Quiet Strength by Tony Dungy, Nathan Whitaker

different direction. After going back and forth with her for about four days, I finally did just that.
    “Coach, have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with the defensive coordinator position?”
    He looked startled. “Of course, Tony. Nobody knows as much about our defense as you do. That’s always been my thought process since Woody left. You’re our defensive coordinator.”
    I blew out a breath and gave a rueful laugh, a mixture of relief and exasperation evident on my face.
    “Were you ever going to tell me that?”
    “Tony, you’re our defensive coordinator.”
    That was just the way Chuck was. Like when I went in at quarterback in 1977—I was the next man in line, even though I didn’t know it. Things just kept moving along as planned—at least in his mind.
     
    The off-season of 1984 also brought us our first child, Tiara. We were in a position financially to allow Lauren to give up teaching and become a full-time mom. Up to this point, Lauren had always been firm in her resolve to keep teaching for a while before having children. But now, only two and a half years after the wedding, we found ourselves with a baby daughter and a single income. God apparently had a different schedule for us than we had thought.
    Almost immediately Lauren and Tiara began to develop the same closeness I had seen Lauren share with her own mom. Being our first child and a girl, Tiara received the royal treatment—from us, from both sets of grandparents, and from everyone at our church. And not only did she receive attention, she also received clothes. I never realized just how much moms enjoy dressing up their little girls until Tiara came along. She was really a joy, and she got me thinking about the responsibilities of being a father. Up until this point, I had played a lot of golf in the off-season with Bill Nunn, one of the Steelers scouts. But after Tiara was born, I began to play fewer and fewer rounds, just feeling the need to be home as much as I could. Today, I hardly play golf at all.
    Tiara was the sole recipient of our parental attention until 1987, when Jamie was born. He cut into her territory a little, but she didn’t seem to mind. Jamie, of course, set off those thoughts in my mind that I’m sure every father of a boy must have. Will he follow in my footsteps? Will I get to play ball with him like my dad did with me? Will he enjoy going to my office as much as I liked going with my father?
    I was very fortunate to be working for Chuck at this point. We had settled nicely into our coaching routine and never spent needless time at work. He was very family oriented, and I never worried that coaching football and raising a family might clash.
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    Looking back, I can see it was no accident that I felt led to choose a $2,200 signing bonus to play an unfamiliar position with the Steelers rather than take whatever the Bills or Alouettes had offered. In Pittsburgh I met Lauren, was surrounded by guys who were serious about their faith, won a Super Bowl, and started my coaching career. However, in spite of all these good things, God eventually kicked me out of the Pittsburgh nest.
    In the spring of 1987, we drafted a very good defensive class—Rod Woodson, Delton Hall, Thomas Everett, Hardy Nickerson, and Greg Lloyd. Those guys all played some in 1987, and we anticipated that they would play even more in 1988. However, as we headed into the 1988 season, we lost some significant leadership. Both Donnie Shell and John Stallworth retired, and Mike Merriweather, the player we had counted on to be the cornerstone of our defense, became embroiled in a contract dispute and sat out the entire season. That was a big loss that we hadn’t anticipated, especially in light of the fact that we had let some other veteran leaders go to allow for the development of the 1987 draft class.
    We went 5–11 in 1988, missing the playoffs for the fourth straight year. Chuck was under a lot of heat and asked me to step down