Indianapolis ? Herm Edwards would never let work come between him and Tony Dungy.

Not last season, when the weary Jets coach put football on hold temporarily to attend the funeral of his best friend’s son in Tampa, Fla., and certainly not this week when the two coaches meet again in a wild-card game.

Their bond is just too strong.

“I feel like he’s my big brother, and I never had a big brother,” said Edwards, now Kansas City Chiefs coach. “He’s helped me a lot in my life, taught me to look at things a little differently with my faith and helped me become a better man.”

In the cruel, stressful, competitive and sometimes disloyal environment of the NFL, Dungy and Edwards offer a refreshingly different perspective on life as head coaches.

The two old pals still call each other routinely to discuss family matters, trade old war stories or offer advice. And yes, while the sport they revere has often kept them hundreds or thousands of miles apart, they’ve somehow managed to continually grow closer.

They follow a simple set of rules: Family comes first; friendship matters more than victories; and always support your buddies, except when their teams meet.

That’s why Saturday’s game between Kansas City (9-7) and Indianapolis (12-4) will be anything but fun for these two.

Sure, Dungy and Edwards will exchange the customary pregame pleasantries, probably embrace at game’s end and may even send their wives out for dinner. But when it’s over, one coach will go home for the offseason while the other begins preparing for his next opponent.

The stakes, and the emotions, can’t get much higher.

“They’re not fun games,” said Colts coach Dungy. “It’s always tough when we play each other because you always want your team to do well, and 99 percent of the time I want Herm’s team to do well, too.”

It’s the second time in five years Dungy and Edwards have met in the playoffs, and Dungy has jokingly called this payback time. In the 2002 playoffs, Edwards’ Jets won 41-0, handing the Colts their worst playoff loss ever in the NFL’s first postseason game between black coaches.

This time, much to Edwards’ pleasure, skin color has barely been mentioned.

“The last time we met, it was kind of a newsworthy deal,” Edwards said. “Now no one is even saying that, and that’s great. I think Tony looks at it that way, and I look at it that way.”

Instead, the focus has turned to issues Dungy and Edwards believe more appropriate: the implications of the game, the players who will be on the field and the chummy relationship between the coaches.

How close are they?

Consider that after a Monday night loss 13 months ago, Edwards did what many NFL coaches might consider unthinkable during a short week of preparation. He took Tuesday off and went to Tampa, Fla., to support his grieving friend.

“I walked out of the stadium at about 1 a.m. and my wife (Lia) and I looked at each other and said, ‘We’re going,'” Edwards said. “We had to be there. I would have walked there if I had to.”

Dungy and Edwards first met three decades ago during a college all-star game, and their personalities seemed an unlikely match. Edwards’ fiery, passionate, emotional style contrasts sharply with Dungy’s measured, stoic demeanor.

Somehow they hit it off and have remained friends for nearly 30 years. After working together briefly in Kansas City, Dungy and Edwards were reunited in 1996 at Tampa Bay, Dungy’s first head coaching job.

“We needed to change the mind-set and the thought process there, and that’s a big reason I wanted Herm,” Dungy said. “I knew he could help us do that.”

Edwards eventually relented, becoming one of Dungy’s assistants.

Soon, though, Edwards had second thoughts.

With expectations building and a stadium vote looming, the Bucs played host to Green Bay in the season opener. Brett Favre shredded the Bucs’ defense in the first half, and it didn’t take long for the sometimes outspoken Edwards to express his concerns.

“Herm came down (the sideline) and said it might not be as easy as we thought,” Dungy said, laughing.

Edwards remembers it a bit differently: “I walked down by Tony and said, ‘Why did you do this to me?'”

It was in Tampa that Dungy again showed Edwards that football embraces the human side, too.

When Lia Edwards was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, Dungy was his usual understanding and accommodating self.

“Anytime I needed to do something with her, he was very good to me,” Edwards said. “And when I had to get away so I could see my son practice or something, he’d let me do it.”

Now, the two opponents must forget about all those personal feelings for three hours Saturday.

They’ve instituted a mutually agreed silent code this week, having last talked Monday, although neither will allow the outcome to affect their relationship.

Rather, both insist, to the winner goes the cheering section.

“You really wish you could be in the other conference and play in the Super Bowl or in the AFC championship game,” Edwards said. “But we’re such good friends that we’ll be pulling for the other guy to get to the Super Bowl, whoever wins.”