A sixth national championship Monday night will tie Kent State graduate Nick Saban with Bear Bryant for the most since World War II. But Saban has a softer side few see.
CLEVELAND, Ohio - The one for the other thumb will tie the Bear.
That might happen Monday night when Nick Saban could win his sixth college football championship when his Alabama Crimson Tide meets Clemson in the College Football Playoff Championship Game in Tampa.
If not then, it will probably happen sometime before the 65-year-old coach retires.
Lord of the rings
A victory in the rematch of last year's championship game would be Saban's sixth national championship, all of them won on the field and not in the old, archaic bowl structure in which the two best teams only rarely met.
He won one at LSU, four so far at Alabama, where Paul Bryant's coaching and backwoods legend made him a football version of Davy Crockett by wrestling a bear -- if not precisely killing him one when he was only three.
Since World War II, nobody has won more than six.
One of Belichick's Boys
Like most men in many lines of work, including sports, Saban's work essentially defines him.
Saban was always an aggressive networker and climber. He had been an assistant coach at six schools before he was 40.
Along the way, Earle Bruce, one of Urban Meyer's mentors, fired Saban at Ohio State, adding a bit more tinder to the fire of their rivalry.
After that, he got passed over for the head coaching job at his alma mater, Kent State.
Saban took the Toledo job in 1990, went 9-2, beat Kent State by two touchdowns, and resigned after the season to become one of Bill Belichick's Whiz Kids as the Browns' defensive coordinator. He insisted on being allowed to talk to the media once a week, despite Belichick's lockdown of access, because it was good training for a head coaching job.
Pothole personality?
Since then, Saban has hopscotched around: head coach at Michigan State, where he didn't like being in Michigan's shadow so he turned up at LSU; there, he won it all for the first time there since Paul Dietzel and the Chinese Bandits in 1958; then he went to the NFL as head coach of the Miami Dolphins; and finally he bounced back to the college ranks, where he has become the coaching gold standard.
Yet Saban still comes off as a manager in charge of a widget assembly line, always talking about the process and not the products.
He is as much fun, it was recently observed, "as a pothole."
A different view
But in a lot of ways, sports, just like politics, are local. It's our own dealings with coaches that condition our perception of them.
My view is different because, very briefly, I saw Saban filtered through a lens of his best intentions. It enabled me to write one of my favorite columns. Saban's helpfulness and kindness were a big part of it.
A Christmas story
Christmas is past now, but it does us good to remember its spirit.
Saban became part of a Christmas column I wrote in 1998 about Kevin O'Keefe, who was one of the great Northeast Ohio high school offensive linemen of the 1980s at St. Edward.
Kevin was recruited to Michigan State by Saban. The coach formed such a tight bond with O'Keefe's parents, John and Elaine, that Elaine's voice, when I interviewed her for the story was warm as a Yuletide hearth when speaking of the coach.
O'Keefe never realized the NFL dream that seemed his for the taking because that career was sidelined after he won one letter on the 1986 Spartans team. His war with Hodgkin's disease, a form of cancer in the body's lymphatic system, had flared again. Kevin O'Keefe died in 2015 at the age of 48.
When Michigan State won the Rose Bowl after the 1987 season, all the players received rings, except O'Keefe. He felt he wasn't entitled to one anyway since he didn't play. O'Keefe received a watch instead.
The story I wrote was about ordinary men, bonding over a shared passion for cigars, reaching out a decade later to redress the omission of the ring.
When I contacted Saban, who was in the midst of a recruiting trip, to tell him of the plan to get O'Keefe a Rose Bowl ring, the coach was all in, bringing full-bore advocacy to the idea. His respect for, loyalty to and admiration of O'Keefe for all he had gone through was obvious in the interview.
You can read this Cleveland Christmas story from the pages of "Cigar Aficionado" here. The column, with less cigar emphasis, originally ran in The Plain Dealer.
It was about a surprise gift and the enduring fellowship those men shared, but it was also partly about a coach few would ever call Saint Nick.
Don't tell that to the O'Keefes.