Free Do You Love Football?! by Jon Gruden, Vic Carucci

the quarterback would give a hard count and if he pulled the defense offside, the center would snap the ball, the quarterback would take a knee, and we'd get a free five yards. If the defense didn't jump offside, the quarterback would proceed with a different type of snap count and then run an actual play that he had also called in the huddle along with the "freeze." Auburn's defensive linemen were getting off on the count pretty fast, so I wrote down "Freeze play?" on one of my Post-its and stuck it in front of Walt. Sure enough, the next words Walt spoke into his microphone were, "Let's go with the freeze play." Auburn jumped off-side and we got a five-yard gain.
    We still ended up getting beat 34-8, but I was feeling pretty good about making that small, positive contribution. I remember driving home from Auburn that night with some of the other GAs, and as soon as we made a bathroom stop, I found a pay phone to call my father. "Did you see that time Auburn jumped offside?" I said, my voice rising with excitement. "I gave Coach Harris a reminder on that play."
    The next year, when we played Auburn in Knoxville, I was watching the free safety's depth on play-action passes on crossing routes. I noticed that he was pretty shallow, and I thought that it would allow one of our faster receivers, Terence Cleveland, to get to the post against him. I gave Walt a Post-it that said, "DP8 Go? Check the post." That was a shorter way of saying, "Draw-Pass 8 Go and look for the post route." Walt called the play, and Cleveland caught the ball for a big gain in our 20-20 tie.
    Johnny Majors was in a pretty good mood when we watched film the next day. The moment the big pass to Terence appeared on the screen, my heart started beating fast with anticipation. "That's a good call, Walt," Coach Majors said. "That’s a good job." I would have been satisfied if it ended right there, but then Coach Harris said, "Jon called that." Coach Majors walked over to where I was sitting, gave me a pat on the back and said, "Attaboy!" That was a highlight of my career. That was one of the greatest days of my life.
    I'll never forget Walt for giving me credit on that play. There are a lot of people in his position who wouldn't have done that.
    There are a lot of people in his position who would have sat there and said, "Thanks, Coach."
    It didn't take long for me to discover that coaching wasn't just jogging out there on the field, waving to the crowd with your sweat gear on or yelling at officials. It wasn't that at all. The most important lesson I learned at Tennessee was that you have to have tremendous respect for the game and for the details of the game. Anyone can look and act like a coach, but to actually be one means being able to recognize that this is a good play against this front; this is a bad play against this front. This is a good player; this is a horrible player. This is a defensive guy we should go after with our play calling; this is a guy we should stay away from. These are the rules of recruiting, the lifeblood of your program.
    There is just so much to learn about football and there is a never-ending amount of information out there. The respect that I gained for the profession and the knowledge I was beginning to acquire only fueled me to work more hours and learn new plays. I had a wonderful feeling of accomplishment. I felt like I learned a new language. My chest stuck out a little further. I was more confident. I had a sense of belonging.
    By spring practice of my second year at Tennessee it all started to click for me mentally. I became really comfortable with the offense and more confident with my understanding of all aspects of it. There were still many things I didn't know, but by then I could tell the difference between a three technique and a five technique. I could draw all the fronts. I could draw all the coverages. I could install the passes and the protections in an elementary fashion for the young quarterbacks I was working