A transcript of the proceedings might read like an FBI case file. Helicopters swarming. Reporters emerging from shadowy streets. Intermediaries. Rumored meetings. Faux search committees.

By the end of the odyssey, the hiring of Nick Saban at Alabama would require a private plane, a limousine company, and a driver named Francisco. Secret meetings would be held in Tuscaloosa, New York, Fort Lauderdale and a laundry room. But what happened across the 38 days between the firing of Mike Shula and the hiring of Nick Saban would prove to be the fulcrum on which Alabama football swung. “It was one bizarre event after another,” Steve Townsend, a retired special assistant to Mal Moore, recalled during a series of interviews with Saturday Down South.

For a decade, Alabama football had experienced the most tumultuous era since the unremarkable J.B. “Ears” Whitworth days of the 1950s (a time when the athletic dorm was referred to as “Ape Dorm” to underscore many of its Darwinian inhabitants). The flux from January 1997 to January 2007 included a 1-9 record against Tennessee, a 3-7 record against Auburn, a 3-7 record against LSU, and losses to a murderers row of also-rans: Kentucky, Central Florida, Louisiana Tech, Northern Illinois, and Southern Miss. A new paradigm of high turnover and NCAA sanctions had shifted the Tide from elite program to laughingstock. If anything, the Shula hire brought stability (but not wins) and by late November 2006, Alabama sat at a paltry 6-6 and was looking forward to another Shreveport-esque bowl.

***

Few events, if any, leading to Mike Shula’s exodus are surmountable to the Nov. 4, 2006 loss to Sylvester Croom’s Mississippi State, a defeat that sounded the proverbial death knell in the minds of many (even some dyed-in-the-wool ‘Bama fans were hoping for a loss). “The Mississippi State game tilted that whole deal in another direction,” Townsend told SDS. “Animosity had reached a boiling point.”

Yet even with the crimson-faced losses piling up, insiders suggest that if Shula could have somehow defeated Auburn on Nov. 18 his services might have been retained. Instead, Alabama lost its fifth in a row to the boys from the Plains — a school record — and on Monday, Nov. 27, ‘Bama’s Golden Boy was fired.

Mal Moore, the embattled athletic director who had overseen the Barnum-and-Bailey-like “Fran-pri-shula era” (where coaches zipped by like horses on a carousel), was forced into the breach once more. The old soldier had been lanced thrice — the untimely departure of Dennis Franchione to Texas A&M, the short and sad tenure of Mike Price, and now the doe-eyed Shula November — and was being pummeled by naysayers and members of his own flock. By November 2006, Alabama wasn’t tacking on to its legacy; Alabama was building a crypt.

After Shula’s heave-ho, Moore immediately cobbled together a caucus tasked with finding a martinet Alpha Dog who had a proven track record of success and a “championship pedigree.” From that jumping point, two candidates immediately sprang to mind: Steve Spurrier and Nick Saban. And from the outset, Saban was Moore’s prized steer.

On Day 1 of his search, Tuesday, Nov. 28, Moore clandestinely put out feelers for both Saban and Spurrier, gauging interest through various channels. A private headhunting firm headed by Chuck Neinas was also retained by the athletic department for a fee in the neighborhood of $35,000. But many wondered if the fading glory that was Alabama football could still rely on its name for the big haul. It didn’t have much else.

After Shula’s disappearance, Alabama installed as interim coach the raspy Joe Kines, who would direct the Tide against the Oklahoma State Cowboys in the mighty PetroSun Independence Bowl in — yes — Shreveport (sigh) on Dec. 28. Ultimately, Kines didn’t have a snowball’s chance at the job, but he accepted his interim tag with grace and without complaint.

Because Moore and the Head Ball Coach were acquaintances from the olden days, Spurrier was the more easily accessible of the top two candidates. More than once, Moore talked to Spurrier over the phone, but Spurrier quickly reemphasized his commitment to building South Carolina into a viable SEC program. Conversely, Moore did not know Saban personally, but he had developed a remote admiration as Saban’s coaching stock continued to ascend. “He was a Saban admirer,” Townsend told SDS, speaking of Moore. “He liked the way he handled things.”

Moore decided that all dialogues involving the next coach would be kept close to the vest. The internal discussions in the athletic department were often so surreptitious that Moore would warn members of his staff — for their own sake — not to utter a word. Ronny Robertson, Major Gifts Director of University Athletics and a close advisor to Moore, recalled such a story in a conversation with SDS: “One day I said, ‘Mal, I heard Spurrier turned us down.’ He looked at me and said, ‘Don’t be telling everybody that. I’m just reminding you for your own good that somebody’s going to ask how it got out and I don’t want it to come back to you.'”

With Spurrier crossed off the list (at least for now), Moore’s gape centered on Saban. But what gave him an inkling that Saban might leave the Dolphins in the first place? The answer? Fate.

The summer of 2001. After Saban was hired at LSU, he and his wife Terry bought a home at Lake Burton, Ga. Soon the Sabans began looking for a reputable contractor, and that’s when Chuck Moore came into the picture. Chuck was a housing contractor in the area, and a good one. Initially Chuck didn’t reveal to Saban one significant piece of information: Chuck was Mal Moore’s nephew.”He didn’t know me from Adam,” Chuck told SDS. “I told him he might know my uncle, and he began to pick my brain about Mal and his career.”

Over time, Chuck and Saban developed both a business relationship and a friendship. They spent time together on the golf course, where Chuck loved to talk football with Saban, particularly about old coaches. “He told me he never knew Coach Bryant, never got to meet him, but he absolutely loved Coach Stallings,” Chuck said. “Coach Stallings was his favorite coach.”

Chuck was always impressed with Saban’s hands-on approach to building and the way he treated many of the laborers. “He’d get out in the yard and help them tote lumber,” Chuck recalled. “And he was interested in them individually. He treated each of them with respect.”

In Saban, Mal saw Bryant-like values. Through the years, Mal and Chuck had numerous conversations about Saban, and both believed if anyone could raze and rebuild Alabama back to greatness, it was Saban. So when Mal was looking for a new coach, he knew just who to call.

After Shula was fired, Mal immediately called his brother Frank, Chuck’s father. He needed a favor. “Mal called me and he said, ‘Frank I’ve made a decision to let Shula go and go after Saban,'” Frank told SDS. “‘I need all of Chuck’s numbers, because I’m going to use Chuck as a go-between.’”

