So we still have that little matter of a Lincoln Tunnel breakdown that resulted in a fine. But to explain further what it’s like to play in the NFL under a guy you view as a tyrant, let’s continue to examine our history.
Individually and collectively, coaches believe that players crave structure. Ask any NFL head coach and they’ll tell you: Structure and consistency are the two most important qualities in our NFL lives. To be truthful, they’re dead-on in their assessment.
If you gave players the option to show up only on Sundays, half the team would take that as a license to party Monday through Saturday. We need rules, regulations and guidelines. Some guys crave them, even if they don’t know it.
First of all, you can’t give a young kid ten million bucks and tell him you’ll see him on Sunday. Some team rules are designed to protect us from ourselves. Too much money plus too much time often equals disaster. If there’s one downside to today’s player in regard to the money, it’s this: TOO MUCH MONEY MAKES GUYS DO CRAZY THINGS. The money makes us feel like stars, even when we’re not.
In today’s NFL, you can have a mediocre player flying below the radar screen. The moment he makes a boatload of cash his star power skyrockets. The money in today’s game overrates players. On many teams, cornerbacks are afraid to hit somebody. But those who are decent in coverage get paid more than the captain of the defense, the middle linebacker. When a guy gets a big contract, he becomes national news and he starts thinking he’s much better than he really is. Today is the era of the overrated.
While consistency and regimens are probably more necessary now than ever before, a coach has to make sure he doesn’t go overboard. Consistency may be just as important, if not more important, than structure; the worst possible thing a head coach can do is to be inconsistent. From day to day, week to week or even month to month, with so many different personalities and backgrounds coming together, we need at least one focal point to bring us together. That focal point—the head coach—needs to show us consistency.
But Tom’s version of structure and consistency bordered on insanity. His rules and the way he did things during his first season in New York were pretty much obsolete in all other NFL locker rooms. I could see a Vince Lombardi or Tom Landry having strict rules. But last I checked, neither of these legendary coaches worked during the free-agency era. Their players were stars, but never financial stars like in today’s locker room. As I talk to players all over the league, I can assure you other teams do not have these same rules. Other coaches, for the most part, treat you like an adult.
Example: When we go on the road we’re required to travel wearing a suit and tie. All teams are. However, every other team, once they get to the hotel, has the luxury of getting comfortable.
Tom’s team? You are forbidden to leave your room or go to the lobby without wearing dress slacks, a collared shirt and nice shoes. You can’t even leave your room to go to another player’s room dressed in a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops like the rest of the world. Tom’s rule: a collared shirt, dress socks, and dress shoes.
You are forbidden to go to the lobby to buy a toothbrush without wearing a collared shirt and slacks. No white socks whatsoever. Violate one of these rules and you’re fined! Cash out of your next paycheck. What this has to do with football, I still don’t understand. Will we win because we shopped for socks at Burberry? Come on!
Every other business traveler in America gets on a plane wearing a suit, gets to the hotel and is immediately allowed to relax. Not us. We’re hit with a fine. I’m not saying, “Please feel sorry for the big, sad millionaire football players.” All I’m saying is, if we are adults, we should be treated like adults. If something affects our performance, fine, make up a rule. If there is no clear purpose except for gaining control over guys by using a power trip, today’s player not only won’t respond, he’ll rebel.
One young guy who wasn’t going to make our club was fined by Tom because he wore sandals. Seems Coach didn’t like his style of sandals. So now he’s a fashion consultant? That’s a joke!
Anyway, this guy who wasn’t even going to make our team anyway got fined because Tom didn’t like his style. That was pretty much every penny the kid made from the Giants. What Tom didn’t know was that his rules made some of the young black guys feel as if he was targeting their background and their culture. It seemed like he was taking aim at the guys with the baggy jeans and diamond chains. I agree to a point that you don’t want us looking like we’re a bunch of gangsters. But we’re all individuals with different styles. It’s part of who we are.
