The storm raging around him, Dungy does not flinch
Gary Shelton, The St.Petersburg Times, published 30 September 1996

His chin is parallel to the ground. Tony Dungy jogs from the field, another defeat behind him, but his head does not hang. His is a fighter's chin, ignoring the last blow, daring his opponent to try to hit him again. His lips are set tight, but they do not quiver. His cheeks seem hollow, but they do not sag. The shoulders are straight, despite the increasing burden they bear. His voice is monotone, but it does not offer surrender.

This is the way Dungy wants it. He does not want you to see his wounds, and he covers them well. So he stands in front of the room, and he sounds the same and he looks the same as he ever has. But his eyes. His eyes give him away.

Beneath the stone face, there is pain. The eyes are those of the hurt, the hunted. They are the eyes of a man who waited so long, who expected so much, only to see so little. If the players feel it, and they do, know that the man in charge of them feels it, too. Dungy does not show it much, and he does not express it deeply, but inside, this is eating him alive.

"It is," he says quietly. His news conference is over now, and he stands, with his back to the wall, outside his office. "I came here believing we would play very well. Because of the way the team finished last year, because of some of the cogs we had returning. It's disappointing. It's frustrating. I never thought we would lose our first five games. But all we can do is keep working, and go after the other 11."

For a decade, Dungy waited for his first head-coaching job, and at the end, there was only the Bucs. Five games, he has coached. Five games, he has lost. In three, his offense has not scored a touchdown. In two, his defense could have won with a fourth-quarter stop. The thought of getting better has been hidden by the sight of getting battered. Oh-and-five. For the Bucs, it really isn't that unusual. Five other seasons, the team has started 0-5. For Dungy, however, it is surprising. You do not dream of a job in the NFL and think of what you do during a bye week after losing your first five. "I didn't think we'd be 5-0," he said. "But I thought 3-2, maybe 4-1. But we're not winning. It gets tougher every week."

And so a coach wonders, and he feels the acid drip in his stomach. Yes, Dungy says he sleeps. Yes, he says he eats. But in those moments when he is alone, he admits he is more subdued. He says he does not feel sorry for himself, because there is no time for it, but he watches more tapes, and he second-guesses himself. "You question everything," he said. "You go back through the calls, and you second-guess. Sometimes to the point where it isn't productive. You might try to do too much, put in too many things or out-think yourself. You just want to find something that will pull the players out of it."

That is the worst part, Dungy said: the players. Looking at them in the locker room, knowing how much they need to win, knowing how defeat breeds doubt. "I believe in this system, and I know we're going to be successful," he said. "But there are players in here who have worked hard enough to deserve some success. It's tough to watch them go out and play hard and not win."

Through the difficulties, Dungy has remained calm, unruffled. If he thought raising his voice would help, he said, he would do it. But would a scream in the face make Trent Dilfer better? Would it make Alvin Harper catch the ball? Would it make the defense more solid?

You can imagine how other coaches would handle this. Ray Perkins would have traded some players and cut some others. Richard Williamson would have yelled until the locker room shook. Sam Wyche would have blamed the media and put in a few more trick plays. Bill Parcells would have found a way out of his contract. And the thing is, some fans would applaud the ranting, because it would show that at least the coach shares their frustration.

Dungy? He keeps his voice even, and he talks of half-full glasses despite a drowning team. But perhaps this team needs ballast in the storm. Perhaps it will be better off because of it. "He doesn't show a lot, but I can tell that it's hurting him," defensive end Chidi Ahanotu said. "But I think he has made a commitment to stay consistent."

"We're going to win with him," defensive tackle Warren Sapp said. "There isn't a doubt in my mind of that."

Dungy said there isn't any doubt in his, either. No, he said, there are no regrets that this is the franchise where he wound up. Yes, he said, he believes in the future. "Absolutely," he said. "Now more than ever. When? It's hard to say. I thought we would have been ready to compete by the first game. But it's five games in, and we're not winning. But we will be better after the bye week."

He looks at you, daring you to see doubt. His chin is up. His lips are tight. His shoulders are straight. And his eyes? Despite the problems they have beheld, despite the pain they hold, they see a better day. It would be nice if the rest of us could see it, too.