Mal later communicated through Saban’s agent, Jimmy Sexton, but the discussions with Chuck were critical to the overall process. Mal relied on Chuck to “talk” to Saban via third-party communication, which included sending information on the Board of Trustees, President Witt, and the amenities in and around Tuscaloosa. “Mal called me and gave me strict instructions,” Chuck told SDS. “I couldn’t talk to anyone, even my dad. He would call me and have me call coach and talk to him about different things about Alabama.”

“When he had something important to say, Mal would send it through Chuck and Chuck would tell Saban,” Frank said.

For instance, since the Moores knew Saban was a “water man,” Mal sent information on Lake Tuscaloosa to Chuck, who then UPSed the package to Saban. Knee-jerk decisions were not a part of Saban’s lexicon, and if the end game was ultimately to take the Alabama job, a degree of due diligence was required.

Technically, Saban never spoke to Alabama directly until Day 36 of the search, the night of Jan. 2 when Mal Moore was in his living room.

Day 9

‘My heart sank’ … and a change of heart

On Sunday, Dec. 3, Mal Moore flew to New York to attend the National Football Foundation’s annual banquet at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel. Everybody who is anybody in college football was invited, and Mal used this gala as an opportunity to vet a number of coaching candidates, including West Virginia’s Rich Rodriguez and Rutgers’ Greg Schiano. That week, Moore also met informally with Spurrier, who politely echoed his sentiments to remain in South Carolina. “He met with Spurrier and his wife,” Townsend told SDS. “He asked Spurrier if he was interested and he said no.”

Though Mal Moore had meetings scheduled with Rodriguez and Schiano, what evoked his keenest interest was a meeting with Jimmy Sexton scheduled for that Monday in New York, Day 7. Since everything was hush-hush, Moore’s team secured a private area of the hotel for the meetings, thereby eluding the scent of galling reporters. Even close-knit advisors such as Ronny Robertson were not fully apprised as to matters behind closed doors. “(Mal) called me between one of the meetings and said, ‘Listen, I’m interviewing. We need a bucket of ice,'” Robertson told SDS. “He didn’t even want a bellhop to come in.” Robertson never knew whom Moore was interviewing.

The Monday meeting with Sexton was not a full-blown discussion of contractual details, but rather a wade-in-the-water affair to see whether Saban might hup two for an interview. Moore produced photographs of the athletic facilities that showed significant upgrades to the near-Draconian facilities that dotted campus previous to his administration. Sexton gave his compliments, but kindly reiterated that Saban wasn’t going to talk to Mal until the final curtain of the Miami season was drawn.

Surely the fact that Sexton agreed to a meeting was evidence that Saban had some interest, but when Sexton later suggested that if Saban returned to college, Alabama was one of the schools on his short list, Moore’s hope was piqued. “Jimmy did inform that it was true that Nick had expressed he wasn’t overly enamored with the NFL,” Moore wrote in his book, Crimson Heart.

***

The one takeaway from the meeting was a promise that Sexton would call by Wednesday, Day 9, at a set time to inform Mal if it was possible to speak to Saban after the Dolphins’ season. That briquette of hope was the best Moore could get.Before the banquet on Tuesday, Moore met with Rodriguez and Schiano in the private suite. Rodriguez, 43 at the time, and Schiano 40, were rising stars, both with 10-win campaigns for 2006. “I really thought we had productive meetings,” Moore wrote in Crimson Heart. “Both were interested in the job.”

Eight days into the search, Moore faced two options: Offer the job to a proven coach or wait four more grueling weeks to see if a more proven coach might speak to him, though there was no guarantee a deal could be struck. If Saban eventually said no, could he get a coach as good as Rodriguez or Schiano? Probably not, he surmised. If he waited another week, he might lose Rodriguez and Schiano. These were the roving hypotheticals that tossed in his mind.

Perhaps that pressure reached a boiling point on Wednesday, Day 9. Decisions were made that would have led to future “What if?” scenarios. Sexton had promised to call by an allotted time, and Mal, waiting nervously for his call, was crestfallen as the time came and went. Receiving this as a “no,” Mal immediately phoned Rodriguez and offered him the job. Rodriguez accepted, and a meeting with his agent was scheduled the next day at Mal’s home in Tuscaloosa.

Mere minutes after the offer, Mal’s phone rang. It was Sexton, who informed him that his flight had been delayed and he had been stuck somewhere in the hard skies with no cell phone coverage. “My heart sank,” Moore admitted in Crimson Heart.

Mal Moore left New York on Day 9 believing Rich Rodriguez was set to be the next coach at the University of Alabama.

The next day, Thursday, Dec. 7, officials in Alabama’s Rose Administration Building scrambled to draw up the Rodriguez paperwork. Later that day, Moore received a knock on the door of his Tuscaloosa home. One of his “insiders” was ready to traffic significant information: Rodriguez was staying at West Virginia. This might not have been as awkward had Rodriguez’s agent not have been inside the house.

“How reliable is this information?” Moore asked from his front stoop.

“Impeccable,” the source said.

That source was Steve Townsend.

To the delight of the Mountaineer faithful, Rodriguez later held a press conference announcing his plans to remain at WVU. Moore, turned down for the dance, embarrassingly released a statement. “I fully respect his decision and wish him the best,” he wrote. “I want to remind everyone of what I said at the outset of this process: my only objective is to get the best person available to lead the Alabama football program. I remain determined to bring to our program a proven head coach with impressive credentials.”

***

What happened over the course of those 24 hours is up for dispute, and to this day, the real reason RichRod cold-shouldered Alabama is muddled. With egg on his face after Rodriguez’s stiff-arm, Moore had to deal with the ungallant reality of offering the job to a second choice. The vice-grips were tightening and the weeping and gnashing of teeth were feared.

But privately Moore was relieved. He didn’t want to hire the upstart lounge singer to perform at his theater of football. He wanted Elvis.

Loping into winter now, Mal began to perceive pressure — whether founded or unfounded — from the Alabama administration and the board of trustees to secure a coach. “I don’t think he necessarily got a phone call,” Robertson told SDS, “but as conscientious as he was, he channeled that into, ‘If I don’t hire a coach, the president and trustees are going to have my neck.'”

