A Special Kind of Coach : Crazy as Ever, Bauer Is Back in Business, Coaching His Speciality for the Chargers

Taped to the door of Hank Bauer’s office is a little reminder of what he used to be. A 5-year-old poster shows him with a rifle slung over one shoulder, ammo belts crisscrossing an otherwise bare chest, and a stare that would freeze Rambo.

The image was appropriate in the days when Bauer reigned as the most reckless and probably the most feared special teams player in pro football. Covering kickoffs and punts with a madcap fury unmatched by few Chargers before or since, Bauer took on the most thankless job in the business, and made it almost an art.

There was a price, of course. As a companion to the savage-looking poster Bauer might well hang the X-ray showing the fracture of his fifth cervical vertebrae that forced his retirement three years ago.

It wasn’t really a caveman mentality that caused Bauer to play five games after breaking his neck when a teammate jerked his facemask one day in practice in 1982. It was ignorance.

For all the advances in sports medicine, Bauer’s injury somehow went undiagnosed for a year, and could have led to his being crippled or even killed. He knew he was hurt and the doctors knew he was hurt, but nobody knew just how badly.

“I got hurt on a Thursday before we were going to play the Cincinnati Bengals on Monday Night Football,” Bauer said. “I was in bed for three days, and I have no memory of the game.

“The doctor said I could play as long as I could stand the pain. Man, I was getting mugged. I had no lateral vision. Guys were really ringing me up. It was amazing.”

Bauer actually participated in four more games, including the AFC championship game at Miami, which was to be his last. Acting on advice from doctors, he retired during training camp in 1983. Had he put on a helmet again, he probably would be in a wheelchair now.

As it was, the pain worsened through the fall of 1983. Bauer’s transition from player to assistant coach was complicated by the unrelenting pain that weakened his left side by 30%. Finally, he consulted a neurosurgeon, who had him on the operating table within four days.

Bauer is fine now. Those who know him well enough will tell you he’s nearly as crazy as ever. With one difference. With the responsibility of his new job as special teams coach, Bauer has added a new, serious, totally businesslike veneer.

“You know what? It seems like forever since I played,” Bauer, 31, said. “It took me until last season to really make the break. For a long time I wondered if I made the right choice (to retire). Thank God, I went right into something I loved.

“Now it seems a totally different part of my life. It’s totally in the past. I get embarrassed when people come up and say they liked my style as a ballplayer. That’s behind me. I want to direct myself to what I’m into now.”

To the task of replacing Marv Braden as special teams coach, Bauer brings the same relentless style that characterized his playing days.

“I know every guy can’t be like I was, and I accept that,” he said. “I started preparing for a game on Wednesday morning, and by 1 p.m. Sunday, I was at a mental and emotional peak. After the game, I’d really kick back for two days and have a good time, partying, surfing, golfing, whatever I felt like.

“As a coach, I don’t care if a guy is green, orange, black, white, tall, skinny, fat, strong or weak, I just want to know if he can make the plays. And I’ll promise you this: my guys will play damn hard. Any man who doesn’t, I’ll do my best to run him out of here.”

Bauer, naturally, promises an aggressive approach, but not one that excludes intelligence. He wants the Charger special teams to complement the high-scoring offense and the blitzing, big-play orientation that is supposed to evolve on defense.

He has some new wrinkles in mind, but in general he sees no reason to fake a punt or a field goal when the San Diego offense has more weapons. Why take a chance unless it’s a gimme?

An obvious concern is the kicking game. Bauer is satisfied with punter Ralf Mojsiejenko, whom he believes will be of Pro Bowl caliber in a few years. But the field goal department is worrisome.

Rolf Benirschke still hasn’t recovered from the groin injury that forced him to miss the entire 1985 season. His replacement, Bob Thomas, received a heavy dose of criticism, particularly for the ill-fated overtime field goals at Denver, but Bauer isn’t excluding him from future consideration.

It’s likely the Chargers will audition three or four new kickers in mini-camp and again in training camp next summer.

