Storrs

The inimitable sounds of a news conference hummed away Monday at the Burton Family Football Complex, click-click-clicks of the cameras and rat-tat-tats of the keyboards, while Warde Manuel delivered a state of the union for UConn football on a seminal day in program history.

And then everything stopped.

No clicking, no rat-tat-tatting. Warde Manuel had the attention of the room, froze all of it, as if everyone in there had become sudden victims of a taxidermist.

And all he did was say one word:

Win.

It was his answer to a question about what interim coach T.J. Weist had to do to keep his new job.

Manuel's answer, illustrating in brevity there is poetry, wasn't a sound bite. It was earnest and honest:

"Win. All he has to do is worry about this team, focusing on academics and football," Manuel said. "The numbers will speak for themselves. He has to win. If he wants any shot at the job he has to win."

And with that, UConn football took its first step into the most important period of its time.

And with that, UConn athletics took its next step into the most important period of its time.

Warde Manuel's boss, UConn president Susan Herbst, has described her athletic director as a "rock star." He'd better be. Because Warde Manuel's ultimate replacement for Paul Pasqualoni, dismissed Monday, must be the right guy. Must. Know how they say football drives the bus? UConn's bus driver is Mr. Magoo right now.

Put it this way: In the last 25 years, UConn is the best college basketball school, men's and women's, in the country. And it's gotten them schooled into the American Athletic Conference. If UConn is ever to be delivered from the wilderness, football must get better. Then good.

And the process began Monday.

Manuel's task might be Herculean. Is this job honestly all that desirable? The new coach will assume command of a program that's part of a league without an automatic BCS berth, with a small home off-campus stadium that's not always filled and a not-so fertile recruiting base.

The program, too, needs to be sold to the fans all over again. After the diehards right now, there's apathy.

Can he find a charismatic guy who can sell mostly out-of-state recruits on a non-guaranteed BCS berth and a small off-campus stadium?

Note the keyword in the previous sentence: charismatic.

Jim Calhoun and Geno Auriemma sold their programs because they won, sure. But they were rock stars with the cameras and tape recorders rolling, colorful and engaging, deftly able to augment the product with personality.

Manuel: "Does the program need to be resold? Probably. But what sells it is success. What sells it is great effort. … My true belief is the fans want to know you care and ultimately they want to see wins. This is the first step in doing that."

Manuel said, essentially that it would be great if he could find a guy that could win every news conference, but … "I played for Bo Schembechler (at Michigan). He wasn't the greatest with the media and went off a little bit, but he was beloved because he was successful and had some charisma to him."

All of which brings us to Weist, the offensive coordinator and interim coach. There is charisma here, folks. The man is fascinating. He played at Alabama and has coached everywhere. Studied under Ray Perkins, Bill Curry and later under Gary Moeller and the Harbaughs, among others. He was born in South Bend, Indiana, for heaven's sake. And he's already shown glimpses of being a great storyteller.

Weist told this one earlier this season, after someone mentioned that his smooth, baritone voice would be great for radio voiceovers.

Turns out he comes by the pipes honestly. His mother was a folk hero, or folk heroine, on the Notre Dame campus in the 50s. They called her "Elaine of Notre Dame." She used to read love letters - real love letters - over the college radio station every Sunday night.

The school newspaper described "Elaine of Notre Dame" as the "sultry siren who thrills the troops once weekly … with the basic format made up of various and nefarious epistles sent her way from heartsick, or heartburned, females from various homefronts around the nation.

"Of course," the newspaper continued, "it's not the letters which give the necessary glamor to this show, but rather the tense torrid fashion in which the 'Athena of the Airwaves' delivers these requests."

Weist said they used to sneak his mom out the back door of the radio station every week to keep her identity a secret or even lie to the listeners and say she was recording the broadcasts from parts unknown.

UConn football has never had anyone with Weist's candor and background.

Now we'll find out if he can coach.

And win.

That old thing.

Win.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.