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Last year, Belichick coached the Pro Bowl. As you guessed he took it too seriously. On Friday — a day normally reserved for a short practice and lots of beach time, Belichick gathered everyone together.
“I didn’t come all the way out here to get embarrassed,” he barked at the best players in professional football. Then, he had them practice their substitutions as if they were junior high kids. He yelled “punt team” and had the punt team run on the field. Field-goal team. Second-team offense. Faster. Again.
That insanity already tells you a lot about Belichick. But that’s not the story. No, the story comes from the game itself and involves Chiefs tight end Tony Gonzalez. As you know there are no role players in the Pro Bowl. It’s a game of stars. That means some stars have to do some grunt work. Every year, coaches put Gonzalez — now a nine-time Pro Bowler — on the kickoff return team.
“I don’t know why they keep doing that,” Gonzalez says.
Nobody knows, but one of the byproducts is that Gonzalez’s family and friends get to laugh hysterically. It is one of the highlights of their Hawaii trip, watching Gonzalez look helpless and try his best to avoid contact on the kickoff team. Hey, come on, the Pro Bowl is a reward. Everybody says so. Nobody goes there to get hurt blocking on kickoffs.
So, first kickoff, Gonzalez stood back, the kick flew over his head, and he sort of looked for someone to block. Someone ran around him and tackled the return man. Business as usual. Only there was Belichick. He did not look at Gonzalez. He stared grimly at the field — you know that Belichick look. He did not even seem aware of Gonzalez’s existence.
Then, as Tony ran by, Belichick said this: “Why don’t you (bleeping) block somebody, Gonzalez.”
Gonzalez turned to look. Was that Bill Belichick? Was he joking? Belichick had the most disgusted look on his face. He still would not look at Gonzalez.
“It’s like I was a piece of dirt,” Gonzalez would say.
It was beyond imagination. Belichick had cursed at Tony Gonzalez, the best tight end in football, for missing a block. In a Pro Bowl game. On the kickoff return team. This would be like, what, your boss coming up to you at your Sales Person of the Year party and swearing at you because your shoes aren’t right for the occasion.
Gonzalez was mad. Hopping mad. Who in the heck did Bill Belichick think he was anyway? Gonzalez was no kid. He’d played for four different coaches. He knew how they acted. But still … the gall of this guy. Didn’t he have any idea how hard Gonzalez worked to get here to the Pro Bowl. For what? To get treated like that?
Gonzalez stewed, grumbled, kept looking over at that coach. Next kickoff, Gonzalez went out there, and he was still enraged. He didn’t need this. The ball was kicked over his head, and Gonzalez saw the defender coming hard, and … you bet. Gonzalez clocked him. Took him out.
Then, Gonzalez was sure to walk by Belichick. Yeah, what do you have to say now, Mr. Genius? Again Belichick did not even look Gonzalez’s way. Stared straight at the field. That’s right. Tony walked, and Belichick did not say a word. And then, with Gonzalez almost out of range, Belichick barely whispered: “Nice block.”
“How did you feel when he said that?” I asked Gonzalez. He looked sheepish. He’s almost 32 years old. He will soon own every meaningful tight-end record there is. He should have long ago stopped worrying much about what coaches thought of him, especially other teams’ coaches.
“I felt really good,” he admitted.
“So you’re saying that seven words from Bill Belichick got you to block hard on the kickoff unit at the Pro Bowl?” I asked.
Sometimes you get to the heart of something without even trying. Gonzalez smiled and summed up the story that may explain why Bill Belichick is the best around.
“Hey,” Gonzalez said. “I’m coachable.”