Some guys may have nice dress shoes that look like tennis shoes. But they aren’t tennis shoes! They only resemble them. They actually cost more than dress shoes. Who are you to tell these guys they’re not wearing proper shoes? Today, it’s unfair to fine one man based upon another man’s taste in shoes and clothes.
Like the time two years ago when Eagles head coach Andy Reid told his players that they needed to wear a coat and tie on the road. He also banned wearing tennis shoes. T.O. showed up wearing a tuxedo with dress shoes that looked like tennis shoes. Now that’s just T.O. being a jackass to a coach he thought was being overbearing. But compared to Tom, Andy was a picture of tolerance.
Why would Tom Coughlin enter a new environment swinging so hard? You need to understand the mind-set of today’s NFL head coach, the mind-set generally accepted by every coach out there. It’s easier to start hard and get nicer, while it’s nearly impossible to start nice and suddenly crack the whip like a hard-ass. Unfortunately even the whip was afraid of Tom.
All the crazy rules and antics of that first off-season paled in comparison to the road that would later send Tom and me to the crash-and-burn stage, a road I never want to travel again. Tom went way past hard-ass, directly to asinine and then made a sharp right turn, passing GO, driving headlong directly to psychotic.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Head Coach and I Hug It Out
I immediately grasped how different Tom Coughlin was from Dan Reeves and Jim Fassel, my two previous head coaches, as well as Andy Reid, Tony Dungy, John Fox and my other Pro Bowl coaches. Especially once I ran into his now controversial “five-minutes-early” rule. Ah yes, the great Coughlin Clock Debate. In describing Coughlin as psychotic, I still stand by that, though not in a dangerous criminal way. More in a delusional way.
By now most of the football world knows that Coughlin believes we should all show up five minutes early to every meeting. It shows how eager we are to meet. Eager? I couldn’t be more eager to have bamboo shoved under my fingernails.
We meet every day, hear the same crap, and waste hours upon hours of our lives. I shouldn’t use the term waste because those meetings certainly once had a useful role in our lives. But for guys who’ve been around, it’s like listening to the same old Tony Robbins instructional video over and over. Why in the hell would I want to show up five minutes early to that?
We are a conglomeration of six-, seven-and eight-figure corporations. Why treat us like sixth, seventh and eighth graders? At first, who knew Coughlin had this crazy five-minute rule? Who sets a meeting time when he really wants a meeting to start five minutes earlier? Here’s how we found out Tom wanted us to come to his meetings five minutes early: when he immediately lowered the boom on three new players in front of the rest of the team. Here’s what happened.
Each week during the preseason and regular season, we’re given a test on our plays and assignments. One day cornerback Terry Cousins and linebacks Barrett Green and Carlos Emmons were sitting outside the meeting room working on their tests. While the rest of the team trickled into the meeting room, the three figured they had a few more minutes to add the finishing touches to their answers.
Apparently what ticked Coughlin off was that they didn’t file in with the rest of the team, so he closed the door on them. When the unsuspecting trio opened the door, with plenty of time before the meeting was slated officially to begin, Coughlin exploded. “You three were o
ut there messing around! You’re late!” So he kicked them out of the meeting and fined them for being early but not early enough.
Everybody else sat stunned, looking at our watches and thinking, “Are you kidding me?” It was Tom’s way of just trying to be a hard-ass. Why? Because he could. Same reason we stand up to the coaches in today’s game—because we can. Just like that phrase “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” except what’s bad for one is bad for the other. There’s nothing good about how much liberty both sides now have.
Some coaches are viewed as ballbusters, as hard-asses. But even the tough ones, they’ll bust your chops for a reason. Agree or disagree, there’s a clear reason. Tom didn’t seem to have a clear reason and that’s difficult for a player, or any person for that matter, to grasp. When Seattle’s head coach Mike Holmgren rips the hell out of one of his quarterbacks, which he’s been known to do, it’s usually because somebody somehow screwed up something somewhere.
