Fixing broken class: from hiring a coach to selecting a franchise quarterback, through a videotape scandal and the tragic loss of a player, this is the inside story of the 49ers' restoration

Paul Attner

The 49ers' owner stands in the middle of the locker room, carrying a football. "A lot of you were here last year, but there is one guy who wasn't," says John York. He hands the football to his new coach, and the players cheer as Mike Nolan holds it high. They close in, raise up their arms as one, reaching to touch the ball. It is a sweet moment--a moment 240 days in the making.

In the context of a season, of course, one victory can be buried by weeks of decline. But for a franchise once so majestic that all others stood jealous, admiring its five Super Bowl trophies, even this season-opening 28-25 victory over the Rams last Sunday is one to relish. It is joy for a franchise that just last January, coming off a 2-14 embarrassment, lacked structure, direction or strong leadership--a joke of a place with an awful stadium and weak ownership. This was a team stripped of playmakers and hope, without a general manager, coach, president, personnel director or any veteran front office football sage. And now a win.

But it is more than that. It is a team mostly young but with an unlikely maturity grown from an offseason like none other--an offseason marred by fallout from news that a club official had produced a racially and culturally offensive in-house videotape; an offseason turned tragic by the nightmare of watching teammate Thomas Herrion die in the locker room after a preseason game. It was almost more than they all could take.

"You think of what these guys have been through--so much, it's hard for anyone to understand. It seems like five seasons already," says Nolan, sitting alone 90 minutes after the game. "I am so happy for them."

It is mid-January when York identifies Nolan as the coach he hopes can return days like this to the 49ers. This is an intimate look at what has happened since then, an extraordinary 240 days for a franchise wanting so desperately to become dominant again.

The hiring

John York and Mike Nolan laugh about it now, how the new coach of the 49ers came so close to never being the coach.

Nolan had done poorly in an NFL- produced interview tape, and York wants to drop him from a list of candidates that included Jim Schwartz and Mike Heimerdinger, both of the Titans, Romeo Crennel of the Patriots and Tim Lewis of the Giants. But York's son, Jed, 24, and Paraag Marathe, 28, a Stanford MBA and soon to be 49ers cap guru, are intrigued by Nolan and persuade York to keep him on the list.

This is a hire York must get right. In 2003, when the 49ers last needed a coach, general manager Terry Donahue conducted the search without help, and he chose Dennis Erickson. But now both have been fired and York, who owns the team with his wife, Denise DeBartolo York, will run the coaching pursuit himself. At his behest, Marathe already had culled a pool of candidates by first identifying the NFL's 10 most successful coaches over the past 20 years and then determining common characteristics, which are used to compile a group of possibilities. From those, five are chosen.

During York's six years in charge, the 49ers have gradually disintegrated. He came in believing the franchise was like any of his other businesses. "It was a mistake," he says. Football, he finds, isn't a normal business, not with all the fan interest and media scrutiny. Then he errs again by firing coach Steve Mariucci after winning the NFC West in 2002. He is savaged regularly in the local media, which dismisses him as incompetent. But this new coach will represent the first step in showing that York has learned, that he can turn the 49ers into winners again. "I don't agree with what is said about me," he says, "but nothing will change until we win."

On January 13, Nolan, the Ravens' defensive coordinator, has a dazzling interview. "He's on an expressway going 70 miles an hour," says York. "The others sometimes hit a bump and wander off, but not Mike. He's figured out how to pave the road all the way."

Even after 18 years in the league, Nolan, 46, has never lusted after a head coaching job. But almost from the minute the 49ers contact him, this seems right. Some of it is because his dad, Dick, coached the club from 1968-75, winning three division titles. But even more, it's because of his own experiences. He has carefully developed beliefs about how to build a strong team around three basics: personnel, structure and chemistry. The 49ers urgently need all three.

