CHAPTER 8

TAMPA’S TEAM

TONY

Creating time to pray together was the key for us as we made the move to Tampa. During difficult times, it’s natural to pray more, asking God for help. But over the years we have seen that sometimes blessings can put a strain on a marriage. So we talked, walked, prayed, and tried to stay connected during our transition into a new city. That helped tremendously.

That’s not to say the job ahead of me was an easy one. I may have achieved my goal of being named a head coach, but the team I was leading had been struggling for years. Part of the magnitude of the challenge came from the need to change the Bucs’ culture. The Glazer family was new to owning a football team, and they wanted me to help integrate the team into the community in a positive way. That certainly fit with my idea for how a football team should operate  —as an asset of the community at large  —but it created additional stresses.

Lauren and I tried to work as a team to confront these challenges. I tackled many of the cultural issues within the organization  —at least as they related to the business of football  —such as how the coaches and players interacted with the community. Lauren had the opportunity to partner with me, and she jumped right in.

It’s a good thing, because our lives had certainly gotten busier. Many of the opportunities were fantastic. For instance, we were able to go to the NFL owners’ meetings, which were always held in vacation spots such as Phoenix or Palm Springs during the month of March. The owners, general managers, head coaches, and league officials get together there to vote on rule changes. I attended meetings much of the time, but for Lauren and the kids, it was in essence a vacation as they got to enjoy the setting. We also had fun participating with the Bucs in some of our city’s traditions. For example, our entire family appeared with the team’s float at the Gasparilla Parade of the Pirates, part of an annual festival that celebrates the legend of a mythical treasure-seeking pirate and his fellow buccaneers.

The opportunities to help in the community also became challenges because we were confronted with so many choices: luncheons, chances to meet with the media, public speaking engagements, and the like. All of these were terrific, but each would require more time away from home. Lauren and I realized that we had to be smart about which ones we would take on.

Even as we learned how to deal with more demands on our time, I was discovering that being a head coach didn’t feel all that different from being a father. While I had more players than children to oversee  —thankfully!  —the principles were the same. I needed to champion values, talk about and model character and other positive traits, and make sure we were alldoing what we needed to do. Whether I was on the field or in my home, I had to determine how I could best help each player or child. And I had learned from Coach Noll many years before that treating everyone fairly did not necessarily mean treating everyone the same. Different personalities required different types of encouragement and discipline.

In attempting to change the culture in Tampa Bay, we’d adopted a mantra: “No excuses; no explanations.” The team members had spent so much time living in the past, captive to their circumstances and to other people’s low expectations, that they needed to learn that we were not going to be victims any longer.

I’d borrowed Coach Noll’s phrase, “Whatever it takes,” so that the Bucs understood that because every game is different, no one could abdicate responsibility by saying, “That’s not my job.” We each had a contribution to make in building a winning team, and there would be times when we all would be asked to do a little more, depending on the circumstances.

Through it all, the Glazers demonstrated great confidence in me and our entire staff. They gave us a wide berth in trying to incorporate concepts from other teams we’d been a part of and create a team that did things the right way. Maximizing our talent and running the organization in the right way  —focusing on the process  —would bring wins in the long run.

Lauren

The owners’ sons, particularly Joel and Bryan Glazer, wanted input from me and Tony on how to build a family-friendly culture. They met with me often over informal business luncheons to ask for my thoughts. “What did you guys do in Minnesota with the wives?” was a typical question. I was eager to tell them how kickoff luncheons, parties, postgame events, and holiday parties were organized on other teams. I’ve always enjoyed entertaining and bringing people together, and we quickly developed a warm and productive relationship.

I also talked with the Glazers about how the team could help the families of new staff and players as they transitioned to Tampa. Once again, they were very receptive. Bryan gave me a team credit card so I could invite the new wives to lunch and answer their questions about everything from places to live, schools for their kids, churches where they could worship, to the best places to shop or get their hair done.

