For a brief, euphoric moment, there was Ben Coates in the end zone, hugging a Drew Bledsoe pass, the Patriots vaulting into the lead and all of New England wondering if maybe, just maybe, its long-pathetic football team could be the champions of Super Bowl XXXI. Ah, but reality had to come crashing down, and soon there was Desmond Howard, weaving through the sea of white jerseys, sprinting toward the goal line, the hopes of a region dashed.
Still, now that the grieving period is over for Patriots fans, they should have plenty to rejoice. After going 6-10 last year, their team went 11-5 in 1996-97, won the AFC East, earned a first-round bye, brought two playoff contests to New England, reached the Super Bowl for only the second time in franchise history, and gave clearly the best team in the league a game. The Pats have the second-youngest team in the NFL and a plethora of stars under the age of 30-led by a 24-year-old quarterback already twice a Pro Bowler-who now have plenty of postseason experience to go along with their talent. They have a committed owner with local roots who wants to build a state-of-the-art new stadium in the heart of the region's largest city. And they have one of the most-respected coaches in the NFL who, in four years, has rebuilt the team from league doormat to conference champion.
Sounds like a near-guarantee of success in years to come, right?
Wrong.
Bill Parcells will not be the coach of the New England Patriots next season. NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue ruled yesterday that he is bound contractually to the Patriots through 1997, but either Parcells will take a year off from coaching, or owner Robert Kraft will let him go, provided his new team gives New England some form of compensation. Either way, the Tuna is gone.
It would seem that Parcells has an ideal situation in New England. He has numerous talented, young players, most of whom he drafted or signed, who obey him unequivocally. The fans adore him and the media hangs over his every word. Due to the current dire state of New England pro sports, the Patriots have a monopoly on the public's interest. But as Parcells sees it, there is one problem in his position with the Patriots which makes it impossible for him to stay. That problem? Bob Kraft. It's a problem that has nothing to do with logic or football, but rather with ego: two proud, capable men unwaveringly facing off against each other.
It's hard to say when the rift between coach and owner began. When Parcells was hired to rescue the floundering Pats four years ago, James Orthwein was the owner and the franchise was in danger of being moved to St. Louis. After the Tuna's first season in New England, the team having given its fans hope by winning its last four games behind rookie Bledsoe, Kraft stepped in and bought the Patriots. A long-time season-ticket holder, Kraft seems like a classic armchair quarterback, for years muttering to himself, "If I were running things..." then one day realizing, "Hey, I could be running things." As professional sports owners go, Kraft's not bad. He has ties to the region and is a true football fan who wants to win. Still, he is a businessman.
Parcells originally had total control of all football decisions. But then Kraft decided to make Bobby Grier director of player personnel, and soon conflict arose. At last year's draft, Parcells wanted to select a defensive player; Grier and others wanted wide receiver Terry Glenn, and eventually won out. Glenn went on to become the most prolific rookie receiver in NFL history, but the incident still left the Tuna incensed. Over the off-season he restructured his contract to run out after this year. Simply put, Parcells wants absolute power, and Kraft won't give it to him.
It's also possible that the Tuna likes playing the role of savior. Once you reach the top, as the Patriots (almost) have, there's nowhere to go but down, and maybe Parcells can't handle that blow to his ego. There's speculation that he'll end up with the woeful Jets, where he can rebuild once again. Parcells is undoubtedly confident he can turn any team from a cellar-dweller into a contender, and enjoys the challenge.
And despite all Parcells has done for this team, Kraft is convinced the Patriots can survive without the coach. Bledsoe, Glenn, Coates, Curtis Martin, Willie McGinest, Ted Johnson, et al, will still be in New England next year. Kraft will hire a competent coach (probably 49ers defensive coordinator Pete Carroll), and hopefully, the Pats will soon return to the Super Bowl. But Parcells' influence can't be underestimated, and Kraft's ego won't let him recognize this. In the meantime, the owner is encountering the pettiness of local politics as he attempts to build a new stadium in Boston. When Parcells first arrived, he lent instant credibility to the bumbling franchise; stagnant ticket sales suddenly shot up. Without the Tuna, Kraft will have a more difficult time convincing skeptical local leaders that they want to house the team.
Life will go on in New England once Bill Parcells makes his departure official. But it won't make his decision any less illogical, or mean that the Patriots won't feel its repercussions. In the world of sports we always talk about X's and O's and wins and losses; the Tuna's exit, however, has nothing to do with any of that. It's merely a reminder that the people in charge are human beings who sometimes put emotion over logic. Parcells' and Kraft's egos are convincing them that they're doing the right thing by parting ways; only time will tell whether they'll look back and regret their decisions later.
Rachel Cohen is a Trinity freshman.
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