DEFENSELESS

Never the same and always the same, that’s how Sundays are for Buddy Ryan.

They’re never the same because he’s worlds removed from his life as a controversial NFL coach and the hot-tempered architect of the best defense in league history. He now spends every Sunday with the love of his life.

On a good day, she remembers him.

Buddy and Joanie Ryan were supposed to live out their golden years together, raising championship thoroughbreds, rooting on their twin sons, Rex and Rob, who followed in their father’s footsteps and became NFL defensive coordinators.

But life took a heartbreaking turn four years ago when Joanie was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Although Buddy wanted to keep her home, and did so for two years, he eventually realized the job of caring for her there was too difficult.

“It’s a terrible disease,” said Buddy, 73. “There are things that she does that aren’t even her.”

Two years ago, he moved her into an assisted-living facility in Louisville, a half an hour drive north from their home here. Although she recognizes him, she seldom remembers much about their 35 years together. He sees her at various times throughout the week and picks her up every Sunday so they can attend Mass at her favorite church and afterward have breakfast with the priest at a nearby McDonald’s. Sometimes, they go to a place that sells crepe-paper flowers and invariably leave with a vibrant bouquet for Joanie.

“She’s a saint,” he said.

No one ever confused Buddy for a saint. In his 34 years as an NFL assistant and head coach, he polarized the league the way his defenses split heads. To some, he was the schematic mastermind and fiery motivator whose “46” defense paved the way for the 1985 Chicago Bears to win the Super Bowl.

“Buddy had a huge impact on that team,” said Bill Walsh, who coached the San Francisco 49ers. “He was maybe the key element in that organization.”

To his detractors, Ryan was as dirty as coaches come, a guy best remembered by some for punching fellow assistant Kevin Gilbride on the Houston Oiler sideline and allegedly putting an on-field “bounty” on a couple of Dallas Cowboys.

Ryan’s NFL career began when he was an assistant with the New York Jets in the 1960s -- he still wears his Super Bowl III ring the team won in the 1968 season -- and spanned four decades. He became a household name as defensive coordinator of the Bears, and later took over as head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles, then the Arizona Cardinals. Wherever he went, controversy followed. By his thinking, the football world was broken into two distinct camps: Buddy backers and Buddy bashers.

“As a defensive coordinator, he was beloved by his players,” Walsh said. “They truly believed in him. They’d sacrifice anything to do what he said. He was as unique a man as we’ve seen from that standpoint.”

Football is not entirely a part of Ryan’s past. He has made several trips to Chicago this year for celebrations honoring the 20th anniversary of the championship Bears. He also goes to Philadelphia from time to time, where “people still love me. I could go down there right now and draw a crowd of 500.”

Mostly, though, he spends his days working the 120-acre ranch where he boards 17 thoroughbreds, racehorses with names such as “FiredForWinning,” “KnockEmBack” and “FortySixBlitz.” He still looks like the old Buddy Ryan -- he’s a little grayer, moves a little slower -- but he’s softened over the years. He’s more kindly than cantankerous.

“Buddy’s like a magnet,” said Debbie Ellis, who co-owns the ranch with him. “We have clients come by and they all want to talk to him. It’s amazing how many of his old players call to check in on him. He says, ‘The great ones, the ones who really played for me, still care.’ They had a bond.”

On chilly mornings, Ellis works the ranch in an oversized, over-stained Arizona Cardinal sweatshirt. It’s a remnant from a forgettable chapter in Ryan’s coaching career. He took over as head coach there in 1994 and went 8-8 his first season. He was fired a year later, however, after his injury-depleted team went 4-12.

“I threw it out and she got it out of the trash,” Ryan said of the sweatshirt. “If [Cardinal owner Bill] Bidwill sees that he’ll send me a bill for it.”

By Ryan’s thinking, the only good thing to come out of his Arizona swing was that he was able to give his twins their first pro jobs as assistants. Rex is now defensive coordinator of the Baltimore Ravens; Rob is defensive coordinator of the Oakland Raiders. A third son, Jim, is an attorney in St. Louis. (Although the boys think of Joanie as a second mom, their mother is Ryan’s first wife, Doris, a former university president with whom they remain close.)

