Part of it is this: We’re confused.
Let’s start with our ideal image of a coach. It may be 2013, we may well be past the hoary old notions of what’s acceptable and not acceptable. And yet when we think of the ideal coach, we don’t think about Tony Dungy, soft spoken and cerebral, who would sooner read a player a proverb than a riot act. Even Rex Ryan — part comic, part buddy-cop — isn’t the image we conjure.
It still is one part Lombardi fire, and one part Knight rage, and one part Muggsy McGraw certitude, and one part Landry ice, and one part Calapitino urgency, and one part Woody Hayes anger, and one part Norman Dale stubbornness, and one part Herb Brooks discipline, and one part Parcells mind-games specialist, and one part Belichick exactitude.
We may have grown to detest the coach-as-despot persona that ruled the profession for decades (even as more mild-mannered, professorial types like John Wooden and John McKay proved equally effective), but the fact is whenever Hollywood crafts the “ideal” coach, he’s Nick Nolte booting a ball into the stands, and he’s Gene Hackman booting malcontents out of practice, and he’s Al Pacino going full-metal Serpico on a football locker room.
That’s how we see coaches.
Even now, in a Kumbaya world.
So now we must turn to the way we view our ideal teammates, how we would craft the blueprint of a team leader from all we know, and all we think we know, about sports. You must start with Michael Jordan, of course, who not only brought his own extraordinary talent but a will to win that may have been unmatched — ever. We know about all the ways he belittled and exhorted and embarrassed the likes of Kwame Brown and Steve Kerr and others, legendary practice stories told to define that will; only God (and Jordan) knows the lengths of the stories we haven’t heard, though you can assume they’re doozies.
You must include Tom Brady, especially in this phase of his career when every incomplete pass seems to be followed by reactions ranging from annoyance to tantrum, and, of course, that never is interpreted any other way than a perfectionist at work — regardless of how the receivers may feel at being shown up so regularly.
There are dozens of legendary stories about practical jokes dreamt up by the Mets’ old hotfoot specialist, Roger McDowell (which kept everyone loose!) and those dreamt up by others to terrorize the squeamish likes of Gene Michael and Phil Rizzuto, the latter of whom constantly found insects in his spikes and mushed bananas in his mitts (which kept everyone loose!) and, well, those are only the G-rated stories that have made it through the corridors of time.
And, yes, there is the image we have of the quintessential kid, taking his lumps, paying his dues, accepting his stature as low man on the totem pole, and we revel in these coming-of-age rites, and celebrate the moment these boys become men. Part of Matt Harvey’s legend was augmented, for instance, when it was learned he not only stood up as a rookie to the tormenting of 6-foot-11 teammate Jon Rauch, he essentially got Rausch exiled from the team (though the fact Rauch is a terrible pitcher certainly helped, too).
So these images all play a part when we think about Joe Philbin possibly channeling Lombardi/Parcells/Knight and instructing Richie Incognito to channel Jordan/Brady/McDowell in order to better bring Jonathan Martin into the fold. And why what so many want to see is Martin either sheepishly go along like Rizzuto or go full-blown Rambo, like Harvey.
It seems so simple.
If only it were that simple.
Vac’s Whacks
Jeff Ireland wanted Jonathan Martin to punch Richie Incognito? So he’d have been OK with Dez Bryant punching him for asking if his mother was a prostitute, right?
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Sigh. Same old Red Bulls.
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Nice to see Fordham’s game-changing freshman, Jon Severe, hit the ground running at Rose Hill on Friday night.
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Maybe what Mike Rice needs is a little quality time hanging out with a few Miami Dolphins offensive linemen.
Whack back at Vac
Bob Leise: At the end of the day, perhaps the phrase “at the end of the day” should be retired at the end of the day.
Vac: Ah, Bob. It is what it is.
Pat Grant: What do you think Vince Lombardi would say to a player who was not playing well and lacked toughness? He’d be in his face. Bullying? No, sports.
Vac: Here’s the thing about Lombardi, though: He was tough, he would yell, sometimes profanely. But even those who took his most withering verbal blows said there always was a humanity behind the rebukes. That’s what’s missing in Miami, to me.
@alrobinson6022: There’s no way Amar’e Stoudemire can be effective with him playing every other game. Impossible. They don’t want him here anymore. Easy to see.
@frantweet12: Blame Mike D’Antoni for committing a double-homicide on Amare’s knees!
@MikeVacc: All I know is, there are few more difficult sights in sports right now than watching Amar’e try to play basketball.
Rich Glanzer: The MVP of the Jets, if not the league, is Matt Simms, right? I mean last year’s backup quarterback was such a giant distraction that it cost the Jets a playoff birth.
Vac: #BlameTebow