Quiet Strength (13 page)

Denny made sure that he involved me in the decision-making loop whenever possible. When it wasn’t possible, he talked with me afterward to explain the factors that had been involved in making the decision. He didn’t necessarily care if I agreed with him, but he did want me to start thinking in ways that would develop my decision-making ability.

For instance, in 1992 Denny wrestled with the decision to bench Rich Gannon in favor of Sean Salisbury. As he worked through the process, Denny let me know what he was thinking. In part, he needed my assistance in selling such a dramatic change to the defensive players. But he went beyond that to explain why he thought the change was important and what the pros and cons were for the switch. He wasn’t asking for my opinion; he was challenging me to think through the situation as if I were the head coach.

Normally, as the defensive coordinator, I would not have even thought about decisions like that. But these were the types of decisions I would have to make when I became a head coach and saw even more variables. I’m thankful Denny gave me so many trial runs behind the scenes.

I have always viewed myself as loyal, even if it meant being somewhat stubborn. By my last year in Minnesota, I was growing increasingly popular with the media. Denny had never been a media favorite, even though we were winning. At one point, speculation was circulating that Denny was on a short leash. A good friend asked me if I would take the head coaching job if the Vikings fired Denny.

“No.”

My friend pressed the point. From his perspective, if Denny were no longer the coach, the position would be empty—I wouldn’t really be replacing him. So he asked again if I would take the job.

“No. Dennis Green gave me this job as defensive coordinator. I will not take his job.”

My friend’s logic was probably more solid than mine, but I stuck by my answer. There are certain bridges that are not worth crossing, no matter what others think. Loyalty and relationships are important. On a more practical note, I was also thinking about Lauren. She was more anxious than anyone for me to get a head coaching job in another city so we could escape the Minnesota winters.

Although it seemed at the time that I might never get a head coaching job, the Lord already had one picked out for me.

Chapter Seven: An Unlikely Opening

Commit your actions to the L
ORD
, and your plans will succeed.

—Proverbs 16:3

GOD WORKED through Denny Green to shape me as a coach and prepare me for advancement. The Lord also brought Tom Lamphere into my life in Minnesota. Tom was with Athletes in Action, a ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ. Athletes in Action focuses on the spiritual needs of athletes, encouraging and equipping them to use their platforms for Christ. Tom had been the Vikings’ chaplain since the early 1980s.

Ever since I was traded in 1979, one of the first things I did whenever I moved to a new team was to connect with the team’s chaplain. Many team chaplains are on staff with Athletes in Action, so a lot of them know each other and know when they are getting a Christian coach or player from another team. When I moved to Minnesota, I was looking forward to meeting Tom, and he had done his homework on me by contacting Mike Lusardi, the chaplain in Kansas City. By the time I joined the Vikings, Tom already knew of my faith.

Tom claims that others had told him I had a “great football mind.” As a result, he was convinced that someday I would become a head coach and gain an even greater platform. Although he didn’t share his thoughts with me right away, Tom made it his mission to help me grow in my faith and in my leadership abilities. He wanted to help equip me to use that greater platform when I got it.

I liked Tom right away. I saw his sincere heart for people. Tom had heard that I liked to fish, especially when there’s no hook in my hand. We made plans to get together for a day-long fishing trip in June, a few months after my arrival in Minnesota.

June arrived, and the two of us headed out for a day of walleye fishing. Until I get to know someone, I’m somewhat quiet and reserved, but Tom was the exact opposite. He asked me point-blank where I stood spiritually. Because Tom is often asked to refer players and coaches for speaking events, he wants the people he recommends to be solid people of faith. He then told me a little about the spiritual climate of the organization, and he described areas in which I might have an impact.

When Tom dropped me off at my house, Lauren met us at the door. “Did Tony talk at all?” she asked. Tom assured her that I had.

