No detail too small
Coach Norvell is dialed in on his schedule — and his student- athletes
Before the daybreak, Jay Norvell breaks 80. ¶ If only in his head. As part of his weekday routine, every morning the CSU football coach swings a golf club for at least 10 minutes alone in the coaches locker room at Canvas Stadium. Just a man and his 5- iron.
“It’s just for mental therapy, is all it is,” Norvell explains. “I do it not because I’m going to be a good golfer, or because I’m going to even play that often. It’s more of a mental thing for me. It’s just kind of me dialing in the day, you know what I mean?
“There’s something really pretty about a good golf swing, if it’s done properly. There’s something beautiful about a quarterback that throws the ball beautifully on a deep ball. It’s the same thing. It’s repetition. It’s practice.”
It’s a quarter past 6 a. m., and the Rams’ last practice before Saturday’s scrimmage is 45 minutes away. Norvell, the early riser’s early riser, has been up for nearly two hours already.
Before the Rams coach allows The Post access to a behind- the- scenes day with him during his first spring at CSU, he walks through the previous 85 or so minutes: An hour of resistance- band training — “I’m doing the Tom Brady stuff,” the coach cracks — or weights, followed by 20 minutes of meditation.
“I became a morning person when I went to the NFL, because that’s the only time you could ever work out,” he explains. “The rest of your day’s eaten up.”
The planner is threatening to munch the rest of this day, too. A typical spring Thursday for Norvell is broken down into three segments: Practice from 7- 11 a. m., sessions that are divided into two parts; film- review- with- lunch from about 11- 2: 30; followed by academic meetings and staff meetings from about 3- 4. Which explains the meditation.
“In this age of social media, I would watch our players, and we actually take their phones away on Friday nights,” Norvell explains. “But I’d always see them when we gave them back — they never are still, they never have quiet time. They never reflect.”
They’re always on. Always connected.
“And I really think that that is something that we’re missing in our society,” Norvell continues. “Because every time anybody has a spare moment, they’re looking at your phone, and they’re swiping and they never get a chance to reset their brains. And so I tried to do that. And I found I’m way more productive the rest of the day when I do that.”
The Rams’ football coach might be a recreational golfer, but he’s also an admitted baseball nerd who’s got “The Science of Hitting,” by Ted Williams and John Underwood, resting on a shelf of honor.
“And so if you remember that book, ( Williams)’ No. 1 rule of hitting is to get a pitch you can hit,” Norvell says. “And we talked about it with the team — when the odds are in your favor, boy, you’ve got to take advantage of it and strike. And it happens all the time in football, because if a guy is 1- on- 1 out there, we want the quarterback to throw deep.”
That’s Norvell in a coverage shell. Go deep. Be aggressive. Be prepared. Think ahead.
“The other thing that I learned from ( former Raiders owner) Al ( Davis) was, ‘ Always start with the end in mind,’” Norvell stressed. “I just think as a leader, I’m always a week, week or two ahead of everything. Like today’s practice — I mean, I could tell you every play we ran in order, probably. I don’t need the film. I can tell you every ( segment), because I scripted it last Sunday after mass. So I’m always a week ahead. I mean, so much in football is predictable, the situations that are coming up. And we prepare for those situations. It’s like chess. You gotta think a couple moves ahead.”
6: 48 a. m.
There aren’t many paintings in Norvell’s office. But the one to the left of his desk absolutely pops. It’s an oil interpretation of former Steelers great Lynn Swann’s acro
batic grab in front of helpless, prone Dallas Cowboys cornerback Mark Washington during Super Bowl X.
Swann isn’t the only catch, though. The artist was Norvell himself. Back when he was in junior high.
“I thought it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” the coach explained. “And I just fell in love with throwing the football. And now the crazy thing is, with the things we do, we see stuff like that every day in practice from our players.”
A few yards away, a framed portrait of the gang from the movie “The Magnificent Seven,” signed by four of the original cast members, rests on a wall. It’s a gift from Jay’s wife, Kim, in honor of Norvell’s favorite western.
The back of the room is flanked by a giant cutout of Davis and another of Hayden Fry, the two coaching icons who’ve shaped Norvell the most apart from his family. And the family’s faces are all over the place, sometimes with guests you’d never expect.
