If I’m Nick Saban, I’m taking the job at the University of Texas.
I’m being 100-percent serious.
In sports, we all talk about legacy. He’ll go down as the best coach ever! He’ll win 10 national championships! They’ll build a statue! On and on and on and on. But here’s the thing: Who cares? Seriously, who cares? One day, we’ll all be dead. Even Nick Saban. And the legacy and the track record and the statues won’t mean a thing because, well, Nick Saban won’t exist. It’s a lock.
In sports, we all talk about money. Alabama will make Nick Saban the highest-paid coach in history! Well, Texas will make him an even higher-paid coach! Well, Alabama will counter that with a house, a car, a dog and a Pac•Man machine! Well, Texas will double it all! Again—who cares? Nick Saban has made millions in his career. Millions and millions and millions. He is wealthy beyond need, times 1,000. After a while, the dough matters not.
In sports, we all talk about image. Alabama will give Nick Saban a new TV-radio deal! Well, Texas will build a nicksabanisgod.com website and Twitter account! Well, Alabama will make two Twitter accounts! Fact: Saban is already famous, and he doesn’t even seen to particularly enjoy it.
So why, if I’m Nick Saban, do I leave Tuscaloosa, Alabama for Austin, Texas? Easy—because there’s so much more to life than football, and Austin is an amazing, fantastic, dazzling, cool city … while Tuscaloosa is Mahopac with a football team. Location, location, location matters, and—just being honest—I can’t think of many places I’d less like to live than Tuscaloosa, what with its long days and dull nights and prone-to-exaggerate mayor. I’m sure the people are nice, I’m sure the sky is blue. But, well, yawn. Yawn, I say. Yawn.
So, Nick, make the jump, and spend your remaining days eating some absolutely kick-ass BBQ and soaking in one of the best music towns in the world.
Amen.