Recruiting for the upcoming season was another consideration, and the longer the process took, the greater chances that prize recruits would defect.

Moore didn’t have much else to rely on than gut feeling (those trusty instincts had eluded him in the past) and suffice it to say that his inclination to go after Saban full-bore stemmed largely from the conversations Chuck had had with the Dolphins’ coach.

“My feeling on it from my conversations with (Saban) was that might be interested in the job,” Chuck told SDS. “With Mal being an old football background A.D, it could be what he was looking for. My feeling was that Mal needed to stay after him.”

That he did. On Friday, Day 11, Moore boldly called all hands on deck, scheduling a secret meeting of his secret team at his very public house. Now there was no turning back.

That night, a bitterly cold evening, team members were instructed to park blocks away so as to not call attention to the covert congress.

One of the main topics of discussion that evening was financing. One team member procured a list of comparable salaries for head coaches; included was the pricey salary of Oklahoma’s Bob Stoops. Running numbers, Moore concluded that, even though Saban was making north of $5 million with the Dolphins and would have to take a pay cut, $4 million would be an attractive offer.

During the night, an unexpected visit from a couple of Moore’s lieutenant ADs furnished a comedic break. Because Moore was determined to preserve the identities of his inside team, he hustled them into a laundry room before meeting with his colleagues in another part of the house. “We had a good laugh when they joked about inhaling all the detergent fumes in there,” Moore wrote in Crimson Heart.

Closing the wide gulf between Shula’s salary ($1.55 million) and Saban’s offer would be accomplished only with the help of school president Dr. Robert Witt and Paul Bryant Jr. Ultimately, these were the two men who could give the nod to such towering coin.

“Dr. Witt deserves credit,” Townsend told SDS. “He had the foresight to understand economics. He and Paul Jr. were the ones who got that consummated.”

Financing behind them, Moore had to figure out how to get to Saban. While Saban was negotiating a brutal December schedule that included the Patriots on Dec. 10 and the Jets on Christmas Day, Moore used the only two outlets at his disposal to get the carrot in front of the hare: Jimmy Sexton and his nephew Chuck.

Day 24

‘I’m not going to be Alabama’s coach’

The week of Dec. 11, Moore met with Sexton in Tuscaloosa, the festivities so secretive that Sexton had to park his car indiscreetly at a shopping center in Northport before being shuttled to Moore’s house. This meeting was more substantive than the initial meeting in New York, such that Moore wondered at the conclusion of the meeting if the parties had a deal. “Mal, this is a deal contingent on Nick Saban deciding to meet with you,” Mal wrote that he recalled Sexton saying.

A quiet but anxious ether hovered over the next 10 days. During this time, Moore continued to interview candidates, including coach David Cutcliffe, Tennessee’s offensive coordinator, in Birmingham. “He talked to Cutcliffe a long time,” Robertson told SDS. “An hour-and-a-half conversation. Mal was very impressed with him.”

Half a world away, the Dolphins suffered a 21-0 loss at Buffalo on Dec. 17. The Dolphins sat at 6-9, out of playoff contention for the second consecutive year.

That week, as rumors and innuendo continued to swirl and curiosity of the press grew unrelenting, Saban broke. At a Thursday, Dec. 21 press conference — Day 24 — Saban huffed, “I guess I have to say it. I’m not going to be the Alabama coach.”

This gauntlet utterance would later be the cause of Saban’s vilification by the Dolphins’ coterie — many of whom, to this day, remain pitiless and unforgiving.

“I don’t think Saban was lying when he said he wasn’t going to Alabama,” Townsend told SDS. “I think he meant it at the time.”

On Monday Night Football, held on Christmas night, Saban gazed into a half-full Dolphin Stadium. During the game telecast, legendary coach Don Shula, Mike’s father, bristled at Alabama, suggesting they need to “evaluate the evaluators.” (Perhaps he would have never guessed that Alabama’s eventual replacement was patrolling the ‘Fins’ sideline that night.)

While Alabama prepped for Shreveport, Moore flew to Houston to meet with Mike Sherman, associate head coach for the Houston Texans. Moore came away impressed but no offer was extended.

On Dec. 28, Kines, wearing crimson garb that mirrored Shula’s usual Paddington Bear get-up, did the best he could (and gave a pulsating halftime interview for the ages), but Alabama fell to the Cowboys 34-31. With that pedestrian 6-7 season in the books, Moore could now spend the rest of the holiday season without the pesky interference of a game.

Thirty-one days after firing Shula, Moore still hadn’t found his replacement.

Moore rode back to Alabama with Steve Townsend, and together across three states the pair prepped for an upcoming trip to the Sunshine State to meet Nick Saban. Moore had booked a flight to Miami on Jan. 1 and the two men discussed myriad details of the excursion while in the car.

Because plane rides of SEC coaches seem to fascinate the press, Moore decided to fly on a private plane owned by personal friend Farid Rafiee. Ironically, the pilot was Bud Darby, former Alabama quarterback Richard Todd’s brother-in-law. Though no one would verbalize it, the flight carried a heavy weight in the instructions, “Don’t come home without him,” harkening back to a Siamese directive aimed at then-Alabama assistant coach Howard Schnellenberger, who, on a long-ago trip to Beaver Falls, Pa., was responsible for snagging a young, cocksure quarterback named Joe Namath.

Day 36

‘I’m taking this plane to Cuba if Nick Saban isn’t on it’

The weather was inclement as Mal Moore’s plane took flight that Monday. Landing in Miami, he hooked up with a driver named Francisco “Frankie” Rengifo, who zipped him around in a Mercedes sedan. Mal checked in to a hotel that was a block from Saban’s Fort Lauderdale house and for the next two days, went back and forth with the members of his team who were in constant contact with Terry Saban and Jimmy Sexton.

Everything was in a holding pattern until a member (any member) of the Saban family allowed Mal — who was doing everything in his power to get his foot in the door — access to their lives.

At one point on Tuesday, the weary athletic director almost gave up and came home. Moore checked out of the hotel. Robertson recalled their conversation. “Mal called me and said, ‘Gah! You won’t believe it,'” Robertson told SDS. “‘I’ve been sitting out there in front of this gate by his house. I’ve been camped out here for a day and a half.”

“How’s it going?” Robertson asked.

