Photos by LAURA MUELLER

Special to The (Norfolk) Virginian-Pilot Robert Nichols, an inmate at the Charlotte Correctional Center, a minimum security prison in North Carolina, looks over the "Game Plan for Life" brochure signed by NFL Hall of Fame coach Joe Gibbs following his presentation.

Joe Gibbs prepares one morning at the Embassy Suites Hotel in Concord for two speeches he will give that day: one to a group of about 800, mostly businessmen, and the second at the Charlotte Correctional Center.

Photos by LAURA MUELLER

Special to The (Norfolk) Virginian-Pilot Joe Gibbs says prisoners are a special audience because they listen intently to the speaker. He said he now tries to work in a prison visit as often as he can.

Joe Gibbs speaks about his book "Game Plan for Life" to a group of about 200 prisoners at the Charlotte Correctional Center in North Carolina.

CHARLOTTE, N.C. -- The man stands out even though almost everyone around him wears the same outfit: white T-shirt, dull green pants, white socks, white tennis shoes.

He sits on a grassy slope, shaded by towering oak trees on this warm spring morning. Behind him, at the top of the hill, is a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Before him is Joe Gibbs.

A microphone stands between the men.

The 69-year-old Gibbs, wearing one of the three diamond-encrusted Super Bowl rings he earned coaching the Washington Redskins, delivers a message that guides his life and, he hopes, can change others.

"Listen, I know you're struggling right now. Here's the deal: The only thing we're going to leave on this Earth worth anything is the influence we're having on others. There's a lot of people we're going to impact. The question is -- for you and [me] -- how are we impacting them?"

The tall, strong man listens intently. He is 49-year-old Robert Nichols, who is 31 years into a life sentence for murder.

Nichols is among 150 prisoners Gibbs speaks to at the Charlotte Correctional Center. Nichols nods as Gibbs discusses having a personal relationship with God. Nichols answers when Gibbs asks the audience about following Christ.

"Think about this," Gibbs says, as a breeze rustles the leaves, "God is our head coach in the game of life. You and I are the players. Does it make any sense He would put us on this Earth without a game plan? I don't think so. He wouldn't do that. Here's the game plan."

Gibbs raises his right hand, holding a leather-bound Bible.

Nichols claps.

n n n

It's 6 a.m. outside Joe Gibbs Racing when the building's namesake drives up. He carries a leather satchel that includes a Bible, crib notes for his speeches and the diabetes medicine he will take later in the morning.

It would be understandable if Gibbs was preoccupied with the mini-crisis within his NASCAR Sprint Cup team. Less than 18 hours ago, Denny Hamlin and Kyle Busch sniped at each other through the media before qualifying for the Coca-Cola 600. Gibbs arrived at Charlotte Motor Speedway that evening, standing near the two on pit road like a parent monitoring misbehaving children.

Yet, Gibbs has a bigger mission.

He uses his celebrity status as a Hall of Fame NFL coach and championship car owner to encourage people to become Christians as he did when he was 9 years old. Gibbs speaks publicly about his faith, writes books about its influence and uses it as a foundation in his race team.

For all he's accomplished, though, Gibbs claims he's just an "average guy that has been blessed to be able to do a lot of great things. But there's a lot of mistakes."

He cites a greed-driven land deal in Oklahoma that went bad 25 years ago. Gibbs wanted to provide more for his family, but he acted without following the tenets of his beliefs. Partners left Gibbs facing more than a million dollars in debt. Gibbs refused to declare bankruptcy, opting to repay what was owed. He took more than four years to do so.

He mentions his diabetes, which Gibbs says he developed because he focused too much on his job and not enough on his body. He notes all the time he missed with family while coaching the Redskins. He admits to thinking, at times, more about himself than about God.

Gibbs reveals how following God helped him overcome those obstacles and how others can take the same path to triumph over their troubles.

That's why Gibbs slides into the back seat of a Toyota Sequoia with a venti mild coffee from Starbucks, his bag and the hope he can touch many lives today.

n n n

The man once called "Mad Dog" for his temper now is known to all by his given name, Jimmy Makar. A Bible sits on his desk along with an ornament that displays Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Gibbs helped Makar see that point.

Gibbs hired Dale Jarrett to be the team's first driver. Jarrett then asked Makar, his brother-in-law, if he was interested in joining this new operation. Makar was struck by what Gibbs told him during his job interview.

