Parcells

by Bill Parcells

  While capturing two Super Bowls in the past four years, San Francisco had opened those triumphant postseasons with victories over Big Blue, spurring a cross-coast rivalry between franchises whose leaders took diametrically different approaches. The Giants head coach espoused physical, run-oriented football, and conducted grueling practices with players wearing pads regardless of heat and humidity. Conversely, San Francisco’s relatively laid-back commander used a creative, pass-crazy offense, and oversaw minimal-contact practices where players wore shorts while focusing on the precisely timed routes essential to his scheme.

  During the week leading up to December 29, reporters peppered Parcells with questions about Walsh’s unconventional system, so brilliantly quarterbacked by Joe Montana. Unloading the ball quickly, using only three- to five-step drops to avoid sacks, the superstar didn’t rely on additional blockers, instead using the full complement of five receivers. In general, NFL offenses established the run to set up the pass. But Walsh had turned tradition on its head with a ball-control offense that emphasized throws to set up the run. The counterintuitive approach controlled the clock with short completions that acted like long handoffs.

  In 1971, Bill Walsh had been promoted to quarterbacks coach for the Cincinnati Bengals under the legendary Paul Brown. New starter Virgil Carter was a sharp passer with mobility but he lacked a strong arm for deep throws. So Walsh designed a novel system that relied on quick, short throws while spreading the ball across the width of the field. In the tailor-made offense, Carter led the league in accuracy (62.2 percent) and was third overall in passing, though Cincinnati finished 4-10. In his first three seasons, the Brigham Young product had completed only 49.7 percent of his throws.

  Walsh took over the two-win 49ers in 1979, and he implemented his system after drafting Montana. The third-round pick lacked a powerful arm, yet showed a masterful touch on medium-range passes while expertly reading coverages. Despite being one of the league’s worst running teams, San Francisco won its first Super Bowl in 1982 by controlling the clock with the pass. The 49ers captured another Super Bowl in 1985, though with a terrific running attack behind Wendell Tyler and Roger Craig.

  Parcells respected Walsh for turning the 49ers from chumps into champions, a task that the Giants leader hoped to emulate in New York. Since first reading The Coaches in the early 1970s, he knew that far more than one style, or system, could be used to bring success. But Parcells, who had learned to prize repetition and execution over complexity and superfluousness, grew fed up with the attention being lavished on the “genius” and his system. The taskmaster viewed Walsh’s imitators as wannabes who mistook complexity for smarts.

  On a nippy afternoon at Giants Stadium, Parcells’s team jumped ahead 10–0 as San Francisco repeatedly failed to exploit drives into Big Blue territory. The 49ers cut into the deficit with a field goal in the second quarter, but in the third period, Simms extended the lead on a scoring pass to tight end Don Hasselbeck. It would be the last touchdown catch by the father of future NFL quarterbacks Matt and Tim. Joe Morris, showcasing the benefits of the traditional approach to offense, rushed for 141 yards. And the Giants kept Walsh’s 49ers from scoring a touchdown for the first time ever, smothering Montana with four sacks. The 17–3 outcome gave Parcells’s team its first postseason victory over the 49ers, snapping a five-game skid against them.

  In the Giants locker room, Parcells beamed as reporters swarmed for his postgame Q&A. Even before the back-and-forth began, he sneered, “What do you think of that West Coast Offense now?”

  The moniker would stick to Walsh’s system forever. San Francisco’s coach was annoyed, since his design had nothing to do with the West Coast. He would insist that the name be changed to “Walsh Offense” or “Cincinnati Offense,” to distinguish it from other offenses that had originated in the geographic area. Nonetheless, Walsh’s protestations were to no avail.

  Big Blue’s next game, against Mike Ditka’s Chicago Bears in the Windy City, would feature the league’s top two defenses. The Giants were still heavy underdogs, given that Chicago also had a potent offense led by superstar runner Walter Payton that had helped the club to one of the best records in NFL history at 15-1.

  Early on, the game at Soldier Field seemed headed for a tight, defensive struggle as Big Blue’s defensive unit served up punishing hits to match the haymakers of coordinator Buddy Ryan’s group. But any chance for an upset evaporated midway through the first quarter of a scoreless game, when Sean Landeta attempted a punt from New York’s end zone. Exhaling little white clouds in the eighteen-degree weather, Landeta lowered the ball with his right hand, but when he swung his kicking foot the pigskin only grazed his instep, skipping a few yards to his right. Recognizing the blunder, he spun around to search for the ball, but Chicago’s Shaun Gayle scooped it up and sprinted five yards for a touchdown.

