| You are here: Home > NFL > News |
|
NFL assistants leave sport they love for family
Just seven weeks ago, Bobby April obsessed over plotting new ways to spring Dino Philyaw up the sideline on a long kickoff return, fretted about the advanced age of punter Tony Barnhardt and permitted something as trivial as the pending free agency of deep snapper Kendall Gammon to keep him tossing and turning at night.
Less than a month into his self-imposed hiatus from the NFL, the former New Orleans Saints special teams coach suddenly finds fulfillment from a two-hour stretch every weekday morning in which he cobbles together breakfast, keeps one eye on the clock and another on the bus schedule and hustles his five kids off to five different schools in the New Orleans suburb of Covington. His nine seasons in the league, April was quick to emphasize to a close friend Monday morning, were among the best years of his life. But life will never be better, he honestly feels, than in this coming year, a season he will spend at home instead of on the sideline. This is a time he will devote to watching his own kids, and not someone else's, play sports. It's a period in which April will make himself totally accessible to the children and to wife Charlene instead of wandering in the door every night at 11 and back out again seven hours later with only a modicum of dialogue, or any kind of interaction, in between. "You know, it's a funny thing, but I never missed someone else's game professionally," April said. "I mean, when I was a college coach and recruiting a kid, I was there at his games to see him. But when it came to my own kids' games, well, they got the leftovers of my career, you know? "I'm sure it's like that for everyone in the business. But I have the opportunity now to really do something about it." April is one of two high-profile NFL kicking game assistants who in recent weeks have proved to be truly special guys. The other, legendary special teams mentor Frank Gansz, abruptly walked away from the Super Bowl champion St. Louis Rams and a new, three-year contract to return home to suburban Atlanta and help raise his three grandchildren. Neither coach was victimized by burnout. Both men loved their jobs and were handsomely rewarded for rating among the premier tutors in the profession. April, 46, and Gansz, 61, certainly weren't pointed at the door and then given a swift kick toward it. They enjoyed the respect and admiration of the people they worked for and the coaches they worked against. Funny and even inexplicable things happen, though, when a man decides to reconnect with his family and with his faith. One of the true innovators in special teams tutelage over the past two decades, Gansz packed up the belongings from the tiny St. Louis apartment where he mostly lived alone the past three years and drove home to wife Barbara and the house they own an hour north of Atlanta, near the lush Chateau Elan golf resort. Their daughter, Jennifer, was divorced a couple years ago and moved into their home. She now has a place of her own but also has three young children to raise. A man of great integrity, and one who realizes the importance of being grounded, Gansz wanted to be an even bigger part of his grandchildren's lives. And he has long since tired of plopping down in an empty apartment every night or of stealing trips home to visit his wife on off days. "It was," said Gansz, who might use his much-practiced skills as a motivational speaker to begin a new career, "no way to live. Enough was enough." Dismissed by the Saints on Jan. 5 as part of the purge of Mike Ditka's staff, April declined an offer by new coach Jim Haslett to return to the team. As recently as last week, April was still rebuffing overtures from head coaches calling him about job openings, and harboring no regrets over declining the opportunity to jump back into the NFL. Few coaches have shared April's unabashed passion for the game. You might not know his name, but chances are good you have seen April sprinting up the sideline on a kickoff, either exhorting his return man to break through a seam or urging a coverage player to smash through the wedge. The cameras loved him, and the reason was simple: He was, on every special teams play, one big, exposed nerve. He was also very good at his job, helping to take the Pittsburgh Steelers to Super Bowl XXX and suggesting to Bill Cowher the gutsy onside kick that got the club back into the contest. But when Saints owner Tom Benson decided to change head coaches last month, Bobby April decided to change his life. With one season remaining on his contract, meaning he'll be paid six figures for not working the 2000 season, he knew he had a luxury of which he might never again be able to take advantage. Seeking to edify himself spiritually and advance himself intellectually, April hasn't quite turned into "Mr. Mom." He is, however, a full-time father for the first time in his life.
A native of New Orleans who has lived through the city's football franchise since he was a teen, April decided when he was fired that he would not leave his hometown to coach elsewhere in the NFL. If he was to continue in the league, it would be with the Saints. And then, as he waited to see who Benson would hire to replace Ditka, the prospect of a one-year sabbatical became a lot more attractive. It wasn't too hard, when Haslett and new general manager Randy Mueller offered him a job, to turn it down. "This is my hometown," April said. "It's my wife's hometown. I wanted it to be home for my kids, the same way it has been for generations of our two families. And I wanted to be a part of that. Really, how many guys get that chance, huh? I've been coaching since even before my son, our oldest, was born. I was an assistant at Arizona. He was born in the morning and I was back on the field at practice in the afternoon. His birthday is Aug. 5. You know the schedule for training camp and stuff. How many of his birthdays do you think I was even home for? Not many, man." And so now he's home, full time, for Charlene and the kids: son Bobby Jr., and daughters Julie, Jamie Lee, Angela and Jaclyn. The weekend was typical of April's new life. He saw three of his daughters play in three different soccer games Saturday morning and afternoon and spent the evening going over some college options with Bobby Jr. He visited with some coaching friends. On Sunday, he had a mass at his home for his family and the families of some friends. Twenty miles away, the New Orleans staff was working the weekend, recruiting veteran free agents and preparing for the draft. "I'm humbled to have been in the NFL," April said, "but not for one second have I regretted my decision to step away from it for a while." His favorite time most weekdays is the morning, when he coordinates the various get-off times for the children, a task he has relieved Charlene of handling. First out the door is Jamie, an eighth-grader he awakens at 6:15. The last to leave is Jaclyn, who's in elementary school, at 8:30. On Monday morning, he noticed Angie forgot some materials she needed to finish a project, and so he took them over to her school. While there, he was reminded of the Thursday field trip to the House of Blues. Said April: "I don't know what kind of field trip it is, going to the House of Blues, but I know I'm looking forward to it." In the afternoons, he plants himself on the front porch, so the first thing the kids see when they come up the driveway is him. The days have been spent, in recent weeks, putting together audition tapes for a possible career in broadcasting. April, thanks in part to former Saints vice president Terry O'Neil whose own background is in television, will audition later this spring. In the back of his mind, he allows, is the dream of one day being a head coach in the NFL. The best route, he decided, is to go through the college ranks. There aren't many NFL head coaches who were elevated from special teams spots. Most college jobs come open in November or December, when the NFL season has another month or two still remaining. To have gone back to the Saints or any other league team this year would have meant two things: banging against the glass ceiling with which most special teams coaches contend when it comes to landing a head coaching job, and being employed when the college vacancies began to come up. To have gone back to the NFL as a special teams assistant would have meant forfeiting the things to which April committed himself -- working on his faith and his relationships, educating himself about computers, reading and preparing himself for that day the telephone rings and it's some college athletic director on the line. "No matter how high you're perched on the football tree of life, if you've got the nature of the eagle, you still want to soar," April said. "I've got that nature. I want to soar higher and I'll never give up that dream of being a head coach. But, hey, all things considered ..." April's voice tailed off and he didn't finish the thought because, he knew that after 40 minutes of describing his new life to a friend, he didn't need to. Yeah, it's obvious the old eagle is flying pretty high right now by staying closest to his nest.
|