"One was the way he viewed importance of things in life," Makar said. "He'll tell you that God comes first, family comes second and your job comes third. Well, in this business, most people say that this job comes first before your family and anything else. I had been through the business, coming up through the ranks and saw the lack of value that the people were on some teams."

Makar left his job as Rusty Wallace's crew chief to become one of Gibbs' first employees in 1991. He's been there ever since, rising to become the team's senior vice president of racing operations.

"I'm totally convinced Joe Gibbs came into my life to lead me to Christ," Makar said.

While Gibbs sees his influence on Makar, there are many others he's touched, including some he hears about. Two such stories are told after he speaks to about 750 people at a Charlotte-area hotel.

An older couple waits more than 40 minutes to get their copy of Gibbs' latest book, "Game Plan for Life" signed and tell him that their grandson became a Christian at age 8 after hearing Gibbs discuss his faith. The grandson, now 32 years old, is an Iraq war veteran, and recently became engaged.

Also in line is Scott Westmoreland. The 38-year-old met Gibbs in 1997 while working for a sports marketing company. Although their meeting was about a possible sponsor for Gibbs' team, the discussion turned to Gibbs' beliefs and faith.

"Here's a man living his faith and is being very successful," Westmoreland recalls thinking. "[I want to] try to imitate that in my life."

He came to the event to tell Gibbs that story and its effect.

When the line ends, the stories finished and books autographed, it is time for Gibbs to head to prison.

n n n

Hundreds of prisoners moved closer. Many stood only a few feet from Gibbs on a muddy field as a light drizzle fell at an Orlando, Fla., prison. It was two days before this year's Daytona 500.

Gibbs was there by chance. When arrangements were being made for him to talk at an Orlando church, he was asked if he'd also speak at a nearby prison -- a staging area where prisoners reported before being sent elsewhere to complete their terms.

This crowd had little hope, yet Gibbs saw something as he spoke.

"That day changed my mind about a lot of things," Gibbs said of speaking to about 700 prisoners. "There wasn't one of them that was mad or joking around. They were all dead serious looking right at you. You could tell with the eye contact. They were right there with you."

John Watson, whose prison fellowship ministry arranged Gibbs' trip to the Orlando facility, said 171 prisoners turned to Christ after hearing Gibbs speak.

One prisoner who committed to Christ was later baptized and counseled by Watson before being sent elsewhere. That prisoner instructed his family to send Watson's ministry $150 for all that he did.

Upon hearing the impact he had, Gibbs began to partner prison visits with other speaking engagements about his faith.

So, two days before the Coca-Cola 600, Gibbs is at a Charlotte-area prison giving his testimony and encouraging others to follow his path.

In the crowd is a 22-year-old man jailed for breaking and entering and having a concealed weapon. There is a 26-year-old jailed since April for a probation violation, leaving behind two children ages 2 and 5. Another 22-year-old is here for possession of a stolen vehicle. A 19-year-old former high school football player, who admits he should be playing at least small-college football, instead serves time for robbery.

"When he compared football to being a game of life, [it] made me think about the wrong choices I made in that game, the wrong plays I called in that game," said 19-year-old Kraig Graves. "Now it's time to sit back and think about the things I did wrong and try to come up with a game plan when I get out and hopefully make things right."

n n n

Five years ago, Robert Nichols wanted to die. Alone in solitary confinement, facing a life sentence for murder, he contemplated suicide.

Desperate, he asked God for a sign. He saw Christ in a dream, the image so powerful he awoke covered in sweat and ready to commit himself to following God's ways.

What Gibbs did by speaking to the Charlotte prisoners was reaffirm what Nichols hopes he can do.

"If he only touches one person's life today and changed that one person, he's done a lot for all of us," Nichols said of Gibbs. "I want to be an example as Joe Gibbs is and hopefully change someone's life in the near future."

After talking to the group and signing autographs for the prisoners, Gibbs returns to the back seat of the Sequoia, the inside baked from the ever-rising noontime temperatures. As air conditioning begins to cool the vehicle, Gibbs is told what Nichols and others say about his influence.

"It's never [just] one person because that person is going to have an impact on children, grandchildren and friends," Gibbs said. "So, when it's one person that you can help, it just multiplies."

Another trip for Gibbs ends this day, but the journey begins for those inspired by his words.