There’s a lot to choose from when picking apart the problems with the Patriots. We can run down and debate the issues all day and all night, but it’s their inability to dictate the flow of a game that troubles me the most. Today, for the second straight time, they played a football game on another team’s terms. Great teams play games the way they want to play them, and they force other teams to submit to their pace. The Celtics, for example, are the masters of slowing-down or speeding-up a game at will. When Rondo feels like walking the ball, he walks it. When he feels like driving it down the court from bucket-to-bucket in two seconds, he does it, and the other team spends 48 minutes responding to what Rondo’s doing instead of crafting and executing their own plan of attack.
Throughout the course of the game today, I was troubled by the fact that it never felt like the Patriots were controlling the Giants. One could argue that Brady was never really in a rhythm, which is true -- but Manning was never in a rhythm either, so they’re even on that front. It went deeper than a contest between the QB’s. In my opinion, this was a game of team-wide body language. The Giants never looked tired or rattled, even after costly turnovers. They were smiling, communicating, having a good time, and competing hard. And every good thing that happened to them looked relatively easy to come by. The Patriots were on the ropes every minute of this game, and it just never looked like they were a serious threat, even when they eventually took the lead (twice).
After Brady’s phenomenal fourth down pass to put to the Patriots up by 3, Eli got the ball back with under two minutes left, and at that point, it was obvious that the Giants were going to win the game. In the same situation against any other team in the league, the Giants would probably lose. But in this situation against the New England Patriots, you just knew they were gonna do it. And they did.
Throughout the last decade of Game Day Sundays, whenever I saw Bill Belichick on the sidelines -- standing there, doing his thing in his monogrammed Equipment Sweatshirt -- I’d always get this funny feeling of peace and ease. It was the sense that everything was going to be ok because this guy was in control. But I’m not so sure I feel that way anymore. When the cameras cut to Bill on the sidelines, I mostly just feel uneasy now. I feel like this guy is surprised when they have the lead, and he’s not really certain of how to keep it.
Eli Manning’s display of championship poise and fevered emotion on the field should be an unbelievable wake-up call to this New England team. It’s gotten to the point where every Patriots lead feels temporary, and all we can expect is another “gotta give ‘em credit, the other team played great” speech from Bill Belichick. The truth of the matter is the other team didn’t play great, and they didn’t play great last week either. What’s happening, quite simply, is that the New England Patriots are morphing into the San Antonio Spurs; feared, respected, and unbeatable during the dynasty years, but now un-feared, respected for their history only, and completely beatable.
Tim Duncan, arguably the greatest 4 Spot of all time, has made a reputation for himself as the most emotionless person to ever play basketball. Game 1 of the regular season or Game 7 of the Finals, it doesn’t matter, you can be certain that Tim Duncan is not making a face of any kind, and he will most likely appear as if he’s reading a book before bedtime. This kind of stone-cold behavior is legendary when you’re winning four NBA Championships -- it basically makes you an assassin. But when you’re not winning four NBA Championships anymore, and you’re still not moving your face that much, the fans are going to get antsy. I think that’s what’s happening in New England. Bill Belichick’s Buster Keaton routine is starting to wear thin, and fans are wondering if anyone in this organization even realizes that they’re losing.
The Giants might not win the Super Bowl this year, they might not even get there, but it won’t be because they didn’t try hard enough. That team is loaded with emotion and honor. They wanted to win this regular season game as much as they wanted to win Super Bowl XLII. That’s the kind of pride you can’t really teach, you can only hope to lead with it by example and hope it rubs off. At every point in that game, the Giants looked stronger, more confident, and more fearless. They were intimidating. If a fight broke out on the field -- which it kinda did -- and a bookie started taking bets, there’s no one in that stadium who would’ve put their money on the home team. That Giants team looked like they were ready to eat fistfuls of raw meat and wash it down with cups of blood. That might not work against Aaron Rodgers, but it’s sure as hell working against Tom Brady.
Week after week, I see the Giants and the 49ers and the Jets and the Eagles and the Chiefs go out there and wear their emotions on their sleeves. For all the bad things you can say about Mark Sanchez -- and there are plenty -- my God, that guy loves scoring touchdowns. He’s like a kid playing catch with his dad in the backyard. His emotion, coupled with Rex’s, is contagious. The Jets are a force to be reckoned with because of the wall they build with bricks of pride and fury. The Jets are a burning fire. The 49ers are alive in every possible way. Even the questionable Cowboys never lack for the ability to scream and pound their chests. These teams love football. I don’t think Bill Belichick loves football as much as he loves winning, and he’s not winning right now. So now what?
This is an ongoing stream of football theory, concepts, critiques, and criticism by a devoted New England Patriots fan. Sometimes you'll also find Celtics and Bruins articles here as well. Thanks for stopping by. - Marc
