You think Nick Saban cares about money? Okay, well maybe he does… but only a little bit.
I mean, you can buy a ton of bitcoins with seven million bucks (I’m guessing it’s around seven million bucks), sure, but Nick Saban didn’t just bend Bill Battle over the big crimson barrel for a couple extra million dollars. He did it because he could, and, dammit, as Brian Griese just managed to mumble before his lips happened to freeze together at this game he’s calling in Charleston, IL., “Leverage is a beautiful thing.”
That’s what Texas is to Nick Saban. It’s leverage. It’s they want me, you want me. They have money, you’ve got money. You don’t pay me, they will. Na-na-na-na boo-boo, I’ve got more power than you do… do.
Because, you see, the money is great and all, but if it were really about the money, you’d make astronomical demands of Texas and then buy South Padre Island with the proceeds. But, the thing is, it’s only kind of about the money.
It’s mostly about greatness.
Nick Saban’s only true goal is to rule the world.
If this were a Warner Bros. cartoon, he’d be The Brain (size-appropriate), which, I guess, makes Mack Brown Pinky or some other slack-jawed sidekick.
Sure, Nick Saban could build a dynasty at Texas. He’d pillage the state’s endless supply of talent and when the rest of the nation eventually catches up, there will be cyborgs. When they assimilate, he’ll have fully functioning androids.
But, “He did it in the Big 12 (or however the hell many they have now),” they’ll say.
What Nick Saban knows, is that a loss to Auburn only strengthens the case that the SEC is still the best league in the country. In any given year, there can be an Auburn that’s on par with Nick Saban.
And as Nick Saban spends the rest of his days at Alabama, winning half of the SEC championships and a few national titles a decade until his tiny little body has withered and warped like Joe Paterno reincarnate, he’ll be able to say he did it in the best league in the country.
We’ll pay lip-service to the fact that college football is cyclical in order to preserve the “GOAT” argument, but we’ll realize that the fact that he won all these championships during a stretch where the conference was as dominant as any conference in any era really does make him the GOAT.
A tiny, hairy, little goat.
Because that’s what truly motivates Nick Saban. Being the best (not goats). He’s said as much himself.
It’s all part of the system.
Be the best on every play, every practice, every game, yada-yada-yada.
Say what you want about Nick Saban being a robot–unlike the American Justice System (all caps), the court of public opinion often operates under the guilty-til-proven-innocent operandi–but robots are calculated. Nick Saban is calculated.
I’m not saying he’s a robot, I’m just saying he’s a robot.
A football machine, who analyzed the raw data, saw Texas batting their stupid, dumb little eyelashes at him, and proceeded to squeeze a couple extra million bucks a year out of them.
Now that this is all done, he can get back to the system. The endgame.
Nick Saban is going to stay at Alabama until he’s proven himself to be the greatest college football coach of all-time. If he fails, he fails. However, he’ll do so
thinking knowing that he did it in pursuit of that one, clear goal.
You think Nick Saban cares about money? Of course he does, you sad sap.
But money and power and championships and amusement at the hands of a national rival are all just wry smiles that cross Nick Saban’s lips in the pursuit of something more.
Complete and total domination.