ANKENYHAWKREPORT.COM

Walk down the stairs at Ankeny High School, past the shiny gym floor and into the locker room, where the odor of sweaty teenage boys is enough to wrinkle your nose.

There, in a cramped office shared with two other coaches, sits Jerry Pezzetti.

Pezzetti, the fourth-winningest football coach in Iowa history with 327 victories, will face another Iowa coaching legend, Valley High School's Gary Swenson, in today's Class 4-A semifinal game at the UNI-Dome in Cedar Falls.

But at this moment, Pezzetti is not busy plotting how to spoil Valley's undefeated season. No, days before another segment in one of the fiercest rivalries in Iowa high school football, the 70-year-old Jerry Pezzetti is busy getting razzed.

"I thought about Jerry on Saturday when I saw JoePa," teases head soccer coach Rick Isaacson.

He's referring to Penn State University's 81-year-old head coach.

An assistant football coach laughs. "He had that cane, limping around."

If Joe Paterno is Pezzetti - the Ankeny institution who just keeps coaching, the emotional coach who has shed tears after big victories - his opponent in today's state playoff game is University of Iowa football coach Kirk Ferentz.

Like Ferentz, Valley's Swenson is calm and calculated, averse to showing emotion, a businesslike coach whose locker room seems like a classroom.

Sure, the coaches and their programs bear similarities. Both schools have seen rapid suburban growth, and their sports programs have benefited from a deeper well of talent than smaller schools. (Only one 4-A state championship game since 2001 didn't include one of these teams.)

Both coaches were raised in rural Iowa, Pezzetti in Melcher and Swenson on a farm outside Radcliff. Both love talking of their grandchildren. Pezzetti has three; Swenson's first was born in February.

And both have reputations as coaches who care more about players than the final score.

"The first time you go to the state tournament, that takes care of your ego," said Bud Legg of the Iowa High School Athletic Association. "Then you start coaching for kids. So these guys have been coaching for kids for a long time."

But today's game will be no time for getting sentimental.

The top-ranked team all year, the Valley Tigers are hurtling toward the state championship. Two more victories means their fourth state title in seven years.

Two of Valley's state championships came after romping past the Ankeny Hawks in the semifinals, and you'd better believe that leaves a bitter taste in Ankeny's mouth.

The taste becomes more bitter when seasoned with Ankeny's last-minute loss in the 2007 state championship game.

If you want to hear what makes Gary Swenson such a great coach, don't ask 56-year-old Swenson.

Talk with Swenson about how he has accumulated 265 victories and you're more likely to hear about what a great coaching staff he has. And how hard the boys work. And what great support they get from fans and parents.

Instead, let's turn to Phil Hodgin, whose two sons played for Swenson.

There was one game a few years back, Hodgin recalled, when Valley had a rough first half. At halftime, Swenson did something out of character: He called a player out in front of the team and chastised him for his performance.

It happens in football all the time, but for Swenson, it ate at him. At the next practice, the coach had to get something off his chest. He gathered the team around and apologized to the player.

That's how Swenson works. Parents see him as a man of few words, "a silent motivator" who is respected but not feared, Hodgin said.

"I'm not afraid to take a priest into Gary's locker rooms," said Steve Duncan, Valley's athletic director. "It's so far away from what people think goes on behind closed doors. ... Gary wouldn't be the traditional coach some people would think about, fire and brimstone and big pep talks."

His businesslike approach was evident in a recent visit to Swenson's office. Swenson leaned back in his chair, and stacks of DVDs of his coming opponent's games sat on his desk. He's tall, with neatly trimmed hair and Nike apparel from head to toe. Not a hint of nerves could be detected. At some point, big games become commonplace.

After 12 years in Spencer, where he turned a struggling Class 3-A program into a powerhouse, Swenson came to Valley in 1995. Since then, the Tigers have been a mainstay in November playoff football, with three state championships in the past six years.

Swenson leaves home by 5 a.m. during football season, said his wife, DeAnn, and he doesn't return until 7:30 p.m. Then it's planning practices and studying game calls until 9:30 p.m., when he heads to bed.

"He's running on empty by time Thanksgiving comes around," she said. "He just says there's that much to do in order to do it well. It's a big program. The more success you have, the more work it requires."



Jerry Pezzetti loves the ponies.

The first Saturday in May, you will see him at the Kentucky Derby with his son, Ryan, who is one his assistant coaches.

Pezzetti's favorite vacation town is Las Vegas, and the coach admits he enjoys the Vegas show circuit. He loved "Jersey Boys," the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, as well as Sigfried and Roy and even - shhh, don't tell his players - Celine Dion.

His love for the Sinatra-style Vegas comes as no surprise. Pezzetti's the more emotional of the two coaches facing off today, a throwback to the old school.

He doesn't have a computer on his desk. He drinks his coffee from a worn Casey's Lil' Skipper mug. And he's full of superstitions, such as when he used to make sure to eat a ham sandwich before every game for luck.

A Pezzetti story that longtime assistant coach Mark Becker likes to tell: Once, the Hawks had new game pants. In the first game with those pants, they lost. The next week, the freshman team had the pants. The new duds would never again see the light of a varsity game.

Things have changed since Pezzetti started his coaching career in 1961. Offenses are more complex, with more passing and speed. Players have more off-field distractions.

But Pezzetti's philosophy has remained the same. He runs the ball and uses play-action. He motivates with a pat on the pads, not a scream in the face.

"He's not a hollerer," Becker said. "But if there needs to be a fire-up, there's a fire-up."

Coaches describe Pezzetti as a delegator. There's plenty of trust with his assistant coaches, as many have worked with him for decades. Six assistants once played under him. In the locker room, his players stay silent and focused until Pezzetti revs the boys up with a fiery speech.

"He's a very emotional coach as far as getting the kids ready," said Ryan Pezzetti. "He's 70 years old, but he still likes competition on Friday night."

In his office next to the boys' locker room, there's a picture of Pezzetti's greatest football achievement: the scoreboard from the 1997 state championship game - Ankeny 17, Iowa City 14 - the only state championship in Pezzetti's 35 years as Ankeny's head coach.

He's hoping for another, because there can't be too many chances left. But there's a picture in Pezzetti's wallet that beats any state championship banner: of his grandson, Rilynd Jerry Pezzetti, named after grandpa.

"Only 4 months old and weighs 17 pounds," Pezzetti laughs.

Someday, you have to assume, the little guy will play for the Ankeny Hawks. A lineman, perhaps. And grandpa will be proud.