Win Forever

by Pete Carroll

  One time when we were talking, I asked Coach Walsh what he looked for in evaluating quarterbacks. If the entire offensive game revolved around the quarterback, what kind of player was he looking for? His answer was simple, a revelation. “All I’m looking for,” Coach answered, “is a guy who can throw a catchable ball.” He went on to talk about Joe Montana and said that what made him so special wasn’t that he had the greatest arm in the game but that he could be relied upon to throw a ball that could be caught with near-total consistency. That’s an incredibly rare thing in a player—and a totally unique insight by a coach. I still think about Coach Walsh’s “catchable ball” today when I evaluate potential quarterbacks during recruiting, draft preparation, or free agency and have never forgotten the importance of building an offense that is focused on protecting the quarterback, first and foremost.

  Coach Walsh and I also talked many times about eliminating doubt and how much easier it is to perform when you truly believe in your preparation. That led us to a discussion about preparation and practice.

  Coach Walsh was a great believer in “contingency planning.” His approach was that preparation and practice sessions should be designed so that the performer is trained for all potential outcomes and events. When you plan and train for all possible contingencies, you eliminate surprises and, in turn, eliminate a huge source of doubt that so often make us tighten up.

  Coach Walsh applied the concept of contingency planning not just to practice but to all aspects of his program, including personnel, scouting, coaching, training, travel, teaching, public relations, and nutrition. In all areas, he wanted to have a plan for everything that could possibly happen. The basis for the philosophy was simple but brilliant—have a plan for all eventual outcomes, and you’ll be prepared. To accomplish this, a coach must prepare a step-by-step approach that encompasses all possible results.

  What I learned from Coach Walsh during my time with the 49ers was that this approach can apply to all facets of your personal life, as well as your working life. There is, however, another side to this; for better or worse, once you start down this path of contingency planning, the quest to cover all bases never ends. Once I accepted this line of thinking and incorporated it into my daily life, everything changed.

  Often, when I left his office, I felt the same way I had with Coach Grant in Minnesota: privileged to pick the brain of one of the great minds in my profession. It was as though Coach Walsh let me in on his professional secrets. By the time I left the 49ers for the Patriots, I felt I really understood the reasons behind the San Francisco 49ers’ profound success. Because Coach Walsh was so open to share his insights and so generous with his time, I felt that I understood it in a way that was available to few outside—or even inside—the organization.

  The following year when I was interviewing for the head coaching job in New England, those sessions with Coach Walsh were invaluable. I had gained so many insights into what it took to run an organization, not only from Coach Walsh, but from Coach Seifert as well. I had learned that they were winners not solely because of their win/loss records but also because of their strict attention to detail, confidence in themselves, and rock solid philosophies.

  My time at the 49ers was a great experience for me. Working so closely with Coach Seifert supported the strong views on defense that I already held, and my time with both him and Coach Walsh provided me with a wealth of new insights into what it took to succeed as a head coach—in the NFL or anywhere.

  6

  GETTING CLOSER IN NEW ENGLAND

  At the end of my second season with the 49ers, George Seifert decided to step down, and I felt that it was time for me to move on as well. The head coaching position at the St. Louis Rams opened up, and I was asked to interview. The interview went well, but when they asked if I could commit to taking the job if it was offered, I wasn’t prepared to do that. I had a feeling that something else might come up, and I needed to wait and see how it might unfold. The New England Patriots’ head coaching position was open, and they pursued George first, because their owner really wanted the San Francisco system. When he couldn’t get George, I became a candidate, and I will always be grateful to George for setting that up for me.

  When I was offered the job in New England, the owner, Robert Kraft, told me, “We want it to be just like the 49ers.” That was music to my ears. Whether it was office dynamics, travel arrangements, or schematics of their offense and defense—everything the 49ers did was first-class and professional. They were consistently efficient and effective in every aspect of their team. I wanted any organization I led to have those qualities as well. After thinking about the St. Louis and New England opportunities, it became clear once again that I desired the more competitive situation. After just two years, with great fortune and backing from the 49ers, I was a head coach again in the National Football League.

  When I entered the Patriots’ facility for the first time as their head coach, I was full of optimism. I was getting the chance to build my own team based on the successful principles I had learned in San Francisco. I had been brought on to do this, and I couldn’t wait to get started. Unfortunately, it took only a couple of weeks for me to realize that the front office and I did not agree philosophically on many important fronts. They had a culture in place that was different from mine, and they were highly skeptical of embracing wholesale change. While they wanted to resemble the 49ers, they were very comfortable with certain aspects of their organization, and rightfully so, as they had been AFC champions the previous year. I was about to learn an important lesson about the difficulty of implementing change in an established organization.

  I remember calling Coach Seifert and Coach Walsh early on to tell them how the Patriot organization was resisting the way I wanted to do things. I asked their advice on what would be the most effective response from me. Coach Seifert was specifically adamant that I not change who I was or my mentality. He said clearly, “Pete, you’ve got to do it the way you know how to.” After my experience in New York, I wondered if I shouldn’t try to be more political, but the advice I got from these two mentors was uncompromising—and some of the best I ever received. If I began to try to please others by changing, I would be miserable. That support was incredibly important and helped get me through the challenging early days with the organization.