After that, Tom and I started meeting together regularly, and after about a year, he recommended we spend some regular time together studying the Old Testament book of Nehemiah. Nehemiah is only thirteen chapters long and often doesn’t get as much attention as some of the other books of the Bible. But Nehemiah contains significant lessons about godly leadership. Tom wanted me to not just read Nehemiah but study it and begin to apply some of those leadership lessons in my daily life.

Tom and I spent a year reading, studying, and discussing those thirteen chapters, meeting every Thursday morning for breakfast at 6 a.m. at Jerry’s Market. I often brought two-year-old Eric with me. Eric loved pancakes, and he would eat while Tom and I discussed Nehemiah. During that year, Tom told me he believed the Lord had bigger things for me and that when the time came, I would need to be a strong leader and a strong Christian. He reasoned—correctly—that when I did get a head coaching job, it would be because a change would be needed, and I would face many challenges. Through the course of our study, Tom pointed out that most of the failings of biblical leaders were spiritual rather than tactical. I needed to be prepared as much spiritually as I was in the Xs and Os.

I learned three key truths from Nehemiah. First, Nehemiah’s opportunity came in God’s time, not his own. Second, Nehemiah diligently prepared his mind and his heart so he would be ready when God’s time arrived. Third, Nehemiah needed to be prepared to take on the problems, doubt, and adversity that would come his way both from the outside and from within.

During my tenure in Minnesota, I increased my football knowledge, tactics, and strategies. In addition to all that Denny was exposing me to, Chris Foerster, our offensive line coach, and I often talked about big-picture things. Whenever Denny went through mock drafts with the coaches, Chris and I would spend hours afterward replaying the draft scenarios and talking about whom we would have chosen, when we would have tried to trade, and so forth. We also talked about training camp schedules, practice plans, and game management. More than anything else, we talked about how to win consistently in the NFL. I tried to force myself to think in terms of the big picture in preparation for the day when I would need to think about an entire football team, balancing short-term success and long-term stability.

I had had two head coaching interviews before I even went to Minnesota, although neither job was right for me. The first interview was in Philadelphia in 1986, when Buddy Ryan got the job as the Eagles head coach. The following year, 1987, I was interviewed in Green Bay for the Packers’ head coaching position. That was an interesting interview. I sat across the table from Tom Braatz, vice president of football operations for the Packers, and we talked for about two hours. Finally, I asked him what the Packers were looking for in a head coach. Without batting an eye, Tom said, “Number one, we want a guy with head coaching experience. And number two, we want a real creative offensive guy.” Since I was a defensive coach who had never been a head coach before, I obviously was not hired for the job. I wondered why I had even been invited for the interview.

I had only two other interviews over the next eight years—in Jacksonville, when I finished second to Tom Coughlin, and again in Philadelphia, when I finished second to Ray Rhodes. I really felt as if I had been close on both, which made not getting the jobs that much more disappointing. Lauren was especially disappointed. She believed deeply in my abilities, and she was still looking for a place where she could thaw out.

In 1993, the Vikings had the number one defense in the NFL. Although there were seven head coach openings that year, not only did I not get an interview, I never even got a phone call indicating I was on a team’s list of candidates. That was a tough pill to swallow. I began to think that if God did have a head coaching job lined up for us, it might be a fairly long wait. Lauren was probably thinking the same thing, but Tom Lamphere wasn’t. He was always quick to remind me that God had already selected the team I would be coaching. I just needed to do my current job well, keep preparing, and wait on God’s timing. I needed to trust His leadership rather than try to force an outcome I wanted.

Two years later, after the 1995 season, there were two openings. I still had interviewed only twice during those eight years and four times overall. I didn’t know anyone at either team—the Miami Dolphins and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. I told Lauren not to expect this to be the year that anything happened. It was well documented that Jimmy Johnson was the top choice of both clubs. Johnson had resigned from the Dallas Cowboys and would likely have his pick of the two teams. If Johnson went to Miami, Steve Spurrier from the University of Florida would be Tampa Bay’s top choice.

