PHOENIX, Ariz. — Nick Saban is the man who scowls when his team dares celebrate a championship by dumping Gatorade on his head.

He can no more dance than he can speak Mandarin. When the College Football Playoff pairings were announced, his team wasn’t so much gathered at the football facility, instead resting before getting to work later in the day.

Dabo Swinney the one who dances like a wild man after wins and throws giant pizza parties. He sometimes sounds like a teenager at an all-night slumber party who suddenly felt a tinge of sleepiness and then downed three Red Bulls and a Mountain Dew.

The Grinch vs. The Class President. That’s the narrative that sometimes gets attached to these men.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise to know that depiction isn’t 100 percent accurate.

When Saban is out of earshot of the media, quarterback Jake Coker said, he’s a “social butterfly” who flitters between players busting their chops and chatting with everyone he can.

When it’s time to prepare for a game, Swinney throws out the pizza boxes, dons a hard hat and commands focused effort.

Those closest to both men insisted Saturday that the two are more alike than different.

“I’m too blessed to be stressed. This is such a joy and a privilege coaching football at a place like Clemson,” Swinney said from the main podium of the Phoenix Convention Center’s Hall 4.

It may as well have been a pulpit. Both men have a tendency to sound like preachers when they get going on a point.

“I’ve got a great group of young men. We’re in Arizona playing for a national title. I love what I do and always have. I don’t try to hide that,” he said.

Asked about his two-word label that starts with hard and concludes with another name for a donkey, Saban simultaneously insisted he’s long since given up trying to own the media’s narrative depiction of him — and then proceeded to issue a long correction.

“There’s a lot of things that we do that people choose not to emphasize because it would not reinforce the image that people have tried to create for who I am,” Saban said.

“Our players have a tremendous amount of fun with our program. I think we try to teach our players what it takes to be successful and sometimes that’s not all fun and games. I think Clemson does the same thing. I just think there’s a little different image out there in terms of how they do it. I think if you ask our players, they enjoy themselves. They like what they do. They have fun.”

Fun. Two decades ago, there was no stigma attached to that word, especially in conjunction with football. But that was before the game turned into a billion-dollar business.

Now, players get excoriated for smiling on the sideline during losing efforts. Dab all you want in the locker room after the game, but if you dare celebrate a conference championship or making the playoff field, it’s proof that you’re letting your hair down too much. That you’re not focused on the task at hand. That you’re enjoying what should be a business trip a little too much.

Asked to cite his favorite moment since arriving in Arizona — just one day after Clemson’s plane landed — Swinney bought himself time with some verbal emptiness. Then he settled on a mental snapshot of his team’s huge shirtless bodies in a hotel pool Friday night. He laughed, shook his head and said it resembled a Roman bath.

Part of the irony? These are not soldiers, but kids in their late teens and early 20s playing a game.

But you have fun, someone later asked him, with a mock incredulity.

“Well is that against the rules? That question right there is what’s wrong with society. I mean, it’s like, a big deal if somebody enjoys what they do. Like we’re supposed to be miserable going through this. I don’t understand that.

“There’s no rule that says you can’t have fun. When you’re passionate about what you do, that’s because you love it. When you put your heart into something, you go above and beyond to be great at it. Maybe there’s a lot of people out there doing things they’re not passionate about. Or maybe their heart isn’t in it so they’re not having fun. But that isn’t the case here.”

For his part, Saban seemed particularly relaxed Saturday morning. And why not? He’d overcome last year’s stumble in the national semifinals with a team that seems as laser-focused, balanced and talented as any he’s groomed in Tuscaloosa.

When Saban gets riled up — the word among media types is that most times it’s intentional and it’s done with a pre-determined agenda in mind — he often punctuates this sentences with a somewhat agitated, rhetorical “aiight?” That turn of phrase rarely showed itself Saturday, but it did rear its head — mostly when he was discussing the no-fun narrative he insisted that he’s long since let go.

“I think it’s because of me, alright, because I’m serious. People make it out to be that way. But I’m not really that way around the players. Or my family. Or anybody else.”

Let’s get this straight: there’s pressure on both sides. Alabama’s fan base perceives each season as championship or bust. Despite a seven-year track record as good as almost every program in the country, Clemson can’t officially claim to have arrived without a title. Neither side wants to lose.

But perhaps, behind closed doors, if given truth serum, players on both teams would admit that they — along with their head coaches — already have had fun this season just by making it here.