12

by Casey Sherman

  Matt Chatham spent each practice working against Brady, testing him, disrupting his pre-snap reads and passes. Coach Belichick would also pour water from his personal Gatorade bottle onto the football just before the snap to make it difficult for the center and Brady to handle. The defense would be told the coming route combinations to jump. Everything during the practice week was set up to make life hard on this ascending young quarterback and the offensive group he was charged with leading.

  After one rough late-season practice, Coach Belichick laid into his young quarterback with a vicious tongue lashing. It wasn’t that Brady was playing poorly or having an off day, the offense had merely stalled out because the defense was given the game plan ahead of time and could predict Brady’s every move.

  “I went up to Tom in the lunchroom after practice to try and explain that we were being encouraged to be assholes, to jump certain routes, grab and hold, and make life unusually difficult for them,” Chatham recalls.

  He told Brady that he would be happy to back off so that the quarterback could find his rhythm again.

  “No. Fuck that, Chatham,” the rookie replied angrily. “Keep it coming. We need it.”

  Meanwhile, the Franklin condo became a post-practice safe haven for this crew of exhausted and battered young Patriots clinging to their coveted roster spots. Their bruised bodies covered in ice bags, the players would drink beer, play video games, and then fall asleep with their playbook. Each day was a carbon copy of the next. Wash, rinse, repeat.

  But despite all the extra work, Brady remained the last quarterback on the totem pole for most of his rookie season, behind Bledsoe, John Friesz, and second-year pro Michael Bishop. This meant twenty-two-year-old Brady rarely traveled for away games. Fellow rookie Dave Nugent played as a backup defensive tackle, so he traveled and saw limited playing time. When he returned from one particular away game, he was struck by how Brady was dealing with the frustration and disappointment of not yet having the role he so craved. “I get back to our condo. It’s a crazy-late hour. But Tom was still up, sitting in the living room with his offensive playbook out studying,” Nugent said. “I set my bags down and walked into the den. He puts his playbook down on the coffee table and starts eagerly asking me all about the game and how I did.”50

  Nugent was initially thrown off by Brady’s genuine excitement. He had a real interest in the tight end’s performance, but he was also eager to know all the details of the game. The quarterback wanted to know everything.

  “As I went through it all and answered all his questions, I felt for him because I knew the interest was from how much he wanted to be a part of it all. But at the same time, he showed so much excitement and happiness for me. I’d never seen anything like this before.”

  Nugent asked Brady how he kept such a positive attitude when it really didn’t seem like the coaches knew he existed. He wasn’t given many chances in practice and was lucky to get scout team snaps.

  “All I can do is focus on what I can control,” Brady told him.

  He could not control what the coaches thought, what other players thought, how the quarterbacks in front of him performed, how the receivers he threw to performed, or whether or not he was getting enough reps.

  “All I can do is focus on how hard I practice, how much I study, and how prepared I am when I get my snaps. When my time comes, I’ll be ready.”

  This wasn’t something Brady had been programmed to say. Nugent remembers the conviction in his voice during their conversation as well as the determination in his eyes.

  “Even now, when I think about how he looked at me, how oddly sincere he was, and knowing how it all turned out, I still get goose bumps.”

  Brady carried that authenticity and quiet confidence with him onto the practice field.

  Being in the huddle with any of the other Patriots quarterbacks was different. “You get in the huddle, and you feel like you’re part of a business—just do your job and don’t fuck up,” Eitzmann recalls. “It was just an entirely different experience with Tommy. This is what made him so great. Guys get in his huddle and they want to win for him. It’s such a weird, rare thing. His magic is that guys will get cut, but still feel like they let Tommy down as much as themselves.”

  During home games, Brady stood on the sideline while Drew Bledsoe ran the huddle, but with each play he would imagine himself right in the middle of the action.