During games, I did my best to bring the wives and girlfriends of players and coaches together. During our first two years with the Bucs, the team played in the old Tampa Stadium  —or the Big Sombrero as ESPN sportscaster Chris Berman affectionately called it. My “box” was a tiny cubbyhole. It was roomy enough for two metal folding chairs and a big old clunky tube TV, which interestingly enough was chained to a table. Even though there wasn’t much room for entertaining, I was so happy to be in Florida that I didn’t mind. I fondly remember how the TV would start flashing every time someone nearby flushed a commode.

When I told the Glazers about the game-day babysitting program that had been in place in Minnesota, they immediately embraced that idea. They provided the funding we needed to purchase toys and equipment, as well as to hire babysitters. That allowed the wives to enjoy the football games and support the team, knowing that their children were being cared for in a safe and secure room.

I also felt led to begin a pregame Bible study on Sundays for the families of players and coaches. The Glazers were willing to open up the stadium to accommodate this meeting. Christian motivational speakers ministered to the wives each week. They shared personal testimonies, prayed, and taught lessons. Many of the wives willingly shared how the Lord was working in their lives and ultimately encouraged one another through life challenges. One of the most impactful speakers was Veronica McGriff. Veronica grew up in Tampa and married her high school sweetheart, Fred McGriff, who went on to become a star baseball player with the Atlanta Braves before finishing his career with the Tampa Bay Rays. Veronica talked about being thrust into the limelight as Fred’s career blossomed. She explained how she and Fred had to rely on the Lord to overcome the pitfalls that trapped so many of their peers. She was very transparent, and because she had already walked the path that many of our wives were just starting on, her story resonated with everyone. That was the kind of message I wanted to share with the wives to help them understand the dynamics of family life in the NFL and the importance of having a relationship with the Lord.

Another important part of my role was to increase the team’s visibility within the community by representing the Buccaneer Women’s Organization, which participated in charitable functions and community service projects throughout the Tampa Bay area. I told the Glazers about my desire to visit local schools to promote reading and help develop a love for literature in students, and they supported the launch of a literacy program. We invited players’ and coaches’ wives to accompany us, and those visits were a win-win situation. The wives were excited because they felt like they were using their gifts to help the kids in our community. The teachers were thrilled to have visitors to their classrooms who promoted reading. And it was great for the Bucs, too, because we always talked about the team when we reminded the students about the importance of reading. We explained that even players and coaches have to do homework to prepare for their games.

As the visibility of the women’s organization increased, I began receiving more interview requests, along with invitations to speak at events or serve on various charitable boards. I wanted to let the community know what the Bucs and their women’s organization were doing, so I welcomed the opportunities. At the same time, I had to learn to open up. Because I’d always been so private, that did not come naturally. It was one thing to interact with people one-on-one, but to stand up and be so transparent while presenting to a group wasn’t something I was naturally comfortable with.

These invitations became a little overwhelming because I was also trying to plug the kids into life in Tampa. I didn’t mind the constant pull myself, but I didn’t want the kids to feel as if they were being thrust into the limelight. Our higher profile made me concerned about their security; at the same time, they needed to realize that everyone knew who we were. Their photos were everywhere  —on television, in the paper, all over. We were just being cautious. We understood from the families of other head coaches that their children were picked on, and we were wary of that. Jamie, in particular, ended up taking criticism of Tony very personally.

In addition, while they had always been good kids, now they had a new responsibility  —to represent our family in public. That’s something I wanted them to take seriously.

I realized I had to be careful myself whenever people would stop me and ask, “Hey, aren’t you Mrs. Dungy? What do you think about Tampa?” Only months before I’d zip around town without anyone noticing; now, I constantly felt watched. I remember thinking, I wonder if I have to dress a certain way. Do I have to put away my shorts and my casual clothes because people will be judging me? My hair  —can I just put a baseball cap on, or do I have to maintain a certain image?

