July 27, 2015
BY MIKE LUCAS
UWBadgers.com
Part one of a two-part look at the path Wisconsin's Paul Chryst took in returning to his hometown to become the head coach at his alma mater.
A
lthough his dad was a successful coach, Paul Chryst didn't show any early interest in becoming one himself. Like many carefree youngsters, teetering on their teens, he didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up.
"You want to be a fireman?" he said, suggesting a universally-accepted profession transcending generations. "You want to be … what? You know what I mean? You weren't trying to figure out life too quick. To be honest, I didn't know if I wanted to be anything."
Chryst was still too young to care about tomorrow. The only thing that he saw in his future was the next game for the BS Friars (Blessed Sacrament), the next competition, the next challenge. He loved competing, especially if that meant matching up against older neighborhood kids, and it often did.
"I was always probably a little too serious about sports," said Chryst, who was schooled at Blessed Sacrament (4K through eighth grade) on Hollister Avenue -- not far from the Chryst home -- a short walk from Regent Street and less than a mile from Camp Randall. "I wanted to be more than just a participant."
Holding his own wasn't good enough. He wanted to be better than that. "And that was a big deal in the neighborhood if you could play in those games," he said, "because a lot of times you're playing up -- they're four and five years older than you -- and you just have to hang."
He was prepared to do so. Chryst's older brothers, Rick and Geep (George Patrick), would toughen him up at home. "We would do make-believe Olympics, but we only had one set of boxing gloves," Rick recalled. "Paul would always get the left-handed glove and he would have to be Russia."
Because of their age difference -- Rick is now 54, Geep is 53 and Paul will be 50 in November -- it was only natural that there would be a pecking order and a short straw. Paul was the second youngest of the five Chryst children; he was sandwiched between his sisters, Cathy and Dolly (Mary Ellen), who lettered in track at Wisconsin (1986-87).
"I suppose there's a certain amount of realities with birth order," Patty Chryst surmised of her family. Upon reflection, though, she couldn't remember her sons being overly competitive with each other. "I don't know that they were similar in that many ways," she added.
But they each shared one thing: they were raised as a coach's kid. George Chryst coached football (his teams were 43-10) and basketball (138-47) at Madison Edgewood High School. He was also the athletic director and taught social studies and physical education during nearly a decade of service.
In 1972, Chryst returned to his alma mater, Wisconsin, as an assistant on John Jardine's football staff. Chryst had been a guard-linebacker for the Badgers. In fact, Paul Chryst still has the 1958 game ball that was presented to his dad after he set up a score with an interception in a 20-0 win over Miami (Fla.).
In retrospect, Paul Chryst's earliest memory from Camp Randall was not from a game. Instead, he recalled being on the Edgewood clean-up crew that assembled on Sunday mornings and collected all the debris from the stands following a Saturday home date.
"You'd get cinnamon rolls afterwards," he said with a wide grin.
When he was in the sixth and seventh grade, he remembered hanging out at Holy Name Seminary, where the Badgers used to conduct their preseason training camp. He also remembered throwing a football around with his friends at the stadium, a perk for any coach's kid.
Since his dad helped tutor the O-line and tight ends, his favorite players were from those positions groups: Dennis Lick, Terry Stieve and Ron Egloff. Meanwhile, he had the Rufus (Roadrunner) Ferguson touchdown shuffle poster and took a liking to another undersized tailback, Billy Marek.
This past spring, on Chryst's initiative and invitation, a large number of former UW players came back to campus and watched practice. Among them was the aforementioned Egloff, a starting tight end on Jardine teams in the mid-'70s. "Talking with him was a big deal for me," said Chryst, glowing.
One of the most memorable plays in school history was a 77-yard touchdown pass from quarterback Gregg Bohlig to flanker Jeff Mack that rallied the Badgers to a stunning 21-20 upset of Nebraska in 1974. Bohlig came back for the reunion, and so did Mack (as well as his son, a former UW linebacker).
"They were all talking about how much they enjoyed Dad," said Chryst, obviously touched by the turnout and the genuine, heartfelt sentiments expressed by so many. In addition, he got to reconnect with former Badgers teammates and roommates.
