On July 22, two days before the end of the NFL’s four-and-a-half-month lockout, dozens of people on both sides of the multibillion-dollar dispute arrived in Newton, Massachusetts. It was one of the hottest days in the history of the Boston area, with the temperature in some parts of the region climbing to 103 degrees. It was one of the rare lockout days when everyone was humbled, and talking heads were replaced by bowed ones.
It seemed as if the entire league, accompanied by an incredible cross-section of celebrities, was in town to honor the life of Myra Hiatt Kraft, wife of Patriots owner Robert Kraft. On July 20, Myra, who had been married to Robert for forty-eight years, died of cancer. She was sixty-eight years old. The daughter of a local philanthropist, Myra was the conscience of the Patriots and one of the most beloved figures in New England.
Her funeral service proved that she was capable of bringing people together, side by side in some cases, and smoothing over any perceived gaps between them. On one side of Temple Emanuel, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell sat near his negotiating adversary, DeMaurice Smith, the executive director of the NFL Players Association. In another section of the temple, many players who had left New England with sour tastes in their mouths, such as Richard Seymour, Drew Bledsoe, and Willie McGinest, returned to pay their respects and were often nearby Bill Belichick, the man who either traded them or allowed them to leave as free agents. Local politicians, including the mayor of Boston and the governor of Massachusetts, were among the mourners as well as those known for being critical of politicians, such as syndicated radio host Rush Limbaugh and real estate giant Donald Trump.
Long before the lockout was nearing its conclusion, Robert Kraft had been praised behind the scenes, by both sides, for his determination to get a deal done. Those working closely with him knew what was happening in his personal life, how he would negotiate with purpose and passion but sometimes leave sessions early so he could spend time with his wife. He had the respect of Smith, who felt that Kraft was much more interested in arriving at a deal than walking away with a “win.” Most people with knowledge of the proposed collective bargaining agreement’s details credited Kraft with engineering a proposal that would preserve the 2011 season and give the league ten years of labor peace.
As important as the end of the lockout was to fans, players, owners, and anyone associated with the game, the details seemed inconsequential now as Kraft walked down the center aisle of the temple, escorted by his four sons, his daughters-in-law, and his grandchildren. His gait was slightly unsteady, and his face was ashen. Years earlier, in a Boston café, he had caught the attention of his future wife by winking at her, a spark in his eyes. She had seen that playful and knowing wink many times in the subsequent years as her husband made savvy business deals, including a multifaceted one, almost two decades earlier, that eventually landed him the Patriots in 1994. But as he walked down the aisle, trailing his wife’s coffin, his eyes were glazed and sad; he was clearly heartbroken. His family spoke eloquently about the sense of social justice that Myra brought to her family and everyone who met her. Jonathan, the eldest son and Patriots team president, recalled carrying his mother, a petite woman, away from trouble in South Africa in the early 1980s because she was loudly questioning a police officer on the practice of apartheid. “My mother,” Jonathan said during his tribute, “she lived her life looking at the world through empathetic eyes.”
After the emotional service, it was hard to imagine either side being in the mood to negotiate as intensely as they had over the previous 129 days. After a weekend of looking over what Kraft and his fellow owners had proposed, Smith and the players officially agreed to the deal on Monday, July 25. What it meant was that teams would soon be able to welcome back their players under contract and make bids for those who weren’t. The Patriots, Chiefs, and Falcons all had surprising forays into the trade and free-agent markets.
The Patriots drew the most attention, causing eyes to bulge and jaws to drop, with a couple of transactions. They traded for Washington Redskins defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth, known throughout football for being highly paid (he made $35 million in twenty games with the Redskins), high risk (he had a sexual assault case hovering as this book went to print), and often underachieving. When playing to his potential, Haynesworth was considered an All-Pro talent, but second-year Washington head coach Mike Shanahan was so eager to get the defensive lineman out of the organization that the price tag for the Patriots was just a fifth-round pick in 2013.
