The question was innocuous enough. Someone asked Dabo Swinney about the apparent joy he and the Clemson Tigers have taken in their journey to the College Football Playoff championship game.
“Well, is that against the rules?” Swinney shot back, sounding offended. “That question right there is what's wrong with society. I mean, it's like a big deal if somebody enjoys what they do. Like we're supposed to be miserable going through this. I don't understand that. I mean, there's no rule that says you can't have fun.”
There may not be a rule to that effect, but there is a ruler who presides over the No Fun Kingdom. His name is Nick Saban, and his Alabama Crimson Tide will try to end the Clemson joy ride Monday night.
Saturday at media day, someone asked Saban’s offensive coordinator, Lane Kiffin, how much fun he is having coaching the Tide.
“I don’t think anybody would say fun is a term that is really used around our program very much,” Kiffin said. “You’re not here to have fun. You’re here to win. Coach said it before: you win the trophy, you hold it up, you take a picture, you hand it back and you go try to win the next one.”
There you have it: two diametrically different outlooks and program philosophies. Dabo’s happy bandwagon vs. Saban’s ruthless, relentless process express.
Dabo gets dance fever after victories great and small – there seemingly are hours of video footage of the coach of the Tigers boogeying and shimmying in the Clemson locker room. Saban almost danced for a few seconds after the Cotton Bowl beatdown of Michigan State. Almost.
In modern football, more coaches tend to operate like Saban than like Swinney. Nobody has accused Notre Dame’s Brian Kelly, Michigan State’s Mark Dantonio or Iowa’s Kirk Ferentz of having too much fun at their jobs. Coaching has become an almost deadly serious undertaking.
Swinney’s approach is working, though. He’s like the country cousin of Pete Carroll, looking like he’s having a blast out there. He’s undefeated on the field this season, and crushing it in recruiting as well. Many players see the occasionally goofy, 46-year-old product of a disastrously dysfunctional upbringing as a father figure they can relate to.
“Everyone says they have a family atmosphere,” Clemson recruiting coordinator and quarterbacks coach Brandon Streeter said. “But we get kids on campus and they feel it. They feel welcome, feel they’re at home. It’s a culture, and they see the culture. That all starts with Dabo.”
Example: Every Wednesday during the season is Family Dinner Night at Clemson. Everyone associated with the program – coaches, trainers, doctors, equipment managers – are urged to bring spouses and kids to the football facility after practice to eat and mingle with the players. The message: we’re all in this together.
Thad Turnipseed, Clemson’s director of recruiting, said he was given this vision to sell to recruits by Swinney: “I want to be fun, I want to be warm, I want to be family.”
Saying that is one thing. Living it is another. Turnipseed has seen Swinney doing the latter.
“He’s hugging every player, asking all of them about their brothers by name, asking about their mamas,” he said.
Like Swinney himself and many other coaches throughout Clemson history, Turnipseed came to the small town in upstate South Carolina from Alabama. During his time with the Crimson Tide, Turnipseed designed the “recruiting room” Saban uses at his house to entertain recruits. Asked whether Swinney has a recruiting room, he smiled.
“His whole house is a recruiting room,” Turnipseed said.
Not long ago, Swinney hosted a Christmas party at his house. Turnipseed estimated there were 300 people there – half of whom Swinney didn’t know.
“I was sitting next to him,” Turnipseed said. “I got up and there’s six people waiting to take my seat. He didn’t know any of them, but he greets them like a long-lost brother.”
Still, there was one memorable time recently when Dabo was not Mr. Happy. That was during the Atlantic Coast Conference championship game, when his punter, Andy Teasdall, made a unilateral (and unwise) decision to fake a punt and try to get a first down. He failed rather miserably, and Dabo ripped into Teasdall with gusto on the sidelines.
When he was asked about yelling at the punter Saturday, he yelled at the reporter.
“So what?” Dabo bellowed. “Give me a break. There's a lot of players that get yelled at on national TV. Does [Bill] Belichick ever yell at anybody? Does Coach Saban ever yell at anybody? People dramatize that. Y'all don't know anything I said to him. Just because I'm speaking loud. It's not like I'm talking about his mom or anything like that. It's a joke. He got yelled at; so what? Give me a break. He hasn't been through anything. He's been to Miami Beach, he's been in school at Clemson, he's traveled to Arizona. He's in a nice hotel. Life is good.
“I never lost faith in him. I never lost faith in him. I yelled at him because he did something stupid and jeopardized our entire team. He made a mistake, he got yelled at, and we just moved on. It's just really that simple. Unbelievable.”
Next game, in the Orange Bowl against Oklahoma, Swinney entrusted Teasdall to throw a daring fake-punt pass to a defensive lineman for a first down, keeping alive a touchdown drive. It would be accurate to say Swinney never lost faith in his punter after nearly chewing a hole through him on the sidelines.
So it’s not all fun and games with Dabo Swinney. But there has been a whole lot of joy in this 14-0 season, a whole lot of laughing and dancing and prancing and strutting.
And if Clemson can upset Alabama on Monday night, the celebration will be absolutely epic. The Tigers certainly won’t just take their picture with the trophy and move on.
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