Some find solace in songs, and others in movies. For me, and for millions of others, sports transport us away from our real problems, and insert artificial ones. Common viewers, who are distant from the camaraderie and emotion, may utter, “it’s only a game.”
Sure, it is a game. But it is so much more than that.
Sunday, January 14th, 2024 will never be forgotten by fans of the Detroit Lions for that reason. After a thirty year playoff drought, full of heartbreaking losses and historically bad seasons (see the 2008 Lions whose 0 – 16 record is the league’s all-time worst), fans rejoiced. The Lions, at home I might add, triumphed. Finally. That victory sparked tears of joy in thousands, some of whom had never witnessed a playoff success in Detroit. Call me a sentimentalist, but there are few feelings as great as watching the fortunes of a franchise turn.
I am no Lions fan, but I was pulling for them to win it all. It isn’t about allegiances. It’s about the fans. The joy in Detroit is what makes sports worth following and exactly why they mean so much to millions.
Before I could walk, my father dressed me up in a Tedy Bruschi jersey. Bruschi was a linebacker for the Patriots and a team captain in the 2000s, but his uniform was not exactly the fan-favorite. My dad has loved the Patriots since childhood, remaining loyal to the franchise despite a litany of horrendous seasons. In 1986, the Pats finally broke through; they went to the Super Bowl. Four quarters later, the Chicago Bears completed their rout, defeating my dad’s team 46 – 10. It took a decade more of 2 – 12 seasons, but in 1996, the Patriots got back – only to fall 35 – 21 to the Green Bay Packers. All of that is to say, loyalty to sports teams lasts a lifetime, and the heartbreak does not go away; it is accumulated.
In 2001, when a last-second kick by Adam Vinatieri hoisted the Patriots over the Rams 20 – 17, my father celebrated a momentous achievement: the New England Patriots were Super Bowl Champions.
I have been lucky to live through a dynasty in New England, celebrating three Super Bowl victories as a fan. But things are coming to an end in New England. Their head coach of 24 years, Bill Belichick, is leaving town, and it feels like he’s taking a piece of my childhood with him.
Belichick’s storied career is one for the ages. Born into a football family, in which his father Steve coached the Naval Academy for thirty-four years, Belichick was surrounded by the sport. His interest in the sport would never dissipate. In fact, he is now regarded as the preeminent scholar of the game. During the NFL 100 year anniversary special, a television series recognizing the league’s 100 greatest players, Belichick served as an analyst, delivering commentary on players from the 1920s to the modern era. For his work on the All-Time Team special, Belichick received an Emmy. Nonetheless, his love for the game is always on full-display, as he remained one of the few coaches in the league to emphasize special teams as an integral part of the game.
However, as the 2023 season came to a close, his New England Patriots lost 13 games, the most in his career. Accordingly, Belichick and his team of 24 seasons decided to part ways. Many analysts suspected finding another job should have proven easy for the greatest coach of all-time but, thus far, it seems Belichick will be on his couch in October for the first time in a half-century.
His struggles to find work indicate a harsh reality: football has changed, even from when I was a young kid, indicating an era is closing. Gone, or certainly diminished, are the days of power running offenses and the pocket-passing style. Evolution has its ups and downs too, though. The likes of Lamar Jackson and Josh Allen, who both ran for over 700 yards last season, are amazing to watch, and bring the game new energy. Still, new styles replace old ones, and having watched the Patriots my entire life, it feels like letting some of my youth go.
Watching the intricate defensive schemes orchestrated by Belichick, their complexity puzzling quarterbacks around the league, proved a rewarding and informative football upbringing. Sure, I am no coach. Belichick, however, took players out of games entirely, rendering the best weapons useless in big moments. Those coaches are no longer there, at least not in abundance, for the NFL is moving on from the older ways.
It’s not bad; it’s just different. Belichick’s offenses were crafty. Run first, short passes, and play-action accounted for most of New England’s gameplan. They operated with efficiency and poise, but seldom gaudy ambition. The Patriot Way, one he built and nurtured, relied on field position and strong play from lesser-known commodities. The likes of Danny Amendola, Malcolm Mitchell, David Givens, and Benjamin Watson served as important pieces to their respective Patriot offenses. The rest of their careers were solid and respectable, but in New England, they thrived. Brady is responsible for much of that, but a coach and player operate symbiotically. There is no Brady without Belichick, and vice versa.
I suppose, the point is it feels like my concept of football is being passed by a bit. And I am only in high school. Maybe it’s unimportant; it’s a sport, not a monumental life change. Still, however, the comfort of watching a hooded Belichick on the sideline has dissipated.
Jerod Mayo, a linebacker for the Patriots under Belichick, is taking over the reins. One coach is not the end-all-be-all. I hope he is great. He definitely has his work cut out for him following an abysmal 4 – 13 campaign last season. The needs of the team are voluminous: they need a Quarterback, Offensive Line, and Receivers.
Some analysts argue that moving on from Belichick was the right move; I’m not so sure. Either way, whether it is merited or not, I cannot help feeling like a window is closing.
People love sports for the escape and the community. I know I do. That does not make the heartbreak any more tolerable, however. Right now, the Patriots’ turnover represents the change in my life more broadly. Here, sports reflect the world that I inhabit. Doors are closing; new ones are opening. It feels symbolic, however, that at this specific time, during my final semester of high school, my team from childhood chooses to make a change, to leave their comfort zone, and move on from what they have known.
Sports are poetic that way.
Their head coach of twenty-four years, Bill Belichick, is leaving town, and it feels like he’s taking a piece of my childhood with him.