When Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier met in their first rematch in Madison Square Garden, each fighter approached the other differently than they had the first time around. That is the nature of any re-do. You learn from your mistakes, assume your opponent is going to learn from his and throw some new wrinkles into the mix.
As college football coaches go, there is no better Ali-Frazier matchup than Nick Saban and Les Miles. Both men are tough, smart, fierce and indefatigable. And you can bet that not a day has gone by in the past month that each hasn’t thought about how to beat the other.
So, how are they going to do it?
Alabama and LSU both arrive in New Orleans on Wednesday for the BCS Championship Game and head straight to their hotels, allowing the paint crew time to replace the Sugar Bowl logos and clean up all the confetti. But Saban and Miles have secrets that won’t be revealed in any practice sessions this week.
The title game Monday likely will be a very different football game than the first meeting.
What won’t be a secret is the difference in leadership styles Saban and Miles employ. Loved by his LSU players and the media (for whom he always has the perfect sound bite), Miles is an “atta boy” coach, the kind of guy who slaps players on the back and celebrates their successes while offering little more than a stern look of disappointment when somebody screws up.
At the other extreme, Saban has cultivated an image as the coaching version of R. Lee Ermey. Listening to the Alabama head coach erupt in practice sends chills through the spines of anyone who spent more than a day at Parris Island. He, too, is loved by his players, but, more important, Saban is feared. Run the wrong route or blow a coverage, and you can expect Saban to meet you at the hash mark in full-blown fury.
It’s not an act for either of these guys: Their styles are in their DNA. After Miles’ famous “have a great day,” speech to the media before the 2009 SEC championship game, the words “Have A Great Day” were painted on the team’s equipment truck. They remain the moniker of the program that will roll into New Orleans at 5:15 CT on Wednesday.
Saban, on the other hand, has a button on his desk that automatically closes the door behind visitors. He relishes the intimidation that comes when that door slams behind you. And although those who know him best insist that Saban has mellowed during his time in Tuscaloosa (especially after the devastating tornadoes that ravaged the city last spring), he is still a relentless taskmaster who is one mediocre play away from exploding like a "daisy cutter."
Both styles work, and they probably will work again in this game. Before the first meeting between these teams — LSU won 9-6 in overtime in Tuscaloosa — Miles handed out 18-inch souvenir baseball bats to his players and told them that to win they needed to “Bring to wood,” on every play.
Saban would never go for something that hokey.
Most experts give Alabama the edge in the rematch for the usual on-field reasons: It’s tough to beat a great team two times in a season; Alabama probably won’t miss four field goals this time around; the Tide match up better up front; and on and on.
“Because of the personalities of Nick Saban and Les Miles, you can expect that they will both have some tricks up their sleeves,” former Clemson and Tulane coach Tommy Bowden said. “That trick play that Alabama tried the first time around, that halfback pass, might have cost them the game, but you can expect that whoever executes the wrinkles better will win this one.
“Les Miles always seems to have a trick or two — a fake punt, a fake field goal, a throwback on a kickoff; something — he’s known for that. But Saban will have plenty of stuff he’s ready to pull, as well.”
Just beneath the surface, unspoken in many quarters, is the belief that, despite what happened the first time these two teams met, Saban has one small edge that might tip the scales in his favor: It is better to be feared than to be loved.
“They’re both tough hombres,” Bowden said. “They just show it differently.”
Sometimes, after all the analysis and the Xs and Os, the outcome rests on the simplest of things. During a quick question-and-answer session a few years ago, an anxious reporter stuck a recorder in Joe Namath’s face and said, “Joe, what was it about Bear Bryant that made him such a legend? What separated him . . .”
Namath cut off the question with a finger in the reporter’s face. “Look,” he said. “There’s no mystery here. He was a mean man.”
It might have been just that simple. And, this time around, it might be that simple again.
