Before the opening kickoff, Ross approached Jim Harbaugh on Stanford’s sidelines. Carl Peterson joined the conversation between the two Michigan alumni who were meeting for the first time: Harbaugh had starred at quarterback for the Wolverines in the 1980s; Ross had graduated in 1962, and Michigan named its business school after him in 2004, following his $100 million donation. Enamored with Harbaugh, Ross secretly arranged for a Thursday get-together in California to discuss the Dolphins’ head-coaching job. Then Ross watched Stanford triumph over the Hokies, 40–12, as Luck tossed four touchdowns, giving the Cardinals their first bowl victory in fourteen years.
The next day, January 4, the San Francisco 49ers promoted their personnel executive Trent Baalke to GM. A former scout with Parcells’s Jets, Baalke had been the team’s de facto GM since Scot McCloughan resigned in March for personal reasons. But before making things official, San Francisco’s CEO and president Jed York wanted to consult Bill Parcells, who was still technically a Dolphins employee. The youngest team president in the NFL, York, twenty-nine, felt open to second-guessing if he named a rookie GM to a team that hadn’t made the playoffs since 2002. The position included the authority to pick the head coach replacing Mike Singletary, who’d been fired after his team seemed to underachieve.
Jed York, the 49ers’ chief since 2008, operated in the shadow of his uncle Eddie DeBartolo, who had owned the 49ers during their five Super Bowls victories by Bill Walsh and George Seifert. The son of former 49ers co-owners John York and Denise DeBartolo York, Jed believed that Parcells’s gravitas would help reassure San Francisco’s fan base that he was making the right choice, so during a national radio interview in late December, York disclosed his intention to speak to Parcells about Baalke and the league in general.
Baalke had obtained his first scouting job in 1998 after being hired by Jets personnel director Dick Haley, who assigned him to the Upper Midwest and the Pacific Northwest. During Baalke’s three years with Gang Green, he impressed Parcells with an ability to find players who fit the team’s personnel philosophy, especially regarding the 3-4 defense. After Parcells left the Jets in 2001, Baalke joined the Redskins, staying with them for four seasons. San Francisco hired him in 2005 as a regional scout; and by 2010 he had ascended to vice president of player personnel, second in command to the GM.
On December 28, Baalke visited Parcells in Jupiter ahead of a formal interview with York. Within a few days, the former Dolphins chief also spoke to York, confirming the owner’s conviction about San Francisco’s GM. After Baalke secured the job, he quietly tried to lure his first choice for head coach: Bill Parcells. York and Baalke emphasized that although the club had missed the playoffs for eight straight seasons, it contained a talented roster. The 49ers saw Parcells, even at sixy-nine and having been away from the sideline since the 2006 season, as someone who would lead the franchise to the playoffs for least a couple seasons while sharing Baalke’s vision. But citing his age and the team’s distance from his home base, Parcells put an end to any serious discussions. The 49ers turned their attention to the Stanford head coach on so many wish lists.
Meanwhile, Jeff Ireland obliged Stephen Ross’s request to accompany him to Northern California for their own secret interview to land a head coach. On Wednesday night, Ross and Ireland boarded the owner’s private jet for the scheduled meeting with Harbaugh. The trip consigned Sparano and his staff to a public limbo, as reports emerged by Thursday afternoon that Ross intended to make Harbaugh the NFL’s highest-paid coach, with a $7 million salary.
Although the session between the two parties stretched for five hours, it concluded without an agreement. On a late-night flight to Miami, Ross dialed Sparano to convey that his job remained safe despite the widespread reports, but Miami’s head coach had turned off his cell phone and gone to sleep. When Sparano woke up early Friday morning, January 7, he powered it on and saw about thirty text messages, mostly from Dolphins players, pleased about his survival.
Within hours Jim Harbaugh accepted a five-year, $25 million offer from the San Francisco 49ers, which made Stephen Ross realize he’d been used for leverage. The Dolphins’ missteps generated derision around the league. Bill Parcells, enraged by Jeff Ireland’s participation in undermining Tony Sparano, cut off communication with the GM. Given the need for damage control, the team called a press conference for Saturday, January 8, headed by Stephen Ross, Jeff Ireland, and Tony Sparano. The Dolphins announced a two-year extension for Sparano at more than $3 million annually. Lengthening Sparano’s contract through 2013 after just having sought his replacement marked Ross’s first major football decision as majority owner. Stephen Ross began the thirty-five-minute press conference by reading a statement that lasted eighteen minutes, chronicling the week’s events. Sitting at the end of a conference table, addressing dozens of reporters, Ross conceded botching the head-coaching situation and blamed his inexperience as an NFL owner.