  “I take a lot of mental reps,” the rookie told a reporter midseason. “I see what Drew does out there and I know the play and I’m looking at the defense and when the ball snaps, I’ll think ‘what would I have done on that play? Why did Drew throw it there?…What would I have done differently? If you apply that throughout the game, let’s say you’re the backup and you’re put in during the fourth quarter, that first snap in the fourth quarter can’t be the first snap you’ve taken all day mentally, or you’re gonna be so far behind you’ll never catch up.”51

  Without an offense of his own to lead on game day that first year, Brady had to have a place to focus all that competitiveness. The rookie dorm-like culture of the condo provided the perfect outlet, with downtime almost always including some tinge of competition. Nights off were frequently spent in Boston at The Rack, a sprawling sports bar filled with pool tables where Brady and his teammates would frequently wager on games of “3-ball.” Another favorite spot was F1 Boston, in Braintree, for indoor go-cart racing, where these giant men would squeeze into tiny motorized cars not made for football frames. In nearly every endeavor, there was a thread of competition. None of the guys were that big into video gaming, but one day Brady went out to a local pawnshop and bought an old Nintendo system, including some classic games like Tecmo Bowl and Mario Cart. The teammates competed in all-day Tecmo Bowl tournaments. They didn’t have a lot of disposable cash in those days, so sometimes the wagering would take on a more creative form with public shame as the currency: a naked lap around the roundabout in front of the condo for the loser. It was largely a community with a lot of older couples, and naturally, this wasn’t the most family-friendly display. Without fail, the loser would take his lap. And with similar certainty, the winners would lock the front door and close the garage, just long enough to make it sufficiently uncomfortable.

  A well-earned hatred of losing was strong in the condo. In the off-season following Brady’s rookie year, the four teammates took to playing frequently in celebrity charity softball and basketball games. In one basketball game in East Boston against their local fire department, Brady began screaming at the group of current and alumni Patriots players about their lack of effort. Veteran quarterback Damon Huard had been signed that spring to compete for a backup quarterback position and was part of the group that received Brady’s scorn as the team fell behind in the charity contest.

  “Brady just started going off on us. We’re fucking losing to a bunch of firefighters! Everyone just looked at each other like ‘Is this guy serious?’ Next thing you know we’re in the most competitive charity basketball game you’ll ever see and Brady’s banking in three-point shot after three-point shot. And this steamy little high school gym just starts going crazy,” Huard said.52

  Those who packed the small East Boston gym had no idea who Brady was. He’d only played in one NFL game so far against the Detroit Lions, where he completed only one pass for six yards in a lopsided loss. The fans had flocked to the charity basketball game to watch more established Patriots players, but suddenly all eyes were on the team’s fourth-string quarterback and his thorough command over his more seasoned teammates. The players also recognized the unique character of this former unsung draft pick.

  Brady’s leadership skills were first heralded by coach Dick Rehbein before the 2000 draft, and his early prognostication was proved correct during the quarterback’s rookie year. Rehbein would hurry home from practice each day and tell his daughters Betsy and Sarabeth all the progress Brady was making on the field and behind the scenes. The coach talked about Brady as if he were his
own son and charted his development in a journal. Rehbein saw the player’s potential, but was also quick to point out his deficiencies. One day when the coach stepped away from his office, Brady sneaked in and took a peek at Rehbein’s journal. He flipped through the first couple of pages and found his name along with a notation that “everything he does is slow.”

  Rehbein had to teach him how to react to the tempo of the professional game and how to overcome the fog of war and improvise when a play broke down.

  “Tommy, you’re trying to see everything,” Rehbein warned him. “But instead you’re seeing nothing.”53

  Brady continued to study and take reps long after practice was called for the day. He was learning the game at an accelerated level but physically he had yet to grow into his tall, lanky frame. Rehbein urged him to spend more time in the weight room during the off-season, and Brady did just that, returning for his second training camp in Smithfield, Rhode Island, with twenty pounds of added muscle. He was no longer the skinny kid that Robert Kraft had encountered the year before, but he carried the same confidence. While others saw Tom fighting for a backup job against Damon Huard and Michael Bishop, Brady was preparing to wage a competitive battle with the face of the franchise.

