You Can't Go Back

No doubt, 2006 will go down as the year when Kansas finally helped make intelligent design a phrase that everybody now defines as idiotic attack on science. And it will be remembered as the year when Missouri went from crimson to reddish-blue by helping tip the scales in the U.S. Senate.

We wanted to hear firsthand from those who were kicked down or picked up by events this past year. So the Pitch went looking for a few people who were in the news — and those who should've been.

We found a radio executive who became comfortable for the first time being a woman, a former Chiefs coach who learned how to watch TV on Sundays, and a weatherman who dealt with death. We found locals who had something to learn in 2006, and we let them tell it themselves, in their own words. You can¹t go back

Dick Vermeil, 70, retired Kansas City Chiefs head coach

You know, sometimes on Sundays, you can feel a little empty. I can't detach from the Chiefs. What I try to do on Sundays is get really busy and dirty outside and then come in and sit down and take my muddy boots off and pour a glass of wine and watch the game. I mean, I get so involved that I just die with each mistake. My wife says, "Watch your language."

I won't come back. One of the reasons I left the Kansas City Chiefs is that, after five years, I hadn't gotten it done. They needed another five-year commitment. At 70 years-old, I couldn't make that. Lamar Hunt deserved more.

Yes, I show emotion. I don't do it on purpose. If I had control over it, there would have been a lot of times that I would have never shown it.

I never did anything different as a high school coach than I did as coach of the Chiefs. To me, players just want to be good at what they do, and it's my responsibility to help them do that. I never look upon it as coaching a football player. I'm coaching a person who is playing football.

I've always thought that true discipline comes from the player caring enough about himself, his performance and his contribution to his team and his organization that he does everything he possibly can do. The fact that a guy walked into a meeting two minutes late or was late for an airplane — very little of that carries over on the field. For example, I watched the Giants the other day. There's no one in the league who works more on discipline on all the tiny little things than Giants coach Tom Coughlin. But they still get penalized, you know?

I'm a partner in OnThEdge Winery in Calistoga, California. You bet my coaching philosophy carried over. Every plan requires organizational details, and when you are not a detail-oriented guy, your plan doesn't work so well. Organize everything in a way that you can functionally make it work.

I worked as a commentator for the Monday night opener between the Raiders and the Chargers. It was the first game I'd done since the 1997 Rose Bowl, so I was a little apprehensive. People seemed to say it went OK. I prepare and do as good as I can and move on. I watched the Pittsburgh-Kansas City game in Mexico, broadcast in Spanish. I had no clue what the guy was saying, but I understood what was going on in the game without him telling me.

Hollywood just released the movie Invincible, about my 1976 Eagles squad, about a guy who walked on to the team. It wasn't 100 percent true, but I loved it. Grandparents can take their grandkids and walk out with a good feeling.

I have nothing to do with the Coors Light commercials. Having my former statements used to advertise beer doesn't bother me. Everyone should have the right to drink. It's part of our society and it's lighthearted, so I enjoy it. But I don't like watching myself on television. Shit, I've never looked at the television copy of the Super Bowl. But if I happened to be watching games and that commercial comes on, I get a kick out of it.

The No. 1 way anybody should measure accomplishment is the relationships developed in the quest. I never enjoyed an experience more than working with people in Kansas City. Never have I been treated with more respect than I was in Kansas City. I feel very close to that city and organization and will always feel that way. And it's, it's ... I, um ... believe me, I don't take it for granted.

I moved back near my family, about 45 miles out of Philadelphia. I've been away from here for so long that it's hard to get onto their schedule. The kids are busy with soccer games, basketball games, football games, PTA meetings. But I recently went with my sons to New Mexico, elk hunting. All three of us got our elk.

You can still call me coach. In downtown Philadelphia, everyone calls me coach: grandparents, sons and grandkids. I used to tell my players, "I'm called coach because if you call me Dick during the season, I'm not sure what you mean."