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Northwestern basketball coach Doug Collins and Northwestern football coach Pat Fitzgerald.
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Northwestern basketball coach Doug Collins and Northwestern football coach Pat Fitzgerald.
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They sat practically arm in arm in April at the Under Armour store on Michigan Avenue, trading compliments and barbs.

“I’m better-looking,” Chris Collins said.

“Do you know where the weight room is?” Pat Fitzgerald shot back with a grin.

Northwestern extended the contracts of both coaches well into the next decade, but a thought crossed my mind: If you could keep only one, which would it be?

Fast forward to the moment I received an email with this request from an editor: Collaborate on a list of the state’s best Division I college coaches of all time.

Ray Meyer immediately came to mind. And Bill Self. Mike Small. Kelly Amonte Hiller. Gary Barnett. And Northwestern’s clean-cut combo of Fitz and Basketball Fitz.

Or as a friend of mine partial to hoops puts it, Collins and Football Collins.

So which coach would I rank higher?

I’ve posed this to a number of NU fans and alumni, and their instinctive reaction is Fitzgerald.

After all, he was thrust into the head coaching role at 31 after the sudden death of friend and mentor Randy Walker. He grew into the job quickly, falling just shy (a Jeremy Maclin punt return in the Alamo Bowl) of 10 wins in his third season. And, hey, this year’s team took down seven straight Big Ten foes en route to a 9-3 record.

Humble in victory and gracious in defeat, Fitzgerald never embarrasses fans by belittling injured Wildcats, swinging a ballcap at an official or, ahem, flying to Penn State to try to poach players. He’s quick-witted in front of a microphone, ranting about the silly “star system” in recruiting and the supposed need for his players to take a catnap before late afternoon games. And his players kill it in the classroom, posting the No. 1 Academic Progress Rate among FBS schools in the latest data — 995 out of 1,000 points.

“He is what Northwestern is all about,” said none other than Collins.

OK, but if you wanted to build a case against him, you’d point out that Fitzgerald, the coach, has never won a Big Ten title. Predecessors Barnett and Walker did. All of his teams have essentially exited the Big Ten race before November. He’s 2-5 in bowl games.

Now let’s look at Collins, who differs from Fitzgerald in favorite baseball team (the Cubs), music (hip-hop) and postgame demeanor (emotional).

Collins achieved what some pretty accomplished coaches before him (Tex Winter, Bill Foster, Kevin O’Neill, Bill Carmody) could not — earning a spot in the NCAA tournament bracket.

And my stance has always been that it’s way harder at Northwestern to thrive in hoops than football.

“But you only need two guys …” friends shoot back.

Yeah, but high school basketball players are more fully formed than their football counterparts. In football a two-star recruit can transform himself into an All-Big Ten player. Just ask Sherrick McManis. Or J.J. Watt. Or Fitzgerald, who got stiff-armed by childhood favorite Notre Dame but emerged as the national defensive player of the year at Northwestern. Twice.

In basketball it’s rare that players ranked outside the top 150 can help flip a program. Northwestern can generally get about 30 to 40 of them into school, and those 30 to 40 will be recruited by Duke, Stanford, Vanderbilt, Notre Dame, Michigan.

You know, schools that routinely go to the NCAA tournament, send players to the NBA and have modern (or in Duke’s case, charming) facilities.

What could Collins sell when he recruited the class containing Vic Law, Scottie Lindsey and Bryant McIntosh? None of that.

On the flip side, Collins has gotten Northwestern into postseason play once in four years. And his talented crew is off to a rough start this season.

Also consider this: In hoops, going 10-8 in Big Ten play gets you confetti and a ticket to the Dance. In football, going 5-4 in Big Ten games gets you groans and a spot in a Dec. 27 bowl game. (Unless you’re Michigan. But I digress.)

So back to the original question: Which one would I rank higher?

Check out our list. My colleague Shannon Ryan and our editors handled that one.

Webster defines cop-out as “the act or an instance of copping out.”

Guilty as charged.

tgreenstein@chicagotribune.com

Twitter @TeddyGreenstein