Aside from the kickers, Bauer said, a corps of four or five athletes is needed to make most of the hits. The Chargers have at least three such players in Derrie Nelson, Ronnie O’Bard and Lucious Smith, according to Bauer.

San Diego’s punt protection and coverage were among the best in the league last year, and no drastic changes are seen. However, Bauer may prescribe more pooch punting, and no, it doesn’t involve kicking his dog.

What he has in mind are fewer coffin-corner kicks. He dislikes having a punter aim for the sidelines because it’s too easy for an official to err in spotting the ball. Bauer would prefer to see a very high punt that might be mishandled inside the 10, or possibly go over the kick returner’s head and bite near the goal line.

There’s another important area, which doesn’t involve strategy or aggression. Luck is the best word for it.

“One thing people don’t realize is that injuries to starters on offense and defense have a big impact on special teams,” Bauer said. “There’s a real trickle-down effect when you have to train new people constantly. In general, the healthiest teams have the best special teams.”

Special teams can be a thankless duty, Bauer has found. The job goes unappreciated unless there’s a breakdown which costs a game, like the muffed field goal at Denver last November.

“You can work like hell and be damn good and still get overlooked,” he said.

Actually, that never happened to Bauer. He was fully appreciated in his days as a player in San Diego, as he admits without much arm-twisting.

“I played every down like it was the last,” he said. “I made an awful lot of tackles. People liked that, fans, writers, coaches and other players. Some said I didn’t have much ability, but I always thought ability was residual effect of hard work.”

Bauer’s argument about putting the past behind him breaks down when he gets revved up on the subject of his work ethic.

“I always wanted to be the best in the world at what I was doing,” he said. “When I was a running back, I wanted to be the best short yardage runner in the league, and for a year or so, I think I was.

“I wasn’t the biggest or the fastest guy, but I knew my role and accepted it. When the Chargers traded for Chuck Muncie and drafted James Brooks, I knew my days as a runner were limited. But I also knew I could extend my career on special teams, and I wasn’t going to just hang around. I wanted to be the best special teams player in the world, and now I want to be the best assistant coach.”

Bauer has an uncommon pride in his accomplishments as a runner. Like a pitcher who loves to brag about his hitting, Bauer was a hitter who dwells on his exploits as a runner.

“I ran a 4.7 in the 40, which ain’t bad for a guy who weighed 205, and I could bench 430,” he said. “Hell, I was like Walter Payton.

“Man, I had a great change of direction and quick feet. I’ll admit I wasn’t real fluid. I was bow-legged, short, stocky and bald, so people thought I didn’t have ability. But that was superficial. The only thing that matters is productivity.”

Bauer believes he would have been adept as an offensive coach, had he been given that assignment instead of special teams.

“I know a lot of the little things it takes to get the job done,” he said. “I have the expertise to coach offense. And I really want to stay in tune with our offense, which is the best ever. Hey, I was here before Don Coryell, Ernie Zampese and Al Saunders arrived, and I’ve watched this offense evolve from a two-back set to what it is now, which is so creative and exciting.”

Bauer is in no way dissatisfied with his lot as special teams coach. It fits him in a way few other roles could.

“My father was a tough, old German who really drove me,” Bauer said, trying to account for his breakneck, macho approach to football.

“He didn’t care what it was you were doing, you better give 100%. He gave me plenty of well-deserved lickings that I’ll never forget, and he had a cold stare that let me know when I had let him down.”

Bauer’s approach also was shaped by an elder brother. Before his first day of contact football as an eighth grader, Bauer received this advice from his brother: “You can’t trust anyone on a football field. You have no friends out there. It’s you or the other guy.”

It was the most valuable lesson he ever learned, Bauer said.

Before joining the Chargers in 1977, Bauer was cut by the Dallas Cowboys. When his dad called, the first question was: “Did you give it everything?”

Bauer said yep, and that satisfied the old man. “Good,” he said. “You’ll make it with another team.”

The Chargers picked him up, and Bauer was a mainstay for six seasons. His father was in the stands for his first game. Two weeks later, he was dead.

“I think he would be proud,” Bauer said.