My icebreaker question when I meet a football coach is to ask what's his signature drill. They all have them, they all have a point, and the point that the coach wants to emphasize will tell you a lot about what he values.

Via former Michigan linebacker Jim Scarcelli, Gary Moeller's drill was called "The Perfect Play" and here's how Scarcelli described it:

So it started with a sprint to Coach Moeller. He would stand somewhere and give you a formation. … and the sprint has to be perfect. The adjustment and the alignments have to be perfect. The communication has to be perfect. So when all that it is done, Coach Moeller is going to drop back and the defense is going to drop into a pass coverage, and then he's going to throw the ball. Now we're just playing on air. One of the eleven defensive players has to intercept the ball at its highest point. And then the other ten guys got to run and block, and the player has to score a touchdown, and then all eleven guys gotta go crazy in the endzone.

The point of the drill was to get back to playing the game with intelligence, energy and passion. This is how every guy who ever played for Gary Moeller would describe him as well.

They're all over at Michigan events, these Moeller guys: old men who played for him at Bellefontaine High, men in their 40s who played for him with the Lions, Jaguars, Bengals or Bears, men in their 60s whom he recruited to Illinois, men in their 80s who remember him as an Ohio State captain. They show up at Michigan events with an odd pin or tie that doesn't match the occasion, eager to seek out someone who knows of the Perfect Drill from a vast sea of Gary's maize and blue sons.

Those sons played all over the field too. The young assistant who followed Bo after two years at Miami (not That Miami) would coach the ends, the defense, the quarterbacks, the defense again, the offense, and then the whole damn team for the last five seasons of 23 in Ann Arbor. His Michigan winning percentage of 75.8 is better than that of any man to coach here since. The Arthurian comedy that ended his Michigan career seems more ridiculous with each passing season of college football, his subsequent alienation from the program surely just recompense for any role he might have played in the real tragedy of his time. His final act was a front row seat to the return of Jim Harbaugh, but fittingly the last time we saw him was on the sideline cheering for Michigan against his alma mater, flanked by two of those sons from two different generations, over a rivalry he deserves as much credit for as anyone.

To children of the 90s like myself, the brand of football played under Gary Moeller feels like a moment unappreciated until well after its time, an exhale after the stubborn irascibility of his predecessor and mentor, a breath before the venerable solemnity of his friend and successor. For half a decade, Michigan recruited with the elites, threw the ball downfield, crushed Ohio State, then laughed about it on Michigan Replay. Howard passed into Alexander, Ricky Powers gave way to Tyrone Wheatley, and Elvis entered the building, pursued by a line of pro arms still represented in the NFL today.

Spoiled as we were, this was never mourned in its time. Young Alex Drain asked me once what Michigan fans thought then, and after answering truthfully—back-to-back 8-4 seasons were "unacceptable"—it struck me that we lost something…jejune…about Michigan when we lost Moeller. There was a kidness to early '90s Michigan, a sort of "Let's see what they think of this…" insanity of a man who'd call a sight read fade to Desmond Howard on 4th and 1 of a three-point game then ask Jerry "should I be kicking a field goal?"

His final years were a sufferance of aging's worst indignities, when the surest sign you were at a Michigan event was two men greeting with smiles turning to solemnity and two words: "How's Gary?" Well Gary's fine now, and Michigan plays on, with intelligence, energy, and passion, committed to running it back until we get it perfect, and remembering to end it with a cheer.