New England fans were captivated by the news conference and the coach’s attempt at dark humor. One fan, Michael Curley from Cape Cod, found something artificial in Belichick’s words. He remembered bumping into the coach on Nantucket one summer day. Curley was biking around the island with his wife when the pair stopped at Sconset Market for a bite to eat. They saw Belichick pull up in a mud-covered Jeep.
“Hiya, Coach,” Curley said.
Belichick looked at his dirty vehicle and remarked, “This is what happens when you lend your Jeep out on Nantucket.”
Curley noticed that the Jeep’s tires were very low and offered to pump them up with air while Belichick went grocery shopping. (Drivers on the island are encouraged to lower the tire pressure on their vehicles when they drive on sand.) His wife looked at him curiously, but Curley was a diehard fan and it was the least he could do for his favorite coach. Belichick obliged and Curley went to work. When the coach finally emerged from the market, the job was done. Curley thought he’d get a big thank-you and maybe even an autograph. Instead, Belichick pulled a small pressure gauge from the pocket of his shorts and proceeded to inspect each tire for proper air pressure. Curley’s wife thought it was an odd gesture, but her husband stood and marveled at the way Belichick examined each tire.
“It’s that level of scrutiny in everything he does that makes him the greatest coach in history,” Curley remarked to his wife later.
Now, watching the coach’s news conference, Curley asked himself why, if Belichick applied such focus and knowledge about tire pressure to his beat-up island Jeep, he did not understand or care about the air pressure of a football.67
Reporters had their own questions about the veracity of Belichick’s words. After all, this was the coach that had built “Fortress Foxboro,” an impenetrable football stronghold where he oversaw every detail. When pressed further by the media, Belichick uncharacteristically said they should “ask Tom” about the balls, seemingly throwing his star player under the bus. Now the bus was on top of Brady.
This was a much different Belichick than anyone, including DeMaurice Smith, had seen before. The coach had mastered the art of saying basically nothing to the press, but here he was animated, angry, and pointing the finger at his own quarterback.
“When you have a coach putting all that pressure on a player, it makes me very nervous,” Smith told his legal team. “We need to reach out to Tom and advise him not to speak about this.”
Brady didn’t take Smith’s advice. Instead, he dug himself into a deeper hole with the public and the league. “Tom gave the news conference because he didn’t think the situation was a big deal and that he hadn’t done anything wrong. He thought he would address it once and move on,” Smith recalled. “But I know the way the NFL works. They try to find a murder behind every bush. Once they target you, they do not stop.”
Chapter Eleven
“It’s About Honor. It’s About Respect.”
Despite the circus atmosphere that had enveloped Fortress Foxboro, there was still a game to be played—the biggest game of the season and the biggest game of most players’ careers. For Brady, Super Bowl XLIX offered him the opportunity to pull the monkey off his back after the two championship losses against the New York Giants. In each of those games, number 12 had put the Patriots in a position to win despite early struggles, only to see the team’s fate sealed by miraculous catches made by Giants receivers. A third consecutive loss in the Super Bowl would quell any comparisons to Montana. Instead, Brady would find himself discussed alongside Denver Broncos quarterback John Elway, who won two Super Bowls but lost three. Elway was an all-time great, but those big losses kept him out of the conversation with Montana. Tom Brady was a student of history, and despite his public comments that team success was the only success that mattered to him, he was maniacally driven to be the best. Like the fictional Roy Hobbs, he wanted people to walk down the street and say, “There goes Tom Brady, the best there ever was in this game.”
Initially, the Las Vegas odds makers had given the defending champion Seahawks a slight edge over the Patriots, but the game was now a pick ’em. More than 70,000 fans packed the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Arizona, while a record 114.4 million viewers watched the NBC telecast at home. Brady was ready. He’d spent sixteen hours per day on football, waking up in the predawn hours to study film and hold meetings with his offensive coordinator, Josh McDaniels. Brady tried to eliminate all distractions, which was a Herculean effort, since the Deflategate controversy was now the hot topic not only for sports commentators but for news pundits on CNN, Fox News, and all the major television networks. Jimmy Garoppolo, Brady’s young backup at the time, marveled at number 12’s dedication to preparation.
