Let’s Make a Deal Has New Hosts : College athletics: The ACC and Big East commissioners have perfected the art of getting their way and saving their conferences.

Funny, Gene Corrigan doesn’t look like one of college football’s most influential decision makers. Fresh from a morning round of golf, Corrigan has the pleasant demeanor of a man more interested in breaking 80 than discussing how he helped reshape the sport’s future and his Atlantic Coast Conference with it.

The same goes for Mike Tranghese. From his office in Providence, R.I., the Big East Conference commissioner happily tells a caller about his pending golf trip to Scotland. He seems more excited about his two tee times at St. Andrews than he does about the recent major developments in college football, developments that he and Corrigan helped forge.

“I just don’t view all of this as rocket science,” Tranghese said.

As power brokers, Corrigan and Tranghese are an odd pair. Corrigan is from the old school. Tranghese is a product of the television age. Corrigan, by his own admission, deals in subtleties. Tranghese is more brash, a deal maker. Corrigan knows everyone. Tranghese knows who to know.

Together, they helped put together a bowl system, scheduled to begin next season, that will change the way national championships are determined. Their formula includes four bowls--Cotton, Sugar, Orange and Fiesta--eight teams--Notre Dame, the Big East champion, the ACC champion, the Big Eight champion, the Southeastern Conference champion, the Southwest Conference champion and two at-large selections--and if all goes well, meaning the Rose Bowl is no factor, one national championship game.

The idea, as Corrigan tells the story, was the brainchild of Tom Mickle, assistant ACC commissioner. Mickle presented the notion to Corrigan, who presented it to Tranghese, who offered it to Notre Dame. Once Notre Dame agreed to endorse the plan, an alliance was born.

With the agreement, Corrigan ensured that the ACC will no longer be considered a non-player in the national football picture. It also didn’t hurt that Corrigan earlier had persuaded the ACC membership to invite Florida State into the league. With two bold moves, Corrigan had a conference able to claim the following:

--A foothold in the fertile recruiting grounds of talent-rich Florida.

--A guarantee that the ACC would be part of almost any national championship equation.

--An ability to take advantage of the situation created by Georgia Tech’s unexpected co-national championship in 1990.

“What we did was get people together,” said the understated Corrigan.

Tranghese, described by friends as a man “able to see around corners,” was no less dynamic. He recruited prized Miami from independent status, kept Syracuse, Pittsburgh and Boston College--all Big East basketball members--from looking elsewhere to play football, and filled out the package with ambitious programs such as Rutgers, West Virginia, Virginia Tech and Temple.

As if that wasn’t enough, Tranghese made sure the conference would be represented in a major New Year’s Day bowl and be the centerpiece of the largest regional television network in the country.

“He saved the Big East,” said Tom McElroy, assistant commissioner of the league. “I don’t think people, even in our own membership, know how close we came to seeing what we had built in the ‘80s come to be severely damaged. If we lose Syracuse, Boston College and Pitt (to another conference), we lose the Big East. We’d be just another alphabet conference.”

If you’re looking for further evidence of the changing face of college football, simply examine the backgrounds of the two men responsible for most of the change.

Corrigan, 63, became a conference commissioner after following a somewhat traditional path to power: lacrosse letterman at Duke, coaching positions at Washington and Lee University and later Virginia, a stint as ACC assistant commissioner, appointments as athletic director at Washington and Lee, Virginia and Notre Dame.

Tranghese, 47 (he looks 10 years younger), is from the Northeast and has never ventured from its borders. A graduate of St. Michael’s in Winooski, Vt., he played not one varsity sport and never coached a thing. His first job was as sports information director at American International College, a Division II school in Springfield, Mass.

In 1972, he went to work for Dave Gavitt, then the basketball coach and athletic director at Providence. When Gavitt helped form the Big East in 1979, Tranghese was the first full-time employee he hired. Eleven years later, he became Gavitt’s successor.

“Mike was the mystery man,” McElroy said. “He didn’t coach. He didn’t win any Heisman Trophies. He was a college SID. A lot of people outside the East didn’t know Mike Tranghese. A lot of people were licking their chops. They thought the Big East was going to shut the doors when Dave Gavitt left. But there wasn’t a decision made here that Mike wasn’t part to. Mike was the de facto commissioner.”

If he lacks Corrigan’s network of contacts, he compensates with long hours of work. The Scotland trip, a gift from Big East members, was Tranghese’s first in . . . well, his office staff can’t remember the last time the boss took time off.

