How Nick Saban went from Darth Vader at Alabama to college football's favorite uncle with ESPN

You’re not taking him now. Not for some inane idea of an all-powerful czar, or the temptation of returning to the field.

Nick Saban is exactly where he should be.

Not roaming the sidelines and finding a way to navigate a 12-team College Football Playoff. Not dealing with NIL contracts and unscrupulous middlemen.

Not begging 18-year-olds to play for him, or being subjected to the demands of helicopter dads.

But right where he is – in of all places, as a member of the media. From Darth Vader on the field to college football's lovable uncle off it, the transformation has been as remarkable as revealing.

Years ago, I asked Saban – while in the middle of his historic run as coach at Alabama – what he would do if he weren’t coaching. His answer was one that truly made me believe he would coach until he physically couldn’t, until time ran out – just like it did with The Bear.

“I don’t really do anything (outside of football),” he said. “I do like to golf.”

He hesitated for a moment, before opening another door: “I like to clear the brush on the lake. You know, it gets overgrown and you can’t have that. So I’ll get in there and trim it back. That’s relaxing for me.”

Football, golf and clearing the brush around his property on Lake Burton. How in the world would he ever assimilate to life after coaching?

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This is the coach who once famously asked his then-assistant coach Kirby Smart to call him in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve and tell him he needed to come to the office. Because there was a party at Saban's house and he didn't want to be there, and there was no way the woman he adores – his wife, Terry – would let him out of the house for anything other than football.

So Smart made the call, and Saban had his excuse. Somehow, years later, this obsessive winner was going to walk away from it all and into a job with the media – and everything was going to work.

The next thing you know, he’s on the set at ESPN, looking into the eyes of the hottest first-year coach in college football two hours before a CFP first-round game, and telling Indiana's Curt Cignetti – who was on Saban’s first staff at Alabama – “One thing you didn’t learn from me was all the (expletive) you talk.”

And American rejoiced.

I don’t know what ESPN is paying Saban, but it’s not nearly enough for what he brings to the legacy pregame show "College GameDay." A show that had grown stale and predictable while chasing the critical 18-34 viewer demographic.

Now it’s must-see television, with Saban holding no punches.

Hours before the SEC Championship Game, ESPN had Smart and Texas coach Steve Sarkisian on set explaining their approach to the mega matchup with typical coach speak.

Saban, like the rest of us, wasn’t having any of it.

“I think they’re both bull(blank-ing) us,” Saban said.

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Every week it’s refreshingly different, something only your 73-year-old uncle – who doesn’t care what anyone thinks – would say or do when it hits front of mind. With no filter.

Saban on the SEC fining schools for storming the field: “It’s like worrying about mouse manure when you’re up to your ears in elephant (expletive).”

Or Saban, every time Colorado coach Deion Sanders appears on set (it's often), calling him, “Deion.” Not Sanders’ self-declared moniker, “Coach Prime.”

Just his friend, Deion.

“How’s the fishing, man?” Saban asked Sanders in an appearance before a Colorado game. “Because the last time you and I went fishing, it didn’t go well for you.”

Sanders, of course, belly-laughed and took the barbs in stride. Because what else is he going to do?

The most intimidating man in college sports over a majority of the previous two decades has transformed back into the most important thing in the sport. Only this time, away from the field.

He rails on free player movement and the dirty underbelly of NIL deals in one segment, then throws on a Penn State Nittany Lion costume before the mega-matchup against Ohio State, turns to the crowd and yells, “We Are!”

He admits he can’t pick against Colorado – not because of his friendship with Sanders, but because Miss Terry told him not to. A happy wife is greater than winning the weekly picks, which makes Saban even more relatable.

And while he may not pick against Alabama, he hasn’t shied away from criticism or subtle jabs. Before the Tennessee game in Knoxville, Lee Corso declared, “I’m going to tell the greatest coach ever how Alabama beats these guys.”

Saban shot back: “I’m all ears.”

He may not be living his best life – because, let’s face it, he’s a ball coach at heart – but he’s having fun. Of course he misses the competition and camaraderie, the thrill of game day. Every former coach does.

But if you think he wants to jump back in the ever-shifting world of coaching, or take a job as college football commissioner or czar or whatever you want to call it, you obviously haven’t been watching the transition from greatest coach ever to college football's lovable uncle.

When Penn State coach James Franklin declared during the Fiesta Bowl media day that Saban should be college football czar, Saban laughed at the idea. The game already has changed dramatically in the year he has been away, and this coming fall will change more with the addition of straight pay-for-play.

It wasn’t long ago that Saban addressed that imminent move. It went about how you’d expect.

“I just want to say you guys keep talking about a $20 million roster,” he told his ESPN colleagues on set. “But if you don’t pay the right guys, you’ll be (expletive) out of luck.”

Yep, exactly where he should be.

Matt Hayes is the senior national college football writer for USA TODAY Sports Network. Follow him on X at @MattHayesCFB.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Nick Saban thrives as ESPN college football analyst after Alabama exit