Ran Henry

He claps his hands twice, picks up the visor with a fluid swoop, and rubs at the grass stain. Then he waves it at his receivers, motioning them to run back quick. These quarterbacks need the practice.

Is Spurrier too demanding? Too hard on his quarterbacks? That's easy to ask, from an armchair. Try following in the footsteps of a preacher's son who won the 1966 Heisman Trophy for passing, kicking, and willing his team to victory--and 30 years later coached a preacher's son named Danny Wuerffel to win the Heisman Trophy, and a first-ever national championship.

What is the measure of a man who succeeds where no one else can? What's not to love about a coach who does what he asks his players to do?

Maybe, the announcers speculate, he wears the visor to shield the sandlot where his brain draws up "ball plays." Maybe he's reminding the coaches in shirts and ties on the sideline that he'd also take their money on the golf course. Maybe the creator of the Fun 'n' Gun offense, which changed Southeastern Conference football from 3 yards and a cloud of dust to three-play drives, wears that visor to outwit the sun.
If you see it that way, he's gotten inside your head, too. ---From the Prologue