“He’d come in [to quarterback meetings] and already be a day ahead of everybody,” Garoppolo recalled. “If we were on third down, he’d studied third down yesterday…being that far ahead of the game, it gives you an edge.”68
Brady was mentally prepared, but physically he was fighting a nasty cold that he’d caught from his kids, which had him eating raw garlic to boost his immune system. He was dogged by illness and questions about his integrity that were not going away. Fox Sports reporter Jay Glazer had just broken a story that the NFL had surveillance footage of one of the Patriots’ locker room attendants taking footballs from the officials’ locker room into the bathroom at Gillette Stadium before taking them onto the field for the AFC championship game.
By now the league had appointed Ted Wells to investigate the matter. The sixty-three-year-old New York–based attorney and senior partner with the powerhouse firm Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison had counseled several high-profile clients, including former New York governor Eliot Spitzer in a scandal involving a prostitute and Scooter Libby, the onetime adviser to Vice President Dick Cheney, who was indicted and later convicted for his role in leaking the name of CIA covert agent Valerie Plame to the press. Wells had conducted the investigation into Syracuse University’s response to sexual assault accusations involving assistant basketball coach Bernie Fine, and most recently he had spent eighteen months on behalf of the NFL investigating a scandal involving Miami Dolphins lineman Richie Incognito, who was accused of bullying offensive linemate Jonathan Martin. Ted Wells issued a statement about the Deflategate probe, saying that the investigation was proceeding expeditiously but that it was unlikely to come to a conclusion for several weeks.
It was now time for the Patriots to dig their trenches and prepare themselves for a long and bloody war.
In an attempt to show support for his star quarterback, Robert Kraft hijacked a news conference held for Brady and Belichick the Monday before the Super Bowl and read a statement to reporters.
“I want to make it clear that I believe unconditionally that the New England Patriots have done nothing inappropriate in this process or in violation of NFL rules,” Kraft said. “Tom, Bill, and I have been together for fifteen years. They are my guys. They are part of my family. Bill, Tom, and I have had many difficult discussions over the years. I have never known them to lie to me. That’s why I am confident in saying what I just said. It bothers me greatly that our reputations and integrity, and by association that of our team, has been called into question this week.”69
He spoke for three minutes and did not take questions.
“If the Wells investigation is not able to definitively determine that our organization tampered with the air pressure of the footballs,” Kraft concluded, “I would expect and hope the league would apologize to our entire team, and in particular Coach Belichick and Tom Brady, for what they have had to endure this past week.”
Kraft was markedly absent when Roger Goodell gave his annual state of the NFL speech a few days later. During his hour-long address to reporters, the commissioner was pressed repeatedly about the investigation. When asked about Kraft’s demand for an apology, Goodell snapped back, “That’s my job. This is my responsibility to protect the integrity of the game. I
represent thirty-two teams. All of us want to make sure the rules are being followed, and if we had any information where the potential is that those rules were violated, I have to pursue that, and I have to pursue it aggressively.”
Later when asked whether the NFL had ever previously tested the air pressure of footballs during halftime, the commissioner said simply, “I don’t know the answer to that question.”
Patriots fans, who had mostly held a benign attitude toward Goodell during his tenure, were now sharpening their long knives for the commissioner now deemed public enemy number one in New England. But Goodell did have his supporters. Former Jacksonville Jaguars quarterback Mark Brunelle broke ranks from the NFL QB fraternity and said during an emotional rant on ESPN, “I don’t believe what Tom had to say [during his previous news conference]. Those balls were deflated. Someone had to do it and I don’t believe there’s an equipment manager in the NFL that would on his own initiative deflate a ball without the starting quarterback’s approval.”70
Retired Dallas Cowboy great Troy Aikman, another quarterback with three Super Bowl rings, agreed with Brunelle, telling listeners on his radio show that he believed Brady had something to do with the deflated balls. Fellow Hall of Famer Fran Tarkenton echoed Aikman’s sentiments. “Tom Brady knows exactly what was done to the ball and what wasn’t done with the ball as every other quarterback in the National Football League is,” he said.