The owner, GM, and head coach all expressed renewed faith in one another during a press conference that seemed to be part counseling session. Like Ross, Ireland admitted error in the lack of communication with Sparano; however, the GM and head coach almost never looked at each other. Their body language and stony faces belied their conciliatory words. Ross did most of the talking, sometimes smiling and laughing in the tense atmosphere. The Dolphins, whose offense finished ranked thirtieth in points allowed, also announced a mutual parting with Dan Henning, as Ross vowed to deliver an “exciting offense, a more aggressive offense, creative.”
The Q&A reinforced Miami’s image as a laughingstock around the NFL only a few months after Parcells’s departure. The circus act created a schism between the coaching staff and the front office, sowing dysfunction. Sparano’s wife reportedly asked that her skybox be moved so that she could maintain a distance from Ireland’s spouse. The tension was only exacerbated while Miami lost its first seven games of 2011, as Henne continued to struggle. With ten straight setbacks dating to the previous season, Sparano’s dismissal seemed inevitable, regardless of his contract extension.
Miami prevented further embarrassment with a 31–3 victory against Todd Haley’s Chiefs at Arrowhead Stadium. Then Sparano’s team went on a three-game winning streak, and took four of five. Nonetheless, the Dolphins fired him after a December 11 loss versus Philadelphia. With three games left, Todd Bowles stepped in as interim head coach, wining two as Miami finished 6-10.
During his brief tenure, Bill Parcells had bolstered the Dolphins with young talent, especially on defense, but unlike his stints in New England and Dallas, he’d struck out in trying to find a franchise quarterback. The main reason was Miami’s lack of enthusiasm in 2008 for either Matt Ryan or Joe Flacco as the top overall pick. Despite Jake Long’s making the Pro Bowl for the third consecutive season, Parcells increasingly generated criticism for passing on Ryan, and the South Florida media to which he had given the silent treatment generally skewered his tenure. Ryan was now one of the league’s best young passers, although he notoriously struggled in the postseason, and Joe Flacco looked promising, having started every game since entering the NFL. He would guide Baltimore to the 2013 Super Bowl, earning the game’s MVP award before parlaying his talents into the richest contract in NFL history at $120 million.
As part of the fallout involving Tony Sparano, Jeff Ireland and Bill Parcells were no longer on speaking terms, underscoring the triumvirate’s shortcomings after two and a half years together. Bill Parcells felt disappointment about his rare failure to elevate a franchise to new heights.
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Bill Parcells had proved Hall of Fame voters correct in 2003 by joining the Cowboys only one year after another unsuccessful bid for induction. Following his departure from Dallas in 2007 at age sixty-five, he regained eligibility. However, the Hall of Fame maintained its concern about coaches returning to the sidelines after essentially taking a long sabbatical. Joe Gibbs, who had rejoined the Redskins in 2004, was the most prominent example, but other top coaches, such as Dick Ver
meil, were increasingly returning after some years off. Noting the trend, the Hall of Fame in 2008 amended its bylaws, requiring a five-year waiting period for coaches, matching that of players, instead of instant eligibility. Suddenly, the soonest that Bill Parcells could gain induction was 2012, when he would turn seventy-one. The development upset Parcells, who complained to close friends about the possibility of dying before getting into Canton.
Parcells said at the time, “A lot guys who were in my corner, they’re gone, the Will McDonoughs of this world. So I’m not going to get the same kind of support I used to have. That’s the way it is. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
However, the timing of the Hall’s decision seemed to turn fortuitous when Curtis Martin’s second year of eligibility meshed with Parcells’s first under the new rules. The Big Tuna and Boy Wonder, among seventeen contenders for the class of 2012, fantasized about being enshrined together. Martin had missed the final cut from ten to five in 2011, but he seemed bound for Canton, given his career total of the fourth-most rushing yards in NFL history. If he did get inducted, Boy Wonder wanted Parcells to be his presenter.
