Love and Marriage and Bill and Tom

Can't say one without the other

In successive weeks, the Bengals face ruined finery. The ravages of tumbling time ain’t pretty. Last week, Brady. This week, Belichick. Neither is exactly strawberries in wintertime. Together, they’re almost as old as Joe Biden.

Because it’s the NFL — motto: win or die — we cannot slow-roll this by citing the HOF achievements of each guy. What have you done for me in the last five seconds?

Answer: Not much.

The debate Tom and Bill foment never ages, though. It’s evergreen.

Who misses the other more? Whose need for the other was greater?

Who matters more, the guy who runs the show? Or the guy who runs the guy who runs the show?

The truth is boring, but it is the truth. Theirs was the best symbiotic relationship the game has ever seen.

Sym-what, Doc?

They needed each other like no other duo. Bill Walsh had Joe Montana, until he had Steve Young, albeit for just two seasons. Chuck Noll had Terry Bradshaw and arguably the best defense ever. Both dynasties would have succeeded without their QBs or coaches, though likely to a lesser extent. But Bill and Tom?

They were joined at the Lombardi Trophy.

Without Tom, Bill doesn’t have Commander Cool making the impossible possible. There is no comeback from 3-28 at halftime in the Bowl v. Atlanta. Bill does not reap the extraordinary intangible benefits of Brady’s mega-work ethic. A coach can tell his players how important preparation is. He can beseech them to come in early and stay late.

But players are a lot like children. They’re not always gonna listen to dad. They might listen to their peers, especially if one peer is Tom Brady. Brady made Belichick’s job in the locker room dramatically easier, simply by being Brady, as conscientious a player as ever lived.

And yet. . .

The Pats were never a one-player show. Belichick’s skills as a motivator were always underrated. Without Bill, there is no Patriots Way. Brady didn’t cut guys, draft guys, sign guys who fit the Way. Belichick did that.

Players who came to New England from elsewhere always said this about their experience as Patriots: The vibe was different. Different expectations, different demands, different preparation. They’ve all said the attention to detail was finer, the film work more extensive there than elsewhere.

Belichick had down to a science the coachly skill of making players feel both insecure and wanted. He was tougher on Brady than anyone else, because he knew Brady could handle it and he liked the message it sent: No one here is bigger than the team.

Yeah, the Patriots have been mediocre since Brady left, 24-23 in fact, and some of that can be laid at Belichick’s feet. He hired back Matt Patricia to coordinate his offense when Patricia was a defensive guy. That screams arrogance. Belichick has done precious little to further the career of his sophomore QB Mac Jones. The egregiously stupid lateral last weekend had the world laughing at New England’s ineptitude. That never happened when Brady was around.

Belichick will be 71 in April. Maybe he should find the sunset and ride into it.

Of course, the same is being said about Brady.

Chicken and egg. All the way.

Now, then. . .

ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE PRO BOWL is contained in this sentence from a news service story about the 2023 non-game:

“. . . AFC vs. NFC competitions featuring a new format that spotlights Flag football.’’

Um, what?

I think next summer, MLB should ditch the All Star Game in favor of celebrity Wiffleball, followed by a hot dog-eating contest for swimsuit models.

That said, making the team is still an honor, even if the votes are ridiculously split between fans, coaches and players, each group counting equally. And it makes for five minutes of cheap debate. As for the perceived Men snubs:

DJ Reader has missed six games. No one who has missed nearly half a season should make the Pro Bowl.

Tee Higgins suffers, sort of, from playing on the same team with Boyd and Chase. If the NFL ever goes to two balls in play at the same time, Higgins would be a permanent Pro Bowler. Miami’s Jaylen Waddle didn’t make it, either. His numbers are better than Tee’s.

Trey Hendrickson made it, when his numbers suggest he was better last year. Chase made it. His stats aren’t as good as Higgins’. And so it goes.

A VERY IMPORTANT PIECE in the Enquirer today, re UC’s plan for dealing with Name, Image and Likeness issues:

Greg Harrell is the in-house general manager for Altius and has previously worked with the university as well as FC Cincinnati in revenue generation and group ticket sales. UC is now one of eight schools with an in-house program.

He is focused on educating student-athletes and has had one-on-one meetings with many to find their brand interests as well as their community service interests.

The obvious focus, everywhere, is creating a “collective’’ for funding NIL needs and getting to warp speed on that ASAP. You can like this brave new world or despise it, but if you’re not on top of it, well, not much else your athletic department does will matter.

‘‘In the Big 12, those schools aren't slowing down when it comes to NIL,’’ UC athletic director John Cunningham said. “We don't have to be No. 1, but we have to be in the game."

That said. . .

Any chances schools ever had to fulfill their real missions are gone for good. In all the NIL rhetoric, scant little mention is made of why the players are at school in the first place. Hint: It’s not to “find their brand interests’’ and perform community service. It’s to go class and prepare themselves for the rest of their lives, not just their fleeting athletic careers.

What NIL says without saying it is this: The value of a college education is worthless. You don’t have to go to class, we’ll find ways to keep you eligible, because if we don’t, you’ll just go somewhere else, where they will. Loyalty is worthless, because the money spends the same everywhere. Teamwork is worthless, because if I’m pass-protecting for you and you’re making 10 times the money I’m making, I just might resent you for it.

I have no issue with jocks making money. I do wonder where all this is headed. Unregulated chaos rules at the moment. Players are getting their priorities screwed up, their senses of entitlement couldn’t be higher. Moderation has no place. Sanity just got benched. All anyone can think about is keeping up with the Sabans.

Is that what we want for college football?

The answer is simple. “Hell, yes.’’

OK, then.

AS FOR PERSONAL HYGIENE. Once or twice a week, I’m on TV as a guest of Thom Brennaman and his show, Off The Bench. I do it via Zoom from my office at home. It’s usually at about 10 AM, while I’m writing TML and have not, um, groomed.

Damn, I look scary.

This is a fact made evident to me this morning by my always-helpful wife, who took a video of my appearance on Thom’s show. OMG.

People who type for a living are rarely as conscious about their appearance as people who are on camera for a living. Making the print-to-video transition comes with its own hard truths, one of which is,

Nobody cares what you’re saying if you look like crap.

Thom I’m sure was far too nice to say, “Bathe, Doc.’’ Mix in a shave, fix your hair, don’t wear a ballcap, you’re not 12. He should have said all that.

All these years, I figured my words were good enough. That’s some Belichick-level arrogance right there.

So, question: When you’re watching sports shows or sports broadcasters, what effect does their appearance have on how you regard their words? Profound people with bad hair: Do they have a chance with you?

This is serious business. I mean, look at me.

TUNE O’ THE DAY. My son Kelly, aka The Kid Down the Hall, is home for the holidays. His music tastes are far more far-reaching than mine. I give him full credit for adopting all my good taste. I do not agree with his love for Phish. If you like this tune he selected, I’ll applaud me. If you don’t, I’ll disavow Kelly’s odd preferences.