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Man of faith. Selfless friend. Caring father. In the community, Tony Dungy is known for things far more important than football.
By DAVID KARP, SHARON TUBBS and BILL COATS
© St. Petersburg Times, published January 16, 2002
TAMPA -- Every morning, Tampa Bay Buccaneers coach Tony Dungy pulled his Dodge Durango into a neighbor's driveway to pick up the kids.
It didn't matter where his football team had played the night before, or how badly the Bucs had lost.
Dungy, the car pool driver, showed up to chauffeur the neighborhood children to Berkeley Preparatory School in Town 'N Country. On Tuesday, the morning after Dungy had been fired, he arrived promptly at 7.
"If you could write a description of an outstanding neighbor, it would be the Dungys," said Michelle Fitz-Randolph, who has carpooled with them for three years. "I can't think of many other dads who would share that kind of commitment to their family and their children and to a neighbor."
The Bucs got rid of the most successful coach in team history Monday. But friends said they lost something more: a good neighbor. A reliable friend. A man uncommonly generous with his time. And, for a celebrity, a man of unusual selflessness.
In professional football, winning is everything, Tampa Mayor Dick Greco pointed out Tuesday. And maybe, he said, the Bucs can find a coach who will find a way to win more games.
But, Greco said, "I don't think anyone is going to come and do anything better as an individual and as a man. Tony is an exceptional man first and a good coach second, as far as I am concerned."
Dungy elevated the team by setting an example through his good works, his even temper and his modesty.
"If you can do that," Greco said, "that is bigger and better than the Super Bowl."
Dungy's pastor, the Rev. Ken Whitten of Idlewild Baptist Church, said he never had to worry about Dungy "embarrassing the Lord" on the football field. "He never threw off his headset" or made grandiose scenes with officials, Whitten said.
Dungy, 46, the grandson of a Baptist minister, prayed before making personnel decisions, had the team's spiritual adviser conduct Bible study, and hired staff with a strong moral center, as well as good football skills.
Off the field, Dungy embraced community causes, especially those focusing on parenthood and needy children. He has encouraged his players to do the same.
Dungy has spoken at a Christian rock concert and had his hair moussed in a stunt for children with cancer. He brought several Bucs to a recruitment party for Big Brothers & Big Sisters on the eve of a 1997 game against the Minnesota Vikings, breaking a traditional team curfew.
A FedEx driver in Carrollwood, who started a drive to give toy cars to underprivileged children, was stunned to receive a $500 check from Dungy, whom he had never met.
Dungy's influence set an example for youths throughout the Tampa Bay area.
"Tony Dungy is a kind, devout man who always has encouraging words about education and values," said Carl Lavender Jr., executive director of the Boys and Girls Club of the Suncoast, which serves 3,600 Pinellas County youths. "Winning coaches come and go. But a person who stands firm in his convictions -- his spirit lasts forever."
Bob Saunders, former head of the NAACP in Florida, remembers when throngs of young people would turn out to hear Jackie Robinson, the first black major-league baseball player.
Forty years later, Tony Dungy has been a similar influence, Saunders said.
"People like Tony and Jackie Robinson and other people have done a great deal to open the eyes of, particularly, young black people."
Yet, Dungy was so universally respected that he transcended race. He was the first African-American to lead the Bucs, but people in Tampa didn't talk much about that.
Henry Carley, a civil rights leader in Tampa who admired Dungy, was able to find some consolation in the firing.
"As far as I am concerned it shows a community coming of age," he said. "It shows the level of maturity we have reached . . . Even when you are fired, it is for the same reasons you fire a white coach. Maybe Tampa is growing."
On Dungy's cul-de-sac in the gated Avila neighborhood, though, nobody could find any comfort in the news.
They recalled Dungy walking with his wife in the evenings, throwing a football with his sons in the front yard, and bringing a lawnmower over to a neighbor's house. He would always wave and sign autographs for construction workers or anyone else who stopped him.
When the Dungys first moved into their $1.1-million house, they invited neighbors over for a barbecue dinner. His neighbors included Bucs defensive tackle Warren Sapp, Tampa Bay Devil Rays managing general partner Vince Naimoli, and Nicole DeBartolo, daughter of former San Francisco 49ers owner Edward DeBartolo Jr.
Even so, the dinner was relaxed. There were no maids or formal wear.
"He is very welcoming," said neighbor Julia Jones.
About two years, Dungy invited everyone in Avila to attend a dinner to hear him speak about his faith. Scores of neighbors came to hear Dungy speak.
"In a community like this, where it is difficult to get to know your neighbor, it was a way to bring everyone together," said Fitz-Randolph. "He has been the most wonderful neighbor a person could imagine."