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Gentleman Jim isn't always gentle
By Adrian Wojnarowski


The football coach's wife has been long cast as the defender of the madman the world witnesses on the sideline Sundays, the snippy, nasty tyrant embarrassing family and friends in the Monday afternoon news conference clips, breathing fire and berating stuttering sportswriters.

Jim Fassel
Jim Fassel and the Giants have made a big splash in New York.

So, it is a strange position Kitty Fassel sometimes finds herself. She is the coach's wife compelled to defend the well-mannered, polite disposition of Gentleman Jim. She's stone serious, insisting: I'm married to no Mr. Rogers.

"There have been times our children have had to leave the locker room because of the intensity of Jim's words," she says. "Who could ever say Jim is Mr. Rogers? If they do, they don't know anything about the man."

Four years ago, Fassel moved step for step with the shadow of the square-jawed, cartoon character bluster of Bill Parcells. This is the inescapable standard for a New York football coach, the image of an ornery SOB snarling a room into silence by simply marching into it.

Fassel had come to New York the anonymous offensive coordinator with the accountant's glasses, the perfectly parted hair, the fuzzy cardigan sweaters and the inclination to mutter a "Geez Louise" or two when angry.

Gentleman Jim Fassel was the neighbor next door in Northern New Jersey, the good guy sweeping his front stoop, taking the trash to the curb and tossing your kid's ball back into your yard. In a world of bullies with headsets, here was an actual real, breathing human, and nobody was too sure what to make of him.

Make no mistake: This season didn't change Fassel, just revealed his penchant for grace under pressure in the toughest of times.

Everyone wants to believe the bold guarantee was a product of the pressure of the New York market, but this is just partly true. As much as it shaped his public image, it solidified Fassel's standing in the locker room as a fighter, as a man truly in touch with the rhythm and mood of the team.

"Jim just grabbed them as you would a child you see running into the freeway," Kitty Fassel said. "He's no longer a rookie head coach. He's been immersed in the New York market. There probably isn't an issue that hasn't been covered by now. I believe he's shown in the past four seasons his tenacity to respond to the hot spots, to the potential problems and be a trouble shooter. I really regard his sense of when something is brewing, that he'll deal with it rather than wait until it's too late. He'll grab a hold of it."

Fassel had to win this year to save his job, but understand, he doesn't work for Steinbrenner in New York. He's employed by Wellington Mara and Bob Tisch -- traditional, caring owners who treated him like family. They wanted him to win. They wanted him to stay. Even now, Mara insists Fassel could've missed the playoffs a third straight season and still stayed on the job.

He's no longer a rookie head coach. He's been immersed in the New York market. There probably isn't an issue that hasn't been covered by now. I believe he's shown in the past four seasons his tenacity to respond to the hot spots, to the potential problems and be a trouble shooter. I really regard his sense of when something is brewing, that he'll deal with it rather than wait until it's too late. He'll grab a hold of it.
Kitty Fassel

Perhaps partly a product of the pressure of the New York market, it was mostly the survival instinct that pushed Fassel to his playoff guarantee with the Giants teetering at 7-4 in late November. It bought him headlines and backpages, transferred the pressure off his players and onto him.

This was a culmination of a growth process the Giants had witnessed over the past year. The true transformation happened over the summer, after he handed over his play-calling duties to offensive coordinator Sean Payton and became the total coach of these Giants. He mended relationships with his defensive stars, Jessie Armstead and Michael Strahan. For three seasons, he had been the offensive guru buried in his clipboard. Finally, he turned himself into the great unifier in the locker room.

Maybe it's hard to see these moments reflected for three hours every Sunday, but this is a fragile sport, a fragile season, and teams can so easily be torn apart. When the Giants were recruiting free agent Mike Barrow in the summer, the linebacker had a long list of questions for the organization. He had the speed at linebacker and strength of character, Ernie Accorsi and Fassel desperately wanted for the defense.

When they met face to face for the first time, Barrow listened to Fassel tell him the story of his late father, Bud, an equipment manager for the high school team who made it his mission to be charitable and caring with the players under him. The coach's job was to teach this way, even in the NFL.

"I had no perceptions of him before I came here, but after I met him, I could see he was a good family man, a good leader, and that matters to a team," Barrow said. "It has to be a family to win, and I could tell Jim was the man to bring that to us."

Adrian Wojnarowski is a columnist at The Record (N.J.) and a regular contributor to ESPN.com.


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