Belichick could see the obvious risks in acquiring the player, but he also weighed the substantial payoff of getting an in-shape and focused Haynesworth. The 335-pound lineman arrived in town during a time of transition for the Patriots defense. Belichick always preferred a defense, whether with a four- or three-man line, with two-gapping principles. In essence, it was a disciplined defense that required interior linemen to stay square at the point of attack and control the gaps on either side of them. The new approach in Foxboro allowed the interior linemen to attack and go upfield. Belichick always wanted his system to be adaptable to the times, and the new defensive approach appeared to be the antidote to the Patriots’ third-down defense in 2010, which was ranked near the bottom of the league.
On the other side of the ball, the Patriots added a veteran receiver who entered the 2011 season with 751 career receptions, the twenty-eighth best number in league history. The cost of acquiring him was also low, fifth-and sixth-round picks. Those were the black-and-white details of the acquisition; the full-color story came with the name of the player: Chad Ochocinco (né Johnson), who had gained popularity more for his entertaining antics, such as racing a horse and riding a bull, than his play on the field. In other words, he was known for things that the Patriots usually frowned on. Ochocinco seemed to accept that he would have to conform to what was perceived to be the Patriot Way, which was bad news for his millions of Twitter followers; they could no longer expect to receive updates that would even hint at anything insightful during practice, in the locker room, or in the meeting rooms. Belichick may have intentionally mispronounced Twitter when asked about the social media platform by reporters, but he knew the power of it, and he made a point of telling players to be cautious, and preferably bland, when communicating with the public.
The Chiefs and Falcons didn’t acquire controversial players, nor did they tweak their systems. What they did was spend money. A lot of it. The Chiefs began free agency by signing former Arizona Cardinal Steve Breaston, a good complementary receiver who Chiefs head coach Todd Haley knew from his days as the Cardinals’ offensive coordinator. Breaston got $9 million in guaranteed money, or $26 million less than Chiefs linebacker Tamba Hali, a gifted pass rusher. The Hali deal assured the Chiefs of having two of their defensive anchors, Hali and safety Eric Berry, locked into long-term deals through the middle of the decade.
In Atlanta, Thomas Dimitroff was able to find a pass rusher. Former Vikings defensive end Ray Edwards was signed to a deal that called for $11 million in guarantees. In Minnesota, Edwards didn’t always believe that former head coach Brad Childress treated his players like men; in Atlanta, he was almost assured of finding the opposite in the straightforward and fair Mike Smith. Under Dimitroff and Smith, the Falcons had run a 4–3 defense since 2008. It meant that they didn’t usually find themselves looking for the same defensive players as the Patriots. But when free agency began and they found themselves discussing adding Edwards, apparently he had also gotten the attention of New England. Ultimately, the Patriots decided that he wasn’t a match for them, and the Falcons were in position to happily sign him to a contract.
Despite the chaos of the lengthy lockout, each team went into the 2011 season believing that it was better than the year before, when all three won their divisions and two were top seeds. Each team had begun to take on distinct identities that were respectful yet different from one another.
The Patriots, the philosophical home base for the other two, seemed to be the most in transition. They were going to install that new defense, and they were going to do it with Belichick once again as the unofficial defensive coordinator. There was also the guesswork of the locker room, with the same question being asked week to week: Is this Patriot leadership group strong enough to straighten out a guy like Haynesworth, as previous groups were able to deal with Corey Dillon and Randy Moss?
The Falcons entered the season with a quiet confidence. Whereas Scott Pioli believed that the Chiefs needed to fortify several positions between 2010 and 2011, Dimitroff thought the Falcons needed to add some subtle pieces and get over some psychological hurdles (like finally beating a team like the Philadelphia Eagles). Dimitroff and Pioli, ironically, were still mindful of their Patriots training when it came to acquiring players, so they weren’t necessarily above acquiring high-risk players, just cautious of it, but they did not believe Haynesworth or Ochocinco, the former a high-risk player and the latter a high-attention one, were good fits for their locker rooms.
The major differences between the Falcons and Chiefs were defensive schemes, 4–3 vs. 3–4, and the collective maturity of the roster. The Patriots were different from the other two simply because of the three Super Bowl titles, which gave Belichick much more confidence, not to mention latitude with the public, to try unconventional things. Ultimately, though, the three team leaders, birthed from the same system, had one goal in common, a goal not achieved since February 2005: to stand on a podium holding the Lombardi Trophy.