Gridiron Genius

by Michael Lombardi

  I can’t help wondering when that will happen in football. Computers have revolutionized just about every aspect of our lives—from phones to music to maps—and there are times when it seems like football is the last holdout against technology. That’s just not sustainable.

  In my vision of football’s future, artificial intelligence will help coaches not only on Sunday but through the week. After all, I think chess and football have much in common, starting with the constant moves and countermoves that are the trademark of both. Deep Blue can simulate 200 million possible positions at a time. That kind of computer power sure would be useful on Sundays in the NFL. (I can promise you Deep Blue would not call a time-out with 2:05 left in the game.)

  There’s definitely potential here even if the comparison is not exact. Chess is one move at a time; football has 22 moving parts. Chess has no weather concerns, no injury reports, and no field position issues, either. Still, think about it: Our kids hold tiny devices in their hands with almost as much computing power as Deep Blue, yet coaches still rely on a hand-drawn chart to decide when to attempt a two-point conversion. Seems practically medieval, right? (Like, say, using two sticks and a link of chain for the most important measurement in the game.) Computers already have infiltrated football to some degree, but mostly for predictive stuff: win probabilities, fourth-down charts, and such. I don’t think we are far away at all from a time when computers call plays, not coaches. Deep Blue analyzed billions of games in seconds to come up with the best possible moves for each particular situation presented by Kasparov. Surely it could match wits with the likes of Rex Ryan.

  Okay, the teams would need NFL approval to access their AI, on game day at least. During the week, though, there would be no limitations on computer use, not for helping with the game plan, not for devising new ways to attack. Make no mistake, play callers would benefit from midweek data crunching and game simulations. Lots of offensive play callers in the NFL watch a college game on Saturday night with their own call sheet in front of them to respond to game situations and help get their minds right for Sunday. It’s a good enough mental workout, but doesn’t it make way more sense to use the unlimited power of a computer-generated game simulation to prepare?

  Advancements in computer science and technology may begin to pop up in other areas of football first, such as game and practice film. Some team will be the first to put cameras on every player in practice, so instead of watching one video of all 22 players on the field, coaches will be able to home in on each individual player. The more detailed practice film gets, the more assistant coaches will be able to improve their teaching skills with things such as safer tackling technique. Imagine this: During a break, a player takes off his helmet and downloads the video of his last series to a screen on his wristband so that he can review it, study it, and learn from it. Because it is instantaneous, he can immediately put what he’s discovered into action on the very next play instead of waiting until Monday to figure out what went wrong.

  Are you skeptical about these ideas? That’s okay. I was skeptical that Batman’s map could pinpoint the exact location of Catwoman’s secret lair. Now we have maps on our phones that talk to us, show us satellite images from space of the restaurant we trying to find, and warn us when there’s a guy with a flat tire up ahead. I’m just saying.

  In any case, tune in tomorrow, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.

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  Al Davis always liked to remind me that working in football is a lifelong commitment, not just a profession. Now I see how right he was. As long as you’re involved in the game, you need to keep pushing. From the moment I turned on the engine in Bill Walsh’s Porsche, I was given a firsthand look at the advantages of curiosity, continued study, and constant growth. Turns out that those car-ride classrooms were as much about life lessons as they were about football instruction.

  I hope I have been at least somewhat effective at passing those lessons on to you. I wrote this book because I wanted to show fans of the game I love what it really takes to build a championship team—to build a successful enterprise of any kind, for that matter. Belichick always tells his players that they need to take the classroom to the field. The rest of us do, too. To my mind, the most important lessons boil down to a handful of ideas that are as powerful as they are simple.

  CULTURE COMES FIRST. You can have the best game plan (or strategy or tactics), the best team (or product or service), and the best players (or engineers or salespeople), and you may achieve short-term success. But if you haven’t created an underlying ecosystem of excellence, short-term success is all it will ever be.

  PRESS EVERY EDGE ALL THE TIME, BECAUSE ANY EDGE MAY MATTER ANYTIME. The great ones understand that a focus on details is crucial not because they know what will matter when but because they don’t.

  SYSTEMS OVER STARS. Obviously, I have seen some superstars up close in my day: Jerry Rice, Joe Montana, Tom Brady. But superstar is the second way I’d describe each. The first is “superb system guy.” Talent matters, but willingness to buy into the program matters more.