“Gene and I are very different,” Tranghese said. “I’m like the new kid on the block. The thing we have in common is that we’re very competitive. I’d like people to like us, but I’m here to compete.”

Or as McElroy put it: “The difference between Mike and Gene, and I don’t mean this is in a negative way, is that Gene is charged with being a caretaker of a great tradition. Mike is charged with building a tradition.”

Each seems suited for his task. Corrigan’s many friendships allow him easy access to an entire country’s worth of athletic administrators, politicians, network executives and coaches. His Rolodex is without peer, as is his ability to massage and mold a deal.

“There’s none better,” said Bob Goin, Florida State’s athletic director. “He’s probably the most respected intercollegiate athletic administrator in the nation. In academics, athletics, his resume is spotless. He could call ABC, NBC, CBS, the vice president of the United States if he wanted to.”

Spending 35 years in the business of college athletics has its advantages. Corrigan has served on almost every NCAA committee worth noting and then some: the all-important NCAA Council, the NCAA Division I-A Basketball Committee, the NCAA Long Range Planning Committee, the NCAA Executive Committee.

Several years ago, his name was mentioned as a possible successor to NCAA Executive Director Walter Byers. Corrigan politely said he wasn’t interested and instead endorsed the selection of then-Virginia Athletic Director Dick Schultz.

“Everything good that’s ever been done in college athletics, if you put pictures of the athletic committee members, (Corrigan’s) photograph would probably be in there,” Goin said.

Thomas Hansen, commissioner of the Pacific 10, is no less a fan of Corrigan. According to Hansen, his longtime friend is a master communicator, a whiz when it comes to securing television and NCAA dollars for his ACC members and an innovator in the area of promoting and marketing the conference.

At Notre Dame, Corrigan was known for his easy-going style. Rare was the day you needed an appointment to visit him in his office. If you had a problem or suggestion, you simply nodded at the secretary, knocked on his door and stepped inside. It is little different today.

During his stay in South Bend, Corrigan revitalized the football program by hiring Lou Holtz to replace the earnest but overmatched Gerry Faust. He upgraded many of the non-revenue sports to the point that the baseball, lacrosse, men’s tennis, women’s volleyball and women’s fencing teams are frequent visitors to the NCAA playoffs. He saw to it that Notre Dame improved its athletic facilities, which explains the new all-sports center and tennis building. He persuaded the NCAA to choose Notre Dame as an occasional site for first- and second-round tournament basketball games.

No wonder there was such a teary-eyed farewell when Corrigan decided to leave the Irish and return to the ACC in 1987.

“He was positioning us as more than a football or basketball school,” said John Heisler, the Irish sports information director.

Sound familiar? Corrigan has done the same thing with the ACC, adjusting the focus to include more than just basketball, the historical favorite of the conference.

The addition of Florida State was a major step. By adding the highly successful Seminole football program to the mix, Corrigan had brought about something the conference lacked in past years: balance. Rather than depending on Clemson for all the football headlines, the ACC can also count on Georgia Tech, Virginia and, of course, the Seminoles.

“I think when Gene was hired at the ACC, they had incredible basketball tradition but they were concerned about their football,” Tranghese said. “But (the ACC schools) had so much respect for him, they listened to him. They said they were going to work together. Because of that, the conference was able to come to the table with better teams.”

Tranghese followed the same blueprint, but he had to do so from Square 1. In an amazingly brief time, he created something out of nothing. The key was another Florida university, Miami. Without the Hurricanes, Tranghese’s power base would have been limited. No Miami meant no Florida toehold, no South Florida television market, no Hurricane football tradition.

“I came to war armed with a bazooka, not a pocket knife,” he said. “I had a team that won a national championship. I had Syracuse, Boston College and West Virginia--all teams that have played for national championships. I had 33% of all the television households in the country.”

Tranghese learned from Gavitt to deal from a position of power. Had the bowl alliance fallen through, Tranghese had a deal with the Fiesta Bowl arranged. Had the College Football Assn. lost its antitrust case with the FTC, Tranghese was prepared to take his conference to the networks.

In typical Tranghese fashion, there was little celebration when the Miami deal was announced. Cake was served. Champagne was poured. Then it was back to work.

“He had a hell of a (1991),” McElroy said. “He might have been MVP and rookie of the year.”

Rookie of the year? Definitely. The MVP? Only if Corrigan’s name shares space on the nameplate.