Blythe's Book 9: Quiet Strength

Tony Dungy's memoir, Quiet Strength, has been sitting on our bookshelf since I bought it for Nate, oh say, two Christmases ago. Maybe more. I've always liked Tony Dungy, possibly in part because I felt so badly when the Bucs fired him after he turned that team around. Just had to get that off my chest. Anyway, I was a Bucs fan until they gave Tony the ol' heave-ho... then I followed him to Indy, and have been a Colts fan ever since, even though he retired. With the Super Bowl upon us, it seemed an ideal time to read about Dungy's life which, he is quick to stress, is all about God, and only partly about football. And added bonus for my reluctant reader of a husband, Nate now won't have to actually read the book, since I've been tagging along after him all week, peppering him with "Did you know..."s about Coach Dungy's life and coaching philosophy.

As is the case with many memoirs, it is the content of Quiet Strength that kept me interested-- not necessarily the writing style. Dungy does have a co-author, Nathan Whitaker, but the writing is definitely more focused on delivering a message, and recounting a life, than it is on inspiring anyone with deliberate word choices or vivid images. It didn't really matter, though; I loved this book. I loved hearing about the old Bucs players, from Warrick Dunn to Derrick Brooks, and learning more about the organization. I loved learning little tidbits about Dungy's youth, and about his own experiences as a college athlete and an NFL player. And, as was promised in the reviews at the front of the book, I was inspired by Dungy's faith and focus. Here's a guy who, when the average workday for an NFL coach is 15 hours, refuses to let anyone in his organization make work a substitute for home, often giving them nights and weekends off. Here's a guy who encouraged players and coaches to pick their children up from school and bring them to the office or training field. Here's a man who adopted three children and even after the suicide of his oldest son, refused to question his role as a father or Christian. Tony Dungy had a million excuses to let go of his faith or to neglect his family given the career path he chose-- yet he has always made family and faith his top priorities. And he's quick to point out that there are plenty of men in the NFL who have made the same choices he has, from Derrick Brooks who buys homes for single mothers to Donnie Shell who held him accountable as a Christian when he was a rookie NFL player in the Steelers' organization. Where the media's quick to point out the eccentricities and poor decision-making of football players and coaches, Tony Dungy's memoir showed me how loyal, thoughtful and generous many of these men are. In some ways, reading this refocused me, making me reflect on my own goals and methods for accomplishing them. Dungy stresses that pointing fingers and getting angry very seldom solve a problem. He's big on responsibility and short on excuses, and emphasizes the importance of a positive attitude and commitment to personal excellence in every endeavor. If I'd been in the wrong frame of mind, I might have felt like this book was a bit hokey, but as it was, I'm walking away from it with a lot to think about, and an even greater respect for Tony Dungy.