  LEADERSHIP IS A LONG-TERM PROPOSITION. Devotion to the process has to matter more than chasing the score. True leaders always value sustainable success over quick fixes. Much as empire builders such as Warren Buffet and Jeff Bezos have ignored the quarter-to-quarter earnings game, dynastic coaches ignore all distractions—fan pressure, media scrutiny, player grumbling—once they are convinced that a decision is right for their team.

  YOU’RE NEVER DONE GETTING BETTER. Greatness over time is in direct correlation to growth over time, and growth over time requires finding new ways to do the same old things. Real leaders, real achievers, real champions are never done learning.

  Real front-office guys, too. I may no longer be employed by the league, but the game is still an important part of me, and it always will be. These days, I am teaching my two grandsons, Dominic and Leo, all about this great game. And to do that I have to keep learning, especially from my mistakes. That’s one reason I have a category of people I call “change-my-mind guys.” At first glance, this group of players and coaches didn’t impress me all that much. But over time they forced me to reevaluate them. It can be a humbling exercise. And at this stage of my career, I can tell you, these change-my-mind guys often end up leaving the biggest impressions.

  Malcolm Butler is one of my all-time favorite change-my-mind guys. When I was with the Patriots, we originally signed Butler on little more than a “look-see” deal. And the next time I looked, I saw a guy who had won us a Super Bowl. After more than 30 years in the business, Butler finally changed my mind about scouting talent from smaller schools.

  My latest change-my-mind guy might be the greatest one of them all: Eagles head coach Doug Pederson. I freely admit that after he got the job in Philadelphia I considered him one of the worst hires ever. I mean, he was an offensive coordinator who had never even been a full-time play caller in the league. There was nothing to suggest he was worthy of or ready for a head coaching job. Honestly, nothing he did in his first season in Philadelphia—where he basically just copied the Chiefs’ attack—caused me to rethink my assessment. But in the 2017 season, the originality of his offense and the leadership, teaching skills, and game planning he showed while winning the Super Bowl with a backup QB were nothing short of masterly. I want to say one more time to him and the football world: Man, was I wrong.

  But that’s the thing: After it’s all said and done, football is really a game of surprises.

  I’ll be sure to let Dominic and Leo know that.

  It will be lesson number one in our first car-ride classroom.

  For Millie,

  My Summer Wind, without whom nothing else matters.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Sophocles wrote: “One must wait until the evening to see how splendid the day has been.” In the evening of my incredibly fortunate care
er in the NFL, I can now say the days have been splendid, mostly because of the many people who helped along the way. If I’m honest, the following printed thank-yous don’t begin to represent how strongly I feel them in my heart. But here goes.

  First and foremost, I want to extend my sincerest thanks and most profound love to my wife, Millie; my two sons, Mick and Matthew, and their beautiful wives, Michelle and Julie; and my two remarkable grandsons, Dominic Anthony and Leo Stanley. Without Millie, there would be no family and no book. Through the years, she has made so many sacrifices for the good of our family with love and incredible support; I could not have found a better life-loving partner. And I am blessed to call my two boys my best friends. I cannot wait to watch them as they fill out their football careers.

  Because she was the first person to encourage me to read and write, I want to thank my mother, Jane, who would have been beyond excited to open this book. Writing it reminded me of my childhood, of the way she pushed me to chase my dreams. For that, I will be forever grateful. Also, thanks to my 91-year-old father, Mike, who still cuts hair every day, continuing to demonstrate the incredible work ethic I can only try to duplicate; to my in-laws who have since passed away, Big Stosh and Lucille, as they always made me feel like their son and supported my every move (of which there were plenty); and to my brothers-in-law Mike Kluzinski (with his wife, Yeimy, and my niece Michelle), and the late Stanley Kluzinski, who always cheered loudly.

  To my sisters, Marie and Annette; Marie’s husband, Tom; Annette’s daughter, Brianna: thank you. Thanks to my uncle Mike Palermo, who passed away this year, as well as his wife, Betty, for being guiding influences throughout my life. So, too, to my cousin Vince Lombardi, his deceased wife, Nina, and their children, Alyssa, Nick, and Joe, as well as Susan. They’ve always been my most loyal fans. And to the self-proclaimed mayor of the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey, Sal Deldeo, and his wife, Barbara, who passed away last year, I owe sincere thank-yous and appreciation for their never-ending support, as well as to my aunt Gloria.

