Yesterday evening, Tony Dungy announced his retirement from coaching, after a stellar career in Tampa Bay, and then Indianapolis.  Some have always felt that Dungy’s career has been unfairly scrutinized, except for the 2006 season when he did claim ultimate victory.  We felt it was necessary to go outside the walls of Sparty & Friends to get a proper perspective on the Coach Dungy.  We asked  dedicated commenter of The Big Lead and the biggest Colts fan we know, BSanders37, to reflect on the coaching career of Tony Dungy.

It is a bit long, so make sure you have some available time. But definitely worth your attention.

Tony Dungy, the longtime Indianapolis Colts coach known for his undying – possibly to a fault – faith and sideline stoicism, is one of the more controversial coaches in recent NFL history. Not controversial in that he’s ever traveled penis dangling past a drive-thru window, been caught videotaping opponents’ sidelines, or publicly clashed with his owner or general manger. No, controversial in that when that grizzled, crusty bastard Old Man Legacy comes to let Dungy onto – or kick him off – his lawn, people aren’t sure what he’ll say.

(In this lowly blog commenter’s opinion, Dungy will fall somewhere between George Halas and Rick Kotite on what we’ll call the Legacy Ledger, for lack of a more creative term. Yes, I realize that leaves a lot of wiggle room, but I do know this: Dungy certainly won’t ever have a blog named after his sexual violation of someone’s mother. For further explanation, visit the frequently updated richkotitebangedyourmom.blogspot.com.

So, just what is Dungy? Is he an all-time great? An all-time “great but should’ve been greater?” Or is he just some guy who lucked into working with one of the league’s legendary personnel men and a Hall of Fame quarterback? The answers, naturally, are yes, maybe, and most likely (but then what’s Jim Mora’s excuse?). But to truly evaluate Dungy, you have to go deeper.

Dungy, who – you might have heard this – retired yesterday, will most likely never be mentioned in the same breath as Lombardi, Knoll, Walsh, Landry or Belichick. Those coaches all won multiple Super Bowls and their teams were some of the greatest the NFL has ever seen.  They’re the standard by which all other coaches are judged, fairly or unfairly, and to say Dungy should be mentioned in the same breath as them would be asinine. I’m a homer, certainly, but I’m not an idiot (though that’s debatable).

Still, Dungy was a unique individual who left a large imprint on the league. He leaves behind a cauldron of assistants who’ve become successful (or marginal) head
coaches, a string of impressive records and accomplishments, a bestselling non-fiction book, a Colts roster full of skill position talent and, lest we forget, he was the first black man to win a Super Bowl.

Mentioned above are the basics. As a delusional and often irrational Colts fan, I like to think I know Dungy a little better than the casual football fan. So now, for those of you with nothing to do until the next post appears, I present “Things I Know About Tony Dungy: Early Postseason Exit Edition.”

1. He’s down with G-O-D.

- And I’m fine with this. Personally, I’m more Bill Maher than Billy Graham when it comes to religion, but I’m not one to mock other peoples’ faiths. Though when football coaches and players say things like “All glory goes to God,” and “The Lord allowed us to win
this game,” I die a little inside each time. Think about how damn long God’s been around. He’s an old, old man (possibly white, though don’t let the stained glass portraits sway you, dude could be a Nubian just as easily). And what do we know about old, old men?
They like baseball.

(A quick aside on God and baseball. It’s my contention that from time to time, God comes down to Earth and samples life as a human, inserting himself into the bodies of random men and blending into society. As tends to happen to humans, things didn’t always go
well. During the past 100+ years, God experienced the following personal traumas:

1.      In the late 1880’s, a waitress at an Irish pub in Worcester bewitches God (who had taken the form of a Massachusetts state trooper) with her large breasts, straight teeth and surprisingly well-kept nether regions. About 10 months into their relationship, God surprises the waitress on her lunch break with a bouquet of flowers – only to find her nibbling on the pub owner’s fish and chips. God is heartbroken.
2.      In 1905, God comes down to Earth as a Central Illinoisan farmer, spending his days walking beans and his nights corrupting his co-worker’s daughters. One weekend, he takes a train ride to Chicago to scout the city for a possible future move. Upon exiting the train, he is promptly mugged and stabbed 17 times (thrice in the face). God is angry.
3.      In 1950, God, now an Oberlin College sophomore, visits his uncle Eric at his downtown Cleveland apartment. Eric takes God to several local watering holes, one where God chats up a neighborhood girl who eventually accompanies him back to his uncle’s apartment. God wakes up the next morning to find the girl missing – and a large mound of feces lying on his chest. God is shat on, literally.

Now, as fans of the Boston Red Sox, Chicago Cubs, Chicago White Sox and Cleveland Indians can attest, God did not forget these incidents. He appears to have forgiven the waitress and partly gotten over the mugging/stabbing, but his introduction to the
Cleveland Steamer grates him still to this day. It is also rumored that as a young boy growing up in Buffalo in the early-1980’s, God was once molested by a Roman
Catholic priest. But that has never been proven. As I said, God’s a baseball fan.)

