Utah Utes bear Whittingham's stamp

When Florida and Oklahoma play for the national championship tonight, Utah football coach Kyle Whittingham will be watching every play. But at least he won't have to do so with a raging case of Urban envy.

So what if Urban Meyer is playing for a title?

You might say Whittingham has reached the "I'm OK, you're OK" stage in his career.

No longer does he need to feel like the Florida coach's caddie. He's Coach Whit, winner of the Sugar Bowl. Only eight of this year's players were Meyer recruits, anyway, and only quarterback Brian Johnson actually played that season (21 passes in 2004). All others redshirted.

Whittingham taught this team, shaped it and made up all the motivational speeches.

So this is his team, not Meyer's leftovers.

Win a BCS bowl and you get to be the man, all by yourself.

That's the problem following great coaches. You live in the shadow for a while, either making your own name or disappearing. It can be an uncomfortable place. Look what happened to Ray Giacoletti, who followed Rick Majerus as Utah's basketball coach. And Gary Crowton, who came along after legendary BYU football coach LaVell Edwards.

A coach can end up feeling like an after-dinner mint.

One of the favorite phrases in those first three years after Meyer took Utah to the 2005 Fiesta Bowl was that his successor "is OK, but he isn't Urban."

Fair enough. Meyer lost two games in two years. Whittingham had seasons of 7-5, 8-5 and 9-4. Decent, but still sub-Urban — particularly since he never finished higher than third in the conference.

The knock on Whittingham was that, like former coach Ron McBride, his teams would always lose a couple of early- or midseason conference games that took him out of the race.

As Whittingham said on "Jim Rome is Burning" this week, "Anything short of an undefeated season was viewed as maybe a little short of expectations."

Whittingham wasn't as comfortable with the media as Meyer. He was a little tight, and occasionally defensive. His father, Fred Whittingham, was fiery and combative as a coach. Kyle is just as competitive, but far less demonstrative. Still, that didn't stop him from referencing his grandmother's slightly bawdy solution to handling critics, following his 2005 Emerald Bowl win.

Now he doesn't have to say a word.