One of the hardest parts about being a parent or running a household is when you have to sell something that is somewhat hypocritical because you know it is for the greater good. Sure, I can bury my head in a cellphone for the entire afternoon, but you children with developing minds? Go outside and build a fort out of sticks. Save yourself before it’s too late.
That is essentially what we’re looking at as the Patriots nestle into the lean(er) years we all saw coming one day. Almost daily, a discussion kicks up about what Robert Kraft should do about Bill Belichick if the Patriots continue to be middling in the aftermath of the Tom Brady era (by impossible Patriot fan expectations, anyway). So far, at least publicly, he has expertly toed the line.
The nonhypocritical approach would be to hold Belichick to the standard he has held all of his players. Here’s a coach who preaches preparedness and duty, who built football’s ultimate meritocracy that starred players who would have been relegated to the fringes of other NFL rosters. Here, also, is a coach who seems to favor his friends and family. His own son went into his first positional meeting as the safeties coach telling players he didn’t know “what the f---” he was doing. As much as I tried to make sense of the Joe Judge and Matt Patricia foray into offense, it was, at best, a disaster. Had Belichick taken over the Patriots before the 2022 season, inheriting both of them, there is little chance he would have reached the conclusion they should be in charge of developing a young quarterback. He was tainted by previous connections and ties.
The hypocritical, but perhaps parentally correct approach here would be to let Belichick stay, largely unchecked, until he breaks Don Shula’s record for most wins; Shula has 347 wins, Belichick has 329. If you are Kraft, you are the parent with the cellphone. You know you are selling a bill of goods you ultimately cannot embody yourself, and, yet, it has to be the most favorable of two outcomes.
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Let’s think about this for one minute.
Imagine letting Belichick go after a mediocre year in 2023 or ’24. He becomes the head coach of the Jets or the Bills or the Browns or the Falcons or the Commanders and discovers a Frank McCourt–ian Golden Period late in life (or just continues hovering between 7–10 and 10–7). As my astute editor Mitch Goldich mentioned, there is a 110% chance the NFL finds a way to allow Belichick to break Shula’s record against the Patriots on Monday Night Football. Meanwhile, the Patriots will still be trying to find a way to untie themselves from what Belichick built. I would imagine taking over for Belichick would be a bit like inheriting professor John Nash’s office at Princeton (or Dwight’s secret mythical-creature-protected files from The Office). Most of the good information would be so obscure or specific to his unique way of thinking that it would take a Rosetta stone to sort it out. The same could be said about the specific personnel on the roster, which we have seen time and time again has a difficult time succeeding outside of New England.
This leaves out the absolute monstrous task that Belichick’s replacement—right now, either Jerod Mayo or Bill O’Brien—would have ahead of them. Every in-game tactical error would be magnified. A season sweep at the hands of the Jets would be catastrophic.
Or, you let Belichick stay until he bookends his career as the winningest coach in NFL history. Even if he, himself, is not following the Belichick way (at least how we might perceive it from the outside), he has undoubtedly earned a chance to be old and maybe a bit nepotistic and slightly less effective. As a hypocritical parent might sell it: It’s just the way things are. The Patriots have missed the playoffs four times since 2001. They have been to nine Super Bowls since ’01. If New England were a pizzeria, would we really shove a jovial, flour-crusted old chef into the river for burning a couple of pies in his 70s? Or would we allow him to enjoy the fruits of the business he built at the cost of a Yelp star?
Patriots fans have to accept some mediocrity. They have to understand what good enough really means. The first 20 years of the Belichick dynasty was for you, and the next (two? three?) Those are for him. I don’t care if he rounds up his best friends from the Annapolis High School lacrosse team and installs them as the new offensive coaching staff. I don’t care if he wants to sit, one leg folded over the other, sipping a cappuccino at a small white café table during games without a headset on. There has to be an institution left in this country that doesn’t simply shove a worker off the assembly line when they’ve lost a step. If one person in football deserves a chance to just hang around, it’s Belichick. By the way, Belichick still might be pretty damn good and win a few playoff games or even reach the Super Bowl again. He made the playoffs with Mac Jones as a rookie. He won eight games with the Dukes of Hazzard calling plays last year. He didn’t all of a sudden forget how to succeed in the NFL.
I understand that’s not really a strong argument, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s a choice between acrimony and harmony. It’s a choice between good theater and cold reality. Belichick and Kraft have been in a marriage for more than two decades now. Before them is an opportunity to end it Notebook style with the kind of enduring respect and mutual admiration we would hope still exists out there. Within that framework, there are probably a dozen or so succession scenarios that Patriots fans might actually embrace. Elevate Belichick to president? Allow him to be head coach emeritus? Who cares. Phase it out in a way that is comforting and understandable.
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Or, do what the Giants did. Remember Tom Coughlin’s final press conference, where he buzzed past owner John Mara like he was trying to hand him a religious pamphlet on the street? Remember how God-awful strange it was to see him back in Jaguars teal, barking from a press box somewhere trying to stay connected to one of his greatest purposes in life? Meanwhile, the Giants cycled through three failed head coaches in six years, sniffing the playoffs once. I would guess, if 20/20 hindsight were a possibility and they knew the place would be in the throes of average, anyway, they would have let Coughlin have a year or two back just to be Coughlin. To give a good man the chance to walk away on his own terms. To play shortstop like Derek Jeter into his 40s, even if he’s batting .256 and driving in 50 or fewer runs.
This is decidedly not how the Patriots want us to perceive them. Every owner believes themselves to be, in one way or another, the cunning and ingenious backbone behind sustained success, the executive with the winning edge and calculated business sense. Kraft can do to himself what he watched Belichick do two years ago, and have a go with part of your soul and identity missing. Or, he can realize that, in life, there are times you have to embrace the person you never wanted to become. You have to tell everyone who plays for you and pays to see the games that of course winning always matters the most. Just not right at this particular moment.
