Patriot Reign Read online

  PATRIOT

  REIGN

  Bill Belichick, the Coaches,

  and the Players

  Who Built a Champion

  Michael Holley

  For Marilyn Holley, who always

  finds gems in the clutter

  CONTENTS

  E-Book Extra: Bill Belichick: Snapshots and Stats

  Introduction

  1. The Art of the Game

  2. The Foxboro Triangle: The Krafts, Parcells, and Belichick

  3. Tom Brady and the Reconstruction

  4. Dissecting the Greatest Show on Turf

  5. Patriot Reign

  6. Reversal of Fortune

  7. Wait Till Last Year

  8. Rookies and Replacements

  9. Finding the Missing Pieces

  10. The Meat Market

  11. “They Hate Their Coach”

  12. Belichick Versus Parcells

  13. Patriot Reign Revisited

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  E-BOOK EXTRA

  BILL BELICHICK:

  SNAPSHOTS AND STATS

  Bill Belichick believes that his former boss, Bill Parcells, was not focused during his one trip to the Super Bowl with the Patriots in 1997. Belichick says that Parcells’ approach was “inappropriate” and that Parcells was entertaining offers from other teams.

  There was a tense behind-the-scenes drama going on between Belichick, Drew Bledsoe and, to a degree, offensive coordinator Charlie Weis. This was in 2001, when Bledsoe lost his job to Tom Brady. The quarterback blamed the coach, and the coach said the hostility was tangible. “There was discomfort in the room,” Belichick said.

  A Houston gunman, caught on the players’ floor of the Carolina Panthers hotel prior to Super Bowl XXXVIII, could have become the biggest story of Super Bowl Week. When Belichick found out about the story three days before the game, he told his team not to worry. He anticipated the story becoming a huge media distraction, but it never broke. The Houston police department says the investigation remains active and has denied access to the police report.

  Patriots owner Robert Kraft and his son, Jonathan, always knew they wanted to hire Belichick, but when it appeared that they would not be able to spring him from his contract with the New York Jets in 2000, they began to look elsewhere. Their leading candidate was never mentioned in the paper—it was Butch Davis, then coach of the University of Miami and now head coach of the Cleveland Browns.

  Late in the 2002 season, Belichick had much more important things than football on his mind. Prior to a Monday night game with Tennessee, he traveled to a small town named Monterey to visit his cousin for the last time. Jean Freeman was terminally ill—she had pancreatic cancer—and the last conversation between the cousins showed a side of Belichick that few people have ever seen.

  One of the biggest upsets in sports history, the Patriots’ Super Bowl XXXVI win over the St. Louis Rams, began to take shape five days before the game. That’s when Belichick, his top adviser (Ernie Adams) and defensive coordinator Romeo Crennel crafted a plan to deconstruct the Rams, a plan which began with the unconventional decision to pressure the running back rather than the quarterback and ended with Adam Vinatieri’s 48-yard field goal to win it.

  There is a manual that explicitly describes the Patriots’ type of player. In it, the reader is introduced to the Patriots scouting system. We learn the difference between, for example, a “Dirty Starter” and a “Make It-Plus” player. The manual was tweaked when Scott Pioli, Ernie Adams, and Belichick arrived in New England in 2000. The irony is that the description they wrote for quarterbacks—prior to the arrival of Tom Brady—fits Brady, Pioli says, “to a T.”

  In addition to expertly analyzing other teams during the week, the Patriots’ coaching staff is skilled at breaking down their own team. They hold evaluation meetings in which every player on the roster has his strengths and weaknesses analyzed in a detailed report. Some players enjoy hearing what their coaches think of them. Others, such as one tackle who was called “the ultimate coach- killer,” did not.

  Belichick held a grudge against ESPN and NFL analyst Tom Jackson for most of the 2003 season. He privately fumed over Jackson’s September comment that the Patriots “hate their coach.” Belichick waited for a legitimate Jackson apology and, when it never came, he resented the network for enabling such commentary, which he deemed irresponsible. After the Patriots win over the Panthers in Super Bowl XXXVIII, Belichick agreed to do an interview with his longtime friend, ESPN’s Chris Berman. Jackson was not part of the interview, and the two men exchanged words before it began.