An hour after another interview on January 16, Nolan is offered the job. He and his wife, Kathy, travel the next day to Youngstown, Ohio, where the Yorks live. After a family meal, Nolan and York discuss the coach's contract. At dinner before his first interview, Nolan had aggressively questioned York about his reputation for being cheap and difficult. Nolan wants to know how York will fix the 49ers; he is told the Yorks will spend what it takes, even family money, to get it right. Now, they disagree about two sections of the contract, including one that gives York say over the last eight spots on the final roster. Nolan argues this cuts into his authority and ability to succeed. By 2 a.m., the two fix their differences. "I found out right then he was serious about wanting this to work," says Nolan.

Nolan already has convinced York about something else. He wants to be the voice of the franchise, removing the owner as the target for everything 49ers. York agrees. This now will be the coach's show.

The early days

A few hours after his introductory press conference on January 19, Mike Nolan walks into the head coach's office. This is where Bill Walsh and George Seifert and Steve Mariucci once sat; even the furniture hasn't changed. It hits him. "This is a really big job," he thinks. Something else. "This furniture is really, really old." By the start of training camp, the furniture is gone amid an office redecoration.

In three months, Nolan will make the first pick in the draft. But on this day, there's no one in charge of personnel, no assistant coaches. And York has decided not to hire a general manager. He's tired of front office bickering, and he admires how the Eagles and Patriots have succeeded splendidly with a coach-and-personnel director setup. But Nolan has final say over all personnel decisions, including the draft. In essence, he is the G.M. despite no front office or drafting experience.

Two weeks later, Scot McCloughan, 34, is given player personnel responsibilities, reporting directly to York. Previously the Seahawks' director of college scouting, McCloughan is a protege of Ron Wolf's and, like Nolan, the son of a football guy. His dad, Kent, played for the Raiders and still is a scout. Nolan and McCloughan have met once, at Scot's interview; now they have the difficult challenge of developing a relationship amid the pressure of making that No. 1 choice.

York signs off on Nolan's plan to methodically rebuild the roster. "You can take the junior college approach and bring in lots of pretty girls and never get it right, or you can be smarter," Nolau says. "In this league, if you do it right, you can get it done pretty rapidly." The 49ers have cap room but will sign only two expensive free agents, tackle Jonas Jennings and defensive end Marques Douglas. Nolan also won't blindly purge a roster woefully lacking in depth and stars. Instead, he will gradually add his kind of player: smart, tough, passionate, caring about teammates. He keeps calling it his vision; it's what drives him. For now, improvement will come from strong coaching and from players he finds are more skillful than he first thought.

Nolan is not a sexy hire. He knows critics wanted Pete Carroll or Mike Holmgren. Nor is he imposing. At 5-11,175 pounds, he is wiry thin and softly handsome. Dan Reeves, who first brought him into the league as a Broncos assistant, once told him he should go to Hollywood. He is genuine, intense, decisive and confident in his ability to judge people and talent. And he hates the hypocrisy of his profession. But he also laughs easily and frequently at himself. His marriage is particularly neat. He and Kathy are affectionate and complementary. Warm and caring, she bakes cookies for the coaches every Tuesday and organizes lunches for their wives. He takes on very little without discussing it with her first. He has few friends, trusts few people. That's why it's important to have Mike Singletary, the former Bears great who was the Ravens' linebackers coach, as assistant head coach. Singletary is someone he can lean on. Trust is also why Nolan hires his sister Nancy to be his administrative aide.

More than anything, he loves leading. "I like being in charge, making decisions; I really do," he says. He is the strong leader the team has lacked. And to York's surprise, he also wants to be aware of all nonfootball aspects of the franchise.

Nolan takes six weeks to hire a staff; he makes 400 phone calls in the first month alone. But it's essential that his roster of mostly young players is guided by quality teachers. He changes the conditioning program, dropping machines for free weights and installing veteran Johnny Parker to run it. Under Erickson, this was an undisciplined squad with few rules and little direction; Parker will hand the 49ers their first taste of a demanding, structured environment. Something else, too; Nolan still can't figure out the keypad that is used to get into the coaches' parking area.

The draft becomes the first major test of the working relationship between Nolan and McCloughan. In March, Nolan identifies Utah quarterback Alex Smith as the probable No. 1 choice. Smith is not unanimously considered an elite player, and they debate the selection for weeks before ultimately picking him. Donahue had drafted horribly, so it's also essential the team receives a transfusion of young talent. McCloughan goes two months without seeing his infant twin daughters. But his preparation is apparent during the draft; he is organized, confident and unrattled by Nolan's constant questioning. Nine of his 11 choices make the final roster.

