Living On The Edge

Not that the Broncos can't smile and enjoy themselves. Theirs is a happy locker room, and winning keeps the organization upbeat. But Shanahan sets a tone that puts efficiency above frivolity. Tight end Shannon Sharpe, the team comedian, is a gifted mimic, and he's not shy about revealing his routines even to those being imitated. He does a great Shanahan. Except his coach will never see it. "Can't risk it," Sharpe says. "What if he doesn't laugh? He might give me that look."

"Some people think they are born on third base, that they hit a triple just by showing up, that they have earned the right to succeed," says Shanahan, who has as much authority as any coach in the NFL, controlling everything from the draft to free agents to the salary cap. "My dad always told me that if I really liked something, that I should do it with a passion. I had to work to get to first base, and now I want to make sure I have the success to maintain the lifestyle I want to live."

He knows about first base. After graduating from Eastern Illinois, he wanted to experience coaching at a Division I school. Using some contacts, he got a job at a University of Oklahoma dorm that paid $100 every two weeks. He began hanging around the football office and helping an assistant on Barry Switzer's staff, and when the team picture was being taken someone suggested "Coach Mike" should be included. Switzer had no idea who Shanahan was, but he agreed. Eventually, Switzer learned his last name and hired him as a graduate assistant. That was in 1975. Shanahan now is earning $2.4 million a year.

But hidden deftly behind those eyes, behind that public figure that reveals so little of himself, is another Shanahan. The Irish rogue who loves The Edge.

The scruffy-looking intruder with the long hair, hat and sun glasses knocked on the bedroom door of the Vail condo. The couple inside opened the door and were shocked. "What do you want?" they asked, before the husband took off after the intruder, who now was running into the hallway.

"What do you want?" the intruder snarled, staying just ahead of his pursuer, who was growing more agitated. They raced down the hallway until they reached the elevator.

Then the intruder turned to his pursuer. "John," said the intruder, "do you realize you are standing out here in the hallway in your underwear?"

That's when Mike Shanahan took off the wig and the sunglasses and joined in a good laugh as his friend, John Woodward, finally realized who he had been chasing.

The Shanahans were in Vail as part of an annual vacation they take with the Woodwards and two other couples, just as they have done for the past decade. The wig had been given to Shanahan's son, Kyle, now a freshman football player at Duke, as a gag gift, and his father thought it would be hilarious to see how many friends he could fool by wearing it.

Shanahan the practical joker? When he was with the 49ers, they played a preseason game against the Raiders. In warmups, he told quarterback Elvis Grbac to throw a pass that would just miss Raiders owner and archenemy Al Davis, who was on the field. Grbac did and Shanahan howled. "He just thinks he is so funny sometimes," Peggy says, rolling her eyes.