  Landeta thought to himself, “This is unreal. How could this happen?” When he trotted forlornly to the sideline, Parcells didn’t reveal any displeasure. As if discussing a harmless play in practice, the head coach calmly asked his pudgy punter how the gaffe had occurred. Landeta claimed that the sixteen-mile-per-hour wind had swept the ball away to one side. Although the punt would live in NFL infamy, Parcells said nothing further, turning to face the field, and exhorting his defense.

  Landeta punted eight more times without incident, but the Giants proved to be overmatched in a 21–0 loss. In a game of bone-crunching hits, Morris was knocked unconscious by lineman Richard Dent’s tackle, while being held to only 32 yards on 12 carries; Simms was sacked 6 times by a bullying, blitz-crazy defense that made it seem as if more than eleven Bears were on the field. Buddy Ryan’s unit lived up to its reputation as New York’s offense went 0 for 14 on third and fourth downs. Conversely, Chicago’s offensive line didn’t allow a sack against a unit that had led the NFL in that department.

  The Bears went on to shut out the Los Angeles Rams before routing New England in Super Bowl XX. That year Chicago was considered one of the best teams the league had ever seen. But being derailed by history didn’t ease Parcells’s pain.

  • • •

  Giants coaches graded their players after each season by meticulously analyzing every play via game film. For 1985, Taylor ranked third among his team’s defensive players, and eighth on the roster. He was still splendid enough to be named an All-Pro, just as he had every year since his rookie season, and the fifth-year veteran was widely regarded as perhaps the best linebacker ever. However, this was the first time Taylor graded out as anything less than the team’s top performer in the assessment by Parcells’s staff.

  Coming off the shutout loss to Chicago, Parcells implored Taylor to seek professional help for his drug abuse, and made arrangements to protect the linebacker’s privacy. In February 1986, Taylor entered a rehab facility at Houston Methodist Hospital, where Parcells discreetly checked in on him. When unsubstantiated reports surfaced that the linebacker was undergoing treatment for cocaine and alcohol abuse, Taylor confirmed his situation in a statement read to reporters by Tom Powers, the Giants’ promotions director.

  Then Taylor bolted the clinic.

  The linebacker had decided that he could overcome addiction on his own, using the formidable willpower that helped him dominate football opponents. Taylor played golf religiously, barnstorming courses around the country. “My therapy, not recommended for anyone else, was mainly to enjoy myself as much as I could,” he says. “The golf course was my detox tank. I got free of the pressure cooker that was New York for a while.”

  Taylor seemed to be drug-free when the Giants tested him weekly during the season. And for the first time since 1983, the linebacker performed as if he was in total control of his incomparable abilities. He rushed the passer on 70 percent of defensive snaps, regularly battering and bruising quarterbacks. Big Blue won five of its first six games, playing with a swagger epitomized by Taylor. Parcells’s 3-4 defense was being dubbed the “Big Blue Wrecking Crew,” as Taylor, Carl Banks,
Harry Carson, and Gary Reasons, who was talented enough to start as a rookie in 1984, formed the best quartet of linebackers in recent memory. The defense also featured a powerful front line, with Leonard Marshall and George Martin sandwiching nose tackle Jim Burt.

  During the fast start, Parcells felt that his team was missing something important: Phil McConkey’s sure-handedness and fearlessness on punt and kickoff returns. The Giants had made the difficult decision to release McConkey late in training camp because of the availability of younger, faster, taller wideouts. The Packers then claimed the thirty-year-old off waivers, which allows the team with the worst record first dibs on available players. Now a serious knee injury to Lionel Manuel, the team’s top wideout, spurred Big Blue to search for a receiver. After the first four games, Parcells persuaded Green Bay to give up McConkey by offering a pick in the draft’s twelfth and final round.

  Then Parcells telephoned McConkey. “Those Packers sure drive a hard bargain, Phil.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I had to throw in a couple of clipboards and a blocking dummy to get you back.”

  Despite the familiar skewering, McConkey was thrilled about returning to the Giants.