  “I’m gonna beat out Bledsoe,” Brady told Chris Eitzmann. “You watch.”

  The quarterback’s words lacked all sense and logic. The Patriots had just signed Drew Bledsoe to a record ten-year $103 million contract, and owner Robert Kraft was building a shiny new palace to replace the old tin can, Foxboro Stadium, considered by many to be the worst pro football stadium in America.

  Chapter Eight

  Taking Hits

  The abysmal performance by the Patriots during Belichick’s first season as head coach was not to be repeated, and he was intent on weeding out the players that did not fit his mold. The draft had been a good one, with prime picks such as defensive tackle Richard Seymour and offensive left tackle Matt Light joining the roster. New England also brought in veterans with true grit and character, including linebackers Brian Cox, Mike Vrabel, and Roman Phifer. The pieces of Belichick’s puzzle were beginning to fit into place. The team looked stout on the defensive side of the ball, but what would the 2001 Patriots offense bring?

  Dick Rehbein’s job was to get more production out of Drew Bledsoe, who had thrown seventeen touchdowns with thirteen interceptions the past season. He was now entering his ninth NFL season, and despite his physical gifts, the six-foot-five, 238-pound quarterback was still prone to head-scratching mental mistakes and one of the worst “tells” in the league. Indeed, Bledsoe had a nasty habit of patting the football before each throw, which alerted defensive backs as to where the ball was headed. Tom Brady, however, didn’t make those mistakes. Unlike Bledsoe, who relied more on his physical prowess, Tom was a true student of the game. Rehbein recommended that he read books about other NFL quarterbacks like Ken Anderson and Phil Simms and even suggested that his young quarterback pick up a biography of General George S. Patton. Brady’s assignment wasn’t only to read the books, but write a report on them as if he were in high school. The coach wanted his protégé to understand every facet of leadership and commanding an army of his peers. The homework assignments weren’t something Rehbein could give to a veteran like Bledsoe, who lived in a $10 million home. Instead, he became a sounding board for Bledsoe if something wasn’t going right on the field or with the other coaches.

  While at training camp that summer of 2001, Rehbein had been given a rare couple of days off along with other Patriots coaches, so he took his twelve-year-old daughter Sarabeth to their local gym for a quick workout. The coach practiced what he preached and believed in the value of conditioning. He ran four times a week despite the fact that he’d been diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, or an enlarged heart. Rehbein had been treating the condition with daily medication for years. As he ran on the treadmill, no doubt thinking about practices and coaches’ meetings to come, he suddenly felt light-headed and then everything went black. As he collapsed, someone yelled, “Man down, man down.” His daughter was at the other end of the gym when she heard the shouts. Rehbein quickly regained consciousness and managed to walk himself into the ambulance for the ride to Massachusetts General Hospital for tests. Doctors kept the coach hospitalized overnight and ran him through several exams. A stress test was scheduled the following morning, and Rehbein called Patriots offensive coordinator Charlie Weis and told him not to worry and that he’d see him later that day at a coaches’ meeting scheduled for 7 p.m. Rehbein completed his stress test and was in the cool-down period when he lost consciousness again. This time, his heart stopped beating and he couldn’t be revived and died.

  Dick Rehbein was only forty-five years old.

  The team was devastated, and nobody more so than Brady. The coach had believed in him when so many others had not. Rehbein had tutored the second-year quarterback with just the right combination of nurturing and tough love. Now he was gone. Bill Belichick did not replace his late coach, but instead, the team dedicated its entire season to his memory. At first, it looked like a most dubious honor as the Patriots lost the season opener to the Cincinnati Bengals 23–17.

