Do we like Nagy or his 8-3 mark?
Bears coach seems genuine but may find popularity is a product of winning
In the latest episode of “ClubDub,” Matt Nagy celebrated the Bears’ victory over the Lions in a raucous locker room by pretending to juggle imaginary balls and throwing one emphatically at the ground. Boom.
“Everybody in this organization deserves a, ‘Good job!’ ” Nagy yelled.
All the Bears surrounding Nagy went nuts. Then everyone started dancing as the music played.
The Nagy novelty looks unlikely to wear off anytime soon. Players enjoy how he connects. Reporters appreciate the way he communicates. Fans love nearly everything about the affable 40-year-old Bears coach who knows what he doesn’t know, from his approachability to his authenticity — even that silly visor Nagy wears atop his bald head.
Nagy strikes me as a genuine kind of guy anybody would enjoy a beer with at the neighborhood bar. But, face it, the Bears becoming a playoff-caliber team in his first season makes Nagy much easier to like — and if his first team opened 3-8 instead of 8-3 everyone would be less inclined to buy the next round.
Former coach John Fox, gregarious enough to be known as “The Mayor” when he arrived at Halas Hall in 2015, was the life of the party until 34 losses in 48 games killed the buzz. Coaches must win to be in with the home crowd.
That’s the way it works in sports, with Nagythe latest example.
How much of a coach’s appeal relates to his productivity? Why is success a prerequisite for popularity? Or, maybe a better question: Why do successful coaches become more likable?
This crossed my mind again in the aftermath of Ohio State’s annihilation of Michigan as Fox announcers uncomfortably feted coach Urban Meyer for overcoming adversity, ignoring Meyer’s responsibility for helping create it. Leading his team into the Big Ten championship game hardly absolved Meyer for his tone-deaf response to domestic-violence accusations against former Buckeyes assistant coach Zach Smith — negligence that resulted in Meyer’s three-game suspension in September. Beating Michigan coach Jim Harbaugh made everyone forget how Meyer handled Smith?
Nothing has changed since August, except Ohio State’s record.
The power of winning can be persuasive. Nothing makes a coach harder to embrace than the stink of losing. It remains one of sports’ most confounding yet consistent truisms. Whether it’s fans or media, we too often let a scoreboard decide how much we like a guy.
The perception of Harbaugh, for instance, swung dramatically on last Saturday’s outcome. If Michigan had beaten its rival, the narrative would have portrayed Harbaugh as a misunderstood traditionalist praised for sticking to his old-school ways. But becoming the first Michigan coach to go 0-4 against Ohio State instead painted Harbaugh as a miscast eccentric who caused some critics to wonder if he was right for the job. In reality, the only thing different about Harbaugh this week is that his defense picked the worst possible time to give up 62 points.
In most cases, public opinion sways more than coaches do. Take Illinois coach Lovie Smith, who spent 2004 to 2012 coaching the Bears in a city that loved Lovie. Covering Smith since day one,
I can assure you he has changed little from almost 15 years ago. From Chicago to Tampa, Fla., to Champaign, Smith’s steadfast, serious demeanor has served him better with his bosses than fans and media.
Smith’s popularity peaked when he coached the Bears to the Super Bowl XLI in 2007, by the time he missed the playoffs for the second straight year in 2012, his firing hardly created an outcry. And if Illinois athletic director Josh Whitman had decided to fire Smith rather than reward a 4-8 season with a two-year contract extension, you wonder if it would have produced much more than a shrug from a fan base that has yet to be re-energized since Smith’s arrival in 2016.
Cubs manager Joe Maddon is no less fascinating now than on the day he was hired in 2014, he offered to buy everyone at the Cubby Bear “a shot and beer, the Hazleton Way.” But sometime between Game 7 of the 2016 World Series and the two straight oddly disappointing playoff seasons that followed, Maddon became more polarizing.
Maddon’s schtick began to wear on people — perhaps even on Cubs management. But watch how quickly liking Maddon becomes cool again if the manages the Cubs back to the World Series in 2019.
White Sox counterpart Rick Renteria, one of the most pleasant souls ever to occupy a dugout, proves nice guys who finish last often are in the same spot when ranking popularity. Nagy probably has a higher Q rating locally after 11 games with the Bears than Renteria has after two seasons with the Sox.
Speaking of Q, former Blackhawks coach Joel Quenneville, a three-time Stanley Cup champion, achieved local legend status before the team fired him Nov. 6 and cast an imposing shadow over 33-year-old successor Jeremy Colliton. Colliton comes across as a sharp, sincere coach with an ability to laugh at himself. But whether anyone will notice depends largely on whether he can lead the Hawks back to the playoffs. Otherwise, only friends and family will care.
Just look at Fred Hoiberg, who’s excellent company to keep. Hoiberg possesses a dry sense of humor, treats everybody with respect and views each day with the healthy perspective of someone who survived open-heart surgery. Relatability remains one of Hoiberg’s greatest strengths. Yet, realistically, the Bulls eventually will fire Hoiberg before Chicago ever gets to know who he really is. With less exuberance, Hoiberg is as true to himself as Nagy but has yet to succeed enough for his genuineness to matter. Likability only factors into longevity for coaches who win.