The videotape

On June 1, the San Francisco Chronicle publishes a story about a videotape produced the previous year by Kirk Reynolds, the 49ers' well-respected public relations director. The tape, viewed by the players in August 2004 for media relations training, is bawdy and distasteful, including scenes of partially naked women and caricature depictions of gays and Chinese-Americans.

In culturally diverse San Francisco, the video becomes a P.R. disaster for the 49ers. The Yorks, who issue an immediate apology, are criticized relentlessly in the local media. For the franchise, it is shocking that the tape was made and that no executive knew about or stopped it.

For Nolan, the tape and its fallout are both difficult and challenging. A devout Catholic who taught his four kids verses from the Bible, he is disgusted by the video and troubled by internal weaknesses still existing within the franchise. Although the tape was produced on Erickson's watch, Nolan is left to answer questions about it. It pains him to see the 49ers being ridiculed again, negating all the goodwill generated since his hiring. And so much has gone right, including the successful draft. Even his first formal meeting with the players, at the start of an April minicamp, is a triumph. He announces a target: Win the NFC West. It seems an audacious goal for a 2-14 team, but he needs to focus the players forward. "A lot of guys didn't care on Sundays last year; you could tell guys had basically given up," says fullback Fred Beasley. "He's given us responsibility. That's what we missed the last two seasons."

But it is the upper echelon that still needs better direction. York instructs his top executives to formulate policies to prevent any recurrences. He also will bring in a vice president of communications to handle corporate affairs. Nolan is influential in the hiring of Aaron Salkin, a former Falcons public relations director, to replace Reynolds. Nolan wants to fill the front office with football guys who understand how to be professional and build a winner. "I find the tape distasteful and not representative of how my wife or I believe," says York. "We are beyond the negative part. It's not the way we are now. Mike being here only makes my job easier because we have one and the same message."

Thomas Herrion

Minutes after their August 20 exhibition game in Denver, the 49ers gather in the locker room to recite the Lord's Prayer. They end with "Amen." And Thomas Herrion, a guard with practice-squad aspirations, falls to the ground in a seizure. His teammates scream for the trainer. Medical personnel turn the locker room into an ER unit. York, a pathologist, helps cut away his uniform. Some 49ers pray; others yell encouragement: "Come on, Thomas, you can do it." They look on, disbelieving, as doctors use a defibrillator to try to start his heart. The heart monitor doesn't change. He is removed on a stretcher for a local hospital.

Later, before they fly home, the players assemble in a hangar at the airport. "Thomas has passed away," Nolan tells them. Herrion was 23. An autopsy later reveals he had heart disease. Everyone is grieving, many are in shock. It is a team on the emotional brink, in need of guidance and strong leadership.

What follows is a remarkable week of compassion and emotion and empathy. The players receive grief counseling. They ask questions of the doctor who administered to Herrion in the locker room. They attend a private memorial service, where guard Eric Heitmann, a trained pianist, plays an original composition and receiver Otis Amey performs an original rap song. Sobs fill the church.

Throughout the days after Herrion's passing, Nolan tries to think like a parent, not a coach. Football appropriately takes on less importance. "I think what happened and the way it happened, we were at the bottom of the barrel," says Jennings, the left tackle. "As a group, you can either go up or go down. We had no choice but go up."

On Friday, the 49ers beat the Titans at home in the third exhibition game and assemble in the locker room. They say the Lord's Prayer. Nolan hesitates before starting. The next day, a contingent of 49ers flies to the funeral in Fort Worth. The players volunteer to pay for the funeral; York says he will handle it. "We have definitely seen Coach's efforts to be straight and honest with us in his decisions, and how he handled the tragedy of Thomas Herrion really impressed me," says safety Tony Parrish. "But it's all surreal now. Did it really happen? Were we really there?"

