The year was 2003. And while the Patriots had a title in their back pockets already, few had any idea what would unfold over the two decades to follow. Some thought Bill Belichick might’ve been the beneficiary of a single season sprinkled with fairy dust. Others believed the physically underwhelming Tom Brady was still just a system quarterback.
But behind closed doors, in the smallest of groups, the NFL’s future was on display.
Ted Johnson, a Patriot linebacker from 1996 to 2004, was there for this 7:30 a.m. captains’ meeting—a once-a-week ritual Belichick used to get the pulse of his locker room on Fridays—as the coach went around the room to hear player feedback on the game plan. Most guys addressed Belichick like a player would a coach. Brady, in this particular moment, didn’t, instead pushing back on where the conversation had gone.
Brady said.
Belichick responded.
“The casual nature, the way he talked to Bill was so instinctive, so comfortable,” Johnson says. “It was shocking to me. You see that and let’s face it, Tom’s like a lot of people have been in that organization. He’s like Lawyer Milloy, maybe Ty [Law], maybe [Richard] Seymour. They all think,
“Oh yes he will. He will.”
The lesson resulting from this particular anecdote is complex. It shows that Brady, as much as Belichick, was on the ground floor in building the Patriots into one of America’s greatest sports dynasties. It shows where the Patriots’ resolve that Brady would go from caretaker to superstar was born. It also shows how Brady earned his voice in the organization, in that Belichick so quickly agreed with him at a very early age.
But mostly, it showed why it’s been so hard the last two decades to figure who was most responsible for trips to nine Super Bowls, six championships and 17 division titles, and why the end was always going to be bumpy, with the line blurred between employee and partner.
This year, finally, with the guys apart for the first time since the turn of the century, it seemed like we’d get some answers. Maybe we have. Brady’s on a new team and has taken the Buccaneers to the Super Bowl, his 10th. Belichick, conversely, finished 7–9 and is going into a second consecutive offseason with a big question at the most important position.
Is that validating for Brady? Does it kill Belichick?
Over the last few days, we looked to answer those questions, going to guys who’ve been in the trenches with both. More than anything else, it brought insight like Johnson’s: Just based on the ultra-competitive nature of both, sure, they’re probably paying attention to the scoreboard on this one. But the truth is, neither would be what he is without the other.
