What makes Nick tick? And what ticks off the Alabama coach?

To understand, appreciate and respect the Alabama football dynasty Clemson will confront again Monday night, watching Nick Saban on television isn’t enough. Reading about this remarkable coach falls short. Listening to players and associates and talk radio won’t do justice.

You have to be there with him, on the practice field, at his news conferences, in his office, in the restaurant where he does his weekly radio show, at his church, on the Coleman Coliseum court during his rugged lunchtime basketball games with members of his staff.

Up close, you have to see him and hear him, but not fear him, to have a real feel for how he has dominated college football for a decade.

In South Carolina, in between past and present jobs as an editor of two daily newspapers, one journalist is qualified to share some insights into a coach and a program that has dominated a sport for a decade.

That would be me.

Before I came to Florence as the editor of the Morning News 3½ years ago, and after I served 3½ years as the editor of the Independent-Mail in Anderson – the heart of Clemson country – I worked for four years in Tuscaloosa, Ala., as an Alabama beat reporter.

It was an intense and unforgettable experience, particularly considering the fact this was nothing new. Early in my career, I covered Paul “Bear” Bryant’s last season as Alabama’s legendary coach.

The second coming was something special to document, from August 2009 through August 2013. I had heard about “The Process.” From beginning to end, getting to witness it almost daily was extraordinary. Getting to know Saban well was … well, challenging.

The beginning

On the morning of my first day on the beat, the news broke that a young backup player and a female acquaintance had been arrested the previous night after an altercation on campus. Both of them were charged with third-degree domestic violence/harassment. A colleague had a one-on-one interview with Saban at midday and learned that the player wasn’t going to be suspended. That colleague gave me the scoop.

A Saban news conference followed practice that day. Saban confirmed the player wouldn’t be suspended, but said little else about that decision other than to say he was imposing “Saban probation.” When the news conference ended, I was called out into a hallway to meet Saban.

We shook hands. He knew I had come from Anderson, a community he was familiar with because of its proximity to his lake house in the northeast Georgia mountains. Awkward small talk didn’t last long, and he marched off to his office.

I spent the next day calling domestic violence shelters in the state to get reaction about Saban’s decision not to suspend the player. I was told the following day Saban wasn’t happy with my story. I told a media relations representative that I would be happy to discuss this. A meeting was arranged.

After another post-practice news conference, I was accompanied to Saban’s office and took a seat in front of his desk. He took his shoes off, put his feet on his desk, leaned back in his chair and said he wasn’t mad at me.

“I just want you to understand how we do things around here,” he said calmly.

He explained the terms of this particular “Saban probation.” All of this was off the record. I questioned why he wouldn’t go public with the details of the punishment, because it might silence critics who questioned why he didn’t suspend the player. He said he didn’t care what others thought. This was how he operated.

Alabama went undefeated that season and defeated Texas in the national championship game. A few days before the game, I wrote about “The Process.” Assistant coaches and players talked about how the blueprint is focused on the players, and it’s all about getting them focused. It’s a work ethic, one coach said. It’s an organization plan, another coach said.

Now South Carolina’s coach, Will Muschamp was Texas’ defensive coordinator. Previously, he was Saban’s defensive coordinator at LSU. I asked him to explain “The Process.”

“We’ve got a sign up in our defensive room that says ‘Do your job,’ ” Muschamp said. “That’s what ‘The Process’ is.”

That’s a sign that Saban borrowed from his mentor, Bill Belichick, now the coach of the New England Patriots. Belichick earlier was the Cleveland Browns’ coach; Saban was his defensive coordinator.

The middle

“The Process” can be described by players and assistant coaches, but to comprehend it, it must be observed over time.

“The Process” is about putting a premium on recruiting. Saban loves recruiting. He sells prospects on his success in developing players for NFL careers. In the past nine years, Rivals.com has rated Alabama’s signing classes No. 1 seven times.

“The Process” is about practice making perfect. It’s about playing to a high standard instead of to a scoreboard.

“The Process” is about muscle and top shape. High-energy strength and conditioning coach Scott Cochran plays a vital role in the “organization,” as Saban calls the program. Cochran’s salary is $525,000 per year. He leads Saban’s vaunted “Fourth Quarter” offseason conditioning program.

“The Process” is about academics. In 2015, the Alabama football team had an 85.7 percent graduation rate. Many players get bachelor degrees in three years, and some earn masters degrees before they leave.

“The Process” is about psychology. In 2012, I wrote about Alabama’s “head” coach. That’s Kevin Elko, a sports psychologist who is one of three consultants that Saban calls on regularly. One is a Michigan State professor that Saban got to know when he coached at the Big Ten school from 1995-99.

I asked Saban if he studied psychology as a Kent State student.

“I had some classes in college that really made me interested and made me feel like … your mental conditioning was an important part of being successful, how you thought, the habits that you created with your thoughts and positive energy and all of that,” Saban said.

“The Process” explains why Saban sometimes goes nuts on the sideline late in a game when Alabama has a big lead. When a defensive lineman jumped offsides in the last minute of the Crimson Tide’s 21-0 victory over LSU in the national championship game at the end of the 2011 season, Saban melted down.

