It’s the classic American love story.

Boy meets girl.

Boy is immature and full of himself. Girl is addicted to heroin, crack cocaine and alcohol.

They date, then drift apart.

Girl embraces sobriety. Boy is still immature and full of himself, but he’s working on it.

They meet again. They break up.

Girl survives Stage 2 breast cancer. Boy has two kids from another relationship.

They get married.

She moves into his Tempe home and immediately starts to redecorate. He doesn’t complain.

"There’s no question God brought us together," says Francheska Figueroa-Murphy, wife of Arizona State baseball coach Pat Murphy. "We’re perfect for each other."

• • •

Here’s one way to grow up: Meet and marry a woman whose life makes your worries insignificant.

Pat Murphy hasn’t become Mr. Rogers. He’s still loud and funny and profane and obstinate, and there are times when his mouth gets ahead of his brain.

But the edge is gone. Murphy no longer screams and curses at reporters for something they wrote. He isn’t at war with athletic director Lisa Love. He doesn’t stay up at night, anguishing over every loss.

It took him 50 years, but he’s finally learned how to enjoy life — and be happy with himself.

"I’ve gotten rid of all the dark stuff," Murphy said. "I’m at peace. I’ve never had my stomach feel so congruent with the universe, if I can be metaphysical."

Murphy’s evolution — if you can call it that — didn’t happen overnight. Becoming a single parent to his son, Kai, who will turn 9 in August, forced him to become more responsible. But he was still wound tight, still hell-bent on proving himself.

Any mention of his failure to win a national title would prompt a long, angry rant about how college baseball had changed, and how Jim Brock and Bobby Winkles didn’t have to deal with as much parity in the game, and how every year he loses his best recruits to Major League teams, and on and on and on.

You didn’t have to push Murphy’s buttons. You just had to get your finger anywhere near them.

Then he and Francheska got together again.

• • •

Murphy and Francheska first met in 1994. There was an immediate attraction, but neither person was ready for an honest relationship.

Francheska was smoking crack, abusing alcohol and shooting a synthetic called Nubain that drug users inject as a substitute for heroin. Murphy’s demons weren’t as destructive, but he barely had enough room in his life to take care of himself, much less an addict.

Plus, Murphy’s ideal mate was a subordinate rather than a partner.

"I told him, ‘Baby, you just want me to look at you with these sappy eyes and hang on to every word you say. That’s not going to happen,’" Francheska recalled.

After two failed attempts, Francheska finally became sober in 1996. Ironically, her sobriety date, Aug. 26, is the same day as Kai’s birthday.

Murphy and Francheska renewed their relationship nearly four years ago, but there were still issues between them. Murphy didn’t listen very well. Francheska would get mad and say something she knew would antagonize Murphy and, sure enough, he’d blow up.

They eventually reconciled and learned how to deal with each other. They were married last November, and Murphy quickly discovered two truths about married life:

1. The sooner the husband learns the wife is the boss, the better off he’ll be.

2. It’s wonderful to go home at night — even after a loss — and have a wife there to talk to.

"Having someone to help me and share with me and be a friend and be a pain in the butt all in one has really changed me," Murphy said. "I always knew you couldn’t put yourself first, but I never knew how to slow down. I never knew how not to push. She’s helped me feel better about myself and mature into a more complete person."

Perhaps it’s because Murphy knows he can’t yell at Francheska the way he does his coaches and players. The second he begins to go off, she’ll say, "Baby, don’t talk to me that way. I won’t tolerate that."

Or perhaps it’s because Francheska doesn’t know a thing about baseball, so when the two sit down to talk after a long day, Murphy can get away from his obsession. Before Francheska moved in, players came and went at Murphy’s house at all hours of the day. It was more a playground and man cave than a home.

Players are still welcome these days, Francheska said, "but we invite them over. And they knock."

As it turns out, having a life outside baseball has made Murphy a better coach.

"I think it’s helped me relate to people better in general," Murphy said. "I’ve always been known as such a hard-ass, but people that really know me know it’s not that way at all. I just didn’t know how to show it."

Or maybe it’s coming home at night and seeing Francheska and Kai lying in bed, watching TV together.

"This girl is the love of my life," Murphy said. "I just wished this would have happened 20 years ago."