A FRONT ROW VIEW: Bagnoli smiles at perfection

It took 10 games – but it happened. Al Bagnoli smiled. Bagnoli has molded the Quakers into a team that fits his very ideal. Perfection. 10-0. He settles for nothing less than perfection –Eand then he can smile. On Saturday as he watched his football team complete its perfect season, he covered more ground pacing the sidelines between the 40-yard lines than either team did on the field. While his team waged a battle between the hash marks, he waged a battle with the cord of his headset and the orange cones on the sideline. Cornell makes a good play – the cord gets whipped, cones topple. Mostly, his hands stay folded, locked across his chest. It's hard to make gestures with locked hands. The Big Red get a touchdown – his head slowly tilts upward as if the answers are written in the sky. He paces a little faster in shorter steps. Another Cornell score – he stands motionless and tilts his head down for the solutions in the turf. His hands stay folded. This is the man who after his team beat defending Ivy champion Dartmouth in the season opener, reluctantly admitted that the win put his team in decent shape. Like brutal practices put a team in decent shape. His assistant coaches do the wild gesturing – calling plays, making motions to players, yelling furious directions. Another quarter elapses and the mass of players and coaches file past him towards the other side of the field. He stays stationary. He shakes his head a single time at Terrance Stokes's fumble, slaps his clipboard on occasion and chops the air with his hand when Penn fails to recover Cornell fumbles. This is the man who expects a tough game from doormat teams like Columbia and Yale – from every opponent. And like a walking cliche he always gives the opponent credit for playing well. As he adjusts his headphones, Mike Turner sacks Bill Lazor. He continues adjusting. There's virtually no reaction to plays that work as they should. Perfection doesn't need a reaction. Seldomly he slaps a backside, pats a helmet, exchanges quick words with a coach or player. This is the man who after his team beat undefeated Princeton, repeated the mantra that the Quakers hadn't won anything. He takes two small steps onto the field to see that Aman Abye crosses the goal line. Another job done right. Terrance Stokes carries for a third-and-two to get a key first down to set up Miles Macik's touchdown. That's supposed to happen. He reacts by swinging his foot – slowly. Macik scores the tying touchdown and players are jubilant. Bagnoli raises his hand slightly – not far above his head. Marc Horowitz nails the game-winning field goal. Bagnoli whips the headset cord and gets ready for Penn's kickoff. Lazor passes to Ron Mateo for a gain of 21 to threaten Penn's lead. Bagnoli erupts – two short chops with his hands. This is a man who doesn't panic –Eneither does his team. With less than two minutes left in the game, Lazor carries for an apparent first down near the Penn 20-yard line. Bagnoli stands motionless as Cornell is assessed a penalty turning the tide of its possession. This is the man who focuses his team on the task at hand. After almost every victory this season, the Quaker locker room has outwardly been close to solemn. For nine Saturday afternoons, his players have said that they have a short while to enjoy the victory and then it's back to business. The business of perfection. At last he directs the action on the field with the most meaningful gesture of the day – violently motioning to Jim McGeehan to down the ball as the final seconds tick away. Players and fans rush the field. Bagnoli manages a smile from his familiar position on the 40-yard line as he is greeted by his wife, children and assistant coaches. Inside the press room he smiles again as he poses with the Ivy League football trophy. Moments later he states his previous expectations for the perfect season –"We thought we would be OK." He doesn't have expectations. He just demands perfect execution. Nine times this season he's talked about the next opponent and how his team can't rest on its recent victory. "Right now I can celebrate," he says with that elusive grin. "Before we were never in a condition to [celebrate]," he explains. Sounds like his team has gone 1-9. He talks of the 24-hour reprieve he's had after each game and then it's been back to prepare for the next one. He explains that there have been tapes on his desk every Sunday afternoon. And now? Bagnoli finally but indirectly reflects on the Princeton win as "great" and Harvard as a "tremendous comeback". Saturday's game as "beautiful." As much as his uncommon smile, celebratory adjectives have been missing this season. Until now. Right now he admits he'll have a chance to enjoy the wins. He's hoping he'll have time in the "next few days and over Thanksgiving to reflect and really savor it because it's something that just doesn't happen very often." He says he'll enjoy it right now and then start worrying about off-season conditioning, recruiting and spring football. One imagines that 'then' will come sooner rather than later. Now it's appropriate to celebrate but it seems that he's more excited by the official stat sheet that shows that the Quakers had only two penalties. Not exactly perfect. Now it's time for the players to exult and finally revel in their achievement. The players' chant in the locker room? Ivy Champs in '94. 10-0 in '94. Nothing less than perfection. He's taught them well. Rachel Cytron is a College senior from Mountain Lakes, N.J., and Sports Editor of the Daily Pennsylvanian.

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