  NFL Stats

  Overall Record 82-70

  Regular Season 75-69

  Postseason 7-1

  Overall with New England 45-25

  Super Bowl Titles 4 (1986, 1990, 2001, 2003)

  Conference Titles 5 (1986, 1990, 1996, 2001, 2003)

  Division Titles 9 (1975, 1978, 1986, 1989, 1990, 1996, 1998, 2001, 2003)

  YEAR

  2003

  TEAM

  New England Patriots

  G

  16

  W

  14

  L

  2

  T

  0

  Pct

  .875

  PostW

  3

  PostL

  0

  YEAR

  2002

  TEAM

  New England Patriots

  G

  16

  W

  9

  L

  7

  T

  0

  Pct

  .563

  PostW

  —

  PostL

  —

  YEAR

  2001

  TEAM

  New England Patriots

  G

  16

  W

  11

  L

  5

  T

  0

  Pct

  .688

  PostW

  3

  PostL

  0

  YEAR

  2000

  TEAM

  New England Patriots

  G

  16

  W

  5

  L

  11

  T

  0

  Pct

  .313

  PostW

  —

  PostL

  —

  YEAR

  1995

  TEAM

  Cleveland Browns

  G

  16

  W

  5

  L

  11

  T

  0

  Pct

  .313

  PostW

  —

  PostL

  —

  YEAR

  1994

  TEAM

  Cleveland Browns

  G

  16

  W

  11

  L

  5

  T

  0

  Pct

  .688

  PostW

  1

  PostL

  1

  YEAR

  1993

  TEAM

  Cleveland Browns

  G

  16

  W

  7

  L

  9

  T

  0

  Pct

  .438

  PostW

  —

  PostL

  —

  YEAR

  1992


  TEAM

  Cleveland Browns

  G

  16

  W

  7

  L

  9

  T

  0

  Pct

  .438

  PostW

  —

  PostL

  —

  YEAR

  1991

  TEAM

  Cleveland Browns

  G

  16

  W

  6

  L

  10

  T

  0

  Pct

  .375

  PostW

  —

  PostL

  —

  YEAR

  CARRER

  TEAM

  9 years

  G

  144

  W

  75

  L

  69

  T

  0

  Pct

  .521

  PostW

  7

  PostL

  1

  INTRODUCTION

  Two years ago I sat in Bill Belichick’s office and talked with him about an idea I had for a book. I told the head coach of the New England Patriots that I was interested in examining several aspects of NFL culture through the eyes of his organization. It would be a book that would give readers an access pass to places from which they are usually forbidden. They would be able to see candid glimpses of a team, from ownership to coaching to playing. They would sit in meeting rooms, watch games from the coaches’ box, learn about scouting, and ultimately better understand the cerebral man who is often called the best coach in the National Football League.

  Belichick listened to the proposal and rubbed his forehead. Not wanting to hear his answer then, I kept talking.

  I was a general sports columnist for the Boston Globe at the time, so I wanted to assure him that such a project would require a one-year leave from the paper. It would be impossible for me to immerse myself in the NFL for most of the day and continue to write a column in the remaining hours. The coach needed to be convinced, for example, that his private conversations with head trainer Jim Whalen would not wind up as part of my sports discussions in print or on the air. I told him that I wouldn’t do any media work while the Patriots were in season.

  After I finished my pitch, Belichick sat in the chair, with his right foot touching the floor and his left heel on the edge of the seat. He was quiet for what seemed like five minutes.

  “I’ll have to talk with Robert about it,” he said finally, referring to team owner Robert Kraft. “But it sounds good to me.”

  It wasn’t exactly what I had expected to hear; I was sure he was going to say “No, thanks.”

  Belichick talked with Kraft, and I was given permission to shadow the team. What followed was one of the most educational, entertaining, and humbling years of my life. I was able to sit in corners and observe the think tank that is football operations in Foxboro, Massachusetts. I quickly noticed that under Belichick the Patriots have one of the most unusual workplaces in America. It is difficult to find the office slacker who turns instant messaging into a full-time job. Belichick has surrounded himself with smart, competent people who are encouraged to be original thinkers—so original that if their analyses are different from those of the boss, they are encouraged to disagree with him. Belichick has no problem listening to any counterargument—provided that it can be supported with some type of evidence.