Plus, there’s a way to do it. John Fox has the uncanny ability to call you a dummy to the degree where you damn near thank him for such sensitive and constructive criticism. You can tell he’s in this thing WITH you. Tom makes you feel like he’s AGAINST you.
There was no way for anyone to know or even comprehend why Coughlin wanted us to show up five minutes early for everything, or else face a fine. So if that’s the case, just set the damn meeting five minutes earlier, right?
Tom started an uproar inside our locker room, an uproar unseen in years. Instead of talking about goals and game plans or certain techniques, our lives were soon consumed by complaints. Every free moment was spent talking about this crazy coach’s rules. The sad thing is, it never got old. The complaints only grew louder until eventually most of the team came to me to complain. I was pretty much appointed to address Coach Coughlin with the hopes of preventing a coup before the season started.
So I met with him and told him I didn’t think it was right to fine guys for showing up on time. He assured me that from now on, everyone would be accounted for and that he would let guys know when the meetings were going to start. If a guy was there within a five-minute grace period he would let him in. In other words, he promised not to sandbag the men anymore.
Remember that sharp turn on the road past insane to completely psychotic? Here’s where the road forks. Barely a week or two later, I arrived for our 7:30 meeting. When I walked up to the door at 7:26, the door was already slammed closed. Our assistant strength coach and our player programs guy, Charles Way, our former fullback, were all outside the door. I pointed at the clocks on the walls. They looked at me and shrugged.
I pointed to the clock, which like every other clock in our locker room was set five minutes fast. It read 7:27. How insane is it that Tom took time to actually have somebody move the hands on our clocks forward? I told them I’d be damned if I was going to open that door, walk in there and have him explode on me like he did to my defensive teammates. No way. Not a shot. The two coaches said they would tell Coughlin I was there on time.
Okay, brace yourselves, folks, for what transpired next. The next day I went to my locker to get dressed for practice. Sitting on my stool was a fine letter for $500. When Tom fines us, the team management writes a formal letter and puts it either in our locker or on our stool. This wasn’t even funny. In my world, $500 may not seem like a lot, but in principle it’s everything. This fine was against every principle. I learned that being part of a team was not supposed to be players in one group, coaches in another. We’re supposed to be together as one.
On the way to the team walkthrough I asked, “Coach, can I talk to you for a minute? I got a letter on my stool for being fined, but I wasn’t late.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Coach, I wasn’t late. Two of your coaches saw me.”
“Well, you were late.”
“Even if I wasn’t there five minutes early, you said you’d give us a grace period.”
“Well, Michael, in my eyes you were still late. What do you want me to do, change my rules for you?”
“No! I don’t want you to change the rules for me. But I wasn’t late. If I’m late, then fine me! But I was not late! In fact, I was three minutes early!”
He kept repeating the same argument over and over again. Was I really having this conversation?
“Next time don’t cut it so close.”
Don’t cut it so close? That started my blood boiling. But it really boiled over after our new head coach added, “You’re lucky. It could have been fifteen hundred dollars.”
What? I’m lucky? Did he just threaten me? That pushed me past the edge. We’re all grown men, yet you want to be a jerk and chastise me, and then ask me to lay my blood down on that field for you?
I was pushed past my point of patience. I exploded.
“You know what? Fuck it. Fine me fifteen hundred dollars next time and if I know I’m going to be late I’ll just come in here whenever I damn well feel like it. Screw it. I’ll go to I-Hop, I’ll run a few errands. I’ll show up whenever!”
He stared at me in shock, “You can’t talk to me like that!”
“Yes, I can. If you don’t respect me, I won’t respect you. So I’ll come in whenever I feel like it. Whether I’m a second late or an hour late, I’ll come in whenever I want! Just fine me the max.”