2. He’s the Barack Obama of Tampa Bay.

- When Dungy arrived in Tampa Bay in 1996 (after stints as a position coach/assistant in Pittsburgh, Kansas City and Minnesota), the Bucs were…well, whatever people say when moribund won’t do the trick. There’s no need to rehash the Bucs’ 0-14 season in 1976 and subsequent two decades of suckery. Let’s just say that the Bucs were shitty. Really, really shitty. Epically shitty. Under Dungy, the Bucs – with a little bit of luck in the draft (Warren Sapp, Derrick Brooks), a new twist on an old defense (he and Monte Kiffin’s “Tampa 2”),
and Dungy’s familiar “do what we do” refrain – gradually became a contender. In Dungy’s fourth year, the Bucs – the Tampa Bay friggin’ Bucs – went 11-5, won the NFC Central Divison and advanced to the NFC Championship Game.

That 1999 NFC Title Game against the “Greatest Show on Turf” in many ways summed up the Dungy era in Tampa Bay. The Bucs held the record-breaking Rams offense to
11 points, picked off league MVP Kurt Warner three times, and may well have advanced to the Super Bowl if not for a controversial overturned late-game completion (you can thank the Bucs for the “Bert Emanuel Rule”). It was good, maybe great, even, but not enough. They weren’t the “Tampa Bay friggin’ Bucs” anymore. To paraphrase Heath Ledger in a certain
box-office dynamo, “Dungy’d changed things. There was no goin’ back.” The organization and its fans wanted a Super Bowl, and it was deemed – rightly or wrongly – that Tony Dungy wasn’t the man to get them there. In many ways, he was a victim of his own success. He turned things around too fast, the fans got itchy, and Dungy’s firing was the ultimate long pair of fingernails.

(Of course, it has to be said, the Bucs front office turned out to be right. Jon Gruden, the quarterback-collecting, first-round pick costing, homicidal doll-looking phenomenon, was the man who got the Bucs over the hump. Was he the sole reason? Probably not, and the Bucs haven’t done anything of note since that 2002 season  - save seeing one of their quarterbacks nearly die on the field. But they got their Super Bowl victory and the pirate ship in Raymond James Stadium was surely rockin’ that night. So, golf clap for that.)

3. He helped make Peyton Manning into one of the best QB’s in history

Run out of Tampa Bay, Tony packed up his bags and his Bible and moved to a team with a prolific – if turnover prone – quarterback, putrid defense, and pissed-off locker room.
Said team was also located in the bustling “Heartland of America,” in a basketball-crazed city known for its oval racing tracks and failed University of Illinois quarterbacks, and the number of black people at most of its NFL team’s home games was typically in the teens. Plum gig!

Now, it’s been a while, but you might recall that the Jim Mora era in Indy ended with Edgerrin James’ knee (and breakaway speed) in tatters, Peyton Manning feeling personally singled out for the Colts’ playoff shortcomings, and GM Bill Polian in desperate need of someone who could get Manning to see that, even though his defense was truly horrid, the key to winning football is not turning the ball over. Why Green Bay never tried to lure Polian away from Indianapolis, I’ll never know.

(This it the part where I’ll say, as a 19 year-old Colts fan who didn’t know half as much as he thought he did (probably still true), that I was intrigued by the Dungy hire, but not completely sold. Sure, Dungy was a quarterback in college. Sure, the Colts current offensive coordinator (Tom Moore) was HIS offensive coordinator in college. But this was a guy known for his fantastic defenses, shitty offenses and quiet demeanor. How the hell was he going to turn a team with zero-to-one defensive talent and a headstrong quarterback into a contender?)

What Dungy did during the next seven years in Indianapolis was nothing short of transcendent. And no, I’m not talking about the six straight 12-win seasons or the Super Bowl victory, though those were nice. No, what Dungy did was take a supremely talented quarterback who often allowed his competitive streak to get the better of him – forcing deep throws, abandoning the run – and turned him into, quite simply, the most efficient quarterback of this, or perhaps any, era.

Keep in mind that “efficient,” while it seems almost derogatory when applied to quarterbacks, doesn’t mean “game manager.” ESPN loves that term, though, don’t they? No, efficient means that when that quarterback’s offense has the ball, they score. Often. And when you have a defense that has difficulties getting off the field and limiting the other team’s time of possession (a hallmark of the 2000’s Colts), you need an offense that makes the most of the possessions it gets.

I don’t want to get too stat geeky here, but take a gander at Manning’s passing numbers pre-Dungy, and then under Dungy. I’ve gone ahead and taken out Manning’s rookie year, both out of pity for him and as not to slight Mora more than he may deserve.

