Charlie Weis: Big Man On Campus

If one school defines college football in America, it's Notre Dame. It has the largest fan base in the country, and a pedigree that includes Rockne, the Four Horsemen, and some of the greatest coaches and players in history. But as correspondent Steve Kroft reports, 18 years have passed since its last national championship, and in 2004, after two miserable seasons, it turned to Charle Weis, an alumnus who never played football, to restore the glory. Any new coach at Notre Dame, automatically becomes a national figure. The only thing separating immortality from ignominy is winning. And the former offensive coordinator for the New England Patriots is off to a great start.

At 6'1" and 300 pounds, Weis has become the biggest man on campus, with a girth exceeded only by his oversized personality, which seems out of place at a school run by the Holy Cross Fathers.

"I consider myself brutally honest," Weis tells Kroft. "Whatever you have to do to get your point across, I make sure that I get my point across."

"I mean when I am not happy I make sure everyone around me feels the pressure," he explains.

Whoever it was that came up with the seven holy virtues obviously never coached football and certainly never spent a Saturday afternoon in Notre Dame Stadium.

So if Charlie Weis comes up a little bit short on self control, patience and humility, he's forgiven by the faithful – the fans.

In less than two years he has won 16 games and lost four, restoring credibility to the Notre Dame fight song and returning the team to the top ten. But it required a few adjustments.

"I mean you get some, you know, some obnoxious sarcastic guy from New Jersey coming in. And so it was quite a culture shock for the players," Weis says.

Asked how he changed the climate, Weis says, "I had to spend a good portion of time, you know, breaking 'em down before you could build 'em back up."

"How did you break 'em down? What do you mean break 'em down?" Kroft asks.

"I was unbearable," Weis replies. "And I was not a very, very nice guy."

What Weis saw was complacency: about winning, about going to class, and about living up to their potential. And no one was spared, not even all American quarterback Brady Quinn, who has blossomed under Weis and is one of this year's favorites to win the Heisman trophy.

Weis has called himself a jerk. When Kroft asks Quinn whether the coach is a jerk, Quinn says, "He could be a jerk – you know, I wouldn't say it to his face, but he could definitely be a jerk."

"What was his language like?" Kroft asks.

"I guess from what I understand it's New Jersey language, so I don't think that's necessarily something you could put on the air," he says.

And Weis has a special look that he gives to his players. "Yeah, I don't necessarily get as I think scared as other guys do, but he definitely can give a pretty devastating look," Quinn acknowledges.

"One of the things that people have told me is that you have a pretty high opinion of yourself," Kroft asks Weis.

"Who told you that?" he asks.

"You're not denying it," Kroft says.

"In coaching if you don't think you are good then you have no chance," Weis explains.

"Is there anyone in college football you think that can out-coach you?" Kroft asks.

"I would not give that up," Weis says. "I would not want to think that somebody's gonna out-coach me."

To understand Weis' style, you have to understand his career. When he graduated from Notre Dame in 1978 with a degree in communications he wanted to be a sports announcer. Instead, he wound himself teaching English and coaching high school football in New Jersey, where he eventually won a state championship, and an entry level job with the New York Giants, analyzing game tapes for coach Bill Parcells, who wasn't much interested the first time Weis offered a coaching suggestion.

"And he looks down at the end of the table with his scowl. Says, 'You've been in the league for five minutes. No one cares what you think. So just sit there and shut up.' So, needless to say I was humbled into going into my shell and not saying a whole heck of a lot for about the next two months," Weis recalls.

Weis acknowledges he was a bit of a whipping boy for Parcells. "Oh, I was it," he says.

Asked how he would you describe that, Weis says, "Anytime you say something that's even the least bit wrong, the hammer is coming out. And it is being swung and swung hard."

"And now you're giving it," Kroft remarks.

"Yeah, I'm – it's nice to be on the delivering end instead of the receiving end," he says.

On the field, Weis doesn't hold back. "Hey Brian, will you wait 'til they send the (expletive) field goal team on there. The last time I checked you're not the(expletive) head coach."

"That's why people call you a jerk," Kroft says.

"Oh, that's okay. They've called me worse than that, Weis replies, laughing.

Weis spent 15 years under Parcells and later Bill Belichek, helping them win four Superbowls with the New York Giants and New England - and learning a lot about football from two of the very best.

He is considered a brilliant offensive mind and an imaginative and daring play caller who's not afraid to take chances.

He is also a great teacher and motivator, getting his players to perform at a higher level than any of them thought possible.

"Am I just going to have to yell at you at every one of these kickoffs? That's ok, I'll do that. I'll come over here and yell at you every time, if that's what you need," he tells on his players.

Weis says he likes working with younger players. "It's like working with a bunch of rookies all at the same time," he explains. "The difference is they're even younger. And the difference between a freshman and a senior is like night and day."

