n the Giants' sideline, the public face of Tom Coughlin glowers, stern and foreboding, softened by only the slightest smile in victory. When he takes the field today against the Vikings, 10 months into his job as Giants coach, Coughlin will be as hard to read as he was the day he was hired.
Coughlin dispenses with most public appearances brusquely, as if to squelch any curiosity about what dimensions might hover behind the first. It is a hard-edged image Coughlin cares little about changing. He refuses to sweeten his coaching principles to make them publicly palatable.
So when the Giants hired him in January, Coughlin put into motion what he knows best, the rigid framework of discipline and attention to detail that worked so well in the expansion team liftoff in Jacksonville and that revived the program at Boston College before that.
"It's easy because it's who I am," Coughlin said. "I'm not trying to be anybody different from who I am."
Coughlin's program has so far produced a 4-2 record, with both an upsurge in performance and hope among the Giants after last season's 4-12 debacle. His first months have alternately drawn criticism for his methods and praise for his results.
But even one of the N.F.L.'s highest-profile jobs gives mere glimpses of the complex man behind the simple image. People close to Coughlin describe a calmer coach who takes the time to explain his principles to his players, who tries to temper his anger with encouragement. His family describes a devoted father and grandfather, who after years of separating his personal life from his coaching life, let them coexist peacefully with the drafting of a player who would become his son-in-law.
On his way to this place, Coughlin learned that the messenger often got in the way of the message. And the messenger is not quite what he seems. "He makes it hard to see what he is really like," his wife, Judy, said. "But he really is a good guy."
The family side of Coughlin, 58, is naturally a softer one. His wife describes him as a father who laughs when his four children tease him for his hyperorganized habits. She said one of the joys of his year between jobs was attending the births of two grandchildren.
Coughlin has also thrown himself into charitable causes, making himself a hero to families of children with cancer.
But even Coughlin's coaching personality is not so simply explained by branding him an unwavering dictator and closing the book. When he interviewed with the Giants, he told his future bosses that he would hold a tough line on his rules, but only after his players heard the reasons behind them.
So Coughlin has spent time explaining his principles, calling players aside or into his office to reinforce his points. Sometimes he yells. Other times he explains. Often, he encourages. Only after that does the unwavering part kick in.
"Underneath everything, the persona, the way he carries himself, he is a teacher," running back Tiki Barber said. "He wants guys to understand the game at the level that he understands it."
Barber said he had been summoned by Coughlin several times. He understood from the first one that his coach cared only about winning. "However he can get us players to share that singular focus with him, he does," Barber said. "Whether that's yelling at you or pulling you aside and giving you little tidbits and pointers, he's trying to find ways to do that."
Still, there have been struggles in adjusting to Coughlin's way of thinking. His "meetings start five minutes early" doctrine drew considerable complaining after he fined players for being only three minutes early. The atmosphere is markedly different from the more collegial one fostered by Jim Fassel, his predecessor.
But the Giants' biggest discipline issue - the benching of linebacker Barrett Green for habitual lateness - involved a player who signed as a free agent after Coughlin was hired.
By many accounts, particularly those of some longtime assistants, the year between Coughlin's jobs mellowed him, if only by degree. He learned the value of toning down his approach.