Amid all this, Nolan must deal with a football situation. Just before camp, Marathe, negotiating his first major 49ers contract, had come to terms with Smith, who signs a six-year deal covering 70 pages and 17 addendums that could earn him $57 million. But in the first two preseason games, Smith struggles as a starter and Tim Rattay, last year's No. 1, excels in his relief. It's obvious Smith isn't ready. Nolan meets with both individually and tells them that even if Rattay is benched during a game, he will remain the starter. There will be no quick switch. When Smith eventually does take over, Nolan wants him to realize he also will benefit from this stability.

Nolan knows no one thinks his team will be any good. One ranking of individual players has few 49ers among the top 60 at any position. "That's OK," he says a couple of days before the Rams game. "I feel we are better than that. What's happened, particularly with Thomas, has made us stronger. I haven't even talked to them much this week. They know what they have to do."

No one knows what sustained effect the death of Herrion will have on the team's emotions. His locker remains untouched, a daily reminder of the loss. A decal with his number is on the back of every helmet. "It is amazing how tragedy can pull people so close, but that's what has happened to us," says Jennings. "Thomas will always be part of this team. We know he is in our hearts. We won't forget him."

The game

Dick Nolan isn't at the opener. He is in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease and doesn't travel well. His slow deterioration affects his son. Mike stumbles to explain his own mental state with all that has happened. But it helped that he and Kathy slipped away the previous weekend for an afternoon near the ocean.

The 49ers, who have sold out every game since 1981, still have tickets available for this one until late in the week. York pays $2 million for a preseason marketing campaign linking past glories with Nolan's presence; he knows the fans are saying, "Improve the product." That's why he also underwrote the costs of a pro personnel department. "Didn't I say I would spend what it takes?" he says.

Minutes before kickoff, Nolan thinks of his father. The night before, his brother gave him his dad's 1956 NFL championship ring, won as a member of the Giants, and now Mike has it on his finger. It has been 30 years since a Nolan-coached 49ers team won at home; his dad would have loved this one. These 49ers hold the Rams to just four field goals through three quarters and get two touchdown passes from Rattay, a 75-yard punt return for a score from Amey and an emotional interception in the final minute from safety Mike Adams to end the Rams effort to tie or win the game. The 49ers execute an onside kick successfully and run a handful of trick offensive plays; they'll keep future opponents guessing.

For those who were part of the 2-14 embarrassment, it is a wonderful day, a step toward that NFC West title. For York, it is a smile. "It's wonderful," he says. For Nolan, it is confirmation of preparation and belief in his players. For Jennings, it is more. "Thomas was everywhere out there today," he says. "He's probably upstairs cheering his ass off for us." Next is Philadelphia. "Got to go to work," says Nolan, finally heading for the shower.

Movers & shakers

These are the key players in the rebuilding of the 48ers.

Mike Nolan head coach. Hired after 18 years as an NFL assistant.

John York, owner. Fired his coach and G.M. after a 2-14 season.

Scot McCloughan, V.P. of player personnel. Is one of the NFL's youngest personnel directors.

Paraag Marathe, director of football operations. Cap guru signed Alex Smith before camp.--P.A.

Good starts in San Fran have not been abundant

Mike Nolan should find some comfort in a study of the 49ers' coaching history. In his first year as head coach, Bill Walsh compiled a 2-14 record, same as the previous season. But by 1981 he had won Super Bowl 16. Nolan's dad, Dick, had a 7-6-1 first season in 1968.--P.A.

Coach                First season    Record

Buck Shaw            1946             9-5
Red Strader          1955             4-8
Frankie Albert       1956             5-6-1
Red Hickey           1959             7-5
Jack Christiansen    1964             4-10 *
Dick Nolan           1968             7-6-1
Monte Clark          1976             8-6
Ken Meyer            1977             5-9
Pete McCulley        1978             1-8 (#)
Bill Walsh           1979             2-14
George Seifert       1989            14-2 ([dagger])
Steve Mariucci       1997            13-3
Dennis Erickson      2003             7-9

* Christiansen coached the last 11 games
of 1963 and went 2-9.

(#) McCulley was fired after nine games.

([dagger]) The 49ers won Super Bowl 24.

COPYRIGHT 2005 Sporting News Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning