Living in a fishbowl is nothing new for Notre Dame first-year head coach Tyrone Willingham.

The throng of alumni, fans and media that accompany the most prestigious coaching job in the country is just a "larger fishbowl" in his eyes - another group of skeptics to dissect his every move.

No matter what he's done or where he's done it, "attention and scrutiny" have always followed Willingham.

But it doesn't bother him in the least.

Becoming the first black head coach in Notre Dame's history is just the most recent of many "firsts" Willingham has encountered in his 48 years. His determination and discipline have allowed him to break down barrier after barrier. But according to his best friend and college roommate, Charlie Baggett, it's the road Willingham has paved for future generations that he will be remembered for.

"He'll go down in history whether he wins or loses," said Baggett, who is now wide receivers coach for the Minnesota Vikings. "He'll win, but no matter what happens, he's made history."

A firm foundation

Willingham does his best to dispel all notions that he is a modern version of Jackie Robinson. Willingham claims that no one could know all the things that Robinson "had to endure on that course of his."

But Willingham's path wasn't sugar-coated.

Born in 1953, Willingham was raised in a poor, all-black neighborhood in Jacksonville, N.C. in a military family. His father, Nathaniel, a strict disciplinarian, and his mother, Lillian, a school teacher, taught him about work ethic.

He would have to learn that lesson early in his life. Jacksonville was fully segregated when Willingham grew up in the 1960s. He lived with blacks, went to school with them and played football with them.

Childhood friend Marion Wigfall, who still resides in Jacksonville, lived in the same, close-knit neighborhood with Willingham. Wigfall said Willingham's parents were always helping other families in the community. They even opened up their basement to give kids in the area a chance for recreation.

Willingham's parents weren't going to let the violence that was plaguing the South harm him and his three siblings. They sheltered him and kept him on track.

And that explains a lot. It sheds light on why Willingham disciplines his players like he does, and why he trusts them and pushes them to succeed like they're his own kids.

"He has a chance to be a parent and a father away from home," Baggett said. "I remember one time when I was talking to Ty about getting out of coaching. He said, 'That would be the worst thing you could do.' "

Willingham played in an all-black football league at the beginning of his high school career. But with the late-'60s came desegregation and new opportunities - opportunities Willingham wouldn't take for granted.

Willingham transferred to Jacksonville High School, joining one of the first waves of educational integration. High school teammate Michael Stevens said that the main difference was that "sometimes, the best athletes weren't given a chance to play." As a 5-foot-7, 140-pound black quarterback in a predominantly white school, most thought Willingham would spend his three years on the bench. But senior year, he won the job. It came as no surprise to anyone who knew him. What Willingham wants, he gets.

"He was able to go to a white school and play as a quarterback in the South," said Jimmy Raye, who recruited Willingham to Michigan State. "That speaks something of the character and the perseverance of the young man."

As Willingham's high school career progressed, his stature didn't follow. He was told he "wasn't big enough, tall enough or smart enough" to play in the college game. Most expected Willingham to play for a traditionally black college as was required before desegregation. But he knew there was an opportunity elsewhere.

No backup

Willingham requested attention from hundreds of schools, sending them letters hoping for just one to give him a chance. His tireless belief in himself paid off, as Raye looked past Willingham's size and took notice of his passing ability and natural leadership. The head coach at Michigan State, Duffy Daugherty, didn't want to offer a scholarship to such a small quarterback, but Willingham accepted the offer to walkon with the chance to earn a scholarship in the future.

And that's where he met Baggett, a high-profile freshman quarterback transfer from North Carolina, also recruited by Raye. Baggett was groomed to be the starter, Willingham the backup. It made sense.

It wasn't until a year after Denny Stolz took over the reigns of the program in 1973 that Willingham was awarded a scholarship.

"I learned perseverance at Michigan State," said Willingham, who went on to play wide receiver and return punts in his fifth year.