“Hell, I don’t know,” Robertson recalled Mal saying. “I talked to his wife, and I can tell she really wants to come to Alabama. I haven’t seen Coach Saban yet. I’ve already checked out of the hotel. Now I gotta figure out where I’m going to stay tonight.”

At some point Tuesday, Moore also talked to Sexton. According to an article by ESPN’s Mark Schlabach, their conversation went like this:

“Jimmy, we’ve been talking about this for a month,” Moore said. “He won’t even meet with me. We’ve got to make this happen.”

“Mal, just be patient with him,” Sexton said. “You’ve got to hang in there. Do not get on that plane and go back to Tuscaloosa.”

“Don’t worry,” Moore said. “I’m taking this plane to Cuba if Nick Saban isn’t on it.”

But something within him, something fierce, a seed of determination that was planted long ago in Dozier, Ala., that sprouted as a backup quarterback under Bear Bryant, that blossomed as an assistant coach and grew to full stature as an athletic director, kept him there that day. Instead of returning from the front lines with his tail between his legs, the old soldier made one last run.

Finally, after waiting outside the gates of Oz for nearly two days, Terry Saban buzzed him in. Mal, the frosty-haired, seasoned recruiter, put on his best sell as he and Terry chatted over lunch. “I like to think that she and I hit it off that day,” Mal wrote in Crimson Heart. “At least that’s the way I remember it.”

But Nick Saban was nowhere to be found. Terry informed Mal over lunch that her husband was at the Dolphins’ office, conducting his annual year-end meeting with the players. Terry invited Mal back for dinner later that night.

That afternoon, Saban phoned his wife to tell her that he was staying with the Dolphins. But after Terry insisted that he at least meet with Mal, Saban finally relented.

That Tuesday night — Day 36 — the Sabans gathered in their living room with Mal Moore. Bundling his decades of recruiting savvy into one terrific recruiting spiel, Mal convinced Nick Saban to leave his superlative gig with the Dolphins and come to Alabama.

And although the exact details of that conversation will never be revealed, Terry Saban provided a bit of insight to the personal qualities and potent words of Moore that signaled the tipping point.

But Huizenga was an old soldier, too. On Wednesday morning, Huizenga met with the Sabans in the same living room Mal Moore had been in the evening previous. There were no discussions about money or contract extensions, but rather what was in Saban’s heart. Saban respected his owner so much that he needed his blessing. That morning, Huizenga gave it.

Shortly thereafter, an emotional Saban phoned the Dolphins’ complex and informed his coaching staff via conference call that he would not be returning. Huizenga called a press conference later that day, and reporters jammed into a small room at the Dolphins Training Facility. Clad in a designer suit and salmon tie, Huizenga made Saban’s departure official.

“Well as you know, Nick Saban has decided not to return to the Dolphins,” Huizenga began. “It is what it is.”

Reporters took the liberty of lobbing a few mortars. “Are you upset about the way Nick Saban handled this over the last couple of weeks?” one reporter asked.

“The answer is no, I’m not upset,” Huizenga said. “Because it’s more involved than what you think … I feel the pain of Nick and Terry and it’s not a very simple thing.”

“After this guy lied to the media, gave you a different impression, lied to his players, why would you want him back?” fired another reporter.

***

By the time Huizenga approached the podium, the Sabans, in the middle of their own hegira, were already furiously packing their belongings to board the plane to Alabama. By then, the news of Saban’s departure had spread throughout the country, and as the Miami press hovered like ravenous buzzards around Saban’s home, helicopters swarming overhead, a contingent that included the Saban family plus Mal Moore was piling into the Mercedes. “They crammed luggage everywhere,” Townsend told SDS. “Mal rode on the gear shift box. Saban by the window. Terry and the daughter and her friend in the back seats.”Inside the car, Mal phoned Chuck with the terrific news. “We got him!” Mal exclaimed.

Day 38

A hero’s welcome

Hearing those words, an exultant Chuck felt both supreme joy and a sense of relief. This overlong saga was now just over. “My Number 1 thought was that he’s got a man now who knows what it takes to build a program and that it’s going to make my uncle’s job much more pleasant,” Chuck told SDS. “I also felt the same way for coach. They should work well together. I felt good for both of them.”

Mal also called Ronny Robertson to set up the logistics of transporting Saban from the airport in Tuscaloosa to Bryant Hall, where he and Terry would be staying until they found something more permanent.

When the plane touched tarmac in Alabama, the airport fences were lined with throngs of adoring fans that ran the gamut of the social ladder. “Praise the Lord, God is so good, Nick is now in the Bama hood!” quoth Collete Connell in sort of a rube-like poetry. (Connell was the fan who infamously planted a kiss on Saban’s cheek.)

Saban, smiling broadly and signing memorabilia, inched forward as the crowd of crimson-swathed fans belted a Southern chorus of “Woooo! Woooo!” The length of a football field away, a fleet of automobiles was waiting to whisk Saban and his entourage to Bryant Hall. Saban climbed into the back of a crimson GMC Yukon driven by Ronny Robertson as fans produced digital cameras to capture the moment.

“I picked him up,” Robertson told SDS. “I had an SUV with John Gilbert, who was the assistant AD. It was a zoo out there.”

Following a police escort, Robertson nosed through the congested city of Northport as he and Gilbert explained the particulars of Saban’s first night in Tuscaloosa.

One of Saban’s first phone calls from inside the SUV was to Chuck. On the plane ride, Mal had informed Saban that Frank was also a good golfer, and Saban used this as an opening for some lighthearted needling. “Coach called me and said, ‘You talk about how good a golfer you are; you can’t even beat your dad,'” Chuck told SDS. “I said, ‘Well I tell you what, you play him!'”

After arriving at Bryant Hall, Robertson and Gilbert showed the Sabans their temporary accommodations. Saban had one request.

“Saban said, ‘Is there a coffee maker here?'” Robertson said. “And John and I started jumping through hoops. We went into an efficiency kitchen in Bryant suites and began opening cabinets and found it. I made coffee. I remember I took it back in there to him.

“I said, ‘Coach, do you need cream and sugar?’ He said, ‘I don’t want coffee now. I just wanted to make sure I got it in the morning.’ John and I looked at each other and thought, ‘Boy, we blew that one!’”

