A Belichick Loyalist's UNC Football Diary

I was perhaps more surprised than anyone when Bill Belichick accepted the offer to get back to the sidelines at U. of North Carolina, of all places. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been. First, because it's been obvious for a couple of decades now that the NFL is largely run by children of wealth that was inherited, instead of earned by great visionaries like Al Davis or Lamar Hunt. Men who are, in the words of Gandalf in Lord of the Rings, lesser sons of greater sires. (Or as the father of a guy in my neighbor once told his son, "When I made you, I only let loose with one nut!" True story.) So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me than management such as exists in the modern NFL would be too intimidated by the thought of having a galaxy brained genius inside the building, thinking circles around the rest of the staff. That they'd rather protect their own egos than see the organizations they were born into succeed.

Second, because Bill Belichick is, to the core of his being, down to the DNA in his genes, a football coach. Wearing that headset on game days is what he exists to do. Whether the game on that day is a Super Bowl or the Richmond Spiders in front of a way less than capacity crowd at Kenan Stadium featuring two guys in the corner section dress as sharks for reasons known only to them:

… is only a matter of degrees. A true ball coach doesn't crave the limelight. He craves the game. The opportunity to deploy young, testosterone-fueled superathletes in a competitive environment and establish dominance over an opponent. It's been said by some of The Hooded One's most vicious critics that he conducts himself as if he wished there were no fans or media to deal with. I've vehemently disagreed. But by taking the Tar Heel's job, he's more or less proving their point. 

Anyway, Coach Bill taking the job in Chapel Hill gave me the opportunity to address a lifelong need of mine. To fill the hole in my heart shaped like major college sports. I'm not only a lifelong Masshole, I've never lived outside the semi-circle formed by Rte 495. Meaning the closest thing I've had to DI sports is Boston College, and that's not going to satisfy anyone. Not even the Triple Eagles I've known, who almost never get a moment's joy out of their programs outside of BC hockey on certain occasions. I have to travel for that experience. 

My older son went to WVU, which gave me the chance to go to three Mountaineers football games and the unforgettable comeback hoops win over No. 2 Baylor just before Covid shut down March Madness. Now he lives in Raleigh, which gave me the perfect opportunity to be both a dad to him and the dedicated Belichick Loyalist I raised both sons to be. It might be seven seasons since that last banner was hung in Gillette. And yes, some of those last few drafts cratered the talent level on the Patriots roster. But without Mr. Kraft hiring him away from the Jets in 2000, we might very well be the Jets. So this was our chance to demonstrate the Thorntons are nothing if not grateful for all we've been given. 

Anyway, this is what it's like to see the greatest football mind of all time coach the program that lost the Wasabi Fenway Bowl to UConn last year:

--For starters, I did next to no research, outside of watching with horror the Tar Heels get boatraced by TCU on Labor Day night. So I had this image of a stadium surrounded by a vast expanse of parking lots filled with pop-up tents, brat-covered grills and fat guys pulling cans of beer out of coolers as far as the eye can see. The vision we all have in our minds eye of Saturdays in college towns in the south. There was precious few of that, and it was far between. Instead, Kenan is the dictionary definition of "nestled" in the middle of an idyllic campus. The kind of shady, tree-lined quads surrouned by red brick buildings with columns outside the main entrances they use as a setting in every movie where they want to establish the main character is smart. Then you turn a corner and there's this 70,000 seat venue sitting in the middle of it all, like an alien mothership that landed there. 

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--In fact, the campus itself is "nestled" in the middle of Chapel Hill, making Kenan the inner Matryoshka doll of quaintness. We parked and followed the crowd through the middle of town, past a row of frats and sorority houses where virtually every coed was dressed like they were about to break out into one of those Rush Week dance videos they all put out in mid-August now. Dresses inspired by the fashion of the Antebellum South. Like the kind Miss North Carolina would've worn in the opening number at the Miss America pageant before ladies started getting canceled by society for such cosplaying. And the thing about the Carolina Blue clothes that absolutely dominate the landscape on game days, that is a hell of a sharp look. It might not be the most intimidating color - let's face it, it's not the Raiders' silver and black - but it looks damn good on a golf shirt, a pocket tee, or a tasteful dress worn by some Class of 1995 alumna MILF.

--And just as a Patiots fan, I'm happy to report that next to Michael Jordan, the Tar Heel getting the most representation on campus is Drake Maye. As many No. 10 jerseys and t-shirts as you'd expect to find at a Patriots training camp practice. Which should serve as a nice reminder the Pats were lucky to have the third pick in the draft when there were three franchise QBs available, and not just Cam Ward, Shedeur Sanders and whomever.

--As far as the game itself, I won't put too fine a point on UNC beating the brakes off of Richmond. In fact, I chose this game specifically to see a visting team they could beat the brakes off of. I wasn't about to hop a flight to Raleigh-Durham just to watch a repeat of that TCU de-pantsing. With all due respect, Belichick coaching against the Spiders is like Frank Lloyd Wright working with Lincoln Logs. Their QB Kyle Wickersham is a tall glass of Prosecco - a big, physical, bruising runner. Think Jared Lorezen (RIP). But their entire offense seemed to be Read Option runs, or other Read Option runs. And they ran the entire gamut, from A to B. So Steve Belichick stuck with a single high safety, loaded the box, two-gapped up front, and left them no gaps to run to. Even well into the 4th quarter down 41-3, when the stands were just a Masshole father and son and a couple of weirdos in shark costumes, Richmond stuck to grounding and pounding like they wanted it to end so they could get back on the bus. Which I'm grateful for.

--To that point, the debacle that was Labor Day night is starting to fade somewhat. Not for the American public, since that humiliation was the only thing on TV that night, but around the program. Granted, Gio Lopez is still not the answer, missing receivers who were left uncovered and demonstrating an Imperial Stormtrooper-like accuracy rate of 58%. But the unfortunately named Demon June averaged over 10 yards per rushing attempt. Jordan Shipp had two receiving touchdowns and is averaging almost 15 yards a reception. And the Heels haven't given up a touchdown since that Week 1 debacle, outscoring their last two opponents 61-9. So there's that.

--Granted, they're about to go on the road to UCF to face a Power 4 team that has outscored their last two opponents 85-17. So I'm not going to get too far out over my Carolina Blue skis here. But since the main thing I'm looking for is a college football experience that isn't just placing a few bets and looking for a receiver for Drake Maye who'll last more than a season:

… Bill Belichick's UNC Tar Heels will just have to do. See you back here next season.