It Sounds Like the Great American Book Has Been Written, by Noted First-Time Author Bill Belichick
Boston Globe. Getty Images.Whenever I've been blessed with the opportunity to interview or even speak to someone who's written a book, I always begin with the simple question, "Why?"
That's the key to explaining whether the book is worth reading. Whether it's non-fiction or fiction, self-help, romance, travel, cooking, history, biography. Regardless of which section the bookseller chooses to list it under, the answer to that question should reveal why the author would invest all the lonely hours it takes to produce something to be proud of. What passion drove them to the point they had no choice but put it down on paper for posterity.
And now we're mere weeks away from Bill Belichick following in his father Steve's mighty footsteps in writing a book. Joining the ranks of other noted authors such as Dickens, Melville, Steinbeck, Hemingway and Thornton.
Even before the book comes out, based strictly on the reviews I've read, I can already anticipate the answer to the "Why?" question.
Belichick wrote The Art of Winning for one reason and one reason only: To benefit all mankind.
This is not an autobiography. It's not merely some self-aggrandizing list of his accomplishments like so many others have penned before him. It's a philosophy book. In the tradition of Marcus Aurelius's Meditations. Plato's The Republic. Immanuel Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Confucius' Analects. Jada Pinkett Smith's Worthy. This is about a great thinker imparting his wisdom to help an unwise world. It's a gift to us all. Something for each of us, to help us navigate our way through this trying, difficult, often unjust world:
Source - I expected "The Art of Winning: Lessons from My Life in Football" to be one of a few things. Maybe a modern version of Bill Walsh's coaching-cult classic "Finding the Winning Edge," which literally provided granular rundowns of what the former 49ers great told the team on the third day of training camp. Or, unlikely but plausible, a splashy tell-all, settling old scores. Or, perhaps, a business book for the Wharton crowd.
Instead, it's about something more interesting and revealing. It's largely a book about emotion. About emotional intelligence. About connection. About how a leader should treat people. …
Bill feels in debt to the sport. "I hope that this book can give back some of what I have taken from football," he writes.
This book lacks a lot of hardcore football, at least in terms of what we've come to expect from Belichick when he has shed light into his vast knowledge, legendary preparation and savvy creativity. He doesn't dive deep into his theories about, say, long-snappers or nickel cornerbacks. He offers little fresh insight into some of his most epic moments, from "Butch the Back" in Super Bowl XXXVI to "Malcolm, go!" in Super Bowl XLIX.
A preseason game from 2004 receives a longer look than most of his championships. …
That's not to say, however, that there's not football. It just lives beyond the chessboard.
It arrives in the form of passion: "There are players who put everything they have into the game because they can't imagine doing anything else," Belichick writes. "I'm like that. I don't need coffee; I need more hours in the day."
And in humor: "If somebody uses AI to summarize this book down to three essential words, I hope they are: Don't. Commit. Penalties." …
There are chapters on how to motivate people. How to prepare, improve, how to move on, and how to handle success. How to balance long-term strategy against short-term necessities. But classic Belichick, he spends more time on his mistakes than his historic successes. …
Why he opened the door for Brady to leave in 2020 is looped in with a slew of players unaffordable for salary cap reasons; why the Patriots loved but passed over Lamar Jackson in the 2018 draft is given some real estate. Insight into why Malcolm Butler was benched in Super Bowl LII is ignored; why Belichick erred in not activating a defensive lineman named Dan Klecko in Super Bowl XXXVIII is studied. …
Indeed, Belichick dedicates most of a chapter to four words that he uttered often in staff meetings, exemplar of leadership, accountability, culture, and the power of admitting mistakes: "I f---ed that up." …
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Robert Kraft receives nary a mention.
Of course. We don't need yet another dry recitation on why Tom Brady was allowed to bring his insatiable appetite for winning Super Bowls to Tampa just so we could have Cam Newton, Mac Jones and Bailey Zappe. The Malcolm Butler thing has been done to death. Everything between Belichick and Mr. Kraft was said at his mutually agreed upon, parting-of-the-ways, farewell press conference. No need to rehash all of that metaphorical water beneath all those abstract bridges.
To really help humanity, it's best to talk about the stuff no one remembers. Or ever wondered about. That 2004 preseason game that was somehow the key to everything. A deep dive into that momentous Dan Klecko decision from that Super Bowl we won. This is how we learn. Some real Socratic method teaching from the wisest philosopher of our time. And I for one cannot wait for class to begin.
So to the list of career accomplishments that already include Super Bowls, Coach of the Years, Executive of the Years, and an Emmy Award, we can make room in the trophy case for the Nobel Prize in Literature, a Pulitzer, and, one can only hope, a movie deal so we can see this epic on the big screen.
Until then, I'm going to suggest to my fellow literati that they all take the year off. Belichick is about to release the biggest bestseller since The Bible, so there's no use in anyone trying to sell anything for a while. As men of letters, we owe it to each other.