On Thursday, Jan. 4, 2007 — 38 days after Moore fired Shula — Saban took to the podium as the 27th head coach in Alabama football history, setting in motion an unprecedented decade of dominance.

Postscript

It seemed that the stars perfectly aligned for Saban to come to Alabama. It was a Series of Fortunate Events. But for just a moment, consider:

What if Dennis Franchione hadn’t jumped ship for Texas A&M in 2002?

What if Mike Price hadn’t bungled his opportunity as the coach at Alabama?

What if Tim Tebow had signed with Alabama and not Florida?

What if Saban had signed Drew Brees and not Daunte Culpepper as a free agent in the spring of 2005?

What if Mike Shula had beaten Mississippi State and Auburn in 2006?

What if Rich Rodriguez had stayed true to his verbal agreement?

In procuring Saban, Alabama pulled off a football heist of Lufthansa proportions. And even the most spoiled of Alabama fans would have to admit that what Saban has done over the past decade has exceeded the hardiest of expectations.

“I think Mal’s personality, his background in football and coaching, these were his defining personality characteristics that helped sell Saban,” Townsend told SDS. “Saban developed great trust in Mal.”

If the volta of Alabama football had more to do with the qualities Saban valued in Mal Moore, an important question about Mal’s legacy must be posited: “With the hiring of Saban, has Mal Moore received atonement for the miserable and excruciating pre-Saban years as AD?” History has often been hard on him, but perhaps one great defining triumph should cover a multitude of demerits.

But life is often sadly poetic, and the old soldier’s crimson heart stopped beating on March 30, 2013. By then, Mal had been involved, in some capacity, with 10 Alabama national championships. All 10 fingers of the hands that once were dipped in the loam soil of south Alabama now had rings for them.

Reflecting on his friend, Saban described Mal as the most selfless man he’d ever known. “My happiest moment for Mal was when he won the John Toner Award, given annually to the nation’s best athletic director,” Saban wrote in Crimson Heart. “I saw him before the dinner, and he had tears in his eyes and he thanked me for changing his life. I told Mal that he had it wrong. Mal Moore had changed my life.”

It can be said that 38 days is as much a story about the persistence, tenacity, grit, humility and wisdom of Mal Moore as it is the hiring of Nick Saban. That the former backup quarterback who paid his dues and just kept plodding and plodding, even as he was passed over twice — once as a player, once as a coach — finally had his day.

In the end, Alabama didn’t have just a legacy and nothing else to sell. It had something that was very unique to the University. It had Mal Moore.

Al Blanton is a lawyer and former college basketball coach who discovered a passion for writing. In addition to freelance writing, Al is the owner of 78 Magazine, based out of Jasper, Alabama.

Photos from University of Alabama

The post 38 Days: How Alabama Pulled off the Great Heist of Nick Saban appeared first on Saturday Down South.

One by one, they are leaving us for glory. Two years ago, it was Ole Miss’ Billy Brewer. This week, the college football world lowered its head and took a knee for an Auburn legend, Pat Dye.

Growing up in the South, I could not escape the sovereignty of college football. My television set was often filled with the faces of men like Bobby Bowden, Vince Dooley, Gene Stallings, Jimmy Johnson and Pat Dye. For a young, rawboned boy, these men were icons. Gods in a pantheon of sport.

Now they are slowly leaving us. Bobby Bowden is now 90 years old. Vince Dooley, 87. Gene Stallings, 85. And Patrick Fain Dye was 80 when he passed this Monday.

In my writing life, I have had the privilege of interviewing many of these men. What I have found is that there is a commonality among them. They are much the same person, only the insignia on their chest and the colors they wore were different. I found they were lovers of history. They sought various ways to connect with nature, the outdoors. For Dooley, it was gardening. For Stallings, it was cattle. For Dye, it was quail hunting and raising maple trees.

I discovered they were learners, storytellers, family men, and men of faith. They were like John Wayne of the gridiron. If they were born in another time, they might have charged up San Juan Hill or fought at the Alamo.

Instead, they were called to be football coaches.

Besides having a certain ruggedness, there was a softness about them, too. They were tough, but tender. They knew when to give a kick in the butt or a pat on the fanny.

Pat Dye was like that.

Let me begin by saying that I am not an Auburn man. My allegiance has, and always will be, with the other team, halfway across the state. But for just a moment, strolling through the maple groves at his farm, known as Crooked Oaks, just 15.9 miles from Jordan-Hare Stadium, Coach Dye made me wonder if it was possible to like Auburn, too. In a rivalry so filled with hatred, was it conceivable for a fan’s heart to be 99 percent filled with crimson, and 1 percent orange?

What I took away most from my experience at Coach Dye’s farm was his generosity. We spent a large part of the day together — eating a humongous spread of food that he furnished, taking pictures, and chatting about everything from Disney movies to his friendship with author Harper Lee. (To be sure, there was no real interview. He talked and I listened. But believe me, there was something real.)

I remember that throughout the day, quail hunters were weaving in and out of the property, and Coach Dye always made time for a chat or a photo, just whatever the person wanted. He was gracious that way. I think he loved to host, loved having folks visit his farm. He found that people brought richness to his life. Yes, Pat Dye was a welcomer.

As far as me, I will remember rattling around his property in an old truck, just Coach Dye and me, like pals. I’ll never forget him asking, “Are you an Auburn man?” in his thick Georgian dialect — “Awburun” — and I was nervous to answer.

“No sir,” I muttered clumsily.

And that was okay. That was plenty okay.

I will never forget the conversation we had in his cabin, all the machismo and wood around us, how he opened up about his love for Auburn and other things that were important to him.

At the end of the experience, I walked away with a feeling of gratitude. He didn’t give me his autograph. He gave me something much more precious.

He gave me his time.

Perhaps Coach Dye’s biggest on-field accomplishment was that he robbed the runaway stagecoach. In 1981, when he arrived at Auburn, Alabama had won 8 consecutive games in the rivalry known as the “Iron Bowl.” The Tide won the year Dye arrived, too, but in 1982, something happened: a play now known as “Bo Over the Top” brought the horses to a halt.