With coaching apparently in Parcells’s rearview mirror, his own candidacy for the Hall seemed equally strong: he was a two-time Super Bowl champion who’d also guided New England to the title game and Gang Green to the AFC Championship. By reaching the postseason twice during his Cowboys tenure, Parcells became the only NFL coach to take four different teams to the playoffs. He had also won four of five in the postseason versus Bill Walsh and Joe Gibbs. But perhaps the best argument for his candidacy went beyond milestones or statistics: the modern history of the NFL couldn’t be written without Bill Parcells as a central character.
During the 1980s, Parcells had used Lawrence Taylor in a way that had revolutionized the game—as an outside linebacker in the 3-4 defense, rushing the quarterback instead of playing a conventional role in pass coverage. The scheme forced offenses to revamp pass protection, increased the value of the left tackle, and popularized the 3-4 defense. By 2012 Parcells’s disciples had captured five of the past ten Super Bowls, and just one day after the Hall was to vote, Bill Belichick’s Patriots faced Tom Coughlin’s Giants in the Super Bowl.
Detractors, though, pointed to Parcells’s solid yet unspectacular record of 172-130-1, and considered his achievements in New York and New England to be exaggerated by an East Coast bias. Other head coaches with two Lombardi Trophies, like Tom Flores, Jimmy Johnson, and George Seifert, had failed to reach the Hall.
One of the irritating arguments to Bill Parcells involved his mediocre record without Bill Belichick. Perhaps Big Bill’s most impressive season had occurred in 2003, sans Belichick, guiding Dallas to the playoffs with Quincy Carter at quarterback and Troy Hambrick at tailback. Besides, as Parcells first learned at Army, finding top lieutenants was crucial to an organization’s success. Other celebrated NFL head coaches had produced lesser records without specific coordinators, too.
“I thought it was the head coach’s job to hire good assistants,” he says. “I thought you got credit for that. Bill Walsh got credit for that. You can also say that if some of those guys hadn’t been with Bill Walsh, maybe the 49ers wouldn’t have been as successful either. So, yeah, I probably wouldn’t have been as successful as I was without Bill Belichick. I’m not ashamed of that. How about having the vision to name him defensive coordinator? Doesn’t that count for something?” What Parcells left out was that the slippery-slope contention could also be used against Belichick, given his record in Cleveland, where he didn’t have Tom Brady. Beyond the numbers, some voters seemed bent on penalizing Parcells for his franchise-hopping and Hamlet-like resignations.
The forty-four-man selection committee met on Saturday morning, February 4, at an Indianapolis hotel ballroom to decide the class of 2012: up to five members from the modern era and two senior additions. Each finalist needed at least thirty-six votes for induction. Just before the session started, Curtis Martin and Bill Parcells talked on the telephone briefly, expressing their mutual affection and wishing each other luck.
The committee spent almost an hour debating Parcells’s candidacy, with several dissenters emphasizing what they deemed the flaws in it. The lengthy exchange concerning Parcells’s worthiness reflected the polarizing effect he had on people. By contrast, discussion on each of the other fourteen modern-era candidates took an average of roughly twelve minutes.
Parcells and Martin survived the first cut, reaching the round of ten finalists. Nevertheless, their dream scenario ended when the Big Tuna surprisingly failed to make the final five, which included Boy Wonder. Each member of the quintet then received the mandatory 80 percent of the vote to join the class of 2012: Boy Wonder, center Dermontti Dawson, defensive end Chris Doleman, defensive tackle Cortez Kennedy, and offensive tackle Willie Roaf. The modern-era inductees were joined by cornerback Jack Butler, who qualified as a senior candidate.
On hearing the news, Curtis Martin instantly thought about two people: his mother, Rochella Dixon, and his father figure, Bill Parcells. Martin explains his reaction: “There’s God and there’s Parcells as far as the impact they’ve had in my career.” The new Hall of Fame runner considered the moment bittersweet: Martin told reporters he would have relinquished his place in the class of 2012 to guarantee Parcells’s inclusion.
