As Walsh walks through the country- club parking lot toward his car, he is smiling and unburdened. "I'm at peace with myself," he says softly. In the twilight Walsh stops under a Chinese elm to say goodbye and to make one request. It has nothing to do with the decision he made 18 years ago, and everything to do with the present: "The guy whose belongings we put in the cardboard box--please don't use his name. Since then he has become a deacon in his church. And we have a good relationship now. We really do."
The lesson, as Walsh takes his leave, is clear: In the end a man's relationships matter more than the number of Super Bowl rings in his jewelry box.
It doesn't take a genius to understand why.
of former Bill Walsh players and staffers, and their disciples, who became NFL
head coaches (HC). How each is connected to him (designated by color key