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Coach Nick Saban, shown here at a press conference earlier this week, is the subject of a profile in GQ magazine. (Vasha Hunt | vhunt@al.com)

BIRMINGHAM, Alabama -- The "scariest man in college football" gets a little sympathy in writer Warren St. John's profile of Alabama coach Nick Saban in the September issue of GQ magazine that hit newsstands this week.

"Few men in sports make a better villain than the unsmiling, unsparing unstoppable coach of the back-to-back national champion Alabama Crimson Tide," the introduction to the GQ story reads. "Warren St. John spent three weeks on Nick Saban's trail -- and a couple of days in his face -- on a mission to find the soul of the scariest man in college football."

The GQ issue is on newsstands now.

The six-page Saban spread is titled "Sympathy for the Devil," after the classic song by the Rolling Stones, who, St. John discovered, Saban often listens to when he's riding in his car, a black Mercedes S550.

Although the Saban-is-the-devil analogy is one that has been reinforced of late by Vanderbilt coach James Franklin (who called him "Nicky Satan") and by former Saban assistant Tim Davis (who said his old boss is "the devil himself"), it is a comparison that the coach doesn't particularly like, St. John writes.

"It used to upset me," Saban tells St. John. "I would come and say to my wife, 'I'm not like that at all. Why do these guys say I'm that way?' And she would say, 'You ever watch yourself in a press conference?' You can blame the other guy for saying it, or you can look at yourself and say, 'I must have contributed to this.'''

St. John -- a Birmingham native, former New York Times reporter and author of the definitive book on Alabama football fanaticism, "Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer'' -- also interviewed Saban's wife, Terry; his assistant, Cedric Burns; and a couple of his Tuscaloosa golf buddies, Steven Rumsey and John Sisson, among others.

Warren St. John previously wrote the "Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer," the definitive book about Alabama football fanaticism.

Rumsey, whom St. John describes as "one of the few people in town who isn't terrified of the man," tells the author that, in public situations, Saban's tunnel vision is often mistaken for rudeness.

"He'll walk by people and they'll think he's rude," Rumsey says. He's not an a------; he never saw 'em!"

Kerry Marbury -- who played on Saban's father's Pop Warner youth football team in West Virginia and has been friends with Saban since childhood -- shares a story about Saban sending him money to help him get back on his feet after Marbury got released from prison following a drug arrest.

Marbury went on to get a master's degree and is now administrator for public safety at a small West Virginia college.

"I got where I am today all as a result of him caring about me when no one else did," Marbury tells St. John.

St. John visited with Saban in his office at the Alabama football complex, during a charity golf event in Mobile, at a youth football camp in Tuscaloosa, and riding along with himbetween engagements.

"One thing you learn from spending time with Saban in the summer is that the process has no off-season," St. John writes. "Even in June, he keeps the schedule of a man with a severe phobia of idleness."

Other anecdotes about Saban from St. John's story:

Whenever he flies, he always calls his wife right before the plane takes off and again after it lands.

The main reason he continues to be happy at Alabama and isn't looking to coach anywhere else is, "Terry likes it here."

He eats the same lunch -- a salad of iceberg lettuce with turkey and tomatoes -- every day because he doesn't want to waste time trying to decide what to eat.

He's seen the Rolling Stones twice in concert, and thinks Mick Jagger is "a great entertainer."

St. John's profile of Saban also should be available online in a few days at www.gq.com.