For the next few years, Pat Dye helped transform the Iron Bowl into the greatest rivalry in college sports. There was just something iconic about that era, those games at Legion Field. From the tweed jackets over sweaters to The Game hats to bulky shoulder pads, this was the Golden Era of the Alabama-Auburn rivalry. If you don’t believe that, consider that many of the games are now known by the plays that defined them: Bo Over the Top, Wrong Way Bo, The Kick, Reverse to Victory.

Perhaps what saddens me the most is that Pat Dye will never again tell the stories of the Iron Bowl — of college football — that were stored inside his memory. Many of them are gone forever, the ones that were told their fate resting now in the hands of researchers and history-lovers.

Coach Dye’s death reminded me of a song by The Steeldrivers called “Where Rainbows Never Die.” It tells the sad story of an old man who is preparing to move on from this life.

I’m an old man now

Can’t do nothing

Young folks don’t pay me no mind

But in my day, I sure was something

‘Fore I felt the heavy hands of time

I’m an old man now

Bound for glory

Time to lay these burdens down

Had enough of this old world of worry

Gonna trade my trouble for a crown  

A few weeks ago we learned that Pat Dye was sick, and some feared that his time to trade his trouble for a crown was approaching. But there was one distinct difference between him and the old man in the song:

Young folks paid him mind. He was relevant. People listened to him. They wanted to know what he had to say.

Pat Dye mattered.

I’ve been amazed at how many people have been saddened by the death of Coach Dye, folks on both sides of the aisle. I’m certain there are many Alabama fans who had heavy hearts the day Dye passed on to the hereafter, not just because we respected the man who had the guts to stand up to Alabama, but because a portion of that era died with him.

Maybe even a few of us wanted to quietly whisper the words “War Eagle” as a proper tribute. And it would have been just fine. It would have been perfectly okay.

I will make my way across the fields of cotton
And wade through muddy waters one last time
And in my dreams I come out clean
When I reach the other side
Waste away the sunsets
Where rainbows never die

After all, they just don’t make men like that anymore.

Cover photo of Pat Dye on the front porch of his farm with his dogs by Al Blanton.

The post Where Rainbows Never Dye: Reflecting on the life of an SEC legend appeared first on Saturday Down South.

In the green room of the Javits Center at 655 West 34th Street in Manhattan, Todd France leaned over to his client.

“It’s the Dolphins,” France murmured. “They want to talk to you.”

Seated next to France was Auburn’s backup running back, Ronnie Brown, perhaps the unlikeliest No. 2 pick for the 2005 NFL Draft. Just a few weeks prior, Brown had hoped to be selected in one of the earlier rounds, his draft grade projecting him a third-rounder, possibly late second. He never considered he’d be invited to New York, much less be the second individual off the board.

Brown had had a stellar career at Auburn, accumulating over 2,700 yards rushing and scoring 28 touchdowns, but largely served on the second string behind starting tailback Carnell “Cadillac” Williams. So when France handed him the phone after quarterback Alex Smith was taken as the No. 1 overall pick, Brown thought it was a spoof. “I’m telling (Todd), this isn’t a time to be joking,” Brown reflects. “I’m looking over at Braylon Edwards’ table. I’m assuming he is going to go to Miami as the second pick and I’m going to be somewhere later in the draft, probably in a city where it’s cold. Absolutely I was surprised.”

But it was no joke. On the other end of the line was new Miami Dolphins head coach Nick Saban, who was making his first draft selection as an NFL head coach.

Though most of the moment was a blur, Brown does remember certain pieces of the exchange with Saban. “I think the conversation was, ‘how would you like to be a Miami Dolphin?’” Brown remembers. “For me, I would love to. After that, I walked across the stage, shook Mr. Tagliabue’s hand, held up the jersey, and was off to Miami.”

Success was arriving at breakneck speed for the kid from the small town of Cartersville, Georgia. In just a short time, Brown would sign a 5-year, $35 million contract — $19 million of which was guaranteed. He would be competing against magnificent, well-honed athletes — gladiators performing at the highest level — on the biggest stage, in front of the world. And though many would view this as a cause for celebration, in reality Brown’s new normal introduced a new set of problems. He would soon be exposed to the multihued decadence of the Miami club scene and the general temptations of NFL life. He would be faced with the anxiety of newfound expenditures and a social life that encouraged excess. He would have to fill idle time once eaten up by classes and homework with productive and edifying activities. And he would soon have a radius of people tugging at him for various forms of help. All of which rolled up into a dynamic ball of fire for which a 23-year-old was ill-prepared.

As challenges arrived on multiple fronts, Brown navigated the transition to professional life as best he could. On the field, Miami had a core of league veterans like Jason Taylor and Zach Thomas who were somewhat desensitized to the frills of the twentysomething life and showed Brown what professionalism is and looks like. But while these influences were easy to observe, they were much harder to emulate. Older players had already been through their rites of passage, and it was often hard for younger players to adopt that same lifestyle, Brown admits.

Off the field, Brown felt isolated, and though there were individuals available to help him tread this new territory financially, socially, and even morally, by and large he avoided seeking help. “Looking back in hindsight, I wish I would have had a lot more of those conversations because that would have helped me make educated decisions as I went through it,” he said.

This was due, at least in part, by a general sense of mistrust that exists in professional circles. Even though resources do exist to help usher young professional athletes through this transition period, it’s often hard to know whom to trust. “There are so many people willing to help individuals, but you realize a lot of it isn’t genuine … and there are so many people doing it for the wrong reasons,” Brown said. “You don’t want to reach out for fear of reaching out to the wrong person or being taken advantage of.” Therefore many, like Brown, choose to keep things close to the vest, cautiously allowing only fractions of their lives to be exposed to outsiders.

Fortunately, discipline and accountability were side effects of Brown’s interaction with his new head coach. Under Saban’s tutelage, Brown developed into a solid back and learned principles he would carry throughout his NFL career and beyond. Saban often extended lessons to his pupils through the medium of storytelling, and Brown remembers one particular parable about a young man who was a street sweeper. Though this man worked a thankless job that involved rigorous manual labor, he had such pride in his work that he put a sign up in his yard that read, ‘The World’s Best Street Sweeper Lives Here.’”

“That resonated with me,” Brown said. “Anything you decide to do, take the mentality of being the best at it.”

Saban’s inspiration and instruction translated into success on the field. In his rookie season, Brown rushed for 907 yards and finished second in total rushing yards among all first-year backs. The next year he topped the 1,000-yard mark, scoring 5 rushing touchdowns and hauling in 33 receptions for 276 yards.