  Speaking of great support, the entire Nolan family has given me much-needed help in many ways: Pat, Bernadette, Justin, Melissa, Katie, Mike, Patrick, Michael, Vincent, and Lilly have become my extended family. The Barry family—my second mother, Marie; her deceased husband, Gerry; and their entire family—have been a real source of encouragement and support. As have the Bradys, from Paul to Susan to Leah to Shane to Jake, as well as the Galantes: Tony, Janet, Joey, and Michael. The Lindquist family: Kurt, Mary, Jeff, Emily, and Cadan; the Greene family: Bobby, Genny, and James; and finally the Baxters: Rick, Debbie, Chelsea, Kyle, Lindsay, and Courtney—a heartfelt thank-you to all.

  Some thanks need to be extended to others who passed away before this book became a reality. Their impact on my life has been everlasting: Mike Salveski and Roger Sicoli, my high school coaches; Bob Karmelowicz and Bob Owens at UNLV, my first coaching mentors; Ernie Plank, the former 49ers scout who treated me like a son and shared his wisdom; Tony Razzano, the man who hired me in San Francisco, as well as the Niners scouts Neil Schmidt, Bob Whitman, and Billy Wilson, all of whom were so very generous with their knowledge; Allen Webb, the 49ers pro personnel director, who was forever answering my annoying questions and helped me learn how to study football; Bobb McKittrick, the team’s offensive line coach, whose lessons about pass protection schemes I still remember; Norb Hecker, a Packers assistant under Vince Lombardi, who was as kind and helpful as his movie hero John Wayne was manly; Robert Albo, Raiders team doctor, one of the most caring men with one of the hardest handshakes; Browns owner Art Modell, who was funny and generous and always called me “kid,” which I loved; and Dom Anile, head coach at C. W. Post and director of personnel for the Colts and Panthers, who helped us develop Cleveland’s grading and player procurement systems. Joel Buchsbaum was the first draftnik to become my friend and a source of valuable information. I still miss him and often reach for the phone to call his 718 exchange during draft time.

  It goes without saying, but I’ll type it nonetheless, that this book would not have been possible without Bill Walsh, who let me inside what is arguably the most important organization in the modern football era and taught me so much about so many aspects of the game and leadership. I am likewise indebted to Al Davis, for bringing me into his vaunted organization. Both men affected my life substantially, and their impact is manifest on every page of this book.

  My career changed on February 5, 1991, when Bill Belichick was named the head coach of the Browns. Our professional partnership and our personal friendship over the past 25 years have been as enriching as they have been rewarding, which is saying something. Imagine the good fortune at being able to call the greatest coach of all time my friend.

  I want to acknowledge some other coaches I played for along the way—for their patience, passion, and willingness to teach the game: Ed Woolley, Bill Leete, Micky Kwiatkowski, Frank Guthridge, Jim Burner, and John Cervino. All my teammates at Ocean City High School, Valley Forge Military Academy, and Hofstra University deserve thanks as well, but in particular: Glen Wagner, Carmen Costanza, Johnny Cervino, Al Burch, Rick Moretti, Jim Chadwick, Joe Tyrell, Mike Ricketts, Fred Serino, Joe Buontempo, Dennis Pezzolesi, Peter Barcia, Frank Bianchini, Rich Petillo, Bud Rinck, and Ira Smith.

  I wrote so many letters to college head coaches from my dorm room at Hofstra that I must have been annoying to many. But each letter I sent to then Florida State head coach Bobby Bowden was always returned with a kind word. I never worked for Bowden, but I will always remember his encouragement. And another person I have tried to meet and thank personally for his words and inspirations is “The Boss,” Bruce Springsteen. I have been backstage numerous times to thank him, and each time I’ve come up short. Therefore, since it may never happen, I must thank him on these pages, because without his musical advice I might never have had that meeting across the river, or ever crossed Highway Nine.

  In Las Vegas, Harvey Hyde at UNLV was like a second father to me, and not just because he gave me my first paying job in football. Others at UNLV who deserve my gratitude are Ron Mims, Barry Lamb, Pat Hill, Scott O’Brien, Al Tanara, Randy Whitsitt, Tim Wilson, Tim Grugrich, and Mark Warkentein.

  In San Francisco, as you might imagine, the list of those who lent me a hand in one way or another is long. It starts with Hall of Fame owner Edward J. DeBartolo Jr. At my first-ever Super Bowl, he saw that my parents were with me at the game, ripped my tickets out of my hand, and replaced them with three much-improved seats. His generosity is legendary, with good reason. Others deserving thanks are John McVay, Carmen Policy, John Galetka, Paul Hackett, George Seifert, Bill McPherson, Ray Rhodes, Neal Dahlan, Fred von Appen, Mike Holmgren, Sherman Lewis, Jerry Walker, Rodney Knox, Bronco Hinek, and Tommy Hart.

