I'm going to miss Carl Franks.
I never thought I'd feel this way about the folksy Duke coach. After first meeting him, the best thing I could say about the proud man was that he greatly resembled a faux-drowner in a lifesaving video I had to watch in high school. Franks didn't think too highly of me, either.
Our first exchange occurred when I interviewed him the week of a Duke-Northwestern matchup. Timid yet ambitious, I raised my borrowed tape recorder in Franks' direction and asked, "How do you plan to combat the potent Northwestern offense this Saturday?"
Franks responded bluntly: "If I told you, then [Northwestern] would know too. I can give you a bullsh-t answer."
But as my commitment to giving expansive football coverage for both a newspaper and a school indifferent to the sport increased, Franks began to open up.
Franks would answer questions about any subject. As coach of an unsuccessful Blue Devil team, unpleasant inquiries were inevitable. Franks continually answered difficult questions ranging from his job security to record-breaking losing streaks with honesty, integrity and pride.
But Franks never failed to provide a comic interlude, a necessary trait in keeping up the spirits of those involved in the horrible losing streaks during his tenure, reporters included.
When Franks received his first penalty from the sidelines against Georgia Tech in 2002, Franks mentioned the official that threw the flag was retiring upon the conclusion of the season. A journalist then jokingly asked if Franks would be attending his retirement party.
"If I get an invitation I might consider going," the sly Franks responded.
"I'll come in and throw a flag."
When Franks was surprisingly named honorary sheriff of Durham at a press conference for his heroics in saving a man who drove his car into Rolling View Marina during a fishing trip, the psychology major seemed to grasp the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Where's my badge?" Franks joked. "I don't know, it's a nice honor to have."
Even the food served at press events was often subjected to the southerner's charm. Standing next to me in the buffet line, Franks scooped up a breast of chicken and looked at me with a smile.
"This needs some Tabasco Sauce," he said. "I'm going up to my office to get some."
I politely laughed at what I thought was a joke. Moments later though, I noticed Franks was absent from the feast. He subsequently emerged with a bottle of bright red hot sauce.
"Ahh," Franks said in his lust.
Franks also was quick to forgive my many journalistic gaffes. Once I woke from an unscheduled nap at 6:05 p.m. when I had a 6:15 p.m. interview with Franks. I sprinted over to Wallace Wade, finding Franks with other reporters already having begun the interview. He immediately stopped answering questions when I arrived, and pointed to my shirt. I soon realized that I was wearing not only a Hooters restaurant shirt, but a Hooters shirt signed by several Hooters girls.
"Sorry, Coach Franks."
"No, I love Hooters."
Franks then spoke to me for around five minutes after the interview about how he knew the founders of Hooters, and how cool Hooters is.
He also cooperated with almost all of my wild ideas. When I began asking him the history of his ever-present mustache, Franks freely talked about the facial hair as if it were a normal thing to discuss.
The following day when my article asking Franks to promise to shave his mustache if the team won six games was published, the mustache man came up to me with a smile.
"You had my whole damn team asking me to shave," he said.
Franks, probably to the annoyance to the professional reporters at local papers, would also often compliment my articles. I will always cherish these remarks.
"I believe in The Chronicle today Robert Samuel said in a game commentary that [the Duke football team] was glad to be in a close game, but upset the game was close," he said at a press conference after the 2003 Rice game with about a dozen or so reporters present. "I think that's about as perfect as you can put it."
But my respect for Franks is not solely based on what could be interpreted as superficial praises; the former Steve Spurrier assistant would often disagree with my articles, but would calmly and understandingly talk to me about my different claims.
The fact remains that with a 7-45 record and a 29-game ACC losing streak, Franks' moment at Duke is over. At age 42, Franks is still a young man, and will inevitably work his way to another head coaching job somewhere in America. But his Duke job, his dream job, is no longer a reality.
I'm going to miss you, coach Franks.
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