Chryst rattled off names like Joe Armentrout, Craig Raddatz, Glenn Derby, Paul Gruber to go along with Brian Anderson, Todd Gregoire, Scott Bestor, Pete Nowka, Andy Hartlieb, Todd Nelson and Matt Joki … he stopped short of trying to name everyone because he knew that he'd forget someone.
"Paul has always had great relationships with the athletes who have come back," Geep Chryst said. "There's something emotional about your former players returning and it's great for the current players to see that they belong to a long line of Badgers. That's a powerful narrative there."
After Jardine retired under pressure in 1977, George Chryst spent one season as an administrative assistant to Jardine's successor, Dave McClain, before opening a new chapter in his coaching life by taking over the UW-Platteville football program.
Paul Chryst was going into the eighth grade when the family relocated to southwestern Wisconsin, a little over an hour from Madison. Not only would he accompany his dad on road trips, traveling in a van with the quarterbacks, he would also chart offensive plays from the press box.
As a high school senior, Chryst was the starting quarterback and catalyst on a Platteville team that won the Division 4 state championship. He passed for 227 yards and two touchdowns in the title game. That earned the 6-foot-2, 185-pound Chryst a scholarship to Wisconsin, Class of 1984.
At the end of a disappointing 7-4-1 season -- Chryst redshirted -- the underachieving Badgers had the most players drafted in the nation, including three first-round picks: wide receiver Al Toon (No. 10, Jets), cornerback Richard Johnson (No. 11, Oilers) and defensive tackle Darryl Sims (No. 20, Steelers).
The following spring, Chryst moved from quarterback to defense and lettered as a backup linebacker and defensive back. The Badgers struggled in 1985 and dropped to 5-6. Some changes were in order. The next spring, Chryst was on the move again; he returned to quarterback.
Much of that spring is still a blur for Chryst nearly three decades later. Understandably so.
On April 28, 1986, two days after practice had concluded with the annual intrasquad game, McClain died from a heart attack. He was 48.
"Me and Brian Anderson (a tight end on the team) were upstairs getting our meal tickets," Chryst said, "and we were coming down the stairs going to the locker room …"
When they passed the sauna where McClain was found.
"Me and Brian were the second and third people there," Chryst said. "I was taking his pulse."
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| "It prepared me going into this profession more than I thought it would," Chryst said of his playing days. "There were a lot of lessons. Some I learned doing it; some I learned when I reflected back on it." |
McClain had collapsed after exercising on a stationary bike.
"Once more people came," Chryst said, "I went down to the training room and called Dad because Tom McClain (Dave and Judy McClain's son) was playing football for him. I told him, 'Something has happened, you need to grab Tom and come up here. Don't turn on the radio.'"
McClain's death left a sizeable scar on the Wisconsin program. "It was tough to get over," Chryst said. "We all appreciated him as players. I also had some history with him because Dad was on his first staff. That was just really hard on everybody."
McClain's defensive coordinator, Jim Hilles, was named the interim head coach. In 1986, the wheels fell off during a stress-filled 3-9 season. Chryst played sparingly on special teams and was used as a holder on placements. Hilles was not retained and was replaced by Tulsa's Don Morton.
In Morton's rookie season, Chryst shifted to tight end and caught six passes, one for a touchdown. Morton implemented his Veer offense with personnel that didn't fit and the results were predictable. The Badgers finished with a 3-8 mark, 1-7 in the Big Ten. And it would only get worse.
Wisconsin slumped to 1-10 in 1988, the lone win coming over Minnesota. As a senior, Chryst, who wore No. 9, did a little bit of everything. He was the fourth-leading receiver with 12 catches, threw a couple of passes and had three rushes. He got the most out of a bad situation.
Morton lasted one more season before being fired.
Given the extremes of his five-year career, what would Chryst do differently if he could?
"I don't know if it's what you would do different," he suggested. "It's pretty easy to say I would have gone left instead of going right or something. There were a lot of lessons. Some I learned doing it; some I learned when I reflected back on it (those trying years).
