I used to watch the 1989 New York Giants' defense brutalize opposing offenses. I recoiled at Lawrence Taylor's incoherent yet nonetheless intimidating rants, cowered at the spine-cracking spear Leonard Marshall delivered between Joe Montana's shoulder blades and thought to myself: "Who unleashed these monsters? Who taught them to play with such savagely reckless abandon? Who could survive as their coach?"
The answer to all three questions just so happens to be the successor to George Welsh's throne, the former defensive coordinator and defensive line coach of the G-Men. His name is Al Groh.
For anyone wondering whether 10 years later, after 12 grueling NFL coaching seasons and a grand total of 33 in the biz, Groh has mellowed, think again. In fact, he may be more intense than ever.
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This is not Al Roker, I remind you. This is Al Groh: a 13-year disciple of Bill Parcells, whose unshakeable glare would scare the dickens out of Bobby Knight.
Just how scream-at-the-wall passionate is Virginia's newest field general? Well, I haven't seen him in action on the sidelines yet, but after his 60-minute introductory press conference Jan. 5 - after one hour of thank yous and handshakes with distinguished alumni - he probably had Don Majkowski ready to come out of retirement.
The warm, fuzzy feeling I expected to thaw that frigid January morning lasted about as long as those rumors that Jon Tenuta would be Virginia's next coach.
When Groh alluded to a football "tribe," I immediately invoked images of "Survivor." When Groh, using Parcells' words, described himself as tough, smart and focused, I thought of Vince Lombardi. And when he stressed that "we want to have an important football team," I was ready to snap on a chin strap, lace up some cleats and knock the living bejeezus out of someone right then and there ... or have it knocked out of me trying.
But then I got home, watched a replay of the press conference on ESPNews, listened to it on tape, and realized something.
I was exhausted.
Groh had accomplished in 60 precious minutes what many have been trying to do their entire lives; his fire-breathing intensity had worn me out and shut me up. Frankly, I needed some time away from the new head man. I needed a nap.
And therein lies my concern.
Groh understands the game - that is not in question. He is a tough, smart and focused tactician who knows his football like a geography bee champion knows his state capitals.
What is in doubt is his ability to communicate the game to adolescents fresh from the prom, only months removed from pampered superstar status at their respective high schools.
Groh is so intense that rumors abounded by the conclusion of his one-year term as New York Jets head coach that he had worn his players into the ground, physically and mentally, with relentless energy and overbearing demands. Whispers spread that even Bryan Cox, an irrepressible lunatic who would play football 1 on 11 with no arms and no pads, had tired of the man.
Bryan Cox! The last time Cox put his foot on the brake, he was driving a Model T.
If Cox can't take the heat, then should we expect James Johnson to stay in the kitchen the next time he fumbles a punt? And how's volatile Antwoine Womack to react when told he's not the man?
I shudder at the thought.
Groh is a Virginian, make no bones about it. His family members are buried here, his sons attended the University and many of his dearest memories are forever linked to the Commonwealth.
And while I'm all about family values (I even liked Dan Quayle) and all for bringing back a native son as the chief executive of the football operation, I must confess my reservations.
The last time Groh carried a clipboard in college - as the Wake Forest head coach in 1986 - Britney Spears was about to turn 5 years old and Tears for Fears ruled the charts. Coaches were much more likely to have Wally Cleaver on their teams, not Mateen Cleaves.
Oh how the times have changed. If Groh wants to achieve his mission and make the Cavalier football program important, he must be willing to change with them.
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