  As I sat in those corners, trying to blend in and take notes at the same time, I kept waiting for someone to ask me to leave that out of the book. There was usually an explicit description in a meeting, and a few times there were energetic exchanges between coaches. But the tap on the shoulder never came from anyone in the organization. I was sure it was going to come in January 2003, when an agitated Belichick began talking about his defensive backs in a player evaluation meeting. He had expected more out of a unit that included Lawyer Milloy, Tebucky Jones, and Victor Green. He saw their performance one way—not good—and defensive backs coach Eric Mangini was on the other side of the argument. With voices raised, they both defended their positions. Mangini insisted that Green was one of the best playmakers on the team, and Belichick said he was too slow. They went back and forth until Belichick asked Josh McDaniels, who was a coaching assistant at the time, to go to the computer system. He wanted McDaniels to retrieve some plays “from the Buffalo game.”

  “Which Buffalo game, Coach?” McDaniels asked.

  “Either one,” Belichick said. “There’s enough bad shit to look at in either game.”

  The exchange between Belichick and Mangini lasted for about ten minutes. And then it was over. There is very little carryover in Foxboro. You say what needs to be said, and then you move on. I had become accustomed to the intense football operations culture, and it had become accustomed to me. That was obvious when Belichick introduced a new quarterbacks coach, John Hufnagel, to the staff in 2003.

  “John, you’ve met everyone here, right?” Belichick said.

  “Yes,” Hufnagel replied. “Everyone but the gentleman in the corner.”

  He was talking about me. After my presence caused some early awkward moments, I had become part of the wallpaper. “Oh, him?” a couple of the coaches laughed. “That’s just Michael.”

  After the Patriots finished the 2002 season with a 9–7 record, a few players and coaches were almost apologetic about what would become of the book. They knew that the story of a nonplay-off team, one season removed from winning Super Bowl XXXVI, wouldn’t excite many publishers. I told them that I was going to continue to work on it, and that everything could be salvaged if the Patriots could find a way to win Super Bowl XXXVIII. Even though it wasn’t part of the initial plan, Belichick never cut off my access as the 2002 season became the 2003 season. Every once in a while he would ask, “How’s the book?” and I would answer with a sigh.

  That changed in October 2003, when the Patriots won their first of fifteen consecutive games. Indeed, they capped the season with a win over the Carolina Panthers in Super Bowl XXXVIII. “Well,” Belichick said then. “I don’t have to ask you about the book now. It looks like you have it.”

  Boston, 2004

  CHAPTER 1

  THE ART OF THE GAME

  Bill Belichick has moments that few people see or imagine, moments when he is no longer the premier strategist of his profession. These are the times when he could be the guy in the next cubicle, any other father, husband, or son. These breaks from brilliance make him a stronger coach. They remind him that briefly stepping away from his football vision can actually allow him to see more of it.

  There are times when the diagrammed plays on the erasable board in his office are for an audience of two—his sons, Stephen and Brian. There are times when the brainteasers he attempts to solve are provided by members of his family, not by other coaches. “Do you know what ‘discrete’ means?” he said one day after a conversation with Brian. His younger son—who attends Brookline’s Dexter School, John F. Kennedy’s alma mater—was studying vocabulary words. “Discrete” was one of them. “It’s not the same as ‘discreet,’ ” Belichick said. “Brian’s class is going over words that have similar sounds with different meanings. That’s a good one.”

  There was the time he tried to put on one of his favorite sweaters and could barely get it over his shoulders. Laundry mistake. He called his wife, Debby, to talk about it. He heard a lot of laughter coming from the phone. “It’s not funny,” he said with a smirk, even though he knew it was.

  What most surprises people who don’t know him is how much he enjoys a good laugh, usually when he’s away from work and sometimes when he’s at it. He earned a reputation for giving bland descriptions during his press conferences, where his personality is the sacrifice to protecting the goods. Press conferences are part of his game plans— he prepares for them at least fifteen to twenty minutes per day—so he is espe
cially conscious of saying or implying anything that will give an opponent an edge. By the time he walks into his morning briefings with the New England media, he has already broken them down. He has predicted the incendiary topics of the day, sketched an outline of how he will respond to those topics, and offered suggestions to his players on how they should respond too. He has mastered an indifferent look during these conferences, yet when they are over he can easily recall details about late-arriving reporters, opinion-makers he hasn’t seen in a while, and questioners he didn’t recognize. When his conversation is no longer on the record, it’s as if some hidden masseuse has suddenly relieved him of tension points.