I concluded that, no, I should just continue being the person that I am. My identity is in Christ, not in the world. And I didn’t want the kids to think that Tony’s new job would change who we were. It would be best to get to know people and for them to get to know us just as we were.

So in the end I didn’t feel I had to conform to a certain image of the head coach’s wife. If anything, with the Lord giving me a bigger and more visible platform, I needed to remain true to my core. I viewed my greater visibility as an opportunity to talk about the Lord and my faith. But I had to learn patience, too, and patience is not my strong suit. Many people assumed that if they weren’t able to speak directly to Tony, then surely I would be glad to pass along a message for them.

I didn’t really mind, but it was a little awkward when people at church, at the grocery store, or around town stopped me to ask if Tony could speak to their group. What made it especially hard was that the speaking requests were always for great causes, but Tony had limited time. Sometimes the person making the request would say, “If he could only come once, for just a few minutes . . .” Given the sheer volume of requests, however, we’d never have had any family time if he’d accepted very many of them.

One reason I enjoyed my work with the Bucs was that it gave me and Tony a sense that we were accomplishing something important together. Even though Tony had more responsibilities and was busier than ever, it didn’t seem like it because we shared common goals.

I spent a lot of time at One Buc. Many days I drove to the team’s offices, and I would always see Tony or pop my head in his office to say hello. Sometimes he’d be busy and we wouldn’t be able to talk long, but I felt very involved in what he was doing. It wasn’t a situation where he disappeared at dawn and came back late at night.

Still, with all that was going on, it was important for Tony and me to stay connected. It was harder now, but we recognized that we had to make a conscious effort to keep our quality time as the pace of life picked up.

TONY

Lauren and I were able to talk a lot during the day. As she mentioned, sometimes we were able to talk at the office, but I’d also learned from watching her on the phone with her mom that she is very relational. I made it a point to call between meetings just to say hi and check in for a couple of minutes whenever I could.

We continued taking evening walks as well. We lived in a quiet neighborhood on a golf course, and we could walk on the course anytime without interruption. Nobody was going to stop us or sit down with us and start a conversation.

To ensure that all my players and staff were able to have meaningful downtime with their families during the season, I followed Denny Green’s schedule from Minnesota and kept Friday afternoons free from work activities. The team would have a short practice that ended about 12:45. Afterward we’d have a family cookout. The rest of the day was open so that families could spend time together.

On most Friday afternoons, Lauren and I did something with the kids. Many times we let them choose the activity, whether it was a trip to Chuck E. Cheese’s, the park, or a movie. Often, Lauren and I would designate that evening as our date night. We thought it was so important to build in time for each other, especially with such a busy lifestyle. Date nights gave us time to catch up and enjoy each other without interruption.

Lauren and I also knew it was important to keep tabs on our kids to see how they were handling the transition to Tampa. They had loved living in Minnesota, so even though the new job was good news, they had been sad to leave their friends and their cousins. We continued holding family meetings around the dinner table as a way to stay connected with them. We knew our life now was very similar to living in a fishbowl. Being the head coach’s kids had its perks and its pressures. Lauren and I knew we had to be intentional about keeping our family together, balanced, and on board, as well as to know what our kids were experiencing  —both good and bad.

Since I wanted some one-on-one time with the kids, we decided I would drive them to school each morning. I couldn’t always control when my workday would end, but I could spend thirty to forty minutes in the car with them before heading to the office. We had a long drive to their schools, so it turned out to be a great time to connect. Eric used to call in to Joy FM, the Christian radio station in Tampa, and request “The Cartoon Song” by Chris Rice every day. It got to be a running joke. The DJ would say, “It’s 7:20, and we’ve got Eric from Tampa on the line. . . .”

