"Winning is the only thing in which I am interested," Lewis acknowledged Tuesday evening, shortly after taking on such a daunting challenge. "I feel like I know this team pretty well. I coached in their division for a lot of years. I know there are players there. I think I can win. If I didn't I would not have taken the job."

Of course, others who preceded him went to Cincinnati with similar convictions. But the road to the glitzy, and relatively still new, Paul Brown Stadium is lined with the remains of well-intentioned coaches. There is a strong suspicion in the league, one not meant to diminish the tutorial skills of Marvin Lewis, that his name will be chiseled into a Bengals tombstone in three or four seasons.

That may well be the case, since Lewis won't have considerably more clout than his predecessors, and since owner Mike Brown and his family continue to hold front office sway. But as they like to boast in New York, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.

And if Lewis can transform the Bengals from unloved losers into a merely respectable team, he could run for mayor and win in a landslide, frankly. Or, write his ticket to any other NFL precinct he chose.

This is Lewis's fourth shot at an NFL head coach brass ring. He previously interviewed in Buffalo, Carolina and Tampa Bay. Had it not been for the infamous veto that Bucs ownership issued to a deal brokered by franchise president Rich McKay last year, Lewis would have been in Tampa Bay and maybe playing for a shot at the Super Bowl.

Circumstances dictated otherwise, Lewis rolled with the punches and now he has a head coach's position. What he does with it will be a true test of his coaching acumen.

Lewis takes great umbrage at the suggestion that he has always loved the courtship process, but never the marriage ceremony, that he enjoyed being the subject of so many coaching searches yet never pushed hard for any of the positions. This time, he pushed hard, selling himself in a very enthusiastic manner to the Brown family.

But while he was the pusher, Lewis was also the pushee, because there were outside forces nudging him along. Ever since activists Johnnie Cochran and Cyrus Mehri threatened litigation if the NFL didn't change its hiring process to include the top minority candidates, the league has been championing the cause of black coaches.

However, color is not the reason the Bengals hired Lewis in a close call over Steelers offensive coordinator Mike Mularkey. But it would be naïve to suggest that color won't be an element in how Lewis is evaluated in the job. It would also be Pollyannish to believe Lewis wasn't under extreme pressure to accept the job if offered.

In a chat with ESPN.com after rejecting the Michigan State post, Lewis allowed that he had to succeed in his first NFL head coaching exposure. League owners can rationalize all they want, but if Lewis is an instant hit, some of the color barriers will tumble. If he flops, well, this alleged age of enlightenment will have been dealt a blow.

"It's like with black quarterbacks," said Gene Upshaw, NFL Players Association executive director. "Now that there are so many good ones, everybody wants one, right?"

In a sense, Lewis becomes the latest standard-bearer, aligned right next to Tony Dungy and Herm Edwards. Problem is, he inherits a sub-standard club in the Bengals, who haven't been to the playoffs since 1990 and have lost 10 or more games for five consecutive seasons.

There is some talent in players such as tailback Corey Dillon, offensive tackle Willie Anderson, linebackers Takeo Spikes and Brian Simmons, defensive end Justin Smith and wide receiver Chad Johnson. But the Bengals are only as good as their quarterback and they haven't really had a legitimate player there in years.

Chances are good Lewis will retain offensive coordinator Bob Bratkowski, meaning the design on that side of the ball won't be subjected to yet another overhaul, yet another dramatic upheaval for younger players. But there is still a valid reason the Bengals have been branded the "Bungles" and all the enthusiasm in the world can't expunge that laughable handle.

In taking on such a challenge, Lewis indeed has climbed to the top of the 10-meter platform, and stands poised at the edge. Here's hoping no one below has pulled the plug on him already.

Len Pasquarelli is a senior writer for ESPN.com.