  “Bill, the grass is greener my ass.”

  When McConkey rejoined the team for his first practice, Parcells insisted that the receiver put that quote on the locker-room chalkboard. The remark wouldn’t be erased for the rest of the season.

  Lawrence Taylor barely spoke to Phil Simms during their first few years together on the Giants. The linebacker bought into the perception that the oft-injured quarterback lacked toughness and had a sense of entitlement. “I didn’t really want to talk to him,” Taylor recalls. “As I saw it, he was one of those guys you see on TV that drink tea with their pinky up.” The chilliness between the two extended into the 1985 season, with Simms jealous of Taylor’s relationship with the head coach. Parcells often rode Simms to a boiling point that occasionally prompted him to lash back, raising eyebrows among teammates fearful to ever try. Simms believed that the linebacker’s star power shielded him from Parcells’s vitriol, but Parcells dismisses his ex-quarterback’s take, saying of Taylor, “I coached him just as hard as any other player. Maybe more, because my expectations for him were out of sight. I was on his ass. I was also caring.”

  The headstrong tendencies of both coach and linebacker led to conflicts that occasionally turned physical. One practice session extended into the early evening because of Parcells’s dissatisfaction with his defense’s execution. As the unit focused on pass rushing, Taylor failed to follow instructions on technique with enough precision to satisfy the head coach. When Parcells became exasperated enough to get in Taylor’s face and upbraid him, the linebacker stepped closer, brushing up against Parcells while complaining about his unreasonable demands. Further angered by Taylor’s reaction, Parcells nudged his rebellious linebacker.

  “You sonofabitch, I’m tired of you.”

  Taylor stepped forward, returning the push.

  Realizing that the argument was getting out of hand, several players stepped in to separate the combatants. Linebacker Carl Banks grabbed Parcells. “Come on, Bill. You know he’s your boy.”

  Another player, doing the same with Taylor, implored, “Come on, L.T., you know he’s your daddy.”

  Regardless of such clashes, Taylor always stood immediately to Parcells’s left during the national anthem on game day. The linebacker maintained the ritual even when the two men weren’t speaking. It was so ingrained that Taylor sometimes scrambled to find Parcells and position himself in time for the national anthem. “That was his way of telling me: ‘Hey, I’m with you now,’ ” Parcells recalls. “And I always loved that about him, because whether it was one o’clock Sunday or nine o’clock Monday, he was there. And in that moment all of that other stuff wasn’t important. We could get back to fighting and arguing after the game.”

  The Giants had won three more consecutive games entering a November 16 contest at the Metrodome versus the Minnesota Vikings. But Big Blue’s 8-2 record couldn’t mask the struggles of Simms and his wide-receiving corps, hampered by injuries to Lionel Manuel and Stacy Robinson. “We got to a point,” Simms says, “where we were awful. We couldn’t complete passes. We couldn’t get it down the field at all.”

  Simms heard boos from fans and read criticism from sportswriters who felt that the team lacked a championship quarterback. His terrific seasons in 1984 and 1985 failed to provide cover. Parcells noticed that without his top wideouts Simms was being uncharacteristically tentative in his throws. During the week of practice, Parcells avoided even the mildest criticism of his quarterback. Instead, several days before New York traveled to Minnesota, Parcells approached the eight-year veteran and advised Simms to ignore the catcalls and negative headlines.

  “I think you’re a great quarterback, and you got that way by being daring and fearless. So let’s go.”

  On Sunday, heading out of the locker room before kickoff, Parcells reiterated, “Take some chances. I don’t care if you throw four interceptions. Just keep throwing it down there.”

  For much of the game Simms did just that, but with only 72 seconds left the Giants were down 20–19, and he faced a daunting situation at midfield: fourth-and-17. Before breaking the huddle, Simms turned to Bobby Johnson, whose assignment was to line up on the right perimeter. “Bobby, be alert. I might have to come to you late.”

  On the snap, nose tackle Mike Stensrud breached the line as Johnson sprinted to the first-down marker near Minnesota’s bench. Simms scanned to his left and didn’t see any possibilities for a long completion. So the quarterback looked right, targeting Johnson near the sideline. As Stensrud wrapped his right arm around Simms’s waist, the quarterback sidearmed a fearless spiral before being flung down.

