All 14 head coaches assembled for a group shot on Tuesday at Big Ten media days in Chicago.

PennLive/Joe Hermitt

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By David Jones/PennLive

Not that long ago, college football coaches were just regular guys with relatively regular-guy salaries. Only in the last couple of decades have they crashed the gated communities and started buying their wives island spa getaways. Thanks to the obscene wealth generated by the last couple of network television contracts, Big Ten coaches are among the richest of the rich, all easily pulling down 7-figure salaries.

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But what if they hadn't stumbled onto this gold-mine gig at the prime of its affluence? While studying the coaches at the lectern during Big Ten media days on Monday and Tuesday, I admit wondering what-if. In alphabetical order, here are some suitable fall-back positions, just in case. I think they'd work out just fine.

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Tom Allen: Middle school principal

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I’ve been told by people who know that really good school principals don’t really exist anymore. They’ve been replaced by up-speaking thirty-somethings who have Masters degrees in Management Theory and give antiseptic speeches about plans for the district “moving forward.”

Allen would not be one of those. He'd be an old-school paddlin', lectern-poundin' preacher of a principal, the kind who slaps students on the back as he walks by and says out loud every morning to no one in particular: "Today is gonna be a great day!"

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Approaching his second season as Indiana head coach on Tuesday, Allen traced his “top-to-bottom” analysis of the most chronically underpowered and under-maintained program in the Big Ten the last half-century. His seed message was that of a motivational guru:

“We have to change the way we think. I believe with conviction that before there's a reality there's a mentality. If we don't believe in ourselves, why should anyone else? Our minds are very, very powerful.”

When you attempt to transfuse the blood of an anemic shop like IU football, you need a true-believer. That's what Allen is. I don't know if he can pull this off, but I'm pretty sure his is the only type who can do it.

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Chris Ash: CVS store manager

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Three conference wins last season seemed to put a little bold conviction in Ash’s voice on Monday. But his resting face is still that of a man who just had both night cashiers call in sick at once. The guy just always looks like he’s expecting some holocaust to hit at any moment. Hey, well, he’s the head coach of Rutgers football.

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But really, try pausing any video of Ash speaking and chances are you’ll stop on a frame with a furrowed brow. Like try the one above and FF to the 3:25 mark when he says how he excited he is and predicts that “2018 is gonna be a very fun season.” You can provide your own “Fun, dammit! Understand? We’re gonna have fun!”

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Jeff Brohm: Middle school assistant principal

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I don’t know what Brohm would do these days if he couldn’t coach. But I have an idea what he might be good at if provided a time machine. I’m old enough to remember an era when, if you misbehaved in school, you went to the principal’s office and got “whacks.” That’s right, kids. They had a paddle hanging on the wall in the office. It usually had some clever phrase painted on it by the wood shop teacher who made it, such as BOARD OF EDUCATION.

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But the good-cop principal himself rarely did the dirty work. He subcontracted that job to his bad-cop subordinate. The guy was always younger, prematurely balding, scowled a lot and wore drab, ill-fitting suits.

Brohm would’ve been perfect. He could’ve been Tom Allen’s enforcer in the same school. He’s something of a screamer. Has been known to lose his temper easily. Looks like he has a little mean streak. I wouldn’t wanna cross him. Then or now.

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Paul Chryst: Grain elevator guy

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He owns the place. Bought it from the man who built it back in the ‘40s, then added a new silo himself. Works out of an old tool shed on a gravel drive off Wisconsin Route 34. Always knows what’s going on around town but doesn’t gossip much, just greets the farmers with a smile and a good word. Employs a couple of teenagers to run the conveyor and all the kids at the county high school keep asking them if there’s any other jobs there because they say Paul’s such a cool guy to work for.

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Won second prize at the Richland County Fair a couple years back for a painting of a pair of pheasants out on Garner Lake. He did it from memory. Makes his own beer and gives it away to friends. Planning on retiring in a few years but won’t be moving anyplace warmer. Likes it fine where he is.

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Mark Dantonio: Highway patrolman

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I can’t Photoshop, but I’m imagining Dantonio in a Smoky hat, bending down to peer through your driver’s side window on a lonely stretch of Interstate. Yes, you do know you were going over the limit in that 55 zone. He had you clocked at 63. No, you have not had any alcohol or mood-enhancing substance. Not recently, anyway. Yes, you do have your license and registration.