"It prepared me going into this (coaching) profession more than I thought it would. Some of it is what you want to do, and there was a lot of 'what not to do' from a player's and coach's approach. One thing I'm proud of is that we had a group of guys that worked hard and got through it."
Today, Chryst can better relate to players dealing with transition because he was forced to adjust to three different head coaches (McClain, Hilles and Morton). "I have empathy for what those kids are going through, here (Wisconsin) and Pittsburgh," he said. "I lived it as a player."
All things considered, he admitted to learning "a ton of lessons from the interaction between coach and player" during his playing days. "Your philosophy is shaped by all of your experiences," he said. "Those weren't all favorable, but there were still good experiences looking back on it."
Chryst got his degree in political science from Wisconsin. "When I was done with high school, I thought I'd like to be a coach, but I wasn't sure," he said. "That's why I did take Poli Sci. I wanted to do something totally different. I even did an internship at the (state) capitol."
But he couldn't walk away from football without knowing if coaching was his calling. UW assistant Mario Russo, who had a hand in Chryst's recruitment, had a connection with West Virginia's Don Nehlen and arranged for Chryst to be a graduate assistant with the Mountaineers.
"Coach Nehlen ran a great program; there was continuity and success," said Chryst, who was on a staff with some young, promising coaches: Rich Rodriquez (now the head coach at Arizona) and Chris Haering (now UW's special teams coach). "I learned a lot and it was a really good experience."
Was Chryst now committed to coaching?
"I didn't know," he said. "But I thought that's what I wanted to do."
After earning his master's degree in educational administration from West Virginia, Chryst went looking for a job. "I was struggling to find one," he said, "when literally by the grace of God, I got hooked up with Mike (Riley) and the San Antonio Riders (of the World League of American Football)."
Mike Riley became his mentor.
"I was ready to learn with Mike," Chryst said.
The Riders survived a couple of turbulent seasons before disbanding.
"But my experience with Mike," Chryst said, "is what cemented my commitment (to coaching)."
Chryst was in his San Antonio office when he got the phone call in early December of 1992.
"I got a call from my grandma," he said. "My grandpa had been sick."
Chryst feared the worse.
"The family," he said, "was kind of bracing for my grandpa (passing away)."
But she was calling about his dad, not his grandfather.
"Then, it hit home," he said. "It was one of those things you never forget."
George Chryst had died in his sleep from anaphylactic shock after eating fish and cashews. He was 55. "Everyone who has experienced losing a loved one is different," Paul said. "But everyone has that same, 'you're just kind of in a fog' feeling (when they're told).'"
Was there anything that he wanted to say to his dad but didn't get the chance? "None of the big stuff, and I'm grateful for that," he said, adding that he has friends who have regrets in this area.
"But how could you not have a bunch of stuff that you wanted to say?"
More than anything, Chryst wanted to share so much with his dad over the years and couldn't. "When we were coaching in San Diego (Chargers) with Mike, I was telling Geep (who was also on the staff), 'I wish Dad was here. He'd have such a blast,'" he said.
While labeling himself as "selfish" for thinking such things, he continued, "We get to do a lot of neat things as coaches and they're most meaningful when you get to share them with the ones you love. Don't you think he would have had a kick going to the Final Four and watching Bo (Ryan)?"
George Chryst was also Platteville's athletic director and hired Bo Ryan to coach basketball.
• • • •
"I
wanted my dad to know our kids," Paul Chryst was saying now softly.
Paul and Robin Chryst have three college-age children: Katy, JoJo and Danny.
What would George Chryst think about his son taking over the Wisconsin Badgers?
"I think he would feel very honored, I really do," Patty Chryst said. "George would be typically enthusiastic about it, you know what I mean?"
Anyone who ever met George knew exactly what she meant. Rick and Geep have their dad's hearty laugh and opinions on what their younger brother inherited.
"Paul has my dad's consistency," said Rick Chryst, a former commissioner of the Mid-American Conference (1999-2009) and assistant commissioner with the Southwest Conference and Atlantic Coast Conference. A Notre Dame grad, he played baseball for the Irish and was a team captain.