A series of injuries would stifle Brown’s pro career, but he still managed to rush for 5,391 yards and 38 touchdowns across 10 seasons. In 2008, a year in which he rushed for 916 yards and a career-best 10 touchdowns, Brown was selected to the Pro Bowl.

Brown spent most of his career in Miami, but also had stints in Philadelphia, San Diego, and Houston. He says upon finishing the 2014 season with the Chargers, his body made it achingly clear that it was time to retire. “I think my body knew, the league knew, as well as myself,” he said.

Now that his playing days were over, his mind had to adjust to a life devoid of musty locker rooms and twisting bodies on turf. He’d been so far on his journey; he’d found money, success, and fame — and he was only 33 years old. Now it was time to begin a new chapter. “I was trying to figure out what was next,” Brown said. “How could I have a purpose and try to fulfill that purpose.”

Sports media seemed to be a natural path. He’d graduated from Auburn in 2004 with a communications degree. He was qualified, a fastidious dresser, and had the requisite football acumen to comment intelligently on camera — why not become a commentator?

Eventually Brown landed an interview with the SEC Network, but as he was driving to the interview he was unsettled. “Something told me that’s not where my heart is, where my passion and purpose was,” Brown remembered.

Though he had doubts, he pressed on and went to the interview. Being away from the college game for so long, he wasn’t as up-to-date on Southeastern Conference football as he once was, and this was a reality that emerged in the interview process and affirmed his decision to look elsewhere. “I think I could have been pretty good at it, but something inside of me was tugging, ‘this is not what you are supposed to be doing,’” he said.

Brown eventually realized that at least part of his purpose would be found in helping young athletes navigate the same challenges of professional and personal life that he experienced as an NFL player. As he viewed the league from a different perspective, he began to see so many similarities of guys coming into the league who reminded him of a young Ronnie Brown. They were trying to choose an agent, find authentic helpers while sorting through the wolves, and negotiate the challenges of being a professional athlete. Brown thought the best way to be of service to these individuals was to be on the financial side of the aisle.

Because he didn’t go to school for finance, there were a few educational hurdles that he’d have to clear before becoming a financial advisor. By this time, he’d settled down with a family and had children, and the work-life balance would be temporarily disrupted while he studied for securities registrations.

After passing all of his prerequisites, Brown landed a job in the Atlanta area as a wealth strategy associate. Now he co-leads a wealth management practice that takes a holistic approach to financial advising and strategy.

Brown works on the third floor of an office building in Buckhead, not far from the shopping cynosure on Peachtree. His office is peppered with sports memorabilia that includes two of his prized helmets — Auburn and Miami Dolphins — as well as quotes, sayings, and motivations. Framed is a photo of Brown being chosen as Auburn’s 2018 SEC Legend, and soon to be added will be a medal from the Alabama Sports Hall of Fame as a newly inducted member.

While Brown is humbled by these accolades, he is quick to credit others who played a part in his success. Now he wants to give back by mentoring young athletes.

There’s a psychological piece to Brown’s advising repertoire that’s particularly intriguing. Crucial to his philosophy is the question, “What’s your why?” In other words, Brown likes to discover what motivates an individual, because until you change the mindset, he says, you can’t change the habits. Using his own experience as a guide, Brown knows what it’s like to grow up in want and the subsequent challenges that nascent fortune presents.

“Because I grew up not having a lot — having to share clothes, sleep in bed with my relatives, share a room with my brother — when you get to the stage where you can afford such things, you tend to splurge,” Brown says. “Much of it is being disciplined and getting out of the mindset of how you grew up.”

The scope of Brown’s work is not limited to just athletes, however. He also works with business owners, entertainers, entrepreneurs and any other professional who needs assistance with wealth management. “It’s not just athletes, it’s everyone,” he says. “My relationship with clients is really about working as a team and I approach it that way.”

In many ways, Ronnie Brown is helping others to establish a life of discipline, make good choices, and have pride in your work—something his coaches instilled in him. He knows that life can come at you quickly, and if you’re not prepared, it can eat you alive. “That self-discipline,” Brown says, “that’s pretty much everything in life.”

The post From Auburn to the NFL to financial advisor: The Ronnie Brown Story appeared first on Saturday Down South.

Smith, who reigned over Auburn basketball from 1978-89, admits he loves movies starring the famous actor and can rattle them off one by one: American Gangster, Fallen, Training Day, Remember the Titans.

“If he’s involved in it, I watch it,” Smith says. “He’s my guy.”

Unfortunately, there’s a lot more movie watching to do these days for Smith, who laments that the NCAA Tournament will not be played this year due to concerns about the coronavirus pandemic. Through the years, Sonny’s relationship with March Madness has shifted from participant to spectator, though he’s no less enthusiastic about the game of basketball than he was 30 years ago. After failing to make the tournament in his first 5 years at Auburn, Smith figured he ought to go out and get a player or two to reverse his team’s fortunes. The turning point came when he nabbed a 6-5 power forward from Leeds, Alabama, named Charles Barkley.

Auburn soon became a tournament regular, making 5 consecutive appearances from 1984-88. In ’86, with the help of another blocky forward named Chuck Person, Smith and the Tigers made the Regional Final, only to be put out by a Louisville team that went on to win the national title. Smith later coached at VCU for 10 seasons and retired from coaching in 1998.

If basketball was the quilt of Smith’s life, relationships served as the thread that stitched it all together. Conference and NCAA tournaments were always the forum for intense competition but also a venue for coaches to connect and reconnect. After retiring, Sonny went to the Final Four for years, and he truly enjoyed running into old pals and swapping stories of old times. “Basketball was the thing that brought us all together, but what kept us together were the relationships,” he said. “I was thinking about the relationships even with the officials, other coaches, and writers. That’s the kind of thing you miss.”

Sonny laughs when he thinks about the dynamics of age as it relates to coliseum seating for the big event. He says the longer he went to the Final Four, the farther his seats were from the floor. “You wouldn’t believe … you might be on the last row in the corner,” he chuckles.

Every year though, Sonny and his wife, Jan, sat beside another former coach who passed the time by chomping on a bag of walnuts. “He would bring walnuts he’d taken off a tree,” Smith says. “Jan, my wife, would always get some of his walnuts. That was one of the things that was fun to me.”