  After hearing that advice I decided to trust my instincts and compete to be the best head coach I knew how to be.

  Our roster was loaded with great competitors and incredible athletes. Outstanding players like Curtis Martin, Willie McGinest, Ted Johnson, and Drew Bledsoe, as well as unique role players like Troy Brown and Tedy Bruschi, among others, made this a championship team.

  A great young player on this team who was emerging as a leader and a true tough guy was safety Lawyer Milloy. He was fiery and loaded with classic football savvy and instincts. Early on we targeted him as a guy who could influence others—he was a player teammates would be quick to follow. Whenever we found a player like this, we worked to display and utilize his unique qualities to the fullest. I always believed that it was important to demonstrate to your team your willingness to highlight special talents. When we positioned Lawyer to take advantage of his toughness and play-making ability, he quickly became a huge factor on our defense.

  Tedy Bruschi was another player whose extraordinary talents had not yet fully come to light. Tedy was one of the all-time best pass rushers in the history of college football, but his undersized stature and style had limited his opportunities as a starter. As our staff got to know Tedy and realized what an incredible competitor he was, we knew we had to find a starting position and a larger role for him. So Tedy became a starting weak-side linebacker and a specialty pass rusher. He would play a huge role on the team in the upcoming years. I’ve always tried to uncover special qualities in players and build roles and styles that make the most of their unique talents.

  Our first season was a blast. We had a great time as we competed week in an
d week out throughout that season. We were AFC East champions and made it to the second round of the 1997 play-offs, where the Pittsburgh Steelers beat us 7-6. While the loss was a difficult one to stomach, I was still energized for the next season.

  A major reason I felt so optimistic at the end of my first year in New England was the way the season had unfolded for our quarterback, Drew Bledsoe. When I got there, the team was just coming off a loss in the Super Bowl to the Green Bay Packers. There was enormous pressure on Drew. The story line in the New England press leading up to the Super Bowl had been, more or less, “If Bledsoe plays well, the Pats will win, and if he doesn’t, the Pats will lose.” After they lost, Drew caught a fair amount of heat, and it was still an issue when I took over as head coach.

  Coming out of college as the number one overall NFL draft pick, Drew was expected not only to perform well but also to slide easily into the leadership role expected of a star quarterback. For all his ability and hard work, Drew was a quiet, fairly self-contained person. I think Drew’s naturally reserved nature was at times considered by others to be a lack of fire or even an arrogance—which didn’t help things at all with the notoriously tough New England media. I hadn’t been there at the time, but I assumed that the staff had challenged Drew early on, to encourage his growth and maturity. While he did the work and generally played well, he may have felt a bit underappreciated on the team. At least, that was the way I sized up the situation.

  Coming into the job, I thought the best thing that could ever happen would be to find a way to turn Drew’s situation around. Even with his quiet ways, I believed Drew could be much more powerful if he could develop into more of a vocal leader as well as the star of the team.

  So we worked to highlight the positive aspects of Drew’s performance, especially where he was doing things his teammates could really appreciate—the extra effort, the great read, the great throw, getting pounded in the pocket and still making a good throw, getting up after being sacked and coming back on the next snap as if nothing had happened. These moments weren’t hard to find. We decided to focus on all the good things he was doing.

  As that first season progressed, we started to see some changes in Drew’s role on the team. I felt confident in dealing with him, and as he matured he became increasingly willing to open up and embrace his role of a team leader. From time to time, I would remind him that it might be appropriate to say something in a team setting, and he would do it. At other times he would act on his own impulse. He seemed comfortable taking over, and it was a beautiful thing for our team. I can’t take credit for all of this—part of it was simply the process of his maturing—but I truly believe the head coach can and should nurture potential leaders as they emerge.

  Great leaders in sports seem to have a knack for creating defining moments, and that’s exactly what Drew did in the fourth quarter of a pivotal game against Miami. What could have been a game-ending injury for Drew instead turned into one of those moments.

  We were behind in the game but coming back strong until, after one play, Drew unexpectedly came out of the huddle and called time-out. I had no idea what was going on until he came to the sideline and told me that he couldn’t feel one of his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he could even hold on to the ball. The trainer took a look and thought Drew had broken his index finger.

  It was terrible news for us, as our backup quarterback, Scott Zolak, had only played a handful of times that season. After a few moments, I decided that I would rather play Drew with an injured finger than with our backup. So I sent Drew back in, broken finger and all. With him in the game, I reasoned, we still had a chance. After powering through a few plays with time running out, it came down to a critical fourth-down situation, and Drew completed a beautiful pass to Shawn Jefferson on the sideline—just enough to get us that first down and keep us alive. I was thrilled, but then Drew called another unexpected time-out and jogged over to the sideline.

  “Coach,” he said, clearly upset. “This is crazy. I can’t even control the ball!”

