Bill Belichick was among the last to speak Friday and I have to admit that, having used our Wesleyan lacrosse connection to get an exclusive in Foxboro before last season, my imagined intimacy with Bill has disappeared.
But as he expanded on his answer about his small coaching staff (his 12 assistants are the league's fewest, roughly half of Brad Childress' support crew) it was interesting to hear him say how much easier it was to keep everyone on the same page, to communicate with everyone, and hear him recall some of the staffs when he first started coaching, of seven or eight guys.
In fact, Belichick was eloquent about general football matters. He explained the way leadership was developed from within on a team, how new leaders arose when old ones left, and it reminded me of something crucial about the guy who remains the best coach in the NFL.
On a chat I do on
nfluk.com, one of my British colleagues was harsh about what he saw as Belichick's dismissal of the fans—and I responded that the fans prime concern is that he produce winners, and that was what he does best.
But today showed another side of Belichick. Some of the duties of a head coach he does because he has to, because they are part of the job, and he doesn't always pretend to enjoy them. He won't give up specific information, but he will sometimes talk football in general.
Then he got to listing the strong points of the Bucs, and when he kept saying the return game, I wondered if he was seeing the video of Clifton Smith getting his bell rung by Dante Wesley. But there wasn't even the hint of a smile.
Finally, it was time for Bob Kraft, who once came close to buying Liverpool soccer club, but backed out, he says, because there is no equivalent of the salary cap in the English Premier League.
He sounded like a Red Sox fan when he said he worried about being outspent by 100 million pounds by another club (although, again, in fairness, Liverpool are one of the three or four wealthy clubs that dominate the EPL). No one asked if he was willing to see that salary cap disappear in the next NFL contract battle, or which of his fellow owners might perhaps relish being put in the position to be able to outspend everyone else by $100 million.
Plus I had a very nice PR woman approach me, saying "hello Jim," and shaking my hand, holding on for dear life until I finally said "Jim who?" And she said, "oh you're not
Jim Nance." I started to say "do I look like a 250 pound fullback," when someone reminded me that she meant
Jim Nantz.
"That's even worse," I said, but by now she'd let go of my hand.