The ever-expanding college football coaching staff and how Nick Saban started it all

— --

GAINESVILLE, Fla. -- A Florida support staff member paces near the 50-yard line, staring across the field of the Georgia Dome. It's December and the SEC Championship Game will begin in an hour -- No. 18 Florida vs. No. 2 Alabama. Players from both teams warm up, yet it's not an athlete who has this young, up-and-coming coach's attention. He looks over at the opposing sideline and marvels at the size of the crimson-clad throng of coaches at Nick Saban's beck and call. (The size of Saban's armada grew again this week with the hiring of former USC coach Steve Sarkisian?as an analyst.)

Florida is outnumbered, again.

It's no less shocking than a week earlier, he says, when he was struck by the disparity in the number of coaches when they hosted Florida State to end the regular season. But instead of Saban, it was former Saban assistant Jimbo Fisher who had a king-sized support staff at his disposal, a flood of graduate assistants, analysts, quality control and player personnel-types.

Of course they weren't the reason Florida lost to its in-state rival by three touchdowns -- only the head coach and nine assistant coaches participate in the execution of the game -- but there was no escaping this staffer's belief that manpower had something to do with each program's standing. They'd go on to lose to Alabama, too, and afterward the thought of doing more with less felt antiquated and impractical.

It's wild to think about, a behemoth like Florida being behind anyone in terms of resources, but there's some truth to it. There's an arms race taking place in college football that has even the most distinguished of programs feeling as if they're a step behind. And you can thank Saban for not just being ahead of the curve, but throwing the first curve to begin with.

Fast-forward four months and Jim McElwain is in his office on the Florida campus, slouched in a chair with his feet resting on a coffee table. He explains why he made expanding the support staff a priority when he was hired late in 2014, but he's not bullish on their current numbers. "We're far from having as many as a lot of people have," he says.

Not counting nine assistant coaches, there are 20 people listed in the staff directory, including directors of football administration, player personnel, player development and external communication. There are three graduate assistants, three quality control coaches and three program assistants. One such program assistant -- a role that typically goes to coaches breaking into the profession -- is Bret Ingalls, who was hired this offseason after spending the past seven years as a running back and offensive line coach for the New Orleans Saints.

"They're in there grinding right now," McElwain says, motioning to a room down the hall.

Asked specifically what some of his support staff are up to, he wonders, "What day is it?"

"It's Thursday, right?" he says. "So they should be on Kentucky, which is Game 2, on certain parts -- red zone or personnel groupings."

Let that sink in for a moment: It's one of the slowest days of the offseason, all the assistant coaches are on the road recruiting and Florida has a team of employees, including at least one NFL vet, breaking down an opponent they won't see for months. It seems like a luxury to have such specialized talent, yet McElwain insists he doesn't have the manpower of other programs. And he's right. Watch the sideline before an Alabama, Florida State or Ohio State game and you'll see more team-issued polo shirts than you can count.

USC employs a Chief of Staff, Tennessee a Sports Technology Coordinator, Penn State a Special Teams Recruiting Assistant for Quality Control. The titles are products of creative human resources departments, but the thought process is simple and powerful: more bodies equals more wins. As long as the NCAA won't restrict the number of non-coaching personnel, there's nothing stopping the arms race.

The desire for more man power is met by seemingly unlimited budgets. There's no such thing as being over-qualified anymore. These days you can't find a perennial top-25 program without a fully stocked staff, while traditionally second-tier programs are pushing to expand theirs. Tom Herman, who made his name as offensive coordinator at Ohio State before becoming head coach at Houston, said if the budget were there, "I'd take an army."

Florida's army includes a 24-hour recruiting department, and Nebraska's a former NFL general manager. Michigan's army supplies the resources for Jim Harbaugh's nationwide satellite camp tour, and Alabama's resources are such that coaches rarely attend camps and yet they're all covered.

Why would Florida bother to stick some poor soul on the recruiting graveyard shift, monitoring social media feeds? To McElwain, it's obvious.

"Why? Because we all want to win, right? And we can, right? And if you're not, someone else is," he says. "Like I said, if you're not willing to evolve and you get comfortable in what you're doing then you get passed by."

* * *

It started with Saban's arrival at Alabama. Four national championships later, everyone is playing copycat.

Looking at the college game through the lens of his time in the NFL, Saban beefed up the Tide's organizational infrastructure, adding bodies to the personnel department and bringing in accomplished coaches to lend a hand wherever possible.

Getting an accurate number of everyone working in the Mal Moore Athletic Facility is difficult -- in 2012, there were 146 non-coaches on the athletic department payroll -- but a few big names stand out over the past few years. For instance, when McElwain was offensive coordinator, he had former Power 5 offensive coordinators Mike Groh (Virginia) and Billy Napier (Clemson) on his staff. Kevin Steele, who had been a head coach at Baylor, served as director of player personnel in 2013. The next year, former Washington assistant and ace recruiter Tosh Lupoi joined the staff as an analyst. This year, former Maryland O.C. Mike Locksley will hold a similar position.