Now that the virus has knocked out the brackets altogether, Smith will not only miss the camaraderie but also says the uncertainty is “taxing.” The not knowing part — when basketball and sports in general might commence — is the thing that’s particularly disconcerting. “It’s different, it’s confusing, it’s something unexpected to me,” he says. “That’s the bad part of this, not knowing, and the time factor that might be involved.”

Many fanatics like Sonny have struggled to find a suitable replacement in a world devoid of sport. Instead of dwelling on it, Sonny chooses to veg on Denzel movies or maybe a Clint Eastwood movie or two. “I don’t let this thing I’m missing wear me out, but if I sat around and thought about it a lot, I certainly would,” he says.

On the other hand, Wimp Sanderson, Smith’s foil during his coaching years and friend in retirement, can’t seem to figure out what to watch.

“Nothing,” Wimp scowls when asked what he’ll be watching in place of basketball. “I was going to watch golf, but they canceled it out.”

While Sonny was patrolling the sidelines at Auburn in the 1980s, Wimp was rabidly coaching his team up in an array of plaid sport jackets that would have made Rodney Dangerfield envious.

But it wasn’t just all show. Wimp won.

During Wimp’s 12-year tenure as head basketball coach, Alabama visited the NCAA Tournament 10 times, making the Sweet 16 on 5 occasions. In addition, he brought players like Latrell Sprewell, Robert Horry, Derrick McKey, Mark Gottfried and James “Hollywood” Robinson to campus and made Alabama basketball its own unique spectacle in a football-mad state.

Today Wimp hosts a radio show called “Inside the Locker Room” with his son, Barry Sanderson, on 100.9 FM based out of Tuscaloosa.

Now that sports have all but disappeared, Wimp has had to figure out clever ways to fill a 2-hour sports talk show. “I’ve got to try to figure out the best way to do it, and I’m not sure what that is right now,” he says.

In addition to fans not being able to fill out a bracket and follow Cinderella through the ball, Wimp says that the parity between the schools would have made for an interesting tournament in 2020. “Because there’s not a clear-cut winner,” he says. “There never has been a clear-cut winner, but there’s always been about 3 or 4 teams you thought were way ahead. (This year) even your No. 1 seeds are a little bit shakier than they have been in past years. Everyone’s kind of even, and the elites were not really elites. It’s been a different basketball season.”

Wimp, who was so laser-focused on winning, probably didn’t enjoy the NCAA Tournament camaraderie as much as Sonny, but he was looking forward to traveling to Atlanta for this year’s Final Four. “After I quit coaching, I didn’t go to the Final Four,” Wimp says. “After a certain period of time, the way coaches come and go, I didn’t know the coaches as well. But I was disappointed that I couldn’t go to Atlanta this year to see some of the guys I coached against who are still living. That’s going to be knocked out this year. From a personal standpoint, I’m going to miss that part of it.”

In addition to Wimp and Sonny’s personal anguish, there are serious revenue considerations that will be lost, Wimp also points out. Statista.com ranks the NCAA Final Four third in millions of dollars generated per sporting event (more than the FIFA World Cup and more than the College Football Playoff). Kantar Media released an article stating that March Madness generates approximately 1.3 billion dollars of advertising revenue to cover a $771 million tab to broadcast the games. As a result, college basketball will have some serious recovering to do over the next few months.

In the meantime, everyday schmoes whose drab canvases were colored by the vivid strokes of roundball are having to make a hard pivot in living rooms all across the USA.

“I don’t know what we are going to do,” Wimp says. “I guess we are going to have to watch As the World Turns.”

Cover photo: Sonny Smith cuts down the nets after Auburn beat Alabama to win the 1985 SEC Tournament. Photo courtesy of Auburn Athletics.

The post Bama’s Wimp, Auburn’s Sonny reflect on the absence of March Madness appeared first on Saturday Down South.

That’s a word that describes Georgia guard Anthony Edwards, not just in terms of his physical attributes, but the way life comes at him.

Just 5 years ago, for instance, his life seemed to be spiraling downward — fast — when he lost his mother and grandmother within 8 short months of one another to cancer.

Then, after becoming the ward of his older brother and sister and moving to a new high school, Holy Spirit Prep in Atlanta, Edwards quickly became one of the top prospects in the country, averaging over 25 points per game as a senior last year and leading his team to the 3A state championship.

Courted by dozens of schools across the country, Anthony signed with the University of Georgia and head coach Tom Crean. Now, just a few short months after moving to Athens, he will likely move on to the NBA.

He is yet to turn 19 years old.

This season, the 6-5 shooting guard exploded onto the scene with a 37-point performance against Michigan State in the Maui Invitational Tournament in November. He averaged 19.1 points per game, tops among NCAA freshmen and 3rd overall in the SEC.

Accolades seem to gravitate to him. In high school, he was named to the McDonald’s High School All-American team and the USA Today All-USA first team. He was a 5-star recruit, the No. 2-ranked player in his class. Just recently, he was named Southeastern Conference’s Freshman of the Year and Second Team All-SEC as voted on by the conference coaches.

One would think all of the attention would go to this man’s head. Not so.

Forasmuch a competitor as Anthony Edwards is on the court, there is this quiet, unassuming humility to him off the court, says a school official at Holy Spirit Prep. “He is humble to his core, and that’s something that many, many people within our community would often comment about,” the official said. “There’s a fine line between confidence and cockiness and I think people would assume because of his on-court persona that he’s cocky. Really, he’s just very confident.”

While in high school, it wasn’t uncommon for young kids to come up to Anthony and ask for his autograph, and in each instance, he was more than accommodating, the school official says. Willing to take a picture or sign autographs, Anthony never made a person he encountered feel like they weren’t valued or appreciated.

The official recalled several stories of Anthony’s benevolence toward fans and his love for children. In one instance, a young kid sent a handwritten letter to the school, to which Anthony replied and sent back to him. In another, a kid from the grade school below who had been diagnosed with cancer was made the team’s manager for a day, and Anthony insisted he sit beside him on the bench and show him the plays.

“There’s a natural goodness in him which is not normal for a 17-year-old kid,” said the official, who wished to remain anonymous. “As amazing as he is on the court, he’s far more amazing as a person.”