The Authenticity Of Neuheisel's Passion [For Teaching]

It would have been easy for Neuheisel to come for a while and then disappear. Understandable even. At Washington, he made as much as $1.5 million a year, his teams played on national television, his facilities were first class, his players had everything: talent, free room and board, confidence.

At Rainier Beach he made no money, his games weren't even on radio and the coaches had to borrow a television to watch tapes in a cramped office that smelled like old socks.

Some of the players had talent and confidence, some did not. Some juggled practice with work because they had to help bring food home. Some were homeless.

For two years, Neuheisel was a constant at practice, and there at every game but one.

He sat with the players as they rode together in old yellow buses, driving off to play schools in Seattle and to towns far from there.

He shied from interviews and became a brother to Haley and the other coaches. Neuheisel made clear to them that he was only there to help, not to take over. Whatever was needed, he would do: He'd help with game plans, of course, but also with taping ankles and putting on shoulder pads and giving kids rides across town to their homes.

"We counted on him," Maddock said. "What a great experience. For us, yeah, [and] you could tell it, for him."

Neuheisel worked closely with Maddock and the other quarterbacks, whom he hosted for pregame pizzas at his home. He revamped their technique, taught them to read defenses, how to keep drives going, how to lead when the hot moments come.

"Coach Rick," as he was called, hardly ignored the others. When the star linebacker tore up his knee and could not practice, he helped the kid walk through drills on the sidelines. When the best wide receiver spoke of quitting, Neuheisel pulled the player aside, sat with him on a bench and talked about how important it is to enjoy every moment of being 17 because being 17 happens only once.