STATE COLLEGE - Matt Limegrover is not a sloppy guy.

His tidy office in the Lasch Football Building at Penn State, all the papers and files in short, even stacks, is evidence of that.

As a bachelor’s degree from the University of Chicago and master’s from Northwestern make obvious, he’s a smart guy.

A 25-year career in college football coaching churning out overachieving offensive linemen and offenses indicate he’s a successful guy.

But it wasn’t so long ago that Limegrover was a fat guy, not big but fat, the kind of fat that’s scary and unhealthy and a logistical nightmare. The kind that makes it hard to be an effective adult or happy person.

“I ate when I was happy, I ate when I was sad,” Limegrover said recently. “If you put it in front of me, I was going to eat it.”

As an offensive lineman at Chicago from 1987-90, Limegrover played at 265 pounds. After football season, he says, “you know, it was college … a lot of beer and burritos at three in the morning.’’

By the time he headed home to Pittsburgh at the end of each school year, he was up around 310.

Then he’d spend the summer building swimming pools. The job was almost seven days a week, hard work, often outside in the heat, and by the time preseason camp rolled around in August, he was back to 265.

After his playing career was over, he got a job at a law firm, and soon caught on with the coaching staff at Chicago. The construction/reduction plan was over.

“That yo-yoing back and forth wasn’t possible any more, and it just became a very gradual thing,’’ he said. “I was putting on 10-15 pounds a year.’’

By 2012, he was the offensive coordinator and O-line coach at Minnesota, under admired head coach Jerry Kill, making, he said, “More money than I should.’’

But he weighed 415 pounds, and he wasn’t having much fun.

He had a 61-inch waist. He suffered from sleep apnea, sciatica in his lower back and leg, and enough joint paint that he was gobbling 6-12 Advils a day.

“I just thought this is how it’s going to be,’’ he said.

He tried all the diets, famous and less so. Nothing worked. Since the issue of an (apparently) undisciplined man in a profession requiring world-class discipline kept coming up, he twice underwent psychological evaluations.

It was finally determined that Limegrover was, in the clinical sense, morbidly obese. The standard diet-and-exercise formula wouldn’t be enough.

He started, reluctantly, to consider gastric bypass surgery, a procedure that divides the stomach into two chambers, bypasses the duodenum, where most calories and nutrients are absorbed, and in effect forces the body accept fewer calories.

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Limegrover learned that Charlie Weis, the football coach, had undergone the surgery in 2002. Weis rushed into the surgery, which was done just three weeks after winning a Super Bowl as the New England Patriots’ offensive coordinator, went into a coma and nearly died.

By 2012 the procedure had been refined and could be done laparoscopically.

“If it involved cutting me open from stem to stern, I probably wouldn’t have done it,’’ he said.

The preparation was rigorous, required Limegrover to get down at 375 pounds at most, and took months.

Limegrover made himself exercise, and got down to 351. He gave Kill, his boss, a power-point presentation on the procedure.

“If you were going to play ‘Jeopardy,’ he’s going to win,’’ Kill told the Minneapolis Star-Tribune. “He probably could tell you more about that surgery than the doctors can.”

He decided on a perfect date, after spring practice was over, outside the key recruiting windows and with enough time to recover before preseason camp: May 21, 2012.

When the surgery was over, Limegrover’s stomach, at least the chamber that receives food, was the size of a golf ball.

It worked. Limegrover’s weight got as low as 225 and stabilized, as his stomach has expanded, at around 260. Protein shakes have replaced Diet Coke. Almonds have replaced chocolate.

A dozen Advils a day have tapered to maybe five Tylenols a year. The sleep apnea and sciatica are gone. His wife says he jumps out of bed in the morning. He plays with his two children again.

“Think of a 165-pound person,’’ he said. “I was putting that on my back and carrying it around every day. I’ve never been a great athlete, but I can get from point A to point B now.’’

And, he says, he’s a better football coach.

“I’m able to give more (to the players) now,’’ he said. “I’m more alert, more present at practice. Definitely more energetic. Overall I just feel more competent.’’

Kill retired at Minnesota in October, because of epilepsy-related health issues. Assistant Tracy Claeys took over and fired Limegrover as OC.

As a Pennsylvanian and Pittsburgh Central Catholic grad whose real passion is offensive-line coaching, he more than landed on his feet, when Herb Hand left Penn State for Auburn, and Penn State coach James Franklin brought Limegrover in to turn around his o-line.

Which could make morbid obesity seem like a minor project.

“At our offensive meetings, I mostly keep my mouth shut,’’ he said. “All I have to worry about is our five guys blocking the five on the other side. That’s where I want to be.’’