Lauren picked up the kids in the afternoons. She would tell me that from the moment Eric got in the car, he talked nonstop. He loved his kindergarten class at Berkeley Prep and wanted to share details of the entire day with us. Lauren learned to suggest the kids play the “quiet game” for five minutes just so Tiara and Jamie would have a chance to jump in. They all joked that Eric definitely took after the Harrises with his gift of gab!

Prioritizing family time was something Lauren and I learned from Coach Noll when we first got married. He gave his assistant coaches plenty of vacation time and always scheduled a long break before training camp began. He took those breaks himself, and he never called us over the summer asking us to come into the office or to work on a special project. In fact, from the time we broke until we were scheduled to come back, we never heard from him. For the first eight years of our marriage, Lauren and I knew we had the month of June and the first part of July to ourselves, and we loved it. That was our time to reconnect and do things we enjoyed as a family.

Not everybody I worked with after that saw family time as important, but when I became the boss and could set the schedule, I followed Coach Noll’s example. I knew how much those breaks helped our marriage, and I wanted my coaches to benefit from them too. A long season puts a strain on the family, and I wanted families as healthy as possible before the stresses of another season hit.

Our extended families continued to play an important part in our lives when we moved to Tampa. In fact, relatives from both sides of our family began visiting more often. The Florida sunshine was a big attraction  —especially in the winter. As always, my parents liked to set their own schedule when they visited, and Tiara, Jamie, and Eric loved spending time with them, whether hanging out at the mall or watching late-night sports coverage on TV.

My parents’ plans didn’t always mesh well with the homework and bedtime routines that Lauren had established for the kids, but she learned to roll with that when they were in town. While Lauren preferred things structured, she saw how much love the kids were getting from their grandparents. We didn’t let them stay up all night, but they could enjoy some time with Gram and Grandad. Because Lauren chose relationships over structure, the memories the older kids have of their grandparents are priceless.

Shortly after moving to Tampa, we encountered a bigger, much longer-lasting stressor: building our house. It was something we’d looked forward to, but the building process seemed to go on forever.

In September 1996, area residents voted on whether to approve funding for the new stadium. While the votes were being counted, I was at work. Supposedly I was getting ready for the Detroit Lions, but actually I was keeping more of an eye on the TV coverage. The numbers kept changing, and it was so close that following the count was nerve-racking. I watched nervously as the tallies went from 49 percent in favor to 50.3 percent to 49.8 percent to 51 percent and finally . . . victory! The team would be staying in Tampa.

Now Lauren and I knew we could start building our dream house. In Minnesota, the builder had been able to guarantee that our home there would be completed in four months. So I was a little surprised when our Florida builder told us it would probably take six to nine months. When I asked for that in writing, it became twelve months. In the end, it actually took much longer  —almost nineteen months.

Though they were far away, Lauren’s family offered their help with the house. Lauren’s brother Loren was the most involved. He wanted to be sure we were getting our money’s worth every step of the way and knew I didn’t have a lot of time to research and check up on the builder. He would make periodic visits to check on the progress  —shake the windows, peel back insulation, and give his opinion on the workmanship, either to us, or if he was around, to the builder.

I noticed that most of his visits happened to coincide with Bucs home games and teased him about that. As much as he loved coming to the games, though, I knew Loren wanted us to end up with a comfortable home, and I appreciated that.

Nonetheless, as anyone who has ever had a house built knows, the delays and cost overruns can make homeowners a little crazy. Lauren and I did have some arguments, mainly over little things, but sometimes a breakdown in communication would lead to conflict. Whose fault was it? Had I misinterpreted what Lauren wanted, or had we not communicated our preference to the builder correctly? Maybe she didn’t spell it out just right, or maybe she’d been clear and the builder had made a mistake.

During this time, we were reminded that sometimes it’s best to apologize even when you don’t think you caused the disagreement. When that happened, one of us would choose to say, “I love you. Now let’s move forward.” That’s not easy to do, especially when emotions have gotten heated. It goes against our human nature, but it works when minor disagreements crop up.

