So, after the game, while walking to the routine handshake between head coaches at midfield, Belichick should have said to himself, "Take a deep breath. Mangini is my protégé. I should take pride in his success, regardless of the circumstances under which he left New England. I should be happy for him, if for no other reason than the success of my NFL progeny reflects positively on my tremendous influence. I am the patriarch of the Mangini, Crennel, Saban and Weis coaching family, so even though I'm a stubborn, selfish curmudgeon, I'll suck it up, shake Mangini's hand, smile, offer a few vapid words of wisdom and gracefully walk off the field."
Instead, Belichick reduced the encounter to a frigid "let's get this over with" handshake, as if forced to shake hands with a man who had dishonored his family. The irony is that Belichick himself is a child of the greatest NFL coaching family of all-time: the Parcells bloodline. And Belichick pulled the most notoriously dishonorable defection ever when he bolted from the Jets to the Pats after one day on the New York job. If ever someone deserved to feel the indignant wrath of his mentor, it is Belichick. But I doubt, even in the relationship's coldest moments in the late 1990s, that Parcells ever treated Belichick the way Belichick treats Mangini today. Belichick is an egomaniacal hypocrite. Then again, if he developed a capacity to swallow his pride, maybe he would lose some of his coaching genius luster. All I know is that if I were Mangini this week, I would say all the right politically correct things on TV, but in private I'd relish beating the bastard, slaying the obstinate beast.
Bearly good
I'm stil not entirely sold on the 8-1 Chicago Bears' greatness. They beat six horrible teams (Packers, Lions, Vikings, Bills, Cardinals, 49ers), one very good team without its star (Seahawks; Shaun Alexander), and one great team decimated by injuries (Giants). Not to take anything away from their Sunday night win over the Giants-the Giants are excellent, the game was nationally televised, the Bears had come under fire for losing to the lowly Dolphins, and Chicago came to play. But the interesting thing about the Bears is that they really don't win conventionally. I've never seen a team put up so many defensive and special teams points. As such, the offense gets off the hook. The Bears' Devin Hester made an absolutely brilliant play to seal Sunday's game in the fourth quarter by catching a missed field goal deep in the end zone, pretending to stroll out as if the play were over, and then taking off downfield for a 108-yard touchdown. For that play Chicago's special teams coach merits a promotion, and the Giants' special teams coach should be humiliated if not fired. But can the Bears win games conventionally; can their offense score consistently against good defenses in the playoffs? Will it have to, or can the Bears' defense continue to improbably win games?
Giant celebration reserved for those who "Fly High"
Rapper Jim Jones has created a monster. In his "We Fly High" video, he mimics a basketball jumpshot. Michael Strahan and a few of his Giants defensive lineman teammates decided to copy Jones after every sack. I have no problem with Strahan's adopting the jumpshot celebration; his skills warrant special celebratory license. I especially loved Devin Hester's celebration, mimicking Strahan and the Giants, shooting a fadeaway jump shot after his historic touchdown. But for the sake of originality, other players should leave the Jim Jones to Strahan and find a new celebration for themselves. And, most important, the Western New England College men's soccer team can't do the Jim Jones. They're not good enough or cool enough. Jim Jones would cringe.
Playing through a ruptured spleen
Monday Night Football this week featured Carolina against Tampa Bay, which reminded me: Can you imagine what it must feel like to play in a football game with a ruptured spleen? Bucs quarterback Chris Simms did on Sept. 24. Wikipedia says that the spleen performs filtration functions and controls infection. It is located behind the stomach. The average spleen measures 5x3x2 inches and weighs a third of a pound. Imagine if that organ burst open inside your abdomen and began bleeding uncontrollably. I'm not a biology expert, but I doubt I'd want to go to class, much less stand behind center in an NFL game with the hot September Tampa, Fla., sun beating down relentlessly and perhaps the scariest man alive, Panthers' defensive end Julius Peppers, promising to tear apart your body on every play.
ESPN complaint number three
I'd rather go to Williams than have to listen to ESPN's Sean Salisbury talk for one more minute. Yes, this is like the third time in a row I've devoted column space to hating on ESPN, and I'm an ESPN fan. But let's be honest, the network's self-indulgence has peaked. It is nauseating. After the Monday Night game, Sportscenter should show me what happened in the night's NBA and NHL games, and show me highlights from Sunday's full slate of NFL games. If you really think I didn't just watch MNF, give me a two-minute catch-up segment. Not 20 minutes. And definitely not with Sean Salisbury, the platitude-loving, bandwagon-jumping empty suit who ESPN claims is an NFL "analyst."
After the Monday Night game, Sportscenter takes us live to the post-game player and coach press conferences. If there's one sure thing in sports, it's that players don't say anything interesting in press conferences. They're either too stupid, or they don't want to risk saying the wrong thing. And coaches rarely say interesting things either, unless they're Bill Parcells or Bobby Knight. So spare us the press conferences and the flashy "LIVE" logo at the top of the screen. You're not CNN. Stick to what works.