This revelation — that he engaged in a hobby he would call “a bit egghead-ish” — does not square easily with Ryan’s public image as the brash and swaggering coach of the Jets. The same guy who encouraged cheap shots while playing football with his two brothers and who recently ran with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, would also jockey to draft Manny Mota, a Strat-O-Matic superstar. By day, Ryan would plot aggressive schemes as one of the N.F.L.’s more creative defensive coaches. By night, in his slivers of spare time, he would scour the Internet for player-card sets that had eluded his collection.

It was bound to happen, what with being a head coach and all, but his obsession has waned. Neither of his sons was that interested. Names aren’t as familiar — certainly there is no more Saenz, who retired in 2008. Until our three-inning duel on a rainy afternoon last month, it had been a while since Ryan’s last Strat-O-Matic game. Perhaps not since his days at Southwestern Oklahoma State, where he and Rob would stay up late drinking beer, playing full seasons and keeping stats. They created their own scoresheets.

“Instead of studying,” Ryan said, “we were doing this stuff.”

His eyes narrowing, Ryan scanned a few player cards as if they were his defensive call sheet, reading the stats with great concentration. He deliberated his batting order and settled on a lineup that, yes, included Saenz. Or rather, “this guy Olmedo, the guy I’ve never heard of.”