Pre-Dungy
1999 – 4,135 passing yards, 26 touchdowns, 15
interceptions, 62.1% completion
2000 – 4,413 passing yards, 33 touchdowns, 15
interceptions, 62.5% completion
2001 – 4,131 passing yards, 26 touchdowns, 23
interceptions, 62.7% completion

Under Dungy
2002 – 4,200 passing yards, 27 touchdowns, 19
interceptions, 66.3% completion
2003 – 4,267 passing yards, 29 touchdowns, 10
interceptions, 67.0% completion
2004– 4, 557 passing yards, 49 touchdowns, 10
interceptions, 67.6% completion
2005 – 3,747 passing yards, 28 touchdowns, 10
interceptions, 67.3% completion
2006 – 4,397 passing yards, 31 touchdowns, 9
interceptions, 65.0% completion
2007 – 4,040 passing yards, 31 touchdowns, 14
interceptions, 65.4% completion
2008 – 4,002 passing yards, 27 touchdowns, 12
interceptions, 66.8% completion

Other than the 2001 season, the guy doesn’t exactly suck. But you’ll notice under Dungy, the interceptions were cut by 30 percent every year except 2007 (which
featured the six-pick game against San Diego, an anomaly that can be explained, but now’s not the time) and the completion percentage is much higher. Efficiency. It’s a beautiful thing. It’s also why the following statistic is the number one reason for the Colts’ success in recent years: For four consecutive seasons, the Colts scored more touchdowns than the
team had punts (2004: 66 touchdowns, 54 punts; 2005: 53 touchdowns, 52 punts; 2006: 50 touchdowns, 48 punts; 2007: 54 touchdowns, 52 punts). Makes you wonder what they could’ve done with a defense that made third-down stops, doesn’t it?

4. His postseason record is mediocre, but everyoneelse’s isn’t exactly superhuman. (Well, except for Belichick)

When people think of Tony Dungy, they typically think a few things. One, “he loves God.” Two, “hey, he’s black!” Three, “he doesn’t say much, does he?” Four, “his teams are always good.” And five, “but his teams never win in the playoffs.”

All five happen to be true. Dungy’s career postseason record is 9-10. That doesn’t sound very good. But when you compare it to other coaches of his ilk – i.e., possible second-tier all-time greats – it’s really not too shabby. Belichick is 14-3 in the postseason, which is otherworldly, and he’s definitely not second tier.  He’s also missed the playoffs twice since Dungy’s been in Indy (Dungy’s made it all seven years) and you can’t hurt your record if you don’t play. Then again, some fans tend to think it’s better to not make the playoffs at all then lose in them. I disagree, but I have no doctorate in football so what does my opinion really matter?

Anyway, here is how Dungy’s postseason record stacks up against his chief competitors

Tony Dungy:                 9-10 in the postseason,
1-0 in Super Bowls
Bill Belichick:             14-3 in the postseason,
3-1 in Super Bowls
Bill Cowher:                12-9 in the postseason, ,
1-1 in Super Bowls
Mike Shanahan:             8-5 in the postseason, 2-0
in Super Bowls
Mike Holmgren:          13-11 in the postseason, 1-2
in Super Bowls
Bill Parcells:                11-8 in the postseason,
2-1 in Super Bowls
Andy Reid:                  10-6 in the postseason,
0-1 in Super Bowls
Dick Vermeil:               6-5 in the postseason, 1-1
in Super Bowls
Tom Coughlin:             8-7 in the postseason, 1-0
in Super Bowls
Jeff Fisher:                    5-6 in the postseason,
0-1 in Super Bowls
Marty Schottenheimer: 5-13 in the posteason, 0-0 in
Super Bowls

Yes, everyone except for Fisher and “Martyball” are at least over .500. Admittedly, it’s not a great stat for Dungy. But other than Belichick – whom I’ve already stated is on another plane – no one else who was considered one of the game’s best during the Dungy era really sets himself apart. So, next time someone says to you, “Tony Dungy can’t get it done in the
playoffs.” Smile, nod, and say, “You’re right…but nobody else really does, either.”

And, in closing and because I’ve prattled on long enough, the last thing I know about Tony Dungy (and the thing that should send him to the Hall of Fame…)

5. He’s 139 and 69 in his career!

Think about that for second. Dungy was a head coach in the NFL for 13 seasons. In those 13 seasons he won 139 games and only lost 69. That means, give or take a
digit, in an AVERAGE season he went 11-5. Only a handful of teams in the league this year went 11-5. For Dungy, 11-5 was just another year at the office.  Here are the coaches (from 1950 on) who have a better career winning percentage than Dungy: John Madden, Vince Lombardi, George Allen, Blanton Collier (some guy who only coached eight seasons), George Halas, Don Shula, and Paul Brown.

I know, I know, “the regular season doesn’t mean shit, only the playoffs do.”

I hear ya’. But remember, Dungy led the biggest second-half comeback in AFC Championship history, Dungy took a “dome team” into a downpour and came out victorious against a “more physical” team. Oh, and Dungy broke a pretty significant racial barrier, too.

He’s also generally regarded as a pretty good guy, too. But everyone knows that. He’s done a lot for the NFL, and I, as a Colts fan, am thankful for what he’s done for the Colts and the city of Indianapolis.

So, go ahead and call Dungy a choker, a homophobe, a fraud, whatever denigrating term you deem necessary. But I’m pretty sure when the time comes, Old Man Legacy will say Tony Dungy was one thing – great.

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