There were four minutes remaining in the game and Zak Kustok had just outfoxed the Wisconsin defense, connecting with wideout Derrick Thompson in the end zone to tie the game. While we all paused for a TV timeout, several reporters stumbled out of press row toward the two most popular destinations – the food table and the john.
I chose the later, and while I washed my hands a raspy voice called out in a Southern twang to me: “You like that one?” I turned around expecting to see one of the event staffers, but it was Northwestern’s offensive coordinator Kevin Wilson, trying to mask an I-called-that-play grin. I started to ask if he was lost or something, but then I remembered — he was working.
Lost in the on-field screaming, scurrying and scrambling is the group of coaches who watch the game from a war room-like cubicle in the press box. For every game, NU stations a foursome of coaches (and two graduate assistants) up top to suffer through three-plus hours of stomach-churning punishment. While Wilson downplays the coaching box experience to “drinking a Coke, hanging out, watching the game,” it isn’t exactly a Saturday afternoon lounging on the couch with your buddies and some beer.
“I’ve seen everything from guys almost passing out to joy beyond belief,” said NU head coach Randy Walker, who coached from the box as North Carolina’s offensive coordinator. “It is a pretty stable environment up there, but you have a huge vested interest in what happens.”
That’s putting it mildly.
According to Wilson, NU’s crew is quite subdued. However, the group does have a few pregame routines (read: superstitions). They sit in the same order and Wilson will always make a trip to the men’s room right before kickoff.
But once the game gets underway, this foursome gets down to business. Wilson said the offense and defensive coaches act like boys and girls at a middle school dance — keeping their distance and exchanging few words. Surprisingly, Wilson said the group is “quiet and methodical” during the game, clamming up after blown coverages, dumb penalties and turnovers.
I’m not so sure about that. About 15 feet and a thick wall separated my seat from the coaches’ booth in the Iowa press box last November — believe me, it wasn’t a piano recital after every mindblowing mistake on the field.
But explosions and expletives aside, Wilson assures us that NU’s coaches are true professionals — at all times.
And he’s got examples to back this up. During last season’s thriller against Michigan, the men upstairs kept their focus and bit their tongues after watching what could have been a season-killing play.
“When Damien dropped that ball, nobody said anything,” Wilson said. “We said, ‘Hey, it was open, it was a good call, it was a good shot. We didn’t make the play.'”
This sickening level-headedness is why these guys are in the booth and we’re not.
Kunle Patrick’s last-minute touchdown against Michigan State brought a deafening roar from NU fans — but the coaches had other things on their minds.
“When we scored, I start telling everyone to get ready for the Victory (Right) play,” Wilson said. “Worst case scenario, we’d have to throw a Hail Mary.”
By the way, Kevin, special teams coach Mike Dunbar is sitting right next to you.
Coaches are paid to predict, but Wilson needs to learn when to stop thinking and start cheering.
“I was knocking on wood trying not to jinx myself, but I guess I did,” he said. “We were lucky that we were talking about it.”
And how.
