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October 31, 2006

Big Tuna's World

In this NY Sunday Times article, Michael Lewis of Moneyball fame profiles Dallas Cowboy Head Coach Misérables, Bill Parcells:

Right now he is living alone in what amounts to a hotel room in Irving, Tex., whose sole virtue is that it is a 10-minute drive to both the Cowboys’ practice facility and Texas Stadium. It’s just him and whatever it is that keeps him in the game. For the longest time he pretended that he didn’t need it. He walked out of two jobs without having another in hand, and he has played hard-to-get with N.F.L. owners more times than any coach in N.F.L. history. After he quit the Jets, in 1999, he said at a press conference: “I’ve coached my last football game. You can write that on your little chalkboard. This is it. It’s over.” Now, even as his job appears to be making him sick, he has abandoned the pose. “As you get older,” he says, pointing to a screen, where the play is frozen, “your needs diminish. They don’t increase. They diminish. I need less money. I need less sex. But this — this doesn’t change.”

What this is, he can’t — or won’t — specify. But when your life has been defined by the pressure of competition and your response to it, there’s a feeling you get, and it’s hard to shake. You wake up each morning knowing the next game is all that matters. If you fail in it, nothing you’ve done with your life counts. By your very nature you always have to start all over again, fresh. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, but it’s nonetheless addictive. Even if you have millions in the bank and everyone around you tells you that you’re a success, you seek out that uncomfortable place. And if you don’t, you’re on the wrong side of the thin curtain that separates Cyclone Hart from Vito Antuofermo. “It’s a cloistered, narrow existence that I’m not proud of,” says Parcells. “I don’t know what’s going on in the world. And I don’t have time to find out. All I think about is football and winning. But hey — ” He sweeps his hand over his desk and points to the office that scarcely registers his presence. “Who’s got it better than me?”

I'm convinced that a part of the fascination with Parcells is similar to the enchantment that some folks have in going to auto races in anticipation of a spectacular wreck -- they just want to be there when he finally blows his stack. Based on Lewis' article, it probably won't be too much longer until Parcells does.

Posted by Tom at October 31, 2006 4:31 AM

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Posted by: Kevin Whited at October 31, 2006 6:24 AM

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