ESPN College Football

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. -- The convenient way to describe Bob Stoops is to reduce him to something he isn't.

He isn't a genius. Geniuses split atoms, discover penicillen, invent the microchip.

He isn't Sun Tzu with a whistle, or Schwarzkopf with a visor, or Churchill in a Nike shirt.

He isn't profound, unless you're a big fan of his favorite four-letter word: Work.

But as Stoops' coaching legacy grows exponentially, the temptation is to start constructing pedestals, to create a myth that exceeds the reality. You look at his record -- his .859 winning percentage is better than OU legends Barry Switzer and Bud Wilkinson ... this is his third national championship appearance in the last five years ... his teams are 21-4 against ranked opponents -- and it's hard not to commission someone to chisel his profile in bronze. At the very least, you should name a building wing after him, right?

Nope. That's because Stoops is as pretentious as a six-pack of frosties plucked from a styrofoam cooler. He'll tee it up at a dog track muni as easily as he'll play Southern Hills. The last time he saw pheasant under glass was during a trip to the zoo.

It isn't an accident that Oklahoma's football renaissance began shortly after athletic director Joe Castiglione offered Stoops his first-ever head coaching job. In fact, the nutshell version of the 1999 courtship offers a revealing glimpse of the honor code practiced by Stoops.

So impressive was Stoops during the secret interview with OU officials at a Dallas-Fort Worth Airport meeting room, that the most pressing question became: who's going to give up their seat to Stoops on the OU charter flight back to Norman? Problem was, Stoops had given his word to alma mater Iowa that he would discuss the Hawkeyes' job opening. He would have done the same thing had he promised a meeting with the good people at, say, Louisiana-Monroe.

Castiglione got his man, though no one, including Stoops, could have predicted one national title and two other championship appearances before the Sooner Schooner needed an 80-game tune-up. The guy had never been a head coach, had never overseen an offense (he was Steve Spurrier's defensive coordinator when OU called), and didn't have anything close to an Oklahoma twang.

"Being last in every offensive category [in 1999], he hires a defensive coordinator from Florida," says Stoops. "And a lot of people -- they won't maybe admit it now -- but they were scratching their heads, [saying], 'I don't know if this is the right thing.' And there are many Oklahoma people I'm sure who doubted it."

Nobody doubts it now. Castiglione is considered a visionary. A staggering $80 million in private donations has upgraded OU's football facilities to state of the art. And Texas fans are treated for post-Stoops depression every October.

But how? Why? Stoops isn't as polished the new $25-million man, Texas coach Mack Brown. Several reporters who cover the Sooners on a regular basis consider Stoops to be, at times, condescending and arrogant. There is also the memory of Stoops accusing ESPN of a pro-Southeastern Conference bias.

But even his critics (and good luck finding many of them) concede that Stoops is on the Mt. Rushmore of Oklahoma lore, along with Switzer, Wilkinson and Will Rogers. They quickly acknowledge that his insistence on loyalty, accountability and even-handed discipline has transformed a program previously in need of all three attributes. And even his faults (the ham-handed ESPN accusation, for example) translate into a strength of sorts (he sticks up for his players and program).

"He has great trust and faith in the people around him," says Mike Stoops, who coached with and for his brother before becoming Arizona's head coach this season. "He stays very positive. It's that simple. He believes that. He lives that."

You'd need a Jaws of Life to pry information about his visits to patients at local hospitals. And how many D-IA coaches do you know have their own charitable foundation?

Stoops is the neopolitan ice cream of coaches, the near-perfect balance of toughness and fairness, intensity and perspective, work ethic and family man. He took the best of his father, of his mentors and peers (Hayden Fry, Bill Snyder, Barry Alvarez, Dan McCarney, Don Patterson, Spurrier), and combined them with his own instincts. That explains why those in his inner circle -- family, staff, players -- adore him.

"I read a comment from a coach in the Big 12 Conference who said he doesn't fraternize or socialize with his coaches," says OU co-defensive coordinator Brent Venables. "That's just the opposite of Bob. Bob works so he can live, as opposed to live to work. He never puts himself where he's above anyone else. ... You could have a secretary here and she would say the same things."

Stoops earns about $2.4 million per season and his OU contract runs through 2010. He has had his chances, lots of them, to move to another college or NFL program. But unlike Louisville's Bobby Petrino, who leads the NCAA in Most Job Interviews In A 12-Month Period, Stoops will happily remain at Oklahoma until one day bumping up in class to the NFL.

Until then, he enjoys another BCS Championship appearance, an undefeated record, and a roster that includes a former Heisman winner (Jason White) and a future one (Adrian Peterson).

"Right now ... I feel too good and great about what we're doing at Oklahoma," Stoops says.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine.