Parcells

by Bill Parcells

  One scout noted about Neill, “He’s never played there.”

  Another declared, “He can’t do it.”

  George Young was more diplomatic: “He doesn’t look like he’s physically suited to the job.”

  Parcells grew upset at the sentiment, and glanced at Perkins to gauge his take. The head coach’s silence kept the idea from being officially rejected. Parcells had already jolted his defense with several changes, including moving the speedy Beasley Reece from strong safety to free safety, but Parcells believed that the derision regarding Neill stemmed from politics. The chances of the midround pick being released jumped substantially if his switch to nose tackle failed, and scouts didn’t want to sully their draft class.

  Parcells listened to the skeptics for a few more minutes, hiding his disgust that no solutions were being offered. After everyone had said his piece, Parcells calmly told the gathering that he understood that it was his first Giants training camp, and he meant no disrespect. Then Parcells added in a forceful tone, “Unless any of you guys got a better idea, I’m going to move the sonofabitch there tomorrow.”

  The packed room turned silent. In the absence of counterproposals, the topic of nose tackle was closed. The next morning Bill Neill switched positions as the final piece of the 3-4 puzzle. His backup was Jim Burt, an undrafted free agent via Miami on his way to earning a roster spot by playing with abandon on special teams.

  The 4-3 was the only defensive scheme Harry Carson had played in since entering Wilson High in Florence, South Carolina, in the late 1960s. He exuded the confidence of someone voted the NFC’s top linebacker for two consecutive seasons, but under Parcells the sixth-year veteran needed to make perhaps the biggest adjustment of anyone: becoming one of two starting inside linebackers while performing within a system that required tighter discipline. In their first lengthy conversation, Parcells told Carson, “I think you’ve got an awful lot of talent, you’ve got good instincts, and you’re very visible out there. But I’m not sure you’re a good linebacker.”

  Surprised, the elite linebacker stared for a few seconds at the neophyte NFL coach.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You rely too much on your instincts, and as good as they are, they’re not enough to make you one of the best in the game, which is what you should be—not because some player vote says you should go to the Pro Bowl, but because you really are.”

  “You just tell me where to start.”

  The star linebacker’s openness impressed Parcells, who wanted Carson to correct some bad habits involving technique and positioning. Carson had always crowded offensive linemen, engaging them as soon as possible before stuffing the hole. His starting point was no more than three yards from the line of scrimmage, but Parcells instructed him to play as much as five yards back. The adjustment felt strange during the first several practices, leaving Carson frustrated. But Parcells just kept reassuring Carson that he possessed the quickness to start farther back before the snap. Carson overcame his discomfiture through repetition, embracing Parcells’s challenge to take his game to the stratosphere. “That’s the thing about Parcells,” Carson says. “You can be good, but he’ll find a way to break you down and build you back up to make you even better.”

  Lawrence Taylor’s dominance in college had allowed him to intimidate coaches and teammates, so Parcells knew it was important to set boundaries early in his relationship with the rookie linebacker. At six-three and 250 pounds, Parcells was slightly bigger than his linebackers, even Taylor. The defensive coordinator’s imposing frame added heft to his instructions, and played a part in sometimes instilling fear.

  Parcells stood eye to eye with Taylor, saying, “Lookit, I’m going to say what’s on my mind, Lawrence. I won’t bullshit you. So don’t try to bullshit me.”

  The rookie linebacker nodded in agreement. For all Taylor’s prodigious talent, Parcells believed he could improve significantly. Taylor had spent most of his college career terrorizing offensive players near the line of scrimmage, but the linebacker, who had a limited understanding of passing defense, was open to learning the pro game. Although he was supremely confident, if not arrogant, on the field, he was a good listener during practice. “I didn’t have to be a genius to know that he was going to be the horse and me the world’s biggest jockey,” says Parcells, a horse-racing aficionado. “He shut up and paid attention.”

  Taylor grasped football concepts quickly, showing an intuitive feel for the game and the way each athlete on the field contributed to every play. Parcells had granted Bill Belichick his wish to assist with the linebackers and occasionally the special-teams coach tested them on their knowledge of the playbook. A party animal, Taylor found it unnecessary to study as assiduously as his teammates did; he could still ace Belichick’s tests, and was often the first to finish.

  The Giants played a preseason game against Chuck Noll’s Steelers, quarterbacked by Terry Bradshaw. After eleven pro football seasons and two straight Super Bowl MVPs, Bradshaw thought he had seen it all, but by the end of the exhibition contest, Pittsburgh’s quarterback realized that he had never faced anyone quite like Taylor. “He dang near killed me,” Bradshaw says. “I just kept saying, ‘Who is this guy?’ He kept coming from my blind side and just ripped my ribs to pieces.”

  In the preseason games that followed, when offenses directed running plays away from Taylor, he showed a knack for splitting a double team, chasing the carrier across the field, and tackling him for a loss. Taylor displayed awesome power, speed, and instinct, plus he seemed to be indefatigable. The linebacker often fought off a tight end with one hand before determining the ideal moment to pounce. “He was a football superman,” Parcells says. Teammates joked that his locker should be replaced with a phone booth. With Green Bay visiting the Giants in week five, the Packers focused on neutralizing Taylor. Offensive coordinator Bob Schnelker warned his players what they’d be up against. “Guys, let me tell you. I’ve seen Butkus, I’ve seen Nitschke, I’ve seen the best. He’s better than all of ’em.”

  The Packers won the game 27–14, handing New York its third loss in five games, but the rave reviews of Big Blue’s top draft pick only increased. Supreme athleticism often enabled Taylor to recover from botched assignments or technical errors in time to make crucial plays.

  New York’s next game, on October 11 versus the St. Louis Cardinals in Giants Stadium, suddenly became crucial. After starting out with promise, Perkins’s team seemed headed for another dismal season. During first-quarter action, Parcells called for his right outside linebacker to retreat for pass coverage on the snap. Instead Taylor stormed the quarterback for a sack that caused a fumble, recovered by the Giants. When Taylor returned to the sideline, Parcells asked, “Lawrence, did you know you were supposed to drop back in that defense?”

  Taylor replied, “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

  In the second quarter, Parcells called the same defensive play. Inexplicably, Taylor once again charged past the line of scrimmage to hammer the quarterback for another fumble. This time defensive end George Martin snapped up the pigskin, sprinting to the end zone for a touchdown. The crowd roared as Taylor strolled to the sideline, where he was mobbed by teammates. Amid the din, Parcells approached the linebacker and stared at him without comment.

  Taylor broke the silence by slapping his temple with an open palm. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

  Parcells repressed the urge to smile, and tried to sound stern. “Yeah, you did. You know, Lawrence, we don’t even have what you just did. It isn’t in our playbook.”

  Taylor smiled. “Well, Coach, we’d better put it in on Monday, because it’s a dandy.”

  New York’s 34–14 victory prompted the defensive coordinator to revamp his relatively vanilla playbook. Previously it had called for the outside linebacker to rush on one of three passing situations, but Parcells now let Taylor attack on two of every three. The modification unleashed the “football superman” for quarterback-rattling moments that lifted the def
ense as New York won three straight. On October 18, Big Blue trounced the Seahawks, 32–0, for its first shutout in three seasons. Then a 27–24 victory over Atlanta gave New York a 5-3 record at midseason, in stark contrast to the previous season’s midseason mark of 1-7.

  Parcells was positioning Taylor on the left, middle, and right side of the defensive alignment, and even in a three-point stance at defensive end. Officially Taylor was a weak-side linebacker lining up on the side without a tight end, but his unorthodox rushes were disrupting conventional formations. Opponents tried to adjust by taking drastic measures. Redskins head coach Joe Gibbs created a single-back, double-tight-end formation, hoping to keep Taylor at bay with the extra, heavyweight blocker. Washington’s offense used formations with blockers who slid toward Taylor: “Fifty-six is the rover; find the rover.”

  Parcells was not just an excellent teacher; he was a quick learner, too. He stood out on the coaching staff for his masterly grasp of human behavior, with an uncanny knack for getting the most out of each individual. “He knew which players he could put the needle to,” recalls Dave Jennings, a Pro Bowl punter at the time, “and which ones were sensitive and couldn’t be dealt with like that.” Sometimes, though, Parcells kept a player off balance with contradictory approaches: The coordinator might berate someone throughout practice for lackluster effort, but after the session ended he would walk up to the dismayed defender and put an arm around him, saying, “You know I really love you, right?”