  By this time, Brady had earned the role as Bledsoe’s primary backup. After Rehbein’s death, Belichick tasked himself with the mission of mentoring his quarterbacks. He’d never spent much time with Tom Brady until then. The head coach recognized quickly that the Michigan product had both the skills and an understanding of the game that would allow him to compete and succeed in the league. If Brady’s trajectory continued upward, the coach would eventually be forced to make the difficult decision on which quarterback gave the team the best chance of winning for the future. Number 12’s teammates were also impressed.

  Patriots tight end Jermaine Wiggins was one of those players with nothing guaranteed to him in that 2001 training camp, fighting for a roster spot alongside Tom Brady. “The biggest thing I noticed about Brady right off was his intensity during camp. You could see his competitive nature real easy as he was fighting to get snaps and make the team. I’d be in the huddle with Tom during camp practices with the second or third team, and you’d see that same fight that you see today—he wanted to win every rep no matter who he was playing with or going against. It speaks highly of what’s inside him—how badly he wanted to show everybody he deserved to be there.”54

  According to 2000 draft classmate running back Patrick Pass, “Tom spent his downtime in that 2001 camp trying to get extra reps with the receivers—and that’s not unusual for a quarterback trying to work his way up a roster. But he also wanted them from the running backs—guys like myself, J. R. Redmond, and Kevin Faulk. That’s different. He’d try to polish his game with everybody. These are the things most other QBs overlook. But look how important those relationships with his backs have been over the years!”55

  The topic of football and just about everything else was placed on hold, however, two days later when the United States came under attack on 9/11. For a team still numbed by the sudden death of their beloved quarterback coach, the shock and horror of September 11 brought their grieving to a new and unimaginable level. Drew Bledsoe was filming a television commercial for Papa Gino’s pizza when he heard the news, while his understudy Brady was driving his yellow Jeep to the stadium when the alerts came over the radio. He immediately turned around and drove back to the condo in Franklin and turned on the television and watched the nightmare of the morning continue to unfold. Patriots offensive lineman Joe Andruzzi was sitting in a dentist’s chair when he first heard that a small plane had struck the World Trade Center. He immediately thought about his three brothers, all New York City firemen, who had responded to the disaster. All three managed to narrowly escape with their lives that day while 343 fellow firefighters perished underneath the rubble of the twin towers. The league suspended play for September 16 and resumed the season the following week.

  The entire world, however, would change over the next twelve days. The Un
ited States was now at war against the Taliban in Afghanistan, while at home the wounds were still raw and emotions remained high. The nation was in need of healing and the game of football, a symbol of American toughness and pride, allowed fans to begin that process.

  When the Patriots took the field against the New York Jets at Foxboro Stadium, the team was led by Joe Andruzzi, who charged across the turf waving two small American flags before joining his brothers in their NYFD uniforms at midfield. The game itself could have been an afterthought given the magnitude of the moment. But instead, it was one that altered the course of the franchise forever. The game was a low-scoring affair, one plagued by four Patriots turnovers, including an interception thrown by Bledsoe in the red zone. From the looks of it, the team was headed for another loss and fans were ready to buckle themselves in for yet another disappointing season. Brady watched the action on the sideline, still mentally taking every snap alongside the starting quarterback.

  And then it happened.

  Brady didn’t just see it. He could feel it. It was the loudest hit he’d ever heard. The Jets were ahead 10–3 with just five minutes left in the fourth quarter. Bledsoe was facing yet another long third down, and as the ball was snapped, he searched for an open receiver but was chased out of the pocket by a defensive swarm. He decided to run toward the first-down marker but was met by a 260-pound freight train, Jets linebacker Mo Lewis, who threw his shoulder and body into the chest of Bledsoe, knocking him down on the sideline. The quarterback suffered a concussion and worse. His mind was scrambled. Bledsoe didn’t know where he was and couldn’t remember his two-minute plays, which he had run and practiced for years. It was a vicious hit that should have kept any player out of the game. Instead Bledsoe returned to action after a series and even managed to complete a two-yard pass to fullback Marc Edwards. But he was merely relying on muscle memory now, and Belichick finally decided to take him out of the game in the final two minutes and replace him with Tom Brady.