There are few persons in this world that speak as opaquely or elusively as football coaches.

Except maybe politicians.

Or lawyers.

Or, possibly, sports columnists. But I, like all coaches/politicians/writers before me, digress.

Last week, while traversing Virginia in search of future gridiron stars, Penn State football coach Joe Paterno told a local television station that he was more or less planning to coach through the 2006 season.

This is surprising because Paterno, who was set to become a lawyer before deciding to coach football, has never mentioned a number before. There's never been a set year, or for that matter, a set number of years remaining. It's always "I'll coach another five
or ten years" or "as long as I feel good."

How surprising then, that Paterno would chose a period of rampant allegation and suspicion to finally make mention of the year when Happy Valley will become a bit less jovial.

Recruiting is the dirtiest part of college football -- and many other college sports -- and it has developed a quirky and, frankly, incredibly scary subculture of its own.

On message boards across the Internet, grown men and women idly speculate about high school boys making
one of the biggest decisions of their lives.

And if things don't work out in favor of the man or woman behind the keyboard, some of them are likely to rip on the kid. They'll call him dumb, a head-case, a trouble-maker, a malcontent, a bad seed or, sometimes, much worse.

And the kids are reading. They know what people are saying.

Not that they need something else to worry about. They're already dealing with coaches preaching their program's virtues ... and attempting to tarnish the virtues, morals, and qualities of their rivals.

Then comes national signing day. The college football fans of America wake up to a Christmas spread like they've never seen, presents piled atop each other, all wrapped in glorious and bright colors.

So many turn out to be empty.

Of the players listed on PrepStar's top 100 list in 1997, only seven went on to become first-round draft picks.

The top quarterback that year? Randy Fasani.

The top running back? Levron Williams.

Wide receiver? Steve Shipp.

Who? Who? and Who?

In the "athlete" category, LaVar Arrington (we all know him) was ranked No. 1, followed by Rod Perry, who went from USC to a school that didn't have football to Penn State, and is now playing baseball in the Philadelphia Phillies system.

So, in the end, all the rankings and ratings and "star" categories end up meaning very little.

Which brings us back to Paterno. How much does his statement about retirement really mean?

He's been telling recruits that he'll stay until at least 2006 because that will span the majority of their careers. He's also said that when he does leave, he'll name one of his staff to take over.

Former Nebraska head football coach Tom Osborne, who's now a politician, once made a promise to his assistant coach, Frank Solich, that he would give up the program in a set amount of years. And the final year ended, and Nebraska had its third National Championship in four seasons.

"I had made a promise that I would quit at a certain time," Osborne told The Daily Collegian this fall. "And the time came that you either keep the promise or you don't. It was a promise that I had made many years ago and we were in a good up turn. In a sense, being forced to make the decision then gave me no option."

Loosely translated, that means: "Who woulda thunk we'd get so good? Darn near would have done anything I could to stick around with those kids, but I promised Frank."

One wonders if Paterno will do the same. Will he tell assistant head coach Fran Ganter that the team is his after 2006? Will he really leave in 2006?

The fact is, Paterno will retire the minute he feels the urge to, no sooner and no later.

The 2006 date is nice because it makes a lot of sense for recruiting.

The man who has won more games than any Div. I football coach ever walks into your living room and says, "Hey, kid, I'm going to coach four more years. You'll be the last class ever to play all four years for me. We'll go out together."

Could you turn him down?

The better question might be: Could you really believe him?