After leading the Bucs to the brink of success, coming back to Tampa Bay is bittersweet.
By RICK STROUD
Published October 5, 2003
[Times file photo: Toni L. Sandys]
Tony Dungy's return stirs emotions of those who played under him and were tapped to become leaders.
TAMPA - He will walk into Raymond James Stadium, the house he built, and cast an eye at all the seats he filled. He will see the defense he designed, greet the Pro Bowl players he drafted or made rich and match wits with some members of a coaching staff he hired.
Despite all that, Tony Dungy will not feel right at home.
Not in a place where he spent six seasons, not where he wore out his welcome and certainly not in the spotlight.
"It'll be strange, coming in the other gate and going to the visiting locker room, which I've never been in, and being on the other sideline," Dungy said.
"All that is going to be different. But hopefully, that can hurry up and go and we can kick off the football."
Dungy knows he can't avoid it. The Colts coach's return to Tampa is Monday night's story line. Bucs players hold him in reverence. But they have a unique way of showing their gratitude.
"For a lot of guys around here, he's meant a lot, not only as a coach, but as a man," nose tackle Anthony McFarland said. "So when you put all those things into words, you really can never describe it fully. But I think the way that everybody who has been very close to him pays him respect is to go out and play lights out.
"As a player, what you do is line up and just tee off."
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To fully understand what Dungy achieved, you have to remember he inherited a legacy of 13 straight losing seasons. At the time, Tampa Bay was the place where careers came to die.
The team had been sold to Malcolm Glazer and had no stability. The new owner threatened to move the franchise unless he received a deal for a new stadium. Amid this chaotic backdrop, Dungy brought calm and class.
Defensive tackle Warren Sapp was familiar with Dungy's reputation as a defensive guru from his work with the Steelers, Chiefs and Vikings. He remembers their first encounter outside the locker room.
"It was like meeting God, almost . . . he was everything, I thought, and more," Sapp said. "He told me, "I'm going to build (this defense) around you. Are you ready?' I hold him special because he took me out of purgatory. He took the chains off me and allowed me to become the player I am today."
Linebacker Derrick Brooks spoke with Dungy by telephone in Tallahassee shortly after Dungy was hired. But his first meeting with him at One Buc Place also left an impression.
"The next thing I know, he's telling me my role and how he expects me to develop into a great player and a leader on this football team," Brooks said. "I'm sitting there listening to him and it kind of struck me: I'm just a second-year guy trying to make my way in this league; I wasn't sure I was ready for that. I was a little taken aback."
Things did not go so well at first with Dungy for safety John Lynch. After tearing rib cartilage during a scrimmage in Miami, Lynch had been told he couldn't lose his job because of injury.
"Well, I lost my job and I was mad. I was really mad," Lynch said.
But in Week 2, starting strong safety Todd Scott was injured and a year later, Lynch went to his first of five Pro Bowls.
"He told us in our first team meeting that our goal was to win a championship," Lynch said. "He said that's what we're going to be about, and I always remembered that. I knew right away he was going to make a difference."
After going 6-10 in 1996, Dungy never had a losing season. He took the Bucs to the playoffs four times in six years, but general manager Rich McKay said the first was the sweetest.
"In '97, we were in the old orange uniforms, we were in the old stadium, we were not a high-revenue team," McKay said. "We were as low a revenue team as there's ever been in the history of the league. We had a payroll that was next to nothing and we got to the playoffs. That was a big year in turning the franchise around, a big year in establishing what was necessary in the locker room, in selling the new stadium. That was a big year and it was not done in a way it typically gets done."
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Ironically, it was one week after Dungy's greatest success that he nearly resigned.
The Bucs had just lost the NFC Championship Game to the eventual world champion Rams 11-6, a remarkable accomplishment considering they were playing with rookie quarterback Shaun King, a patchwork offensive line and facing one of the most prolific offenses of all-time.
Dungy and his coaching staff gathered in Honolulu to lead the NFC in the Pro Bowl. But in Tampa, a mutiny was being plotted.
The contracts for most of Dungy's assistants were up. Disappointed with an offense that ranked 28th, the Glazers wanted to clean house and fire the entire offensive coaching staff.
Dungy still believed in offensive coordinator Mike Shula and was loyal to his assistants. According to Sapp, Dungy threatened to quit if the Glazers forced his hand.
"Listen. My man, Tony, said, "If you want (Shula) to go, we all go,"' Sapp said. "And then Rich (McKay) said he was going with Tony. That's what stopped it. It was crazy. Finally, Mike said, "They want me, I'll go."'
Shula's dismissal led to a series of bad decisions that would seal Dungy's fate. He hired Les Steckel, who slightly improved the offense to 21st but melted down in a 21-3 playoff loss at Philadelphia. Dungy fired Steckel after one season.
With Super Bowl XXXV in Tampa, Dungy already got word from other coaches that the Glazers were making overtures to Bill Parcells. Dungy's agent sought a contract extension and was denied.
Finally, perhaps wanting someone he could trust, Dungy turned to quarterbacks coach Clyde Christensen to become his offensive coordinator. Christensen took a bad offense, with a better quarterback in Brad Johnson, and almost made it worse.
"The last (decision) was the worst," Sapp said. "It was over Clyde's head. ... We were going with the same plan and we were getting kicked every time.
"Tony never held the offense to the same standard that he held us to. It wears on you mentally."
Before Dungy even coached his final game with the Bucs - a 31-9 wild-card defeat at Philadelphia - the Glazers had agreed in principle with Parcells to coach the Bucs in 2002.
"You've got to understand, that's the man's makeup," Sapp said. "That's who he is. If he says, "You're with me,' he's going to trust you're going to get it done. And it killed him."
Players still feel bitterness over how Dungy was mistreated - especially considering his integrity and what he had meant to the franchise.
"You couldn't figure out why," Ronde Barber said. "You kind of knew it was coming, but we didn't have the answers. The irony is him having to be outside the loop of us becoming Super Bowl champions."
Neither Dungy nor McKay wanted to discuss how the winningest coach in club history was fired. "I certainly don't want to relive it or talk about it," McKay said. "What's done is done. I would say there are no set of circumstances under which those who had the respect and admiration for Tony were going to feel comfortable if there was going to be a change made, period. But the bottom line on it is, he came out of it and he survived it."
So did the Bucs with Jon Gruden. One thing Dungy won't recognize is painted in RJS - a Super Bowl XXXVII championship banner.
"I give him a lot of credit, I've done that since I've been here and I'll always remain that way," Gruden said. "I credit him, as I've said all along, for leaving behind quite a legacy and some big shoes to fill. I loved it. At the same time, we had 27 or 28 new players last year that we had to expose to however we were going to do things. Nothing ever stays the same in pro football. The leftover players from his regime, I've been most impressed with. The work ethic, the kind of guy he is, his legacy will never be left behind here."