On Saturday night Parcells dialed Martin to congratulate him. “I read what you said about giving up your selection this year for me, and I want you to know that if the position was reversed, I would want the same for you.” Parcells planned to visit Canton in August as Martin’s presenter. After his third attempt at football immortality, he was incensed about failing to join Boy Wonder as an inductee. Within hours of the snub, however, he received a balm through a litany of phone calls from disciples like Sean Payton, who emphasized Parcells’s stature as a de facto Hall of Famer.
Several excellent candidates also missed the final cut, including former wide receivers Tim Brown, Cris Carter, and Andre Reed. Carter, who had produced some of the best-ever statistics by a wideout, fell short for the fifth time. The development prompted widespread indignation from NFL fans and pundits. However, Parcells’s snub gained the most attention, especially with his coaching career almost certainly over. Regardless of supposed flaws in his candidacy, Parcells seemed more worthy than many enshrined coaches, such as George Allen, Bud Grant, and Marv Levy. The omission generated scrutiny of the Hall’s voters and selection process. On February 10, the website for The Atlantic, the cultural and literary magazine, published an article headlined, “How Did Parcells Not Make the Pro Football Hall of Fame?” The piece, by Allen Barra, an author and writer for the Wall Street Journal who focused on sports, echoed some common criticism of the Hall’s selection process: its secrecy, the relatively small number of voters—some with terms befitting the Supreme Court—and their qualifications.
The forty-four-member board of selectors contained only sports journalists; no coaches or players, past or present, were represented. Neither individual ballots nor voting totals were released, and debates among the voters essentially remained secret. Yet because a finalist needed 80 percent approval, a strong candidate like Parcells could be denied entry by only nine dissenters. Critics often noted that, by contrast, the Baseball Hall of Fame used more than 570 voters, preventing a small bloc from wielding unusual power.
“It’s an oligarchy,” Allen Barra wrote. “It might be time to expand the voting body to introduce some real democracy to Pro Football’s Hall of Fame process in the form of four or five hundred writers, historians, and former coaches and players.”
On August 4 in Canton, Parcells sat behind Curtis Martin on a stage at Fawcett Stadium for inductions. Before Martin’s turn, the audience watched a video clip of his first NFL game: New England’s 1995 preseason opener against Detroit, when Parcells called seven consecutive run plays to teach Boy Wonder a lesson about conditioning. As Parcells smiled at the memory, the audience applauded Martin�
�s indefatigability. Then, wearing a yellow tie to match Hall of Fame attire, Parcells unveiled Boy Wonder’s bronze bust before retaking his seat.
Martin set aside his prepared text and gave a stirring speech, describing the contours of his life and his improbable path to NFL greatness. The twenty-eight-minute address included Parcells’s key role in dispensing lessons about football and life, and details of the abuse Rochella Dixon had endured from her husband. Sitting in the audience at Fawcett Stadium, his mother used a tissue to wipe away her tears.
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Sean Payton’s heart was racing almost as rapidly as his mind on the morning of March 21, 2012. The Saints head coach remained in shock while driving to Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, moments after learning the NFL’s verdict for Bountygate. Since 2009, his defensive coordinator Gregg Williams had institutionalized the payments of bonuses, or bounties, for potentially injurious tackles during games. Because the surreptitious program, involving at least twenty-two defensive players, violated league policies and had occurred under Sean Payton’s watch, the NFL had banned him for the entire 2012 season.
Having expected a suspension of only perhaps a handful of games, Payton reeled from the harshest penalty ever handed to a head coach in the league’s ninety-two-year history. It included a loss of almost $6 million from his $7 million salary. At this unimaginable low point, Payton, who hadn’t missed a football season since his Pop Warner days, could think of only one person to consult. Five minutes after getting the shattering news, he dialed Bill Parcells.
Speaking via cell phone from his winter home in Jupiter, Parcells calmed his former Cowboys lieutenant. During the brief conversation Parcells revisited an old lesson: collect as much information as possible before making any important decisions. Heeding Parcells’s advice, Payton canceled his imminent flight to Dallas, where his wife and kids lived for most of the year, and drove from the airport to Saints headquarters. Over the next several hours, Payton carefully assessed the consequences involving management and his staff. Executive VP and GM Mickey Loomis would miss eight games, and linebackers coach Joe Vitt six. Also, key defensive players like linebacker Jonathan Vilma faced suspensions.
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