Muhammad Ali smiles from the center of the room, via a smaller photo, slightly faded by the decades, in which the iconic former heavyweight boxing champion and civil rights icon is captured midlaugh between a smaller man to his
left — Norvell’s late father, Merritt — and a pretty young woman to his right. The pretty young woman is Norvell’s late mother, Cythnia.
“Ali was suspended at that time, and he was traveling on college campuses. So we had this function ( in Madison) … and they had a reception beforehand, so Ali saw my mom and he came over and started hitting on her,” Norvell recalled.
“And my dad saw this and came up to them. And Ali goes, ‘ Who are you?’ Dad goes, ‘ I’m the guy you’re gonna have to knock out today, because that’s my wife.’ Ali started laughing and they took that picture. I love that picture.”
7: 36 a. m.
Norvell has the kids grinding Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Practices are in the morning, in part, so the Rams can come by and check out film from that day later in the afternoon. It’s the same schedule Bob Stoops, whom Norvell played with at Iowa and coached for at Oklahoma, used with the Sooners.
“It’s all about teaching, right now we’re just trying to get as many reps as we can and teach the foundation,” Norvell says. “I use the analogy like, if you’re learning the piano, we’re not playing Mozart, we’re playing ‘ Chopsticks.’
“It’s just trying to build the foundation,
and the tempo of practices and as fast as we can. But where you get the value is from the film, there’s so much film to study. And players get better by seeing themselves make mistakes.”
Two offensive linemen sport GoPro cameras attached to restraints at the top of their helmets. While one quarterback throws, another holds up a rod with a small camera directly behind him. It’s to capture footage that quarterbacks can walk through again, on their own, via VR headsets.
“It’s just like they’re playing and they can see and take it as extra reps,” Norvell says. “It’s all about reps.”
And turning those reps into rote. The Rams practice third- down crises, every day. Fourth- down crises, every day. Situational stuff. Red zone with no timeouts. Kicking with no timeouts.
Norvell didn’t see the end of the Utah State game in Logan last fall, a mad debacle on special teams that turned a quality road win into a galling, season- changing defeat. But he heard plenty.
“When I was at Nevada, before we played CSU, I told them that Bear Bryant said, ‘ Everybody prepares for the big things, but it’s the little things that are the difference between winning and losing,’” Norvell says. “And that detail is so im
portant. And your leadership has got to appreciate that.
“It’s not rocket science. We’re just trying to do the right things over and over again, and make them turn them into habits.”
Norvell has given his kids a recommended reading list, books that marry leadership, life lessons and sports. Earlier this month, he pointed out some ducks flying overhead. He pointed out to players how the fowl stay in formation for better aerodynamics and efficiency.
“When birds get out of that V, they have to fight the wind on their own,” Norvell stresses. “It’s much harder when you’re on your own than if you’re part of a team. If they see birds fly and they’re out of formation, ( the players) go, ‘ Coach, they ain’t ready yet.’”
9: 09 a. m.
The end of the Rams’ first morning session — the 1s vs. the 3s, the more intense ( and vocal) of the two — is capped by repeated two- minute drills.
Tempo, tempo, tempo, up one side of the field, then down, then back up again. Every turnover is two points for the defense, every touchdown a point for the offense.
“Let’s go, let’s gooooo,” Norvell cries.
On the last play of one drive, quarterback Clay Millen, a skinny slinger with an absolute cannon, flashed some touch as well. The redshirt freshman transfer from Nevada dropped back and lofted a ball into the middle of the back of the end zone, all while throwing off his back foot.
It was one of those classic, highpoint jump balls, and Tory Horton, another transfer, out- leapt the lot of them, cradling the rock and tickling the back of the end zone with his toes as he landed. The whole sequence resembled Joe Montana- toDwight Clark, The Catch, one of the most iconic passing touchdowns in modern NFL history.
“How many points is that worth?” a student on the sidelines asks Ricky Santo, CSU’S Director of RAM Life Programs.
“One,” Santo replies. “But it should’ve been worth two.” Norvell smiles.
Like he said, he’s seeing that stuff every day.
“These become critical plays when the game is on the line,” Norvell tells the first- teamers after their practice segment wraps up. “These plays become the difference between winning and losing.”
10: 06 a. m.
