The last time I saw Urban Meyer, he was wielding Sharpies and ball point pins, signing his way through a couple of hundred autograph hounds outside the practice field.
I commented to someone that it seemed an usually large and aggressive crowd that day, which is maybe why they had sent Tim Tebow out the side gate instead.
This was Wednesday around eight o’clock after what would turn out to be the final practice open to the media or public. And not a good day to be messing with Urban Meyer.
They pounced on him with football helmets and magazines and photos and assorted pieces of paper were stuck in front his face and some came with special requests. “Hey Urban, will you take a picture with my son? He’s been waiting fours hours!”
Meyer knew the trick: Never make eye contact, keep signing and walking, as urged by the member of the sports information crew at his back.
You could still see the steam rising from his head. After seeing a lackluster three-hour practice and ordering 10 minutes of gassers for poor effort, Meyer was about to circle the wagons. We didn’t know it at the time, but the news about his big tight end and team leader Cornelius Ingram was going to be terrible.
This is the thing about Urban Meyer that few people know: He grieves at misfortune like this, not just because he loses Ingram for the season as a player, but because he hurts for the player. Especially a player like C.I., who had become one of his coach’s favorites.
CI is the person in the locker room who leads the teams in pre and post-game prayer. He takes part in helping establish policy for his teammates. But he is also one of the team’s top leaders, which is a position without a three-deep depth chart on this squad.
Worse yet, he had put team over self by eschewing the NFL last year so he could come back, improve his skills and maybe get a second ring as a national champion. And now this.
It is times like this when Urban acts like he has just seen the bus go over the side of the cliff with all his players in it. Except he calls it “a train wreck.”
And so after Day 3 of Camp Meyer, he reined in the troops, told the fans and media to go home and lined up the Conestoga wagons in the circle.
Although I respect his decision, as a member of the media I don’t like it, because when stuff goes on behind closed doors we are always suspicious and that suspicion sometimes leads us to look other places for clues which lead to other suppositions. And knowing is better than guessing.
Sometimes I wonder if football coaches wouldn’t like it better if their games were played in empty stadiums and televised to the fans. People without whistles or football gear appear to be a nuisance to them.
At the same time, I don’t blame Meyer. After seeing the circus-like atmosphere around his team and experiencing a poor practice without leadership emerging, I’d do most anything to get the players’ attention. And so he has.
Conversely, we in the media must also do what we must do.
So Gator Country has obtained the services of Dr. Emery Braun, master psychologist and professor of intuitive science and Para psychological powers from Urbanski State College in Medium, Montana.
Dr. Braun will serve as Gator Country’s Virtual Reporter. He will provide a counter point analysis to every one of Urban Meyer’s moves and use his parapsychological powers to tell us what goes on behind those closed gates.
In other words, he won’t be able to show you the photo in his mind, but will be able to determine by his intuition if the Gators have a secret weapon or decide on a personnel switch, such as putting Tim Tebow at middle linebacker or if Meyer is planning on playing all three quarterbacks in the Triple Wing formation.
As far as we know, this does not violate any University of Florida media policy, as Dr. Braun will not require an approved credential.
Just before I wrote this column, I contacted Dr. Braun in Butte, where he was working at Montana Tech and intuiting where the richest sapphire mines were located in Yogo Gulch.
“What do you think was behind the move of Coach Meyer to close practice?” I asked Dr. Braun.
“Well, I could just say he had a bad case of arthritis in his right hand and didn’t want to sign anymore autographs,” said Dr. Braun. “But I think there is more to it than that.”
“Like what?”
“Well, did you ever stop to think that some football coaches are very, very shy and don’t like crowds?” he said.
“Well this is only practice. He goes on Florida Field where there are more than 90,000 fans and it never bothers him,” I pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Dr. Braun. “That’s a game. Just like some players don’t play well in practice, but do in games. Some coaches get shy in practice.”
“You know, you might be on to something. And speaking of that, there’s something very, very familiar about your name, but I just can’t put my finger on it,” I said.
I was just about to ask another question when Emery Braun got another call coming in from Athens, Ga. and put me on hold.
“I gotta go,” said our new virtual reporter, who starts on our Gator Country payroll next week. “It’s Mark Richt on the other line. He wants to know if I can intuit what Urban Meyer is going to do on Nov. 1.”