Nick Saban: The Metaphor

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Nick Saban:  The Metaphor

Everyone remembers that girl. Every guy wanted to be with her. Every girl wanted to be her. She carried a 4.0 GPA and looked like she stepped off the cover of Maxim. You never really considered it a possibility.

After all, she dated law students, med students, SGA Presidents, you even heard she had a fling with a Congressman. She could not have been more out of your league. But, through some quirky twists of fate, somehow, you got your shot.

Alabama football in the 1970s was like your days in high school—you had everything. But most of all, you had the girl. Having this girl was the equivalent of having Paul "Bear" Bryant. People felt you had an unfair advantage in life because you had her. Everything went your way. You were friends with whomever you wanted as your friend.

Sometimes, you took other people's friends, just so they couldn't have them. Whatever rivals emerged, you dominated them. You enjoyed victories in all aspects of life. It wasn't as much you, as it was her. She made you who you were. And you prospered. You became a legend.

But like all good things, this came to an end. It wasn't anything you did, it was just time. She rode off into the sunset as the girl against which all others would be measured. You were devastated. Unsure of which direction to follow, you left home and went to college.

Without "that girl," you entered school a shadow of your former self. Afraid to do anything else, you got involved with another girl from your old life. This was not the same. Yeah, she looked good. Yeah, she had the resume. But she just couldn't give you what "the girl" could. After a few months, you parted ways.

Still hesitant to leave your comfort zone, you found yet another with ties to home. Only this time, she didn't look that good, and didn't really have the resume, either. Though you had some good times, you noticed that other guys you used to bully were all of the sudden bullying you.

After a particularly disturbing stretch of humiliation, you realized it was her fault. You tried to make a break, but she embarrassed you in public-tried to make you out to be abusive and impossible to be in a relationship with. Things ended badly.

After a freshman year filled with this turmoil, you realized that your status as the legend that you once were was beginning to fade. But then, starting your second year, you met somebody new. Like the ones before, she came from your hometown, too. She had moved away a long time ago, to Texas, but she was back.

Like you, she had been through rough times away from home. When you first saw her again, things were awful. The first month was filled with disappointment. You thought about cutting ties, but then everything turned around. You thought she was cute at first, but then she got HOT.

Before you knew it, you were back. It was like old times again. You were the guy that others hated, but were too afraid to do anything about it. Your sophomore year flew by. Maybe it wasn't quite as good as high school, but it was damn close. Unfortunately for you, she was older. She graduated while you still had two years left, and you were alone again.

Then you started what you will always remember as the worst year of your life. For some reason, you took a liking to a girl that was well below your standards. Although you didn't realize it at the time, you now know that she looked like Bea Arthur. Not knowing what else to do, you dated her for four months. You became a laughing stock. You even got your ass kicked by some skinny kid from Louisiana Tech.

Then, something happened to you that you weren't ready for. You found this really smoking girl from some Christian university in Texas. She came to town and you got carried away. You were ready to marry her. But she cheated. On you. On YOU! THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING. But it did. She left you for some guy back in Texas. You knew it was for his money, but that didn't make it hurt less.

Broken-hearted, you found yourself a dirty stripper, but this was over before it began. Distraught and nearing the end of your junior year, you heard about this young blond from back home. With your judgement clouded, you latched on to her.

You wanted it to work, you needed it to work. She looked good on paper, but her lack of experience showed. She was too shy and frail. She wasn't ready for the rigors of dating you. It almost killed her. She left school and wasn't heard from again.

You spent the summer searching. This couldn't be it! You were a legend! Could you have peaked in high school? You returned to school for your senior year, and that's when you heard about her. Actually, you had heard of her before. Everybody had. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was kind of a bitch. She had bounced around from place to place, but she seemed to leave every place she had been better than when she got there.

For whatever reason, she liked you. You knew it couldn't last, but you couldn't resist. You found game that you forgot that you had, and you got her. The beginning was nasty.

As it turned out, the past few years had given you a lot of bad habits that she had to break you of. You were not prepared for her. She was waaaaay hotter than you, and you couldn't keep up at first. But then, you got strong again. You got your swagger back. One by one, you began to put other people back in their rightful place-looking up at you. But there was still one guy—the guy you hated the most.

He had spent the last SIX semesters making your life a living hell. But things were different with her. She had brought you back to where you always felt you deserved to be. Now it was time to finish the job. She told you: "You're ready, aight?" And you knew she was right. So, you picked one more fight with him, one more fight to right all of the wrongs. It was time. And with her watching on, you became a legend again.

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