  “What are you talking about?” I responded, thinking that he had just thrown a perfect pass and that this was not the time for a lack of confidence. “You just made a great throw.” Drew gave me a look.

  “Coach,” he said, “I was trying to throw the ball to Ben!”

  What I hadn’t realized was that the pass that had hit Shawn Jefferson so perfectly on the sideline had actually been intended for the tight end—who had been in the center of the field! But I really still felt that Drew was the best chance we had, and in spite of his reservations, he went back in to finish the game, eventually throwing a winning touchdown pass to Terry Glenn (which, ironically enough, was intended for Shawn Jefferson).

  That was the moment I had been waiting for. When it came out in the press that he had finished the game with a broken finger, Drew’s status in New England seemed to elevate. New England is a really tough area to play in, but the fans and the press embraced him after that. It was really a big moment for him in terms of the outside world, and ultimately it cemented the positive developments he had been working on within the team.

  Drew didn’t stop being a quiet guy after that. That’s just who he is. But people’s sense of him changed, and they started seeing him for the leader he really was. I couldn’t have made that happen in a million years on my own, but when that broken finger came along, Drew came through in heroic fashion.

  Was Drew a great quarterback before he played through a broken finger? Of course he was. He was a natural leader as well, even if it wasn’t obvious to everyone around him. As time went on it would continue to be important to promote Drew as the leader of our team.

  Not every player had Drew’s status or his star quality. Jimmy Hitchcock was a great example of this. Jimmy was a talented but undistinguished cornerback. When I arrived at the Patriots in 1997, I was told he had hit rock bottom with the coaches on the previous staff. A third-round draft pick out of the University of North Carolina in 1995, in his first professional season he had been an up-and-down player working to make his place as a regular contributor. He was somewhat erratic during his first few seasons. His ability was never the issue, for at times he performed like some of the best players in the game, but at others he could make some bonehead plays. By the time I arrived, Jimmy’s previous coaches had run out of patience—and even worse, they had lost interest.

  The year prior to my arrival Jimmy had not only had been benched but had actually been eliminated from the dress squad for games. As explained to me, Jimmy had not played well in games in spite of the fact that he had given full effort in practice and had studied his playbook. He was committed to giving it his all, but the harder he tried, the worse he played and the more trouble he encountered. His relationship with his coaches just seemed to worsen.

  I was hoping that Jimmy’s problem wasn’t a matter of effort or ability but maybe just a loss of confidence. His former coaches were only willing to talk about his success in black-and-white terms of “getting it done.” Thus, not only were they not solving his problem, but perhaps were only making it worse.

  It seemed to be a classic example of self-fulfilling prophecy. While coaches openly and repeatedly challenged Jimmy in hopes of improving his play, he continued to struggle and eventually he was benched.

  Both as a competitor and as a teacher, I believed that Jimmy’s situation presented an opportunity for a new approach. In meeting with him, it was clear he felt defeated. His self-esteem was low and his confidence was shaken. With all of his strengths, Jimmy Hitchcock really didn’t know whether or not he had what it took to perform at the NFL level.

  Because Jimmy was the kind of person who had tremendous pride and a real willingness to learn, we decided to address him only in a manner that supported what self-confidence he had left. We worked hard with Jimmy, and as part of our process we made sure we engineered opportunities that helped him succeed. Soon enough, we began to see results. Jimmy not only earned a starting spot in our
first season in Foxborough but went on to lead the entire NFL in both interception return yards and defensive touchdowns in 1998. Head coaches encounter opportunities to affect their players’ performances and it is their job to recognize them.

  In our second year, I felt we had a chance to put together a good run if we could build off year one. As the season started, we were playing well on offense, with Drew leading the way again, and a sound defense was working aggressively to create turnovers. But not everything was working so smoothly, as we encountered issues along the way that would require special attention and eventually called for outside advice.

  Terry Glenn was our star wide receiver and one of the most talented players I’d ever been around. He’d won the Biletnikoff Award as the nation’s top receiver at Ohio State after walking on and left Columbus as the seventh overall player drafted in 1996 by New England. During his rookie season, he had ninety receptions for 1,132 yards while helping the Patriots get to the Super Bowl, but during the next few seasons he became inconsistent.

  After my first year coaching Terry, I called up Phil Jackson, head coach of the world champion Chicago Bulls in the NBA, to pick his brain after reading his book Sacred Hoops. He had survived troubles with certain players, and I was looking for some advice regarding similar situations with players of my own. Phil and I spoke about the art of communication with players, particularly the stars who held themselves in high regard but were inconsistent in their mentality toward the team. Phil talked of creating a strategy for dealing with individual players who might be causing distractions.

  As the season wore on, Terry became a concern, and I chose to talk to him instead of disciplining him. At times, Terry and I would sit in my office and talk about life, commitment, and teamwork. Some of those conversations went extremely well and others did not. Regardless, Terry became very unpredictable, and the way I was handling the situation may have begun to affect other players. My problem was that I had tried to save him instead of disciplining him, and now when things got difficult, I appeared to be blindly tolerant and not concerned enough about the welfare of the team.