We figured the only way I might have any chance at all was if Jimmy took the Tampa Bay job, since then there would be no clear front-runner in Miami. But Jimmy signed with the Miami Dolphins, saying he had a better chance of getting to the Super Bowl with Miami’s future hall-of-fame quarterback, Dan Marino, than with Tampa’s quarterback, Trent Dilfer. A friend of mine got word that the coaches at the University of Florida were packing to move two hours south to Tampa, so I never gave the Tampa job another moment’s thought. It was time for me to start concentrating on next year’s Vikings defense, doing my level best to trust God for the future.

Jerry Angelo, who was the Buccaneers’ director of player personnel (and is now the general manager of the Chicago Bears), called me just before the East-West Shrine Game, a college all-star game, to see if I would be there. Rich McKay, the Buccaneers’ general manager, wanted to meet with me. I had planned to be at the game, so we arranged a meeting. I still wasn’t getting my hopes up, though, so I warned Lauren that this interview was a real long shot. I knew how disappointed she had been when my previous interviews hadn’t gone the way we wanted.

As I arrived at the Santa Clara Marriott to meet with Rich, the little screw came out of one of the hinges on my glasses. I had never had a problem with my glasses before, so it had never occurred to me to have a backup pair. At this point, however, my glasses were in two pieces. I tried to hold the lenses in front of my eyes as I squatted down in the hotel driveway to look for the screw. I searched desperately all over the ground and finally found it—three minutes before the meeting was scheduled to begin.

I entered the hotel and said to the bell captain, “This is an emergency: I have a screw loose.” I held up my glasses. “Do you have one of those really small screwdrivers?”

He stared at me and then started to look around the stand for a screwdriver we both knew wasn’t there.

I was on the verge of being late and couldn’t wait any longer. I was about to head to the meeting when the bell captain told me of a nearby optical center that could fix the glasses.

A dilemma—should I call Rich and tell him I would be late? Or should I be on time for the meeting but not be able to see him? If Rich were to ask me to diagram a play, or if he showed me something and asked me to respond, I’d have no shot.

I finally figured that being on time was more important than being able to see, so I headed for the meeting, all the while kicking myself for being too cheap—I mean
frugal
—to own a second pair of glasses. I arrived at the meeting room right on time. I wondered if I should wear the glasses, even though they would only be hanging on one ear. I’d have to hold them up with my hand—nice—but at least I’d be able to see. Or I could not wear the glasses and hope that I wouldn’t trip over a chair. Neither option was good, but at least I wasn’t late. I decided to pocket the glasses. I took some comfort in knowing that this interview was only a formality, since Steve Spurrier would be taking the job anyway.

Rich introduced himself, and I told him this would be one of his more interesting interviews:

“I can’t see you at all right now because, although I ordinarily wear glasses, they broke just as I arrived at the hotel.” I told Rich my story, and he commiserated with me since he also wore glasses. I finally decided to put them on, then sat through the interview with my head tilted to one side to keep the glasses from falling off. About halfway through, Rich said he wasn’t going to ask me to review anything, and I was welcome to take the glasses off. He was gracious throughout, but I felt like an idiot.

Most of my prior interviews had gone well, but this one had not. When I reported back to Lauren, I told her I was pretty sure I had blown any slim chance I might have had at getting the job.

“It’s just as well that Spurrier is taking this job, because I have no shot,” I said. “Usually I tell you that I’m close, right? Well, I’m not close. We can forget this job.”

The interview with Rich was enjoyable, however, because we had talked very little about football. This surprised me because Rich was John McKay’s son and had played football at Princeton. Instead, we spent almost the entire time talking about winning, developing chemistry and a winning atmosphere, and relating positively to players. During the interview, Rich asked why I believed I had come in second or third in all those other head coaching searches. I informed him that it hadn’t happened all that many times. I listed my actual interviews—a low number compared to the number of times the media had mentioned my name as a candidate. Rich was surprised.