From his laptop in Indianapolis, columnist Bob Kravitz continued to sling arrows toward the Patriots but saved most of his vitriol, not for Brady but for Belichick.
“If Patriots owner Robert Kraft has an ounce of integrity, he will fire Bill Belichick immediately,” Kravitz wrote. “There’s only one way that this [deflated footballs] could happen and that’s with Belichick’s full knowledge and approval.”
The coach gathered his players and assistants and told them point-blank not to concern themselves with the outside distraction as they had a world championship to prepare for.
“Take all of that garbage that’s on the exterior, get that outta the way,” Belichick told the team in Glendale. “Get focused on our jobs to go out there and have a helluva night, Sunday night.”71
But the national media had no interest in letting the story die, so Brady sat down for an interview with Bob Costas, which ran during NBC’s marathon pregame coverage on Super Bowl Sunday. Brady had agreed to the sit-down while Roger Goodell had declined, but Tom remained elusive in answering questions about whether he had direct knowledge or involvement in deflating footballs. Once again, he had the opportunity to say emphatically that he was innocent of the allegations, yet still decided to stay guarded. He told Costas that he wasn’t concerned the night of the AFC championship with how the balls were inflated, just how they felt, and they felt good.
“Is it a fair assumption that a Patriots employee would deflate the footballs only after your input?” Costas asked.
“Absolutely, I think absolutely. I can understand why people feel that way,” Brady replied. “There is an investigation going on. I’m sure all the things will come out. It’s been a lot of speculation and I think that has led to my hurt feelings.”
This was the first time that the Patriots superstar admitted publicly that the accusations swirling around him had left their mark. Brady had never faced this kind of heat before. He had kept out of trouble despite being in the public eye. While other players attracted public scorn for beating up their wives and girlfriends or for using performance-enhancing drugs, Brady’s image and reputation had remained clean—until now.
Toward the end of the interview, Costas asked Brady whether, in the end, fans would be able to say they have no doubt about him and that he’s “on the up and up.”
“Not a lot of people know who I am and what I am about,” he replied. “The people who know me, they know what I’m about and what I stand for.”
Fifty-two of those who could vouch for his character, Brady’s teammates, were now in the locker room with him as he prepared to take the field for a record-breaking sixth Super Bowl appearance.
The storm had abated, at least for now. For the next few hours, there would be no talk about deflated footballs. Brady felt in control again. The only thing that mattered to him was putting points on the board and getting his team in a position to win.
Number 12 jogged onto the field echoing his familiar rally cry. “Let’s go. Let’s go!” he urged his teammates. On the opposite sideline, Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson let out a few motivational woot-woots of his own.
The stadium had not been kind to Brady and the Patriots. They had been denied a perfect season here in February 2008 with a shocking loss to the Giants that left an indelible scar on every New England fan. It was now time to exorcize those demons. But neither history nor the top-rated Seahawks defense appeared to be on their side.
“I feel good,” Brady told Josh McDaniels before kickoff. “I feel great, ready to roll.”
After the Seahawks took the field waving a flag symbolizing the Seattle fans as their twelfth man, the Patriots’ number 12 pulled his team together.
“It’s our time,” he told them. “It started seven, eight months ago, right? All for this moment, all for this moment. It’s about honor. It’s about respect.”
Brady’s strong voice was demonstrative of the fire that was fueling him.
“You win this game, you’re honored,” he shouted. “Your kids are honored. Your families are honored!”
The first quarter of Super Bowl XLIX was a scoreless affair for both teams, and fans on each coast prepared themselves for a tough defensive battle. Brady was intercepted by Seattle cornerback Jeremy Lane in the end zone, washing away hopes for an early lead.
