A bear of a man, a winner of a plan: Andy Reid's successful blueprint for the Eagles anticipates variables, eliminates surprises and withstands the most difficult of tests—the loss of his quarterback

Sporting News, The, Dec 23, 2002 by Paul Attner

He grew up in Los Angeles, living in the same house his whole childhood. His love of sports came from his mother, a doctor of radiology and a Dodgers fanatic. His father was an artist who designed backdrops for movies and stage plays. He was meticulous, even down to how Andy should hold a paint brush. His dad's creative skills made an impact; Reid can carve furniture from wood and restore his dad's Model A car. He's also a writer who once had a sports column in the BYU newspaper, and a romantic who still sends his wife, Tammy, poems and love notes.

Growing up, he hung with five guys who still are friends. "We went to a really diverse high school," says Lee Bruno, Reid's former holder and one of those friends. "It taught you to get along with all types of people. I think it helped Andy learn an ability to cut to the chase and talk eye-to-eye and communicate."

Reid wanted to be a doctor. But BYU coach LaVell Edwards asked him if he had ever considered an alternative. "You'd make a very good coach," Edwards told him. Reid was hooked. He got his master's degree and became a graduate assistant with the Cougars, serving on the same staff as Holmgren. "I liked Andy right away," says Holmgren. "We just hit it off. We thought a lot alike, still do. I told him if I got a head coaching job, I would hire him." That was 1982; when Holmgren became the Packers' coach in 1992, he brought in Reid to coach the tight ends and assist with the offensive line. Of all his assistants who have become head coaches, Reid is the most like Holmgren, and not just physically. "It's almost eerie, they say so many of the same things," says Eagles receiver Antonio Freeman, who has played for both men.

It was a grind to get to Green Bay. Reid married Tammy in college; she is a Mormon and before they wed, he converted. He started his coaching life with San Francisco State in 1983. To make extra money, he drove a limo--Rock Hudson and Loni Anderson were clients--and umpired games. The San Francisco State staff also sold hot dogs two days a week on campus to bring in funds for the program; Tammy and Garrett, their firstborn, would have two free meals a week. When he got to Philadelphia, he thanked Tammy by building her a beautiful mansion of a home.

The family is deeply religious, and Reid's faith keeps him centered and grounded. It's important for him to slip away from the office to watch one of his sons play football or, as he did last week, one of his daughters in a school concert, or take Tammy on an in-season date.

"Andrew really has never gotten comfortable being recognized," says Tammy. "We went to Nassau last year and got off the plane and we felt maybe we would be OK, and then these Dallas fans saw us and it was over. Sometimes it's hard to believe this has happened to trim and us."

Whether he likes it or not, Andy Reid is a once and future hero in Philadelphia, where his name initially generated jeers, not cheers. While eating dinner at a restaurant his first night in town, a fan jokingly booed him. "Get used to it, coach," he said. Fans hated it in January 1999 when Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie waved off Holmgren and Jim Haslett and instead replaced Ray Rhodes with the obscure Reid, the Green Bay assistant who had never been a head coach on any level. The fans hated it when the Eagles drafted McNabb with the second pick of the '99 draft; they wanted Ricky Williams. But The Plan needed a franchise quarterback to work. They hated it when Reid waited until the 10th game to start McNabb, but the process said his rookie quarterback wouldn't start until he was sufficiently comfortable with the West Coast offense. Heck, even Reid's kids didn't want him to take the job.