SOUTH BEND, Ind. — Two and 10. That's what they called Tyrone Willingham when he was a Minnesota Vikings assistant coach, or so says Baltimore Ravens coach Brian Billick.
The tag was born, Billick says, during a recruiting trip he and Willingham took to the Senior Bowl in Mobile, Ala., as assistants for Minnesota. The plane was diverted to New Orleans, and Willingham insisted on driving the rental car to Mobile. For the entire three-hour trip, Billick says, Willingham was a driver's-ed model — back erect, eyes focused on the road, both hands on the wheel, one hand at two o'clock, the other at 10 o'clock.
"That's where he got his nickname 'Two and 10' with the Vikings," Billick said.
Willingham laughs heartily at the story, re-enacting the supposed driving posture. But, like any juicy anecdote about him, Willingham refuses to confirm or deny it. Any fascination in the story merely festers as Willingham plows ahead to other business, uninterested in the metaphor for his coaching approach.
He was never much for ruminating about a theory or reflecting on the past. He doesn't think about last season at Stanford. He doesn't even think about his most recent game at Notre Dame.
"Hopefully, I have a great skill at focusing on what I'm doing today," Willingham said.
That's as close to braggadocio as Willingham will ever get.
He says the fact Saturday's opponent is Stanford has no special importance to him, even though he had a direct hand in recruiting about three- quarters of the players on the current Cardinal team, the team he put together and led to a No. 16 ranking last season, the team he coached just 10 months ago.
"It's just another football game," he said.
Sentiment is a distraction Willingham ignores: It might distort today's focus. At Notre Dame, possible distractions come from all sides: a cover story in Sports Illustrated after only four games, a weekly national television audience and the constant reminders that he is the first African-American coach at the nation's most prestigious football school. A glance in the rearview mirror would show the security, privacy and success he left behind at Stanford as well as his sudden glory with 4-0, ninth-ranked Notre Dame. He won't even peek.
The question when Willingham left Stanford was whether he could adjust to all this. Would the enormous and intrusive media that follow Notre Dame allow him to get away with limiting access and with his brief, colorless, sometimes evasive, answers? Could his by-the-book approach that worked at Stanford work at Notre Dame?
One thing we should have learned by now: Tyrone Willingham does not adjust to his surroundings. Tyrone Willingham's surroundings adjust to him.
"That's exactly right," Irish safety Gerome Sapp said. "He goes about life having people adjust to the way he is."
What he refuses to do publicly is relive the past, offer anecdotes or dwell on issues he cannot influence. On the significance of his being the first African American coach — in any sport — at Notre Dame, Willingham said, "Is it at the level of Jackie Robinson? No."
On the seemingly racist theory that Willingham's success at Notre Dame could open the door for other black coaches, as if Willingham's coaching skills reflect those of other African Americans, Willingham said, "It's unfortunate that we judge many by the performance of one, but that's a reality of the time we live in."
One would assume, then, that no-nonsense Willingham would never lead the Wrigley Field crowd in "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the seventh inning of a Cubs game. Well, he did.
"Straight arrows don't do that," he said. "I'm fraught with contradictions."
Only in his presence can one detect the sarcasm, humor and self-awareness baked into that statement. His presence, in fact, speaks more powerfully than his words, starting with his expressionless countenance, which never ever changes during a game.
Some outsiders view it as arrogance, some as stoicism, some as levelheadedness. Players from Stanford's 1995 team know that demeanor and its effect. Much like this year's Irish, Willingham's first Stanford team was coming off a losing season with predictions of more mediocrity. Much like this Irish team, that Stanford team started surprisingly fast, going 4-0-1, beating nationally ranked Oregon and getting lucky bounces to win games that seemed lost, just like this Notre Dame team.
"It's very similar," said Mark Butterfield, quarterback of Stanford's 1995 team. "He was straightforward, no-nonsense. He came in with that new attitude and the team jelled and was more cohesive."
Where football is king
Notre Dame practices begin the same way they did at Stanford, with Willingham staring at his watch, watching each second tick by like he's at a Cape Canaveral countdown. Then, at just the right instant, he blows his whistle and the whirl of a Notre Dame practice is under way. He still participates in passing drills, as he did at Stanford, and is still in better physical condition than many of his players.
Football is a little different at Notre Dame, of course. Pep rallies draw about 15,000 people, Friday coaches lunches are packed with hundreds of people, the team trek to Saturday morning Mass (exactly two hours and 50 minutes before kickoff) is witnessed by hundreds of people on the players' way in and even more on their way out.
Of the 23 books on the display table at the university bookstore, 11 are about former Notre Dame coaches. Two magazines are devoted entirely to coverage of Notre Dame football. The stadium on game day is packed with a raucous sea of green, more than 80,000 passionate Notre Dame fans.
Not long after being hired by Notre Dame, he returned to attend Stanford's football banquet. "Because," he said, "it was the right thing to do." He has not spoken to anyone from the Stanford program since then. Irish tight end Gary Godsey says Willingham has not mentioned the word "Stanford" since he's been at Notre Dame. "Not once," Godsey said. Neither has Willingham mentioned any excuses regarding his challenges at Notre Dame — unlike predecessor Bob Davie. Willingham has fed off the Notre Dame tradition — something Davie never seemed to grasp. Former Notre Dame quarterbacks and Heisman Trophy winners Paul Hornung and Johnny Lujack have shown up for practice this season. Joe Theismann, second in the 1970 Heisman voting, was on the Irish sidelines for a game. Willingham invites ex-players to speak to his team. Irish fans have melted in his hands.
Jazzing up things
Even the beloved Lou Holtz did not bring one thing Willingham did: the promise of an entertaining passing game. The previous 16 seasons, Notre Dame relied on a rather boring, anachronistic power running game.
"The last year or two, the offense has been very predictable," said Ara Parseghian, another Notre Dame coach to combine success with a varied offense. "Fans can get into what they're doing now and get some excitement."
Theismann, who remembers Notre Dame when it was a quarterback factory, is elated.
"He's brought a sense of excitement that was not even present when Lou was here," Theismann said. "In the past couple years, when I'd go into a locker room (in the NFL), I'd go into the corner, maybe talk to some other Notre Dame guys and we'd complain quietly. Now we're all tickled. I walk in now and say, 'Hey, I'm a Notre Dame grad.' "
The 44,000 green Notre Dame T-shirts proclaiming "Return to Glory" are already sold out, with more on order.
Naturally, Willingham disapproves of the acclaim he's getting in what he considers the quintessential team game. He cannot go anywhere without being confronted for an autograph or a brief chat. Although housing costs are a fraction of what they are in the Bay Area, the personal costs are much higher.
"Eventually," former Notre Dame athletic director Gene Corrigan said, "you wear down."
Willingham, the consummate organizer, thinks he can survive long term, explaining that a simple reorganization of his schedule accommodates the off- field obligations. More important, he is not living someone's idea of what the Notre Dame image should be.
"The image I present doesn't matter," he said. "All I want to do is be Tyrone Willingham."
And so he goes, hands firmly on the wheel, peering straight ahead, yet to hit the bumpy road that remains beyond view.