For Iowa defensive coordinator Norm Parker, retirement simply isn't an option

IOWA CITY - Norm Parker? Retiring after this season?

Sure. And Brett Favre will retire today. So will Clint Eastwood, Joan Rivers, the Rolling Stones, Chuck Grassley and Tom Harkin, Bob Brooks ...

Parker, entering his 12th year as Iowa's defensive coordinator at age 68, heard what you may have heard or read from the Hawkeye blogosphere earlier this week. One more year for Norm, and get the gold watch ready. For 15 minutes or so Monday morning, that rumor hatched and then sprouted wings.

That was before head coach Kirk Ferentz said Monday afternoon in Chicago that it was news to him, and he strongly doubted it was true. Parker doused whatever was left of that flame Friday at his team's Media Day.

“I don't have any intention of retiring,” Parker said. “I heard that was a rumor, but there's no truth to that. Probably the only two ways I'll leave is they'll carry me out or Kirk will fire me.”

Then there's really only one way, because Ferentz knows he made a spectacular hire when he brought Parker to Iowa City with him in 1999.

Parker has a hard time imagining doing anything but coaching. He was almost giddy (for him) in the month leading up to last January's Orange Bowl as he prepared for Georgia Tech's option offense. It was a new, old challenge, contending with an attack he hadn't dealt with in a long time.

You saw how that worked out. Iowa's defense was dominant that night.

Retiring, he says, “is a scary thought. I like to fish, I like to golf. (But) I'd probably end up volunteering at some high school, just to be around the smell of the locker room.

“I think it's just fun being around the young guys. Maybe I'm afraid to grow old.”

But has he at least discussed the subject of retirement with Ferentz, suggested how the defensive change-in-command could go when he steps down?

“No, no, no, no. Never. It's not even in my mind. It's not even a consideration.”

Now, it isn't as if Parker is the portrait of physical health for a person his age. For the last several years, he has used a golf cart to get around at practice. He's had two toes amputated because of diabetes, and currently has his right foot in a cast because of what he called an “open wound.” It had been large. He says it's now the size of a quarter.

So Parker will be in the Iowa coaches' booth in the press box this season instead of on the sideline. It's where he coached from at the Orange Bowl.

“I'd rather be on the field,” he said, “but in reality I don't think I could get out of the way of a train wreck coming. I think I'd be a little bit of a hazard down there.

“But the thing about the press box, it's like going into a closet and watching TV with the sound turned off.”

The old coach still likes the sound and the fury of his sport. It is why, he says, he enjoys attending sprint car races in Knoxville and Burlington.

“I think I like the noise,” he said. “I like the dirt. And I like the people that go to it because they're sort of like me. I'm not what you'd call a sophisticate. I'd be a good hillbilly.

“I think the thing that enthuses me about (racing) is it's all so even. If you're just a little bit off you go from first to last in a hurry. You've got to be hitting on all cylinders and you've got to have it all together, and then you've got a chance to win. If you don't, you don't have a chance to win.

“I think it's very much like football, much more than people think.”

That may partly explain why, when you ask him about outsiders' high expectations for his team and his defense, he says “The less you say, the less you have to take back.

“We haven't won a game yet. It's all just hype. I think the players understand that.”

None of what you've read here so far should be a great surprise, but I found the following to be eye-raising: Parker isn't big on the preseason. I thought every coach loved this “teaching time.”

“This is not my favorite time of year,” he said. “I'd rather get where it's game-week.

“I added it up, and the two-a-day practices ... this is my 57th year (in football). A year of your life has been gone. It's like going into a coma for two weeks. After a while, you don't even know what day it is.

“Kirk loves it. He loves it. I sort of like the games a little bit more. Maybe that goes with age.”