How does that model of consistency play out? "Consistency in terms of how you treat people," said Rick, a graduate of the Duke law school and a senior vice president of counsel at Dietz Trott Sports & Entertainment Management in Cleveland. "Consistency in terms of values and principles."
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| "One of his strengths as a coach was assessing who he had for a team," Chryst said of his father, "and I'd like to think that I have some of that." |
Geep Chryst has been known to spout some of George Chryst's favorite clichés.
Like, "Weeds grow fast and oaks grow slow."
There was another one that was popular among the Chryst boys.
"My dad would always say, 'If I can just hang in there for a couple of more years, I've gone through life without a real job,'" said Geep, who has been in the coaching business for 28 seasons, including 23 in the NFL; he's currently the offensive coordinator of the San Francisco 49ers.
"You didn't see coaching as a job, you saw it as something you're fortunate to do," explained Geep, who sees Paul in the same light. "You appreciate the game and you work hard on the schemes to put guys in position to make plays. And then you sit back and enjoy it when guys are having success."
Geep Chryst, a Princeton grad, pointed out the role that a coach's wife has in the formula.
"My mom would juggle all things on the home front so my dad could coach," he said. "She's really bright, passionate, upbeat and positive; all the characteristics that you look for in a quality teacher or educator or coach."
Patty Chryst has a pretty impressive resume, too, punctuated by her tireless involvement with the Wisconsin chapter of the National Football Foundation. She was the consummate coach's wife. In this context, she singled out Robin Chryst for her positive influence on Paul's growth in the profession.
"Robin is huge; she has been a wonderful partner," Patty said. "I watch her and Shelley, Geep's wife, and they've really been troopers. You have to run the household, especially if they have an active family. They help give balance and perspective and meaning to everything."
By his own admission, Paul Chryst is clueless around the house as a handyman. "I'm really unbelievably bad," he said. "I have yet to figure out how our thermostat works. When I try to do it, I screw it up and Robin is like, 'Don't even touch it.'"
Patty used the word "industrious" to describe Robin.
That was out of necessity. At one point, there were nine moves in 14 years.
The San Antonio Riders was the first of Paul Chryst's 12 full-time jobs.
Noted Geep, "As coaches, we appreciate our families allowing us to pursue our passion."
Patty couldn't say enough good things about all of the Chryst spouses. Cathy is a nurse and married to a successful high school baseball coach in Omaha, Nebraska. Dolly married one of Paul's former UW teammates, David Strauser, a University of Illinois professor.
The Strausers had one son play football at Princeton, while another is playing at Penn and yet another at Purdue. John Strauser is a redshirt sophomore defensive end for the Boilermakers. He registered his first career tackle against Wisconsin last year. He wears No. 51; same as George Chryst.
Much was written and said about Paul Chryst leaving Pitt for the opportunity to go back home. And that's what he did, literally, he went home; he moved into his mother's condo last winter and spring while Robin stayed in Pittsburgh with the kids through the school year.
"It was nice," Paul said. "But I didn't see her much. Our hours were different."
"That's been the case a couple of other times during transition periods," said Patty, laughing.
Yes, there have been many transitions for Team Chryst.
Asked about her son's assets as a coach, Patty Chryst said, "He's so player-oriented."
She also emphasized his "team perspective" and characterized him as a "family man."
"He's excited," she said, "whenever any of his kids can share what's going on."
That would also hold true of his extended family, the Badgers.
"I thought my mom and dad had a great plan," Paul Chryst said of his parents. "They were on the same page with all of the main stuff; dead-on with the big stuff. You talk about constant messaging? My mom is one of the most generous people with her time, too. I hope to have the energy she has."
What did Paul Chryst take from George Chryst?
"One of his strengths as a coach was assessing who he had for a team, and I'd like to think that I have some of that," he said. "He truly did respect those who respected the game. He appreciated how players would play it, how coaches would coach it and the work they put into it."
Paul Chryst looked up from his desk and said, "I'd like to think that I've got that, too."
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