In any event, we didn’t want to let those issues divide us. We were enjoying everything else so much. We had rented a house right around the corner from where we were building, so the kids were getting to know their neighborhood, and they weren’t going to have to change schools.

Although I sometimes felt as if the construction of our new home was out of my hands, I remained absolutely committed to my plan to build a winning football team. Early on, though, I wasn’t sure which would be accomplished first. By the end of September, we had a 0–5 record. After that fifth loss we had a bye week, and Bryan and Joel Glazer asked me to go to lunch with them. They told me that while they were disappointed in our start, they wanted me to know that they were with me for the long haul. I really appreciated that. I was also encouraged by something Coach Noll would say whenever I asked him for advice: “Don’t change what you believe in.” I knew how his own team had struggled his first two seasons before things began to click. “Stick with what you believe in, even though it’s not always going to be popular.” And so I did, and Lauren was there to support me in that.

After my lunch with the Glazers, our team started to play better, but it didn’t show up on the scoreboard. Our record fell to 1–8, and the fans who had had such high expectations were very disappointed. Six months earlier, people had been excited to welcome us to Tampa, but the honeymoon was definitely over. It was tough on our family, especially the kids, to leave the stadium and hear the disgruntled voices of our fans. I think Lauren could sense my frustration when I came home as well. We hadn’t been expecting this. When we came to Tampa, everything had been so perfect that we felt sure we would begin winning pretty quickly.

But we persevered as a family, and the team finished that first season on a high note, winning five of our last seven games. Then, early in the next season, things began to gel on the field. I had laid out the ground rules and expectations the first year, and now our players seemed to know what they had to do. During our first year, let’s just say tickets had not been hard to get. But when we opened the second year with five straight wins, games started selling out and the atmosphere in the stadium became electric.

Lauren

In 1997, I noticed a big difference off the field as well as on it. When people talked to me, they started to refer to the team as “we,” whereas the year before it had always been “the Bucs” or “your husband’s team.” The community was starting to identify with the team, and you could feel that connection everywhere you went in town. Many local organizations also requested that the Buccaneer Women’s Organization assist them through fashion shows, TV appearances, interviews, and hospital visits. It was an exciting time.

Our second season in Tampa was special for me in another way. That’s the year the Bucs drafted Warrick Dunn from Florida State. Though he was only twenty-one, he had responsibility for three teenage children  —his siblings. Warrick had been raised by his mom and grandmother in Baton Rouge. His mom was a police officer and a single parent. Warrick, the oldest child, was always the man of the house.

Then, during Warrick’s senior year of high school, his mom had been tragically killed during an attempted armed robbery at a bank. Before her death, he’d promised to be there for his brothers and sisters. During his first year with us, Warrick’s grandmother kept his siblings at their home in Baton Rouge, and he stayed in constant communication with her.

The following year, however, he determined that it would be best to move his siblings to Tampa to live with him. So here was this young, soft-spoken recent college graduate who was launching a pro football career while also raising children on his own. It was all new for him. He knew the Bucs had high expectations for him on the team, but he thought it was equally important to raise his family the right way.

That gave me a wonderful opportunity to help in small ways. I used to go with him to parent-teacher meetings, just to provide another listening ear. Sometimes Warrick would call and ask, “Can I bounce something off you? What do you think about that? This isn’t working; what do you suggest?”

Before long, Warrick and I spoke about once a week. During the school year, I think he was reassured knowing someone would go with him to meetings with the teachers. He wanted to stay on top of the kids and their progress in school. He told me, “Everyone sees me on the field and thinks of me as a great athlete, but I also love my brothers and sisters. I want to be there for them and help them navigate through those teenage years. I want to emphasize how important it is to do well in school and succeed, not just ride on my coattails.”

