Mother day gift for kid to make

The first time around, Sylvester Croom let his emotions get the better of him.

When his school came calling, Croom allowed sentimentality to wash over him until he might as well have been covered in crimson from head to toe.

His Alabama roots run deep. He grew up in Tuscaloosa, and he was on just the second football team--in 1972--that allowed black players to suit up in Alabama's all-white uniforms. He succeeded grandly, too, becoming an All-American center and a team captain. Later, he served as an assistant under Bear Bryant, then went on to a 17-year career as an NFL assistant.

So, when coach Mike Price and his escapades were swept out before the 2003 season, Croom and his spotless reputation and solid resume should have been in. But it didn't work out that way. Alabama, a place where former governor George Wallace stood in the door to block the school's first two African-American students, punted on its chance to hire the Southeastern Conference's first African-American head football coach. It also punted on its chance to hire the best guy for the job.

"I was surprised Alabama didn't hire him," says Johnie Cooks, 45, a former star football player at Mississippi State who, like many people, was puzzled by the hiring of Mike Shula. "But Alabama's loss is our gain."

After long-time Mississippi State coach Jackie Sherrill said he would step down at the end of the 2003 season, athletic director Larry Templeton and school president J. Charles Lee began pursuing Croom. But Croom, 49, wasn't eager to bite this time. And it didn't have anything to do with Mississippi State's recent history of losing or that NCAA bloodhounds were nosing around the football program.

The courtship with Alabama had scarred the man his friends know as "Sly."

"He was disappointed; hurt," says his younger brother, Kelvin Croom, who also played at Alabama.

Truth is, Sylvester Croom doubted the sincerity of this new suitor's intentions. Ultimately, this brought Croom and his would-be employers to an impasse. The job had been offered, but Croom still was thinking maybe he should just return to the Green Bay Packers to coach running backs and forget the whole thing.

Templeton says this was the moment he went from being a little scared Croom was getting away to being impressed Croom had done his homework: "I remember saying,'Sly, while you're thinking about it, you need to check me and Dr. Lee out.' And he says, 'You don't have to worry about that. I already have.'"

Just win, Sly

The men are seated around a table in the Starkville Country Club bar, discussing their new coach.

Roger Bentinck-Smith, an accountant and a Mississippi State alum, offers this: "If he wins, people will love him.... I expect him to dominate recruiting in Mississippi."

Ion Howell, a student, says, "I want to win every game. But when it comes to the Ole Miss game, I want to kick some ass."

The mandate is clear: All Croom has to do is win a lot more games than he loses. And win the in-state recruiting war. And win the biggest rivalry game on the schedule.

He must do all this while running a clean program, of course. And a lot of Bulldogs fans believe he should snatch up many of the best African-American athletes.

"I don't want people thinking he'll be a savior," says Cooks, who is African-American. "The top 25 African-American recruits aren't just going to come running to Mississippi State. He will get in some more doors."

Croom doesn't even want to think of things this way.

"I'm going to have to build a reputation," he says. "And I don't want anyone to come to our university because we have a black head coach. Any ulterior motive is not good.

"I had an incident at Alabama where I was brought in at the end of (recruiting) to help on a player only because I was black. I had no relationship with the kid. He didn't play my position. We got that cleared up right then."

Croom also cleared the air, with class, on December 2, 2003, the day Mississippi State introduced him as head coach.

"There ain't but one color that matters here," Croom said, throwing a lead block, just like in his playing days, "and that color is maroon."

Lessons learned

Croom's mother, Louise, a retired school teacher, still lives in the small house in Holt, Ala., where Sylvester and Kelvin grew up. The shutters, you can't help but notice, are maroon.

"Mom just wanted maroon," Sylvester says of this coincidence. "That happened some time ago."

All of Sylvester and Kelvin's childhood football games took place in the back yard. Here, in the 1960s, and in the imaginations of children, anything was possible--even playing for Alabama.

But the reality played out in the stark contrast of black and white, of oppression and privilege. Young Sylvester wasn't even welcome to walk on Alabama's campus. When he helped integrate Tuscaloosa Junior High School, a white boy hit him in the face with a spitball. Sylvester and Kelvin saw Ku Klux Klan cross-burnings at the nearby fairgrounds.

"It was just a way of life," says Kelvin, who became a preacher, like his father, Sylvester Sr. "We never were taught to hate."

Nor were they taught to dwell on what can't be changed.

"You can't live in the past, but you can't ignore it, either," Sly says, and then he smiles. "A lot of things have changed for the better."

First and long

So Croom has his chance. But how much of a chance is it?

He inherits a program that has won eight games in the past three years, and the NCAA still must pass judgment on alleged recruiting violations during Sherrill's watch.

Croom started cleaning up the program when he dismissed leading rusher Nick Turner for violating team rules. The more tuned-in players saw something such as this coming since their first meeting with Croom, when he told them missing class would earn them 5 a.m. detention runs.

"He was very blunt," says senior defensive lineman Ronald Fields. "He told you what it is, and what it's going to be."

Sort of like the man who wore the hounds-tooth hat, says Amos Jones, Croom's linebackers and special teams coach. Jones played at Alabama when Croom was an assistant for The Bear.

"It's not like the old days, when coach Bryant walked into the room, and you could hear a pin drop," Jones says. "But it's pretty damn similar."

The problem, of course, is that Croom doesn't have players nearly as talented as the ones Bryant had. In fact, Croom doesn't even know if he has a quarterback who can take him through the season. Sophomore Omarr Conner is the likely starter, but junior Kyle York isn't far behind. Combined, they have five starts.

"A quarterback question is always a problem," Croom says. "I don't care if you're at the Starkville YMCA."

But given the circumstances, Croom will be allowed time--time to prove that after all these years of waiting, he has the right stuff to be a head coach.

For a time in the NFL, Croom was running backs coach under the Chargers' Bobby Ross. Later, with the Lions, Ross made Croom his offensive coordinator and watched as Croom grew into what, at that time, was his dream job.

"He just got better and better, and you could hear it in his voice inflection with his play-calling," says Ross, now the coach at Army. "He conceptually had the big picture."

He has it here, too. It's a big picture that starts with the color maroon. But eventually, Croom will live with a head coach's reality, and maroon will provide the backdrop for what's up front:

Wins and losses, forever preserved in black and white.

RELATED ARTICLE: Croom kept his eyes on the prize.

After a one-game NFL playing career with the New Orleans Saints, Sylvester Croom went back to Alabama to work for coach Bear Bryant. Croom stayed on the Tide staff for 11 seasons as an assistant before he left to coach running backs for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

In 1991, while with the Colts on his second NFL stop, Croom had a crisis of confidence. He desperately wanted an NFL coordinator's job, but he didn't see the opportunity coming.

"I just knew he was down a little bit," says Milt Jackson, another African-American assistant on that Colts staff.

Jackson dispensed some advice: It's better to be prepared and have the opportunity not come than the other way around. Croom listened. When the Colts' entire staff was fired, he landed on his feet the next season with San Diego as the running backs coach for Bobby Ross. Croom helped develop Natrone Means, who rushed for 1,350 yards in 1994 as the Chargers went to the Super Bowl. When Ross moved to Detroit, Croom became his offensive coordinator. Under Croom in 1997, the Lions' offense ranked second in the NFL.