The Gospel According to Belichick
Long before he got famous for helping Bill & Ted ace their history project, Socrates once said “The unexamined life is not worth living.” And ever since, great thinkers have endeavored to find Truth and Meaning in this life. From Socrates’ disciples Plato and Aristotle, to Immanuel Kant and Rene Descartes, to Tom Cruise and Madonna, brilliant minds throughout the ages have labored to discover one overriding philosophy which will bring sense and order to the universe.
Aesthetics, Moral Relativism, Dualism, Metaphysics, Existentialism, Pragmatism… are only a few of the philosophies I once had to memorize once for a college class but could tell you nothing about today. Those names might all come in handy when you’re trying to sound smart in an article for a smutty sports paper, but they’ve been rendered meaningless to me. Because after a lifetime of soul searching and introspection, I’ve finally found my universal truth. My path to enlightenment. The one great discipline I live my life by.
I am a devout Belichickian.
A lot of people claim to espouse Belichick’s beliefs. They show up on Sundays to pay homage to him and mouth his teachings. Three championships will do that. I’m sure some of you reading this right now are wearing “WWBBD?” wristbands and listening to Bon Jovi on your iPods and consider yourselves to be among the faithful. But there are very few of us who have dedicated ourselves to living our lives by the gospel as he has taught us.
And it’s not always easy. When The Hooded One has his arms around his dad as they get drenched in Gatorade, or he’s riding the back of a duck boat with an armload of Lombardis, it’s easy to stand among the masses and say “I believe in you, my coach! You are the savior of our franchise! You are the light and have shown us the way!”
Lately, though, it’s not been so easy. We’ve now gone four full NFL seasons without a parade. Other coaches have emerged to be worshiped and glorified. Quarterbacks other than Tom Brady have been held up as idols. Belichick has been slandered, libeled, called words you never heard in the Bible. He’s been the target of everything from media smear campaigns to inquiries by the NFL commissioner to investigations by Senate committees. And as a result, there have been non-believers who have questioned whether the coach as we know him even exists. Who have suggest he didn’t create the dynasty, it began in the Big Bang of the best QB ever coming out of the 6th round of the draft. In other words, it was all just a great celestial accident.
In fairness, it used to be easier to believe in him. In the ancient days of 2001 it seemed like he was always performing miracles. He routinely revealed his genius to us, Brady being the obvious one. But there were of course others. The way he raised a guy like Bryan Cox back from the dead. Took the water of anonymous NFL players and turned them into the wine that was Joe Andruzzi and Anthony Pleasant. The way he took a non-descript backup like Mike Vrabel and turned him into enough loaves and fishes to feed three championships to the multitudes. The game plan that shut down the Rams’ Greatest Show on Turf in Super Bowl XXXVI was enough to convert even the most hardened Belichick doubter into a believer.
And while I haven’t joined the ranks of the Belichick skeptics, I understand how these Thomases could start doubting. Really I do. Belichick works in mysterious ways. He does things are hard to comprehend. Things that can test your faith. The way even the most religious person can start questioning his beliefs in the face of war, famine, natural disaster, or the Kathy Bates nude scene in “About Schmidt.” And this year, more than any other, Belichick has done things that have shaken our faith to the core.
The first was the Vrabel trade, which no of us could have seen coming. It came out of nowhere like a bolt of lightning and struck down the guy who (besides Brady) personified Belichick’s miracle working. Then he proceeded to spend the whole offseason practically ignoring a linebacking corps that looked woefully thin last year. He made no attempt to get high profile LBs like Julius Peppers or Jason Taylor. He did pick up Derrick Burgess, which was a nice addition. But even after Tedy Bruschi retired, he appeared comfortable going into a championship run with Jerod Mayo and a bunch of undrafted nobodies, and it was hard not to question his wisdom. Then came the most mysterious way of all: the Richard Seymour trade.
I think it’s fair to say the initial reaction of everyone was shock. We were pulling into the driveway of the 2009 season only to come around the corner and see a big, smoldering hole in the ground where our All Pro defensive end used to be. And even taking into account that the high draft pick we’ll get in return will give us a bigger, newer and better addition in his place, that won’t be until 2011. So we’ll be looking at this crater on the right side of the line for another two years. When the one you worship can strike so cruelly and without warning like that… well it’s enough to shake anyone’s faith.
But not mine. I refuse to forsake my coach. Life has been too good for too long for me to stop counting the blessings he has bestowed upon us now. The Boston media and a handful of fans has been leading the charge against him like Edward G. Robinson at the foot of Mt. Sinai trying to get us to blaspheme, but I’m not taking the bait. I’ll gladly stand on a rock shouting “Remember Lawyer Milloy? Remember how he let him go a week before the season began (ironically enough against Buffalo)? How you doubted his wisdom then as Milloy went to the Bills and they beat us 31-0? And what happened after that? The Hooded One delivered unto us the next two Super Bowls! Oh, ye of little faith, do not abandon him now!!!”
I will concede though that not all his inexplicable moves work out as well as that one did. There’s not always a Rodney Harrison standing by waiting to make everything right again. The same Nature that gave us sunshine, oak trees and rainbows gave also gave us scorpions, fire ants and flesh eating bacteria. And sometimes Belichick misses as well. For every Corey Dillon or Randy Moss, there’s been a Monty Beidsel and Chad Brown, who were disasters of tsunami proportions. Occasionally the game plans don’t work, as was the case when Miami caught us unaware with the Wildcat Offense last year or in the Super Bowl That Shall Not Be Named. But I accept those things as The Hood’s will. Things I cannot control. Acts of Bill. I have given myself over to his higher power and I’m not about to start cherry picking which of parts of the word of Belichick I will believe or won’t believe.
And unlike the casual Belichickian, who only follow his teachings on Sunday, for me they’ve come to touch every part of my life. The people I care about know my priorities are: Belichick, country, family. His word guides me in all things. When a co-workers asks for a little help, I say “Just. Do. Your. Job.” When my in-laws try to get me involved in something that I know is going to lead to one of their trademark passive-aggressive petty family squabbles, I just shrug my shoulders and say “It is what it is.” When my Sweet Irish Rose wants me to open up about something that’s bugging me, I say “I’ll either be OK or I won’t. I’ll check my feelings and report on them at the appropriate time. Our kids know they’re being evaluated at all times. That I’m scouting their homework and report cards, studying the family videos and that if they’re not doing what’s required of them, they’ll be gone and I’ll replace them with kids that do. But at the same time if they give me their best, I’ll stand up on their graduation day, choke back tears and say “He’s been the perfect Thornton. The perfect Thornton.”
So like I said, it’s been a tumultuous offseason. And a difficult time for loyal adherents to the Belichickian philosophy to stay on the straight and narrow. But those of us who have chosen the monk-like path of discipline and self-denial that comes from true devotion to his way will have our faith rewarded. Not now, but in the life that comes after this one. In the post season. Amen.