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Friday, December 26, 2008
Humble Smith a perfect fit with Falcons
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
To this day, I have not yet met Mike Smith. Not that I’m fearful of him, or that I haven’t had the urge. Surely, he has been one of the most fascinating topics to hit this town in a long time. I don’t mean “fascinating” like Bill Parcells or Pacman Jones. He came with no glitter or fuss. It was like opening a package under the Christmas tree — and surprise!
First, there was the name. How many Mike Smiths do you suppose there are in the United States? More than John Joneses, I’ll bet. Then there was his white thatch, like a snow-capped peak that made him look 10 years older than his 48 years. That is, until he gets agitated by some referee’s flawed decision.
For all the seasons he has operated in the NFL, he has moved about under the radar, as they say. He has been a coach since he was 18 and a senior at Father Lopez High School in Daytona Beach. When he broke a leg and was through for the season, he talked his way onto the staff, working with linebackers.
A natural turn for the son of a coach and a high school teacher. Somehow, he wound up at East Tennessee State as a linebacker, where he still holds the record for tackles in a season. It isn’t likely to be broken: East Tennessee since has dropped football.
His route to pro football was not down the interstate. Instead, his career led him through San Diego State, Morehead State and Tennessee Tech, where his career appeared hung up on a 12-year snag. An assistant he had met at San Diego later became head coach of the Baltimore Ravens, and when Brian Billick hired him in 1999, his ticket to the NFL was punched. That’s the way things work out in this game, though not always does that talent remain hidden under a bushel.
Another Ravens assistant was Jack Del Rio, and now the pieces began to fall into place. When Del Rio left for Carolina, Smith moved up, and when Del Rio got the head job at Jacksonville, he put in a call for Mike. All the while, Thomas Dimitroff had kept his eye on Mike, and by now, you know the rest of the story. However, you can hardly imagine the shock when Dimitroff announced that Smith would be the Falcons’ next head coach.
Mike who? As in “Vince who?” (at Georgia) 40 years ago. Then we all folded our hands across our tummies, sat back and waited. See what this Mike Smith had that Mora and Petrino, two guys with names, hadn’t had.
Well, for one thing, we found out that he wasn’t too impressed with himself. His press conferences aren’t Mike Smith shows. They’re exchanges. He has leaned rather heavily on one phrase: “It’s part of the process,” he’ll say. Sort of a trademark. There’s something to be said about his sideline demeanor. It’s his game. That’s easy to see. And when one of the “zebras” crosses his line, look out.
There was the game in which he was out of timeouts and had a legitimate challenge in mind, red kerchief in hand, San Diego on the Falcons’ goal line. He was between a rock and a hard place. The Chargers were going to score anyway, so he pocketed the kerchief, and in the end, the Falcons were the victors.
Without glitz and glitter, Mike Smith has won over our town. He didn’t come here to do commercials, peddle automobiles or men’s apparel. He came here to win football games, and in the process, has won our hearts.
And, were I to be allowed the privilege of casting a vote in the contest for Atlanta Sportsman of the Year, let me say here and now that Mike Smith would be my choice. Hands down. Both he and Paul Johnson (at Georgia Tech) came to town to restore marred images, but the Falcons were in far more serious need of surgery.
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