Likewise, Drake has hired Dr. Tom Davis as its new basketball coach. It doesn't hurt that Davis, at 64, is unlikely to frequent fraternity parties, unless that fraternity is Phi Slamma Gramma.
At 64, Levitra spokesman Mike Ditka is putting the sex back in sexagenarian. But—and here's another benefit—most coaches Da Coach's age are unencumbered by endorsement deals. Joe Paterno is more bran conscious than brand conscious.
And though Paterno's Penn State football team, with each passing week, hits a low-water mark—even as his khakis do the opposite—Joe Pa can take solace in another old coach whose name was famously contracted: Connie Mack retired as manager of the Philadelphia Athletics 53 years ago this week. He was 87 at the time, 11 years older than Paterno is now.
"I'm not quitting because I'm too old," said Mack, who was horn a little more than two years before Lincoln was shot. "I'm quitting because I think people want me to."
A scant four years after Mack retired, the Philadelphia Athletics passed into eternity. Seventeen months after that, Cornelius McGillicuddy did the same, the way an elderly husband passes shortly after his wife.
The lesson is clear: Coach as long as you can. Coaches complain that the profession prematurely ages them, but quite the opposite is true. McKeon is aging in reverse precisely because he manages the Marlins, leeching vitality from his players. The same goes for Cowboys coach Bill Parcells, 62 going on 16, and looking younger by the week.
Old coaches, it seems, never fade away. They just dye.