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And no, he can’t let you off with a warning. You were quite plainly exceeding the posted speed limit, you were aware of this, and the fact you’ve not had a moving violation in over five years is immaterial. Here’s your ticket. By the laws of the State of Michigan, you have 14 days to respond.

As I age, I guess I’m becoming closer to all the attitudes that I once saw as uptight in my father. I like knowing there are stern-faced men around, unyielding, unemotional and unmoved by drama. They give a chaotic world balance and order.

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D.J. Durkin: Damage-control specialist

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Actually, that’s not what he could be but what he was forced to be on Monday. Durkin and Maryland are dealing with an earthquake, the tragic death of offensive lineman Jordan McNair. The player suffered a seizure after a hot-weather workout last month and died two weeks later. Lawyers are massing, both on the side of McNair’s family and the university. The question of responsibility is in play.

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Durkin looked very uncomfortable and still shaken while eulogizing McNair and offering what condolence he could to the family. A friend of mine from the world of public relations made a valid point: While some colder-blooded coaches, a couple of whom are on this list, might have been slicker and more calculating in their gesture to McNair’s family, Durkin looked genuinely pained and regretful. It was oddly refreshing to see someone appear to be in genuine duress while representing a massive institution in such a case.

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Kirk Ferentz: Your neighbor who makes good money but whose job you don't understand

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He’s smarter than you but doesn’t flaunt it. In fact, he never talks about what he does for a living unless you ask. And when you ask, he explains it in the context of “strategic communications.” He speaks on symposium panels. There are international junkets to attend meetings and presentations. There are discussions on preparation and planning and joint contingency seminars.

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He never looks disheveled. He doesn’t raise his voice for any reason about anything. It’s debatable the man has ever been really angry. At least you’ve never seen it. Whenever something happens that enrages you, you think of him and how he would react. He would keep his head and “work the problem.”

The thing is, you actually like the guy.

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Pat Fitzgerald: That college administrator who never gets old

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He figured it out a long time ago. He loved college so much, he never wanted to leave. And because he still hangs around college kids all the time, he never seems to age. His vibe is that of a college junior, old enough to have mastered his domain but young enough not to be tired of it yet. He looks like he should still be striding across the quad with books even though hasn’t been a student in decades.

Fitzgerald must have an entire closet full of nothing but Oxford cloth shirts, khaki slacks and casual suit jackets. Relentlessly collegial. The guy still looks like he could be playing linebacker for the Cats. He always moves with a pep in his step. And that wavelength he projects gets him by 24/7.

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It's like this: When it comes to our work, reporters are basically selfish like anyone else. We want to be given the material to do our jobs well. In the case of the people we cover, that means boom-pow – humor, anger, sarcasm, tears, some sort of emotion and, whenever possible, great quotes.

And I cannot remember a single scene or a thing Fitzgerald has said that’s really stuck with me in 13 years as Northwestern’s head coach. Look back at his quotes and he never really gives you much – but he does it with youthful enthusiasm. So, you always seem to give him a pass.

Go Cats!

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P.J. Fleck: Infomercial host

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We’ve all had the experience. The thing we bought to do a job simply does not do the job it was made to do. You can’t clean it. You can’t stack it. It won’t fit easily on the shelf. And you’ve bought so many of them, they’re crammed into every space in your house. You have too many things. Things that don’t work.

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Well, no longer. Because P.J. Fleck is introducing New Thing! [Audience applause.] It’s gonna make all your old things obsolete. Throw ‘em all out! Because P.J. is going to show you how New Thing does the job of a dozen of those other things. How does It do it? Quality, innovation, special ingredients in a fast-acting formula that will make you wonder how you ever lived without It.

And look at this: If you order now, P.J. will give you free delivery and a bonus Thing for your travel pack! [audience nods to one another.] Take it to the office, take it on the road. It's durable, it's patented, it's non-stick and it's the last Thing you'll ever need. P.J. personally guarantees it. Here's how to order!

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James Franklin: Million Dollar Club salesman

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I'm not sure what he'd sell. Because I'm not sure what he couldn't sell. I mean, you can imagine him almost anywhere, pitching the features on a brand new Kia Sedona, helping you scope out the size of a walk-in closet in a prospective new home, making perfect sense about why you shouldn't just buy a chair and end table when you really need the entire 6-piece sectional for your growing family.