Distractions drive Saban crazy. He calls them “clutter.” Recent weeks were cluttered by the fact Lane Kiffin was juggling two jobs: Alabama offensive coordinator and Florida Atlantic head coach. Alabama’s offense sputtered in a 24-7 playoff semifinal victory over Washington. On Monday, by “mutual decision,” Kiffin was out and Steve Sarkisian was in as the Tide’s offensive coordinator. Risky? Maybe. Maybe not. Sarkisian, a former head coach at Southern Cal, has been on Saban’s staff as an “offensive analyst” since September. The fact Saban had this option speaks volumes about his success.

Before the 2010 season, Saban dealt with worse clutter. After star defensive lineman Marcell Dareus attended an agent-related party in Miami, Saban compared unscrupulous agents to pimps. The week of the South Carolina game, it was reported then-North Carolina assistant coach John Blake called Dareus in the summer to recommend an agent.

Saban brushed off my questions about the report, saying he wanted to talk about South Carolina.

“John Blake is not a pimp?” I asked.

“Is that South Carolina?” Saban snapped. “I guess I must stutter. Did I stutter? I’m not very clear on how I articulate. Maybe I need to go back to West Virginia and get some more hillbilly slang and maybe everybody can understand me a little better.”

South Carolina defeated top-ranked Alabama that week. I predicted that outcome in a preseason story. The Gamecocks had pushed the Tide hard before losing 20-6 in 2009 at Tuscaloosa. Alabama would be going to Columbia coming off tough games against Arkansas and Florida.

Saban is known as a defensive mastermind. It isn’t hard to spot him on the practice field. Look first for the straw hat. Then look for the cornerbacks. Saban essentially is their position coach. He calls himself a “graduate assistant.” You can see his passion as he leads these players through drills. He’s a teacher.

One of the keys to Saban’s success has been a knack for substituting players on defense constantly, based on down and distance. In 2010, I requested a one-on-one interview with Saban to talk about this art. In 2011, before a game against a potent Arkansas offense, my request was granted.

I was told I would get 15 minutes in Saban’s office. I got 20. Saban explained his system in greater detail than I ever imagined. He clearly welcomed a chance to “talk football,” breaking down highly technical strategy. The result was my favorite story in four years on the beat: “Situational defense, decoded: An inside look at Nick Saban’s system.”

The end

Would you buy a car from Nick Saban?

He never thought about a career in coaching until he graduated from Kent State. In 2011, before the Tide opened the season against his alma mater, Saban revealed in a post-practice news conference that he had a “car fetish.” Changing the oil on a GTO at his dad’s West Virginia service station “was like scoring a touchdown.” He pictured a career as a car dealer until his coach, Don James, offered him a job as a graduate assistant. The only reason Saban took it was because his wife, Terry, was a year away from graduating from Kent State.

The rest, as they say, is history. Saban enjoyed that first coaching experience, and now he can make history Monday by winning his sixth national championship, which would tie Bryant for the most in college football.

At age 65, Saban shows no signs of slowing down. He comes to work early and stays late, even in the offseason. He’s driven, demanding and supposedly difficult to work for, yet multiple assistant coaches have returned a few years after leaving his staff.

There’s a human side to Saban, but you don’t see many smiles. He loves the Eagles (the band, not the NFL team). He enjoys boating and golf. He grins when he talks about how Terry sometimes questions offensive play-calling after a game.

He and Terry have raised more than $5.5 million over the years for their Nick’s Kids Foundation, from which money is donated to organizations that benefit children and families.

In 2011, after a tornado devastated Tuscaloosa, the foundation partnered with Habitat for Humanity to build 13 houses to celebrate 13 national championships. Now that Alabama claims 16 national championships, 16 houses have been built.

The Sabans donated generously and helped raise money for the $1.9 million Saban Catholic Student Center. It opened in September on the grounds of St. Francis of Assisi University Parish.

Saban is a regular at the early Mass each Sunday, even during football season.

In 2010, he attended a Mass there on Christmas Eve. The church was filling up when I walked in with my entire family. As I stood in the back and scanned the sanctuary for a pew empty enough for all of us to sit, I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned around, there was Saban offering a handshake as he wished me a merry Christmas. I introduced my children and a son-in-law, then my wife, Kathy. She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He then whispered something in her ear.

After we filed in a pew and said a prayer, I leaned toward Kathy.

“What did you say to him?” I asked.

She grinned. “I said, ‘I’m his better half.’ ”

OK, I said. “What did he say to you?”

“He said, ‘No doubt,’” Kathy said.

Fast forward past two more national championships to August 2013. My last day on the beat felt much like my first day. I covered a post-practice Saban news conference. Then I was called out to the hallway. Saban shook my hand, thanked me for my professionalism and wished me well on my return to South Carolina.

Saban then turned and started to walk down the hallway to his office.

“Just a minute, Nick,” I said.

He turned around.

“I have one more question I wanted to ask you,” I said.

He stepped back toward me.

“What?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to ask it in the press conference, with the lights on and the cameras rolling,” I said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nick,” I said, “can you win without me?”

He frowned, not understanding my question.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I’ve been here four years. You’ve won three national championships and the first Heisman Trophy in school history. Can you win without me?”

He raised both hands and shrugged.

“Maybe not,” he said, cracking a slight grin.

“No,” I said, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

No doubt.

This story was originally published January 7, 2017 at 2:51 PM with the headline "What makes Nick tick? And what ticks off the Alabama coach?."