Lincoln Riley happily has gone from life in a fishbowl to life in an aquarium

LOS ANGELES – God has a funny way of fulfilling your dreams. He’ll make you the coach at Oklahoma at age 33. He’ll put you in position to prove you’re among the top in your game at an age when most guys are waiting for a break. He’ll provide a path to wealth and comforts you never imagined.

And just as you settle into that new life, He’ll deliver a size 12 cleat right to the groin.

“That’s exactly what it feels like. The pain of that, vs. making sure we appreciate the things we do have,” Lincoln Riley said. “We’ve all heard it many times, but you truly never know.”

Yeah, he’s persona non Sooner, but if you think about it, Riley’s sharp career turn is not all that different from how his entire coaching career has progressed. He has made up his own rules all along.

One year as a walk-on quarterback at Texas Tech, followed by three years as a student coach.

Offensive coordinator at East Carolina at age 26.

Coach at Oklahoma at 33.

Bombshell-dropper at 38.

Riley hopped from one blue-blood program to another, quite different one. Oklahoma plays football; USC performs football. That’s what happens in Los Angeles. A Trojans coach who can’t make his peace with that will not succeed. You buy a $17.2 million house, you attract attention. Riley is an introvert by nature. But the move from living in a goldfish bowl in Norman to the aquarium of Los Angeles has made him more comfortable, not less. There are bigger stars.

The new Trojans coach is painting a picture of watching Super Bowl LVI from Rams owner Stan Kroenke’s box. “That was probably the most L.A. thing I did,” Riley said. “We were the odd people out. There were a lot of people that everybody in the world knows that were in that box. Then there was me and Caitlin.”

Lincoln Riley of Muleshoe, Texas, and Caitlin Riley of Dimmitt, Texas, hung with the swells. They gave each other that can-you-believe-this look several times during the game. Riley chatted up Wayne Gretzky. Kenny Chesney asked for a selfie.

“He came to me, ‘I don’t want to bug you,’ ” Riley said. “I’m like, ‘Dude, number one, you’re Kenny Chesney. You’re not bugging me. Trust me.’ We had a great time. Talked a lot of college football. It was fun. Had to talk about his Vols, of course. But it was fun.”

And just to prove he is fully a southern Californian, Riley couldn’t wait to explain how they beat the postgame traffic.

Lincoln Riley ‘a little more anonymous here’

As Riley directs his first spring practice with the Trojans, he is a fish very much in water. For a guy who measures his words carefully, Riley waxes poetic about his new life.

“We’ll just casually drive down to the beach and eat lunch and walk around, just like it’s nothing,” Riley said. “The ease of being able to do things that we’ve never been able to do easily is the best way of saying it.”

Riley said he understands USC’s need to cater to the media in a competitive pro sports market. Practices are more open. Riley is more open.

“I fought myself on this, too,” Riley said. “In Norman, when I transitioned to become the head coach, (my life) changed a lot. I wasn’t used to being in that position. I was always self-conscious about it. That’s always the part of the job I’ve liked the least. A lot of times I got to where I wouldn’t go out to eat much. People were just fine. It was just, I didn’t want to be in the position of, well, I’ve got to get up from dinner to go take a picture. I didn’t want to put my kids through that, but I didn’t want to be the jerk that says ‘no,’ either. My answer there, a lot of times, was I’m just going to remove myself from it.

“You’re a little more anonymous here. I’m probably a little bit more comfortable in having been in that role. Some of it is probably me growing up, too, and not just the setting.”

Riley did a lot of growing up in five years in Norman. He’s done a lot of growing up in four months in Los Angeles.

One of the most enjoyable calls that Riley made in assembling his staff was to Mississippi State, where he plucked Dave Nichol off Mike Leach’s staff. Two decades ago, when Riley was a walk-on quarterback at Texas Tech whose talent extended only from the neck up, he decided to become a student coach. Nichol, an assistant to Leach then as well, encouraged Riley, mentored him.

“This was a dream destination for him,” Riley said. “He’s always loved it out here. Loved it. He was such a good coach.”

Nichol coached the Trojans’ wide receivers in December and half of January. He didn’t feel well. He had cancer, a virulent form, and died one week before April arrived.

Riley is sitting on the couch in his office, one foot on the floor, one leg stretched on the cushions. He is staring out the window, something he’s been doing more often than usual.

“This was going to be the first real big (job) he was at,” Riley said. “The whole sequencing of it, past what happened, the whole sequencing of it just added – man, makes it even tougher.” He groaned audibly.

Coaches plan for everything. But there aren’t a lot of 38-year-olds anywhere who have a plan for watching someone close to them wither away. Riley visited Nichol every day. It was about all he could do.

“We knew it was a tough diagnosis early, but there was a plan, like there always is,” Riley said. “But he just never could catch a break on it. You get to those certain points where you need some things to turn favorably. It really – nothing really turned favorably on it. All the decisions, all the pivotal points went against him. We knew it wasn’t positive. Nobody – nobody – thought it would have been just a couple of months.”

Riley will recover because, in the end, what choice does he have? You keep going. And you understand that a dream fulfilled guarantees you nothing.