Miles points to a collection of photos on his office wall — each of the 22 teams he’s coached. “I can put another 20 up there,” he says. “I’m 51. They’re not going to stop me. I might just have to change area codes.”
That’s the coping mechanism coaches in his position have to use. After dinner, Miles talks about how he’s never really felt part of a community since he left Doland (pop. 185). He’s never been at a stop long enough for it to feel like home.
Lincoln could be that. This is his sixth season, and he’s been there longer than any previous job. Ava, a high school senior, plans to attend Nebraska. He’s ingrained himself into the Big Red culture.
The guy likes his hash browns in the shape of an N, for goodness sake, although that was something the staff at the country club started to put a smile on his face. Now the hash browns always arrive in an N, and when the bill comes, he tells his server to add on the Miles special — a round of shots for the staff.
Nebraskans want to love him in return. Unlike new football coach Scott Frost, he’s not one of their own. But he’s about as close as he can be, hailing from the state that borders Nebraska to the north. “He’s one of those people, right?” says Niko Medved, his former assistant at CSU and now the coach at Drake. “He’s a small-town Midwest guy. You couldn’t find a better fit at Nebraska than Tim Miles.”
Miles, however, knows as well as anyone that’s not enough. “Likability only goes so far,” he says. “You need to produce too. I know that. We’re not where I want to be.”
