Chicago Bulls
1992 Mike Krzyzewski, Duke basketball
1993 Cito Gaston and Pat Gillick
     Toronto Blue Jays
1994 Emmitt Smith, Dallas Cowboys
1995 Cal Ripken Jr., Baltimore Orioles
1996 Joe Torre, New York Yankees
1997 Mark McGwire, St. Louis Cardinal
1998 Mark McGwire, St. Louis Cardinals
     and Sammy Sosa, Chicago Cubs
1999 New York Yankees
2000 Marshall Faulk and Kurt Warner,
     St. Louis Rams
2001 Curt Schilling, Arizona Diamondbacks

Golden future

The best is yet to come for Notre Dame.

Yes, the 2003 schedule looks rough, with home games against Washington State, Southern California, Florida State and Brigham Young, along with trips to Michigan, Purdue, Pittsburgh, Boston College and Syracuse. But the Irish will lose just three starters on offense-tackle Jordan Black, guard Sean Mahan and receiver Arnaz Battle--and three on defense--end Ryan Roberts, safety Gerome Sapp and cornerback Shane Walton. Expect the veteran talent to play better with more time in coach Tyrone Willingham's system.

The secret to the success of this year's team is defense and special teams, which has helped the Irish overcome an offense that finished its season ranked 107th out of 117 Division I-A teams. Willingham knew he would have to lean on defense and special teams; he knew the offense would need time. After all, these players were recruited by former coach Bob Davie to run the option. So Willingham truncated the playbook in his West Coast offense. He stressed perfect execution of a limited number of calls, and what Notre Dame executed, it executed well. That attention to detail and quest for flawlessness played big parts in the Irish's turnaround from 5-6 to 10-2.

The key to 2003 will be the development of Carlyle Holiday, an option quarterback trade who made strides as a passer this season. Should he stagnate, look for Chris Olsen to get a chance. Olsen, a redshirt this season, arrived in South Bend as one of the nation's top quarterback recruits. Also, Brady Quinn, another big-time quarterback recruit, will sign with the Irish in February.

Exciting receivers Maurice Stovall and Rhema McKnight should allow the team to strike more downfield. The vaunted ground attack then would have more room to operate. Tailback Ryan Grant is ready to hit full bloom next fall with the help of three returning linemen.

The defense will miss Walton. His ability to lock up receivers in man-to-man coverage allows the Irish to attack and blitz. Still, the pass rush should flourish behind end Justin Tuck, who looks like a future star.

One setback will be the loss of punter Joey Hildbold, who regularly bails out the offense with booming kicks.

Willingham has a lot of momentum after proving he can win with someone else's players in his first season. Life is good in South Bend. It will get only better.--Tom Dienhart

David Haugh is a sports columnist for the South Bend (Ind.) Tribune.

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