Ryan said he tried to discourage his sons from getting into coaching, but they were unwavering in their goals since their days as ball boys with the Bears and Jets.

“They did their ABCs,” he said. “While the other guys were out there messing around, the twins were studying what they wanted to do. Too many guys start at the top and work their way down. Not them.”

Ryan’s fondest memories as a head coach came in Philadelphia, where his Eagles made the playoffs three consecutive seasons, from 1988 through ‘90, but lost in the first round each time. After the 1990 season, he thought he was going to get a contract extension. Instead, he was fired, leaving with a record of 43-38-1. More than any other, that dismissal still stings.

“One more player would have gotten us over the hump,” he said. “The owner wouldn’t give me the money to get him.”

Perhaps Ryan’s most infamous moment came in 1993, when he was defensive coordinator for the Oilers. That’s when he threw the sideline punch at offensive coordinator Gilbride, who ordered up long passes at the end of the first half instead of running out the clock. The part that really angered Ryan was, when the passes fell incomplete, the defense had to take the field again and unnecessarily risk injury. The scuffle started when Ryan essentially said Gilbride’s play-calling was bush-league, calling him a “... high-school Charlie.”

“He came at me,” Ryan recalled. “You come at me, you’re going to get your ... knocked off. People say I sucker-punched him, but he came at me.”

If Ryan left an indelible mark on the game, it was his “46” defense -- named for the jersey number of versatile safety Doug Plank -- which employed a series of blitz techniques and formations that every team in the league eventually copied. Ryan says comparing his with other great defenses is “like calling Marilyn Monroe just another girl.”

There is precious little glamour in Ryan’s life these days, and he’s perfectly happy with that. His small office at the ranch is essentially a cleaned-out horse stall with concrete floors, fluorescent lighting and a few folding chairs. On the wall, intermingled with pictures of horses and a signed photo of trainer Wayne Lukas, hang pictures from his days as an NFL coach. On the desk is a black-and-white TV with a screen no bigger than a postcard. He’s been known to catch a football game on that.

When his sons’ teams are playing, he watches from home, where he has a satellite dish. When they’re on at the same time, he toggles back and forth so he can just watch the defenses. The twins lovingly call their dad “Big,” even though each outweighs him by about 100 pounds.

“It’s so cool how those boys still respect their dad,” Ellis said. “It touches your heart. They worship him.”

And that love is reciprocated. But their father has a special place in his heart for Joanie, whom he met after his divorce, when he was a Jet assistant. They lived in the same apartment building; she was in Unit 4F, he was in 4G.

“She saw me when I was throwing the trash out,” he said. “She was after me. I invited her out for a glass of wine, and that was that.”

They were so different. He was a country boy from Frederick, Okla. She was a New York City girl who grew up in the Bayside area of Queens. He was gruff; she was gentle. He made a living for them; she made a life for them.

There’s one picture on the wall of Ryan’s office that he treasures more than the rest. It was taken three years ago, back when Joanie was herself.

Buddy is standing next to a large mare. Joanie is kneeling beside a 2-day-old filly, a horse that Buddy would later give the greatest name he could conjure, one he’d never forget, one that means more to him now than ever.

Bayside Girl.

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Buddy Ryan file

Buddy Ryan’s NFL coaching resume:

* 1968-75: Assistant coach with the New York Jets.

* 1976-77: Assistant coach with the Minnesota Vikings.

* 1978-85: Defensive coordinator for the Chicago Bears. Inventor of the “46” defense, which helped Bears win Super Bowl XX, 46-10 over the New England Patriots, in 1986.

* 1986-90: Head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles. Finished with a record of 43-38-1, making the playoffs his last three seasons with 10-6, 11-5 and 10-6 records.

* 1993: Defensive coordinator for the Houston Oilers.

* 1994-95: Head coach of the Arizona Cardinals, finishing with a 12-20 record.