But early in the second quarter, Brady put the offense in gear, marching the Patriots downfield before hitting receiver Brandon LaFell for an eleven-yard pass in the end zone. The extra point made by kicker Stephen Gostkowski put New England out in front 7–0. The Seahawks countered with a three-yard run for the goal line by their one-man Sherman tank, Marshawn Lynch. Unfazed, the Patriots battled back with Brady finding his favorite target, tight end Rob Gronkowski, for another touchdown. But with six seconds left on the clock before halftime, Seattle, benefiting from a face mask penalty against New England, took one last shot at the end zone. Quarterback Russell Wilson convinced his coach, Pete Carroll, who had been jettisoned from New England years before, to call the field goal kicker back to the sideline and go for it from the 11-yard line. The gamble paid off as Wilson hit receiver Chris Matthews for an easy score that would tie the game. Like two prizefighters, the teams stood toe-to-toe in the first half, each taking big swings packed with heavyweight power and landing crushing blows against the other. Bloodied but unbowed, the Patriots and Seahawks retreated to their neutral corners for halftime.
It was still anyone’s game.
The third quarter of Super Bowl XLIX belonged to the Seahawks, and it was beginning to appear that the city of Seattle would need to finalize plans for a second straight championship parade. A field goal put them up by three. On the Patriots’ next possession, Brady threw another costly interception, this time to Seattle linebacker Bobby Wagner. Russell Wilson made New England pay, driving his team fifty yards before connecting with receiver Doug Baldwin for another touchdown. The score was now 24–14 heading into the final quarter.
“You win this game, you’re honored,” Brady had told his teammates before the coin toss. Now he had just fourteen minutes to determine their fate. The Patriots’ running game stalled in the second half, gaining only four yards on the ground. New England’s chances for victory rested solely on the shoulders of number 12 against a defensive unit that had allowed the fewest passing yards of any team during the regular season. Bill Belichick consulted with his quarterback.
“Try no negative plays,” the coach stressed as he squatted in front of Brady on the bench. “Ya know, if you gotta get rid of it, you gotta get rid of it. The chances of them playing thr
ee good defensive plays in a row don’t look very good. The pass rush…everyone’s running by you. They’re getting displaced in their zone. Just no negative plays and we’ll keep it close.”
Brady nodded. The NFL championship was on the line but so was his legacy. The quarterback strapped his helmet back on and went to work.
“Hey, we’ve been in worse situations than this, huh?” he reminded his teammates. “C’mon now!”
In a performance for the ages, he completed thirteen of fifteen passes in the fourth quarter, spreading the ball around, hitting all his receivers, including Danny Amendola for a touchdown and another touchdown toss to his close friend Julian Edelman on a play that had just been put into the game plan the night before the Super Bowl. Following that score, Brady raised his fist high in the air, pumped it, and pointed to the crowd. The Patriots had retaken the lead 28–24 with just over two minutes left. Brady’s passer rating for the quarter was an astounding 140.7.
“When things seem dire, what do you do in life?” asked Patriots color commentator and former quarterback Scott Zolak in a speech reminiscent of Russell Crowe in the film Gladiator, whipping the radio audience into a frenzy. “You go right to people that you can depend on—Julian Edelman!”
Brady butted helmets with Edelman and congratulated him for the catch.
“Way to go. Nice job,” he told the receiver. “That’s a championship drive, Jules.”
It was time for the Patriots defense to protect the lead.
“Remember, we’re staying aggressive,” defensive coordinator Matt Patricia ordered his troops.
The Seahawks, however, were unfazed, as Wilson had led the team to come-from-behind victories throughout the season. Seattle players and coaches did not think much of a defensive adjustment by the Patriots to replace defensive back Kyle Arrington, who had struggled all day, with Malcolm Butler, an undrafted free agent from Division II Western Alabama. The unheralded twenty-four-year-old Butler, who had worked at a Popeyes Chicken in college, had a vision that he’d make a big play in the game. But on the final drive, all the plays were going Seattle’s way. First, Wilson connected for a big pass with Marshawn Lynch. Then he threw it up for receiver Jerome Kearse, who juggled the ball as he fell and yet somehow managed to pull it in for a thirty-three-yard catch at the 5-yard line. The ghosts of Glendale, Arizona, had come back to haunt the Patriots. On the same field in Super Bowl XLII in 2008, Giants receiver David Tyree had made a similar improbable grab, that one on his helmet, to help defeat the Patriots 17–14.
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