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Guys who're good at selling not only love the process of selling, they make you love it, too. They turn reluctant buyers into happy consumers by juicing you with their excitement. I will say that Franklin has sort of turned down the hard sell the last couple of years. You used to get a game-show host vibe from the guy. He exploded onto a press conference lectern like he'd just swept away a stage curtain. Now, he tends toward more sober and analytical. But that pitchman is still on deck whenever needed. All you need to know is Penn State's recent recruiting ranks.

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Scott Frost: Pharmaceutical and medical device dealer

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Remember when you were in your 30s and you met that kid who was making not only more than you but as much as your dad, except he was straight out of college? He wasn’t a heck of a lot of fun, necessarily, but he drove a hot car and dated cute girls and seemed more ambitious than you were in sort of a quietly self-assured way. And then you found out what he did to make all that coin and it seemed so simple – traveling around, meeting doctors, selling them hip joints and pills.

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If, for some reason, Frost couldn't coach football tomorrow, I'm sure it would hurt him. But it wouldn't crush him. He's one of those guys who'd very quickly find another way to make a good living and would not miss a beat making the transition. He'd fit right in dealing with doctors and surgeons because his vibe is theirs – he never looks uncomfortable or flustered by anything.

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Jim Harbaugh: The IT guy everyone dreads having to go see

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Your company laptop isn’t working right. Or worse, it’s working, but you simply don’t understand a program or function and you need help. Now, you’ve gotta go see Weird Jim in the IT department. You don’t know what might happen.

If he’s in a good mood, he looks it over a few seconds, never glances up, tells you what to do and hands it back. But better have your notepad ready. If he’s not in a good mood, he might file a ticket, keep the laptop and answer your question about how to force-quit Word with a non-sequitur about why he didn’t like his lunch today. Then, it’s probably best just to turn and leave and try him again on Monday.

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Urban Meyer: Cable network executive

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I found it interesting that Fox Sports president Mark Silverman was trotted out by the Big Ten immediately preceding the Ohio State coach. Because his carping about Comcast refusing to re-up its BTN deal actually made Meyer look personable in comparison. (Hey, Mark: Fox vs. Comcast. Nobody’s rooting for either side there.)

But honestly, if you didn’t know which one was the corporate suit, would you be able to pick the right one? At one point in responding to exactly how he decided to fire his longtime wide receivers coach Zach Smith after domestic violence charges came to light, Meyer started trotting out some corporatespeak best-practices chestnut I had not heard -- “E+R=O":

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“And then this recent one was, you press pause. It's something our team lives by: E+R=O. You press pause and get your mind right and step up, press pause and gather information, get your mind right, gather energy, and then step up to do the right thing. That's the position I hold. That's how we did that.”

OK. … What?

I actually Googled "E+R=O," not really expecting anything to turn up. But sure enough, there it was on a Jack Canfield (the Chicken Soup for the Soul guy) self-help file, and a bunch of other creepy maximizing-workplace-performance sites. It means: Events + Responses = Outcome. Which, I guess, is catchier than Think Before You Do Or Say Stuff.

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Lovie Smith: Momentary fringe-party politician

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I’ll admit, the beard threw me. If you haven’t seen it yet, the shaved-headed Smith decided to grow out his gray beard during the off-season. It’s not quite David Letterman-length yet, more like James A. Garfield. Anyway, he now looks like a black version of Dr. Andrew Weil, like some guy who turns from self-help guru into a political candidate from a third or fourth party. The kind who’s really doing it half for self-promotion, debates like twice in the primaries and then drops out to resume his business.

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All of which makes perfect sense for Smith because he seems like he's been sort of replicating a coach ever since he got out of the NFL. That 0-9 in the league last season in year 2 wasn't just winless, it was ugly winless. And yet, Smith acts like it's all cool-breeze: On Tuesday he put it this way:

“In an ideal world, we wanted to have more wins right now. But I like where we are.”

Yeah, well, I'm sure Smith likes where he is, in the midst of a 6-year, $21 million contract. Not certain the Illinois brass agrees. January might be a good time to kick off the campaign.

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EMAIL/TWITTER DAVID JONES: djones@pennlive.com

Follow @djoneshoop

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