It started with a drawing. A six-year-old kid in New Jersey sketching out football stadiums in jaw-dropping detail, down to the goalposts and exit ramps. Fast forward a few decades, and that same kid—Greg Schiano—is building something else entirely: a Big Ten football contender. In 2024, Rutgers wrapped up a 7-6 season, reached the Rate Bowl, and broke school records in total offense and third-down conversions. Not bad for a program once stuck in college football purgatory. But before the wins, the contracts, and the comeback? There were Barry Schiano and Renee Schiano.

Who are Greg Schiano’s parents?

Edward “Barry” Schiano and Renee Schiano aren’t the kind of couple you find posting vacation selfies or giving sideline interviews. They’re old-school. Barry worked 60-hour weeks in the textile factories of Paterson, New Jersey—hard labor, no shortcuts. Renee held the fort down at home, raising four kids, including Greg, and somehow still managing to give that PTA-president energy.

“They raised us on discipline, love, and meatballs,” Greg has joked before. But he wasn’t kidding about the first two. Barry coached Greg at the youth level, drilling him not just on Xs and Os but on leadership, hustle, and what it means to own your role. Renee? She was the heartbeat. Supportive but never soft. “If your players don’t want to let you down, that’s the key,” Greg once said, crediting both parents for giving him the blueprint.

The Schianos had four kids—Greg, Barry Jr., Lauren, and Daryl—and a household that ran like a locker room: structured, intense, and full of laughter. Barry passed away in April 2023 at age 81, and his impact still echoes in the way Greg runs his program today. Renee, his wife of 60 years, still lives in North Haledon and stays involved with the extended family.

They gave back the only way they knew how: through action. Barry volunteered as a coach and mentored neighborhood kids. Renee became a pillar in local schools and community efforts.

Where did Barry Schiano and Renee Schiano meet?

Barry and Renee met in their hometown of Carlstadt, New Jersey. A classic working-class enclave where everybody knew everybody—or at least someone’s cousin. Barry, the youngest of eleven kids, grew up in a cramped home where fighting for the last meatball was practically a sport. Renee was a no-nonsense Jersey girl with a sharp mind and a sharper wit. No official record of the first date, but word has it Barry was smitten from the jump.

They married young and built their life block by block, like one of those 1970s brick ranches—sturdy, and honest. Barry worked his way up the textile world while Renee built a fortress of love and discipline back home.

What ethnicity are Greg Schiano’s parents?

The Schianos wear their heritage like a badge of honor. They’re proudly Italian-American, with roots tracing back to southern Italy. Think Sunday gravy, giant family dinners, and a vibe where every cousin is either named Tony or Maria. “I was born and raised in a back bedroom in Carlstadt, the baby of 11 children,” Barry once said, his voice laced with grit and pride. “Fact one I learned from my mother and father – I’m a street guy, I have street sense.” That same street smarts and resilience became the family currency.

Greg Schiano’s relationship with his parents

To understand Greg’s coaching style, you need to understand Barry. The man didn’t just raise a coach—he coached the coach. From youth football to factory floor lessons, Barry Schiano instilled a no-excuses mentality in his son. He was the kind of dad who didn’t need to yell; one look was enough. He showed up to every game, even if the truck was barely holding together.

“He told me he wanted to coach,” Barry once recalled. “Some guys loved it. He had a passion for it.” That passion showed early. When Greg wasn’t drawing stadiums or watching NFL games with a bag of peanuts on the couch, he was peering through binoculars at the construction of Giants Stadium from the backseat. “I wanted to know everything about building a stadium,” Greg said. And he meant it—down to the bolts.

Renee was no sideline parent either. She kept Greg grounded but goal-driven. “He had this vision, and you know, he had a plan,” she once said. From play clocks to life clocks, she made sure he was always ahead of schedule. The woman ran a household like it was a playoff game—every chore had a deadline. Even when Greg flirted with law school, football was whispering in his ear. It was Renee who supported the pivot when he chose coaching instead. That’s the thing about moms like Renee: they don’t flinch, they just adapt.

When Barry passed in 2023, Greg didn’t just lose a father. He lost his first coach, his motivator, his blueprint. But the legacy? Still there—in every pregame speech, every offseason grind, every goal line stand.