I thought he was so mature and wise beyond his years. In light of his popularity, he never lost sight of his goal to provide a stable home for his brothers and sisters. He didn’t want people hanging around just because of his fame. If they could help his brothers and sisters be better students and succeed in the way he knew his mother wanted, then he was open. Otherwise, he wasn’t interested.

Warrick wasn’t the only player whom Tony and I reached out to. As we got to know the players better, we became more like a family to them. We often heard about their issues and problems. We thought it a privilege to be able to pray with players and their families or to simply sit and talk with them. We knew our limits, though, and sometimes encouraged them to get professional help. If they needed someone to watch their kids while they sought counseling, we’d do it.

We did our best to model a healthy marital relationship to the entire team. The Glazers took their family on team trips, and they encouraged us to do the same. During our second year, Jamie began going with us to the away games while a babysitter stayed at home with Tiara and Eric. Once he got a little older, Eric came with us as well. Our boys always looked forward to those trips. In order to come with us, however, we required that they do well in school the week before.

As we operated as a team in front of the players and our own kids, we learned that operating as a unit didn’t mean we had to let tradition define who did what in our household. I dislike using the words strengths and weaknesses, but there are some things that Tony is more gifted at doing and others that I feel I am better equipped to do. The key is working together to ensure we’re each handling those things we do best.

It’s a pretty simple concept, but not everyone understands the principle. Rather than holding on to rigid, defined roles of “the husband does this; the wife does that,” we have learned to work together as a unit so the family will function best.

So if I end up fixing things around the house because Tony is on a road trip, that’s okay. And if it works out better for him to drive the kids to school in the morning, he does it. He’s never asked, “What would it look like to have an NFL head coach sitting in the car-pool line?” And I appreciate that.

The other side of it is recognizing the areas where we or our spouses are not as gifted. As I was growing up, my parents ran a tight ship. They had a lot to manage: not only did they have a lot of children, but my dad was an entrepreneur who juggled multiple responsibilities. My mom kept everything organized, a trait I admired and try to emulate.

If I could, I’d wave a magic wand and we Dungys would all be that way. Guess what? Tony’s not an overly neat person, so even today keeping our home in order falls to me. I’m constantly going to the store to buy crates, file folders, and boxes. Everything runs so much more smoothly in an orderly household. I have little cubbies in the laundry room where our kids put their things. I do a lot of color-coding to keep items organized too. I have my master calendar in the kitchen  —a big paper one, not something digital on a phone. Though Tony is not as concerned about such things, I think he recognizes how much better everyone functions when there’s order and less confusion in the household.

Tony tells me I shouldn’t be surprised by his messiness since I saw what his dad’s study looked like the very first time we visited his parents’ house. I wonder if perhaps he should just acknowledge that he’s a chip off the old block!

It’s too bad that Tony’s office is just inside the front door. It’s the first room people see when they come into our house. With all his helmets, pictures, mementos, and awards, it could be a showplace. When Ebony magazine wanted to do a photo shoot there, I hired someone to come in and fix it up. They organized everything and put up pictures and plaques on the wall. It was beautiful. Then, after the shoot, things began piling right back up again.

I cringe whenever I hear Tony tell someone, “Well, come into my office so I can show you. . . .” I’m thinking, I would be so embarrassed. But he’s okay with it. On the other hand, I’m afraid to take anyone in there; they might not be able to find their way back out!

Still, I just close the door. I’ve learned to accept it and let it go. You have to pick your battles, and worrying about Tony having a clean and orderly study is not going to be one of mine.

On the other hand, because I keep the house organized, Tony can concentrate more on the bookkeeping. That’s where he excels. I know enough that I can be involved with it, even though he writes the checks and pays the bills. We’ve come to understand each other’s strengths, and we each recognize that the other person might be better equipped to handle a particular task.

I think anytime a couple models what a good marriage looks like, it speaks volumes to others. When Tony was a head coach, we thought it was important, especially for the younger players, to see the stability between us and the fact that, no matter the outcome of the game, we, as a couple, were in it together.