  Parcells knew that such maddening methods wouldn’t necessarily work on a budding superstar who performed fiercely with every snap, but he was intent on prodding Lawrence Taylor to sustain, if not increase, his production. So Parcells exploited Taylor’s ultra-competitive nature by invoking the other top linebacker of the 1981 draft. Hugh Green was chosen seventh overall by Tampa Bay after a stellar career with the Pittsburgh Panthers, where he finished second to George Rogers in voting for the Heisman Trophy. Within earshot of Taylor, Parcells praised Green, who was playing well as a rookie. “That’s the kind of linebacker I’d want on my team.”

  The remarks irritated Taylor, despite his performing at a higher level than Green. Taylor responded as Parcells guessed he would—by maintaining his high level of performance with occasional superhuman flourishes.

  Despite coaching with an edge, Parcells also found ways to bond with his players. He enjoyed banter and repartee, even when he was the butt of it. The main thing that kept the defensive coordinator in a nasty mood was losing. Stars and backup players alike yearned to satisfy their hard-to-please boss; his overarching desire was to find athletes he could trust on the field.

  New York’s promising record at midseason was undermined by three consecutive losses, bringing familiar angst to the team’s long-suffering fans. Parcells’s defense contributed to the skid, allowing an average of 27.3 points against the Jets, Packers, and Redskins. In the 30–27 loss against Washington, quarterback Phil Simms, New York’s first-round pick in 1979, separated his shoulder in a season-ending injury. Perkins was forced to start rookie Scott Brunner, a sixth-round pick.

  Things looked bleak for the 5-6 Giants as they traveled to Philadelphia for a November 22 game. The Eagles were 9-2, including a 24–10 victory over Big Blue in their season opener. In the five years since Dick Vermeil had taken over as head coach, the Eagles had never lost to Big Blue.

  The air was nippy a few hours before the 1 p.m. kickoff at Veterans Stadium as Vermeil strolled on the field. Despite temperatures in the low thirties, Vermeil relished the relative solitude. Spotting the opponent’s defensive coordinator going through a similar pregame ritual, Vermeil decided to walk over and introduce himself. “Bill, I don’t know if I should like you or hate you, but I’m certainly going to congratulate you because, boy, this New York Giants defense has really changed from what it was when I started coaching against your team.”

  After Vermeil’s introduction the opposing coaches chatted for a few minutes. Several hours later Parcells’s unit justified the compliment by stifling an offense that had scored 90 points the previous two games. New York’s skid against Philadelphia, dating to 1975, ended with a 20–10 victory. “I started respecting him even more,” recalls Vermeil, chuckling.

  Including the upset versus Philadelphia, Big Blue won four of five during the stretch run as Parcells’s defense tightened the screws: opponents scored an average of only 10.8 points. The linebacking corps lost Pro Bowler Brad Van Pelt to injury, yet rookie Byron Hunt filled in with no drop-off. By late in the season, Perkins was making adjustments to the offense based on Parcells’s unit. Going into a game, Perkins would ask for his outlook on the defense. If Parcells felt that it was particularly vulnerable, Perkins emphasized ball control. When Parcells foresaw his players stifling an opponent, Perkins was inclined to open up the offense for Scott Brunner’s passing. Big Blue’s defense began to dictate the team’s style, or chances to win, in each game. “Mickey loved it,” Parcells says of the Giants’ new identity. “He’d been telling me about how defense wins games since I was fourteen.”

  Perhaps the unit’s most impressive showing came in the regular-season finale against Tom Landry’s Cowboys, who were vying for the NFC’s top seed. In a 13–10 overtime victory decided by Joe Danelo’s field goal, the Giants held Dallas to its lowest output of the season, improving to 9-7. The late-season flourish propelled Big Blue to its first playoff appearance since 1963. Returning to Philadelphia for an NFC wild-card game, Big Blue upset the Eagles for a second time, 27–21, as Brunner tossed three touchdowns and Rob Carpenter amassed 161 rushing yards.