  Johnson slowed down at a hole in the defense and turned around to spot the pigskin just as four Vikings led by safety John Harris closed in. The wideout pulled in Simms’s pinpoint throw before being pushed out of bounds, gaining an improbable first down at Minnesota’s 30-yard line. Picking himself up off the ground, Simms pumped his fists, while Parcells paced the sideline and spoke into his headset as if the completion had gone according to plan. Moments later, Raul Allegre booted a 33-yard field goal for a thrilling victory that kept the Giants atop the NFC East with the formidable Washington Redskins. Simms had thrown for a season-high 310 yards, while completing 25 of 38, none more significant than his final, defining pass.

  “From that time on,” Lawrence Taylor recalls, “I felt that if we’re going to win a championship, it’s going to be behind the arm of Phil Simms. He became my man right there.”

  New York’s fourth straight victory improved its record to 9-2. Just as important, Simms’s clutch throw, and Johnson’s reception, seemed to infuse the franchise with a sense of destiny. Repeatedly winning close games through élan and grit, Parcells’s team began to sense a magical season.

  The next challenge came at home versus Denver; led by superstar quarterback John Elway and a formidable defense, the 9-2 Broncos topped the AFC West. With a minute left in the first half at Giants Stadium, Denver was ahead 6–3 and threatening to score from New York’s 13-yard line. As Elway threw a swing pass to runner Sammy Winder, left defensive end George Martin elevated himself as if he were still a basketball forward grabbing in an alley-oop for the Oregon Ducks. Martin tipped the ball with his outstretched right hand, then corralled it with both arms and sprinted along the long sideline, enthralling the crowd of 75,116. A couple of yards behind, Taylor kept pace as Martin’s personal bodyguard while John Elway raced across the field, homing in for a tackle.

  Taylor recalls, “I didn’t think the old man was going to get all the way downfield, so I said, ‘Hey, hey, hey, flip it over here.’ ”

  The oldest Giants player at age thirty-four, Martin froze Elway by feigning the lateral, but a few yards later the ultra-athletic quarterback caught up with Martin at Denver’s 45. Elway grabbed
Martin’s left shoulder to bring him down. But Martin used his free right arm to shove Elway to the sideline. Martin and Taylor found themselves side by side, an ideal opportunity for the linebacker to take possession from his exhausted teammate.

  Taylor yelled, “I’m right here. Give it to me.”

  Martin started to lateral, but saw offensive lineman Billy Bryan converging on Taylor. Gasping for air, Martin held on to the ball while Taylor refocused on blocking. Denver’s last hope for a stop belonged to Sammy Winder, sprinting ahead of Martin to try forcing him out of bounds. But hustling cornerback Mark Collins dove into Winder, and as both players tumbled, Martin hurdled over them for a clear path to the end zone.

  The defensive end’s dramatic run concluded only when Taylor caught him in a headlock to celebrate his teammate’s 78-yard return for a touchdown. Even when they hit the ground, Martin clutched the ball, refusing to give it up. The seventh touchdown of Martin’s NFL career was the most ever by a defensive lineman. Although the remarkable sequence took 17 seconds, it seemed to unfold in slow motion. “One of the greatest plays,” Parcells says, “I’ve ever seen in football.”

  Behind Elway’s passing and scrambling in the second half, Denver tied the game at 16. But with less than a minute left, Phil Simms repeated his late-game heroics with a 46-yard pass to a leaping Phil McConkey. The connection set up a 34-yard field goal from Allegre, and the Giants triumphed 19–16 for their fourth straight victory by a field goal or less. No NFL team since 1940 had sustained such a nail-biting stretch.

  Given such dramatic flourishes, the next game seemed almost routine, despite New York’s being down 17–0 to San Francisco at halftime. Still, the Monday Night Football contest at Candlestick Park featured another memorable singular effort, this time by tight end Mark Bavaro. Despite a standout career at Notre Dame, Bavaro wasn’t rated highly by most NFL teams when he entered the 1985 draft, but because the Giants predominantly ran the ball off tackle toward the outside, they needed a capable blocker at tight end to back up Zeke Mowatt. Ranking Bavaro as the best blocking tight end, Big Blue chose him in the fourth round as the one hundredth overall selection. One of Parcells’s scouts, Jerry Angelo, the future Bears GM, told Parcells: “You’re gonna love this guy.”