Norvell loves Canvas Stadium, a Power- 5- conference- level jewel in a Group- of- 5- conference crown. It’s his house now, his HQ and his muse. Parents, CSU alums and invited guests are greeted after practices with a warm, folksy smile and a firm handshake. But Norvell noticed something last December, not long after he was hired, that rubbed him the wrong way.
“I was walking through the locker room, shaking players’ hands, and I’m looking and there are towels on the floor, garbage on the floor in the locker room,” Norvell recalls. “We’ve got this beautiful locker room! And I took note of that.
“And so when the players went home for break, and they came back, I put them all in the JV locker room. And they stayed in there for eight weeks. I just told them, I said, ‘ That’s a sign of bad leadership.’
“The older players are policing the younger players and making sure they get things picked up. I said, ‘ It’s not the custodian’s job to pick up after us.’
“Bob Stoops used to say, there’s nothing that he hates more than a spoiled athlete — somebody that thinks that they’re better than somebody else. Or they don’t have humility to take care of somebody or pick up after themselves.”
Divas, in other words.
“That’s exactly right,” Norvell continues. “I mean, we all have family members, a lot of people have family members, that work in cafeterias or in the service industry. It’s not their job to clean up after us. So we always clean up after ourselves.”
A week or so after he moved the players back to the main locker room, he did a check before heading home for the night.
“And it was spotless, all the shoes are in place,” Norvell says. “But that’s just part of having humility, really, being respectful. And so those are the kinds of lessons we’ve been teaching. We’re getting there. It’s a work in progress.”
As if on cue, a ‘ V’ of geese suddenly passes overhead. A player shouts to Norvell on the sideline, excitedly, and points up at the formation.
“Flying ‘ V,’ there it is, Coach,” he says. “’ Flying V!’ See, Coach?”
Norvell nods. He smiles again.
1: 22 p. m.
The offensive film room at Canvas ain’t for the faint of heart. That morning’s film is up and ready to review, in segments, not long after
Norvell’s left the field and showered up again.
The new Rams coach doesn’t pull punches when it comes to evaluating players. Or ribbing his assistant coaches.
“Is he going back to senior prom?” Norvell asks of an incoming freshman
“I did that,” running backs coach Jeremy Moses says.
“I’ll bet their prom is better than Baytown’s. Did you have a mariachi band at your prom?” “We did.”
“Always a fiesta.”
Eventually, the cycle of plays hits the Millen- to- Horton touchdown. The back- foot job.
“Tim Brown used to say, ‘ The guy that jumps first makes the play,’” Norvell says. “That’s a good ball right there. Out- jumps three guys.”
Just after 1: 31 p. m., the note- taking is interrupted by a quiet rapping at the door.
“Coach,” Santo says, poking his head in. “Someone wanted to meet you. Coach, this is Temple Grandin.”
The door opens, and Temple Grandin — that Temple Grandin — walks in. Western shirt. Medal around her neck. A smile that lights up one corner of the darkened room.
“Just passing through, wanted to say, ‘ hi,’” the renowned scientist and animal behaviorist says.
Grandin mentions that she’d just been honored at a ceremony elsewhere in the building. Norvell notes that he met her at a campus function this past January. The film stops, and the coaches nod and wave individually.
“Thank you for coming by,” Norvell says.
“Just trying to make sure my car doesn’t get ticketed,” Grandin counters with a laugh, and the rest of the room joins in.
4: 02 p. m.
The academic side has the floor for roughly 40 minutes. After the support staff leaves. Tim Cassidy, CSU’S senior associate A. D. and football chief of staff, pores over old news and new, mostly on the scheduling front.
On the plus side, Cassidy reports, there are at least 500 folks planning to attend a Rams BBQ after the spring game this upcoming Saturday — far more than anticipated.
“They’re gonna have to kill another cow,” one coach cracks.
Norvell says there’ll be a recruiting meeting the next day, and he underscores the focus of the scrimmage to come, the last one before the spring game: two- minute drill work.
“Ball at the 50, only a minute left,” he says. “More of that lastplayof- the- game stuff. This is a really important scrimmage.”
With that, Norvell looks up from his notebook. He’s scribbling stuff for weeks from now, into May and June, plotting a course to the end. When you’re lining up chess pieces for the long game, no detail is too small. No person, either.