I started to walk away as Tom started walking after me. The rest of the team was about thirty yards away from us. They saw us talking but didn’t know what we were saying. They noticed, however, that my demeanor had changed. My switch had flipped.
Coughlin asked again, “I don’t understand. Do you want me to change my rules for you?”
At this point in our relationship, I had been coming to Tom with issues from the guys, trying to bridge the gap between the coach and the locker room. We talked about what the guys were feeling and thinking about since camp and he would just nod his head and say, “I hear you. I hear you.”
When Coughlin asked me that again, I snapped.
“Coach, you’re losing this whole team. Do you hear me now?”
That turned out to be the turning point. That day became the last day that I felt Tom Coughlin and Michael Strahan disliked each other. I found the harder I pushed back, the more respect I got from Tom. I’m not stupid. I fully realize that had I not been a six-time Pro Bowler, I couldn’t have pushed back the way I did. Still, I wonder how that place would have functioned had I not pushed back that day, the day Tom and I changed toward each other, the day he started treating me with respect, somewhat listening to me and giving in a bit.
One thing about Tom. Away from football, he genuinely cares about us as people. However, because of all the football things that get in the way, his concern for us as people gets grossly overlooked. I believe that when he heard how close he was to losing his team, he decided to give in a bit. He really had no choice but to change a little.
Remember what I said, that it’s easier to go from hard to easy than it is from easy to hard? There’s an undefined line in each locker room as to how far is too far. Tom went too far. But I don’t think he realized it until that afternoon.
Our relationship has since blossomed to the point where I can go to him with any problem, mine or someone else’s. At first it’s his nature not to listen. He has to be pushed. Now he sees that he doesn’t have to push me. He doesn’t have to make me angry for me to play well. He expects me to be ready to play, so that helped turn our tide. I pay attention to detail, which is something Coach loves. Plus, because of our ups and downs, he also learned that I don’t sulk. I just try to get it right and fight to win.
Once we stepped back from our incident, it allowed our attention to shift from focusing on our differences and arguments to trying to understand each other. Remember the reviews on Tom I received around the league? The one positive review I got from another player came from the longtime Jaguars, Bucs and Chargers receiver Keenan McCardell. He told me, “Michael, the first year you have him, you�
��ll hate him. But the more you play for him, the more you’ll understand him. The more you understand him, the more you’ll like him.”
I now understand the man, and Keenan is right, I do like him. He changed because he had to. He realized he couldn’t do it all by himself. Now he trusts some of us to help him get his message across. He now understands he’s from a whole different school of thought that today’s millionaire players don’t naturally comprehend. His favorite movie is Patton with George C. Scott, and there’s a quote from the movie when Patton says something along the lines of “My enemy is scared of me. My troops are scared of me. My own dog is afraid of me.” I guess Tom wanted to be just like Patton. But after our confrontation, he also realized this is a different age of football. I truly believe he understands that now. You can’t scare today’s player because today’s player might shout back at you, or go to his agent and the media and demand a ticket out of town.
The number one thing that changed about Tom is that now I can see when we meet privately, he listens. He doesn’t just blow it off. Three years ago he didn’t want to hear. It was like, “You’re a player and you have no right to make rules.” Now he doesn’t take that approach anymore.
I’m not going to say that everybody likes him. Some guys don’t. The thing about Tom is that he’s a decent man and can be understanding when he wants to be. Maybe he needs to show that side more. After that first year, after trying to be like Patton, now every once in a while he’ll show a softer side.
I remember when Kurt Warner, our former quarterback, went up to see Tom with his kids in tow. He wanted to be honest with the man. Kurt said that once Tom saw the kids, he got on the ground and played with them like they were his own grandkids. We need to see more of that guy. We know he’s in there, but he doesn’t want us to see that side a lot. Maybe he thinks it’s a sign that he’s weak or something.
Inside the Helmet: Hard Knocks, Pulling Together, and Triumph as a Sunday Afternoon Warrior Page 6