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Articles
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Willingham is a single digit; what else? Richard Linde, 29 August 2005
The coach smacks of self-discipline, too, and, as I chatted with him, I squared my shoulders and tightened my stomach muscles. At 51, he could pass for a Marine Corps drill instructor, his friendliness and gray around the fringes notwithstanding. “I really shot a 72,” Willingham said jokingly, a twinkle in his eye, enjoying the surprised look on my face. “You ex-quarterbacks are all the same,” I teased, thinking of Rick Neuheisel and his single-digit handicap. “It took a lot of hard work to bring my handicap down,” he replied sincerely. Recently, Willingham told a writer that he played golf on Fridays, maybe 5, 6, or 9 holes, before going to work during his Rose Bowl season at Stanford. "If the president of United States can play golf — and he has the fate of the whole world in his hands — why can't a football coach?” Willingham asked. It’s quite possible to be successful at one’s job and still maintain a respectable golf handicap. Evidently, Willingham doesn’t do anything half way. That’s why his handicap is an issue with me, besides the fact that some single digits talk too loud on the driving range and disguise bragging by whining. Coach Ty’s handicap tells me lot about the man, and I like what I see. His players practice hard, too, with Mulligans allowed. Most of them say the practices are shorter but more intense than before. A lot more running than in the past, they will tell you. Reportedly, he surprises his legions with wind sprints and gassers at unexpected times, so they won’t save themselves for the end of practice when running normally takes place. Like Jim Owens did long ago, Willingham runs with his players. “Coach Willingham is in better shape than 90% of us,” one player was quoted as saying. Owens and his assistants brawled along with players during practices after hard feelings had reached a boiling point. Willingham has been known to run correct pass routes and get down in the trenches, tutoring his players while bonding with them. You might say that Coach Willingham is a clone of Jim Owens and Don James, his DNA being woven with a strand of bonding (Owens) and a strand of organization (James). A football team that plays within itself, is disciplined and well-conditioned, is confident and eager will win close games in the fourth quarter. After two years of preparation and hard work, Owens’ “Cardiac Kids” won the 1960 Rose Bowl, winning most of their games during the season by “fourth quartering” their opponents. By the look of their practices, Willingham’s players are on their way to fourth-quartering their opponents, maybe not this year, but certainly down the road. The ingredients for fourth-quartering made themselves visible in the form of discipline and attention to detail at Picture Day, posing under a bright sun that looked to the future. UW players usually mill around at Picture Day, talking idly to each other, occasionally signing autographs and posing for pictures. In past years, it was a chore for me to ask for a picture, sometimes feeling like a small hatchback at a convention of 18 wheelers. In contrast, organization and attention to detail highlighted this season’s photo session.
Where have all the lackadaisical ragamuffins gone? I wondered, the Huck Finns? All in all, their spirits seemed high. I told one of the players that I still had plenty of room left on my memory card, despite the size of the players. “Take a picture of (Morgan) Rosborough,” he joked, “that’ll fill up your camera.” It was Ty Willingham’s show, and he sat just outside of the west end zone in the hot sun, autographing all kinds of football paraphernalia, occasionally posing for pictures with fans like me, who waited in a line that stretched for 50 yards or so. Willingham could have and, probably, should have worn a visor and sun glasses. But he was there for pictures. Tyrone Willingham does not do, or will not do, anything half way, not on the golf course, at Picture Day or, in the future, on the football field. Richard Linde (a.k.a., Malamute) can be reached at malamute@4malamute.com |
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At
Picture Day, Tyrone Willingham told me he’d reduced his golf handicap by 4
strokes, going from a 10 to 6 since his arrival in Seattle. Obviously, his is
not a vanity handicap, one that’s lower than it should be, since he shot a
two-over-par 74 to win a tournament recently. His neatly trimmed mustache, his
athletic build, and his demeanor smack of confidence.
The
players, most of them with closely cropped hair, sat on the sidelines at tables,
clearly expected to interface with the fans and do nothing else during the
two-hour session.