Idle is not a position Jacob Coker prefers.
Yet here he is, amid the constant swish of windshield wipers, sitting impatiently in the passenger seat of a silver sedan as a thunderstorm continues to pummel this swampy patch of the Gulf Coast. It's a Friday morning in late March, and while many of Alabama's football players are laid out on sunlit beaches enjoying spring break, Coker has his mind set to working in his own slushy backyard.
The 21-year-old put aside a jam-packed final semester at Florida State to drive 250 miles home to Mobile, sit in a car and watch as rain threatened to wash away his scheduled throwing session with David Morris, his quarterback coach of more than five years.
A week earlier, Coker spent his spring vacation in Tuscaloosa watching film and working out. He missed walking in on AJ McCarron's pro day by minutes, leaving Alabama's indoor facility just as the Crimson Tide's former star quarterback began throwing for scouts.
Coker is the favorite to inherit McCarron's throne when he finishes his undergraduate degree and transfers to Alabama next month, but not before days like this -- days where you either push through less-than-ideal conditions or waste away at home. For his future teammates, if there's the slightest hint of precipitation, they move practice indoors to an air-conditioned, 97,000-square-foot facility.
Meanwhile, Coker is left to create his own version of camp at empty high school stadiums and busy city parks. Wherever there's room and whenever there's time, he's training.
So even though a window of decent weather won't appear, it's no matter. Coker swings open the car door and steps on the field with his cleats already laced. His garnet-and-gold feet still scream Florida State, but from the ankles up he's all Alabama. His camouflage hat is a familiar sight in this state. A crimson Alabama shirt hangs loosely on his shoulders.
More and more, armchair scouts are comparing large, mobile quarterbacks to Ben Roethlisberger. In Coker, however, the comparison has some merit. The redshirt junior is just as solidly built as the two-time Super Bowl champ. He's 6-foot-5 and says he's 235 pounds, but he could easily pass for 250-plus.
As he stretches and darts over Morris' hurdles, you see his athleticism, the quickness that made him an All-Metro basketball player at St. Paul's high school. He still has the feet of a forward in the lane: efficient and bouncy. The rain soaks through his shirt and you're struck by his strength -- he has that certain old-school brawn with a barrel chest and round shoulders.
He flicks his wrist, delivering a perfect spiral to David Kelly, a shifty receiver from nearby South Alabama. The ball cuts through the wind and rain like a sail, crashing into Kelly's hands as a crack of thunder echoes in the distance.
"He's not pretty good," Kelly says. "He's good. You can tell the difference."
The difference, Alabama hopes, will bridge the gap from McCarron and provide another national championship.
The difference, Coker hopes, is far less ostentatious: let it be enough to win him the job in the first place. He'll take it from there.
A lot more to read about Coker following this jump...
Yet here he is, amid the constant swish of windshield wipers, sitting impatiently in the passenger seat of a silver sedan as a thunderstorm continues to pummel this swampy patch of the Gulf Coast. It's a Friday morning in late March, and while many of Alabama's football players are laid out on sunlit beaches enjoying spring break, Coker has his mind set to working in his own slushy backyard.
The 21-year-old put aside a jam-packed final semester at Florida State to drive 250 miles home to Mobile, sit in a car and watch as rain threatened to wash away his scheduled throwing session with David Morris, his quarterback coach of more than five years.
A week earlier, Coker spent his spring vacation in Tuscaloosa watching film and working out. He missed walking in on AJ McCarron's pro day by minutes, leaving Alabama's indoor facility just as the Crimson Tide's former star quarterback began throwing for scouts.
Coker is the favorite to inherit McCarron's throne when he finishes his undergraduate degree and transfers to Alabama next month, but not before days like this -- days where you either push through less-than-ideal conditions or waste away at home. For his future teammates, if there's the slightest hint of precipitation, they move practice indoors to an air-conditioned, 97,000-square-foot facility.
Meanwhile, Coker is left to create his own version of camp at empty high school stadiums and busy city parks. Wherever there's room and whenever there's time, he's training.
So even though a window of decent weather won't appear, it's no matter. Coker swings open the car door and steps on the field with his cleats already laced. His garnet-and-gold feet still scream Florida State, but from the ankles up he's all Alabama. His camouflage hat is a familiar sight in this state. A crimson Alabama shirt hangs loosely on his shoulders.
More and more, armchair scouts are comparing large, mobile quarterbacks to Ben Roethlisberger. In Coker, however, the comparison has some merit. The redshirt junior is just as solidly built as the two-time Super Bowl champ. He's 6-foot-5 and says he's 235 pounds, but he could easily pass for 250-plus.
As he stretches and darts over Morris' hurdles, you see his athleticism, the quickness that made him an All-Metro basketball player at St. Paul's high school. He still has the feet of a forward in the lane: efficient and bouncy. The rain soaks through his shirt and you're struck by his strength -- he has that certain old-school brawn with a barrel chest and round shoulders.
He flicks his wrist, delivering a perfect spiral to David Kelly, a shifty receiver from nearby South Alabama. The ball cuts through the wind and rain like a sail, crashing into Kelly's hands as a crack of thunder echoes in the distance.
"He's not pretty good," Kelly says. "He's good. You can tell the difference."
The difference, Alabama hopes, will bridge the gap from McCarron and provide another national championship.
The difference, Coker hopes, is far less ostentatious: let it be enough to win him the job in the first place. He'll take it from there.
A lot more to read about Coker following this jump...