  Many players on the Niners were also patient with a kid trying to become a scout: Joe Montana, Matt Cavanaugh, Dwight Clark, Roger Craig, Mike Wilson, Randy Cross, Guy McIntyre, Keith Fahnhorst, Dwaine Board, Manu Tuiasosopo, Michael Carter, Ronnie Lott, Eric Wright, Keena Turner, and the great Charles Haley, to name a few.

  In Cleveland, general manager Ernie Accorsi taught me the inner workings of a front office. Marty Schottenheimer, head coach at the time, made every team he guided better. Other Cleveland-era shout-outs go to Bill Cowher, Howard Mudd, Joe Pendry, Kurt Schottenheimer, Kirk Ferentz, Mike Sheppard, Richard Mann, Gary Tranquill, Steve Crosby, Ernie Adams, Kevin Spencer, Jim Bates, Al Groh, Jacob Burney, Woody Widenhofer, Jerry Simmons, Jim Schwartz, Eric Mangini, Ozzie Newsome, Scott Pioli, Tom Dimitroff, Thomas Dimitroff, Gary Horton, John Lombardi, Ellis Rainsberger, Phil Savage, Pat Moore, Sam Deluca, Dan Sagney, and George Kokinis. My one year working for the Haslam family was too short, and I wished things would have been different, but the Haslams were kind, were generous to my family, and deserve my recognition, starting with Big Jim Haslam, Jimmy, Dee, Steve, and Ann Bailey. Thank you.

  My time with the Browns was also the beg
inning of my invaluable relationship with Nick Saban, from whom I’ve learned so much, and Rick Venturi, who helped me as I wrote this book when my memory failed. Venturi knows football as well as any human on the planet, and I cherish our conversations. And my friendship with Jerry Angelo gave me many scouting tips and helped me learn about life on the road.

  In Philadelphia, Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie entrusted me to run his 1998 draft with help from Bryan Broaddus, a dear friend, as well as Bobby Depaul, Dan Shonka, Sean Payton, David Shaw, Danny Smith, Mike Trgovac, John Harbaugh, and Emmitt Thomas—what a privilege. Joe Banner, who hired me in Philadelphia and Cleveland, is one of the smartest men I have worked with during my time in the NFL.

  In Oakland, Al Davis was far from the only person who made a difference. I enjoyed working with Amy Trask, Dan Ventrelle, Rod Martin, Scotty Toucet, Ed Dodds, Jack Barhite, Sherratt Reicher, Pete Caracciolo, Mark Artega, Paul Kelly, Chet Franklin, Jim and John Otten, Mike Ornstein, Dave Nash, Tom Delaney, and the late great George “Run Run” Jones, who made every day in Raiderland a treat. Also, Bill Callahan (still one of my favorite coaches to watch work), Jon Gruden, Mike Waufle, Ron Lynn, Chuck Pagano, Don Martindale, Rob Ryan, Norv Turner, John Morton, Aaron Kromer, Jim Harbaugh, Skip Peete, Willie Brown, Jeff Fish, Garrett Giemont, Chuck Bresnahan, Bob Casullo, Fred Pagac, Gary Stephans, Fred Biletnikoff, Marc Trestman, Jim McElwain, Bill Romanowski, John Shoop, and, of course, my dear friend and summertime partner, Rich Gannon. But the most profound impact came from my friendship with Marc Badain, the current Raiders president. Badain has always been smart and funny, and like the little brother I never had.

  In New England, there are so many to recognize, starting with owner Robert Kraft, and his sons, Jonathan and Dan. Then there’s Josh McDaniels, Chad O’Shea, Ivan Fears, Dave “Guge” DeGugliemimo, Brian Daboll, Matt Patricia, Pat Graham, Steven Belichick, Brian Flores, Josh Boyer, Brandan Daly, Dante Scarnecchia, Joe Judge, Jack Easterby, Nick Cesario, Harold Nash, Moses Cabera, Jerry Schuplinski, Nick Caley, Nancy Meier, Monti Ossenfort, Matt Groh, Brian Smith, Bob Quinn, James Lipfert, Dujuan Daniels, Tim Heffelfinger, Jonathan Howard, Frank Ross, David Ziegler, Patrick Stewart, Ronnie McGill, Steve Cargile, Berj Najarian, Jim Whalen, Joe Van Allen, Ted Harper, Brandon Murphy and his grandfather Murph, Jimmy Dee, Fernando Neto, Jared Rita, Teddy Ciopper, and Brandon Yeargan.