Here is a well-earned hug, Coach

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By HUBERT MIZELL

© St. Petersburg Times,
published June 11, 2001

Retired Times columnist Hubert Mizell was the only Tampa Bay media person in Los Angeles on Oct. 31, 1975, when John McKay signed a five-year contract to coach the expansion Buccaneers, and he covered the NFL team and its first coach until McKay's last game on Dec. 16, 1984.

WINTERGREEN, Va. -- John McKay never became an NFL insider. Didn't want to be. This was a college coach. Carve that, not any mutterings about 0-26 Bucs, on his tombstone.

If there's a number to etch in McKay marble, it's four national championships. Bear Bryant was John's best pal, not Don Shula. He liked beating Bud Grant, but enjoyed whipping Ara Parseghian even more. College guys. McKay never made the Super Bowl, but ruled the Rose Bowl.

We talked often, John and me, away from the ballfield. His cigar clouding the room. I treasure the recollections. McKay was tough, explosive and unique. His humor could pierce.

I loved John.

During his 1976-84 run as Tampa Bay coach, people frequently asked me, journalistic comrades among them, "How do you like dealing with John McKay?" They expected a frown, not a thumbs-up.

McKay took pride in not talking in cliches, which is a boring religion with many coaches. "Back at the University of Oregon, when I first got into the business," he told me, "I swore to never speak of having our backs to the wall, or playing them one at a time or any of the junk almost every coach since Amos Alonzo Stagg has used."

John was an introvert, but with the reputation of an extrovert. He'd sooner avoid spotlights, duck interviews and spend the time coaching, golfing, having a vodka punch or raising Rich, Johnny and the rest of the terrific kids he and Corky brought into the world.

McKay wasn't a hugger. Bucs fans criticized him for not having more expressive sideline contact with players. "I've never been much for embracing our own children, so why should I put my arms around a stranger, or pat him on the tail?" John asked. "Love and care can be expressed in various ways."

When the first-year Bucs went 0-14, with Steve Spurrier at quarterback, McKay's patience repeatedly shredded. His funny, spicy, oft-angry quotes are part of football history.

John was offended by "old pro attitudes" and veteran Bucs players whined, usually off the record, about how USC tactics weren't right for the pros. McKay never changed. For him, it would've been sacrilege.

In 1979, John put NFL snobs on their heels. Going 10-6, winning the NFC Central, making the NFL's final four. A season earlier, he made a controversial, courageous and brilliant move, making Doug Williams the first black quarterback ever drafted in the NFL's first round.

Guts never in question.

John was heavy in pride about growing up poor and strong in West Virginia. "Before this coaching thing came into my life," he said, "I was absolutely set on becoming an FBI agent."

John Wayne was his chum, Bob Hope a frequent golfing companion, but McKay was anything but an L.A. flash. "You haven't lived," he would say, "until you've spent a Friday night in Pullman, Wash." That's the Pac-10 outpost where Washington State is located, so the mighty McKay Trojans went there from glitzy Los Angeles, like some great circus visiting the boonies.

McKay so cherished his USC journey, decorated by some fabulous student talents, including Mike Garrett, Ricky Bell, Lynn Swann, Ron Yary and O.J. Simpson.

Sure, he coveted some Bucs moments like the championship season of 1979, plus seeing his younger son mature into one of the NFL's finest general managers, but McKay was always most proud, professionally, of being a college coach.

Loved him.

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