© St. Petersburg Times, published January 3, 2002
PASADENA, Calif. -- His is the perfect story. Now, Larry Coker can imagine the perfect ending.
First of all, his Miami Hurricanes win tonight's Rose Bowl. They finish the season 12-0. They win the national championship. Everyone is happy.
And then, Coker retires.
After all, why hang around for moments less perfect?
The truth be told, the retirement idea came from Dianna Coker, Larry's wife. And it isn't serious because, as Coker says, "I need the day job."
Ah, but whatever could be better than this? Coker is in his first season as head coach of the Hurricanes, and there are people who do not yet know his name. His team has played 11 games, and it has won 11 times and, the general opinion seems to be, Coker has managed perfectly to stay out of the way.
Later, there will be defeats. Later, there will be criticism. Later, storm clouds will gather. Later, life gets difficult.
For now, there is only the wonderful ride of a man who stayed in line forever to get his ticket.
Considering that he is an overnight success, there are a lot of lines in the face of Coker. He is 53, and as long as his players have lived, he has been on one college sideline or another. He had been an assistant at five schools for the 22 seasons before this one, and it was beginning to look as if that would always be Coker's lot in life. Two years ago, he was rejected when he applied for the head-coaching job at Tulsa. Tulsa.
Yet, here he is, the only coach in college football without a defeat on his resume, steering his team toward the biggest prize in the sport. Not since 1948, when the impossible-to-spell Bennie Oosterbaan led Michigan, has a rookie coach gone unbeaten and won the title.
It is incredible to think that this may be the only college coaching job Coker could get, and yet, it turns out to be the perfect match.
He does not overwhelm you with charisma. He is not young, he is not rising, he is not renowned as an innovator. He lacks the self-promotion -- yes, the arrogance -- that defines so many head coaches. He is not a general. He is not a CEO. He fits just fine in the back of the room.
In some ways, he is still Larry, Good Ole Larry, the affable assistant coach. In some ways, Coker still strikes you an assistant coach. He still manages to stay smaller than his program, a rarity in college football these days.
Take Wednesday morning, when Coker walked into his news conference, a lopsided grin on his face, as if he were slightly embarrassed about all the fuss. Mind you, Howard Schnellenberger would have landed in a helicopter, his voice rumbling, and commanded your attention. Jimmy Johnson would have taken over the room and used the opportunity to plant psychological time bombs in the heads of his players. Dennis Erickson would have talked about the stress of the position. Butch Davis would have told you that no matter what you heard, there was no game.
Coker? He tells you that he's selling his 1979 Mercedes in case you're interested.
And yes, you would buy a used car from this man.
This is a face you can trust. At least, his players did. When Davis left for the Cleveland Browns, they were adamant that Coker get the job. That isn't rare. What was rare is that, this time, Miami listened. When Schnellenberger left, there was a great deal of sentiment for then-defensive coordinator Tom Olivadotti. When Johnson left, a lot of people wanted then-offensive coordinator Gary Stevens.
Instead, Miami went after a proven head coach. This time, it didn't.
As moves go, this one has been perfect. Coker hung on to a good recruiting class (UM lost one commitment). He kept the transition from last season's No. 2-ranked team. He turned a no-win situation into a no-loss season.
Coker did it without a lot of chest-thumping, too. A lot of coaches, even assistant coaches, would have felt compelled to put their brand on the program. They would have changed this or nudged that. Coker didn't. He told his players there was enough talent to win, and that if Miami lost, then it was his fault.
Because of it, there are those who act as if Coker is nothing but a man holding a winning lottery ticket. Consider this, however. Neither Rob Chudzinski nor Randy Shannon had been coordinators before. Heck, Coker must be doing something right.
"I'm sure when I was hired a lot of people went 'Who is this?' " Coker said.
Who is he? He's the kid from Last Chance, Okla., who has provided hope for every assistant coach in college football. Anymore, athletic directors are only interested in hiring someone young, someone who has been a head coach at a slightly smaller school, someone who can charm the alumni. There are a great many great assistant coaches who never have gotten their chance at a big-time program. Maybe the success of Coker -- and Nebraska's Frank Solich, for that matter -- can change that.
As time goes on, we will find out more about Coker. Can he be a coach for long-term success at Miami? Will he become more comfortable in the spotlight? What was Tulsa thinking? And, finally, will he ever sell that darned car?
At this point, we don't know.
On the other hand, we don't know if he'll ever lose a game, either.