"You know, it's almost like you get 'em as kids and they walk out the door as men," he adds.

Recruiting the nation's top football prospects is a big part of Weis' job now, searching for players who want to graduate from playing at Notre Dame on Saturdays, to playing in the pros on Sunday. And he is not above flashing one of his four Superbowl rings to romance a recruit.

"When they sit there and tell me that they want to play on Sundays, I'll act confused and I'll say, 'So you want to play on Sunday, huh," Weis says laughing.

Speaking about the mass of metal of diamonds of his Superbowl rings, Weis says, "It definitely gets prospects attention because they all aspire to go on past, past a college level when the come here."

And it seemed to work with Weis' first recruiting class. Kroft joined him in South Bend last February on the day senior high school recruits declare in writing which school they want to attend.

Like most days, he went to the office at 4:45 in the morning, starting his day with a blast of Bon Jovi and the morning papers. By 7 a.m., the fax machine was humming with letters of intent, followed up by calls from Weis and his staff to prospective students.

It became his mantra. By the end of the day, Notre Dame had received letters from 27 top prospects, and Weis had landed one of the best recruiting classes in the country. It will only raise the expectations of the throngs that make the pilgrimage to South Bend every Saturday, traveling in Winnebagos and private jets to enact their tribal rituals, firing on their team.

It was the pressure to produce national championships that forced Notre Dame legends Frank Leahy, Ara Parsegian, and Lou Holtz off the field.

"One of them collapsed in the locker room at half time. One of 'em quit because he couldn't handle the stress. Another one quit because his doctor told him he was taking too much medication and had to quit. That sounds like a pretty pressure packed job," Kroft notes.

"Oh, some of that is self-inflicted – you only feel the pressure if you really care what everyone else thinks. And I really don't care what everyone else thinks," Weis says.

The only opinion that matters he says is that of his family, who wanted him to take the Notre Dame job so they could spend more time together in the quieter atmosphere of a college campus. His son Charley can be with him on the sidelines, and the nine acre Weis homestead has stables, a baseball diamond, and a swimming pool for daughter Hannah, a special needs child. Weis and his wife Maura have set up a foundation called "Hannah & Friends" to help others with similar disabilities. Whenever Weis talks about her, you realize he's not as tough as he seems.

"Hannah's like our, our messenger, our angel, who's, you know God gave us to do some good. And we learn more from her than we do from anybody else," Weis tells Kroft.

It's not the only adversity the family has had to face. A few years ago, Weis decided to address a lifelong weight problem and underwent gastric bypass surgery. There were complications that nearly killed him, leaving him with nerve damage and a noticeable limp. But it didn't stop Notre Dame from hiring him, or other teams from trying to steal him away.

A number of NFL teams approached him last year with head coaching offers, forcing Notre Dame to rip up his old contract and give him a new ten-year deal, reportedly worth $35 million.

"Someone told us that you're making more money than 80 percent of the coaches in the NFL," Kroft says.

"I don't know what they're making," Weis says.

"You must have a pretty good idea, Charlie," Kroft continues.

"I don't know what they're making. I'm doing okay. I'm doing okay," he replies.

If Weis is being paid like a CEO, it's because the Notre Dame football program is a major financial enterprise for the university.

With revenues of $61 million, from sold out stadiums, an exclusive television contract, bowl games, and merchandise sales it not only pays for the entire athletic budget, but it has funded more than 2,000 academic scholarships for non-athletes.

Notre Dame President Father John Jenkins says he hired Weis because his values and commitment to excellence mirrored those of the university. And he seems willing to give the coach a special dispensation for his language.

"This may shock you, but I've heard salty language in football locker rooms a lot. Charlie's a New Jersey guy and he speaks very directly," Jenkins says.

"Andy Reid of the Philadelphia Eagles, who was a good friend of Charlie's, said that Charlie's probably spending a lot of time in the confessional here for all of the language," Kroft remarks.

"If he's spending time in confessional, I encourage him to keep doing that and repent," Father Jenkins says, laughing.

The main thing Weis is repenting is a 47 to 21 drubbing at the hands of second ranked Michigan in the third game of the season. But the next week, Notre Dame seemed to turn its season around with a miraculous fourth quarter comeback against Michigan State.

And against UCLA, they kept their hopes for a national title game alive with a long touchdown drive in the game's final minute, which speaks to Weis' main virtues: zeal and commitment.

"Do you have fun in this job? Do you like it?" Kroft asks.

"Coaches are miserable by nature. I really, coaches are miserable by nature," Weis says. "But I think that – I think the only way you really can measure having fun is by having success. And the only measure of success could be when you end up winning a championship."

Asked if he has a time frame for winning his first championship, Weis says, "Can't happen soon enough. I'm not a very patient man."
Produced By Ira Rosen