  New York’s roller-coaster of a season ended in the divisional round with a 38–24 loss to Bill Walsh’s 49ers, the postseason’s top-seeded team. San Francisco assigned guard John Ayers, the team’s best blocker, to Lawrence Taylor, who finished with only three tackles, including a sack against quarterback Joe Montana. Nonetheless, the linebacker became the first rookie in NFL history to be named defensive player of the year, helping Parcells’s unit transform into one of the league’s best.

  With its unique, pass-crazy offense, San Francisco went on to capture the franchise’s first Super Bowl, 26–21, over Forrest Gregg’s Cincinnati Bengals. Big Blue finished the season allowing 257 points, a striking improvement from 425 points the previous year. By guiding the Giants to their first postseason in almost two decades, Perkins was rewarded with a contract extension, and the resurgent franchise even earned an appearance on Monday Night Football’s 1982 schedule.

  When Ray Perkins was hired by the Giants in 1979, he invited the team’s beat writers to his home for an informal gathering. Dave Klein of the Newark Star-Ledger asked for Perkins’s thoughts on Alabama’s head-coaching job if it ever became available.

  “I’d walk to Tuscaloosa for it.”

  Replacing Bear Bryant wasn’t on Perkins’s mind three years later, when Big Blue’s 1982 preseason started ominously. Quarterback Phil Simms hurt his knee in another season-ending injury, tailback Rob Carpenter was holding out for a new contract, and, worst of all, Lawrence Taylor suffered an injury and was expected to miss at least the first four games. Undermanned, the Giants lost their first two games before the season was halted by a players’ strike. When they agreed to return for a nine-game schedule two months later, the silver lining for Big Blue was Taylor’s recuperation and Carpenter’s having signed a new deal.

  After losing its first game after the strike, Big Blue won three straight as the defense gave up a total of only 27 points. A December 11 victory over Philadelphia in a rare Saturday game improved the Giants to 3-3. With only three games left, they were in postseason contention, but everything was suddenly overshadowed by Perkins’s stunning revelation: he was leaving the Giants to coach at Alabama.

  Bear Bryant was planning to end his twenty-five-year tenure in late January of 1983, but Perkins told his players that management might want him to step down immediately. If so, Perkins informed his assistants, one of them would likely replace him. Both o
ffensive coordinator Ron Erhardt and offensive line coach Bill Austin had NFL head-coaching experience: From 1966 to 1968 Austin had coached the Steelers, prior to Chuck Noll. When Vince Lombardi died on September 3, 1970, near the start of his second season in Washington, Austin had filled in for his ex-coach. Even so, Parcells, with a strong recommendation from Perkins, believed he had the best shot among Giants coaches.

  Although disappointed by Perkins’s impending departure, George Young understood the pull of the Alabama job, especially to Bear Bryant’s ex-wideout. “All those former players, they’re like the followers of Muhammad,” Young told reporters. “And each of them wants to be the one anointed to take his place.” So the GM took pride in the fact that Alabama targeted Perkins over other possibilities such as Steve Sloan at Mississippi.

  One night soon after the bombshell, Parcells was the last coach leaving Giants Stadium. George Young was sitting in his office with the door ajar when he spotted Parcells walking by. The GM yelled for the defensive coordinator to drop in. Parcells grinned in the hallway before entering Young’s office with a serious demeanor. During the next hour and a half, Young asked questions about the Giants that went beyond the defense, but the GM didn’t reveal his thoughts about replacing Perkins.

  When Alabama made things official on December 13, Perkins telephoned Young, who was in Tulsa, Oklahoma, attending a meeting of the United Scouting Combine, a personnel-evaluation event. After speaking to Perkins, the GM decided to cut his trip short. At 10:30 p.m., Parcells received a call at home from Young, who was awaiting his return flight at the Tulsa Airport.

  “I want to talk to you Tuesday after work.”

  Parcells replied, “Well, I want the job.” Tuesday, an off day for players, was hectic for coaches, who were busy reviewing film and preparing a game plan. Parcells arrived at his usual start of 6 a.m. and worked until 7 p.m., when he headed down the hall to meet Young. He exuded confidence. “I knew I wasn’t there for a social visit,” Parcels recalls. “I thought I would either come out of there with the job or say something that would eliminate me from consideration.”