A PLAYER’S LOVE: George Martin (far left) will present his former Giants coach, Bill Parcells (third from left) for induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame tomorrow.
As told to Steve Serby
The happiest I ever saw Bill Parcells was right after Super Bowl XXI. We had a party in the restaurant of the hotel. Bill was so relaxed. He had a smile on his face and he was puffing on a cigar. My dad was with us — he brought my dad to all of the ’86 playoff games, he was superstitious. All the wrinkles on his face, all the pain he was carrying inside, seemed to subside.
“See? I told you.”
That’s all he said. It kind of validated him.
The angriest? Brad Benson was called for holding or jumped offsides against Dexter Manley in a playoff game. You can’t make mental errors with Bill, that’s the unpardonable sin. Bill made a beeline across the field toward Brad at the end of the half, he was going to rip him a new anal cavity. I intercepted Bill: “Bill, this is not the right time, let it go.”
He was ready to burst a blood vessel. I thought he was going to kill him. Brad scurried right for the tunnel. Only two or three guys could have stopped Bill — me being one, Harry Carson being the other one, Lawrence Taylor being the third. I was ahead of Bill. I went over and grabbed Bill. He eventually calmed down. It was the talk of the locker room. If he had some kind of weapon in his hand, he probably would have used it.
I’d always been the team chapel leader and the team player representative prior to Bill. I was anointed by him as a team captain. I was taken into his confidence on countless occasions — about drug use, about curfew, about spousal issues, players being in the wrong places at the wrong time, you name it. We shared insights from different perspectives.
He didn’t just care about Lawrence as a ballplayer, he was concerned about Lawrence as an individual. I don’t think we’ve ever had a more substantive or intense dialogue. He really truly cares about Lawrence to this day. Lawrence knew it was reciprocal. He knows Bill loves him. He respects him as a man. He never prejudges Lawrence and he never quit on him.
When Bill became head coach, we were absolutely pissed. We were beside ourselves. We saw it almost as we’ve got something special on defense, the offense is inept, it was almost that we became orphan. Our guy belonged to everybody, and not just us. We were very selfish in that regard.
There weren’t a lot of warm and fuzzies as we were getting our asses handed to us in 1983. He was constantly speaking to Al Davis and Bobby Knight. Bill always heeded the advice he got from them. Bill’s way was very much unyielding, a little bit more in-your-face. I think the offense began to realize what we as a defense felt when he was our coordinator.
Everywhere he’s gone, he has made that franchise better. That is unprecedented. His philosophy of winning is universal, and it is tried and true. He’s been able to win over multiple generations. His ability to be a master motivator is one of his greatest unsung attributes.
One time in training camp, Eric Dorsey, our No. 1 draft choice, was jumping offsides. He acted like it was no big deal. Bill doesn’t say anything. He does it again later. Same reaction. We’re envious. We’re saying, “Bill’s going to explode on this guy.” The third time he does it, Bill slams down his clipboard and calls everybody up in a circle. Bill says, “G-ddamn it. This is unacceptable. There is no way we can ever be a successful team under these circumstances. George Martin, if this happens one more time, I’m holding you personally responsible!” I am fuming. I’m apoplectic.
Sure enough, in typical Parcells style, practice goes on smoothly. Afterwards, he says, “Come here. Don’t get pouty. You know why I did that? Listen, you’re the captain. You’re the leader. If they know there are no sacred cows on this team, everybody will know they have to toe the line. That’s why I did that.” That was the greatest lesson he ever taught me.
I’ve seen him go through hell and back; the most ridicule you could ever imagine a coach going through; he lost both his parents within 30 days; a divorce that tore his heart out; seeing him lose players. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man show greater strength and fortitude after his parents died. He didn’t take a leave of absence. The man was an absolute rock.
Bill and I were closer in age than a lot of my teammates were. We talked about life from a different place. We bought our wives baby grand pianos during the same holiday period. We bought them at the same place. I know he loves his wife to this day. That’s one of the casualties of the sport.
Two hours after the announcement was made, my phone rang. I could see it was Bill. He had mentioned to me years ago that if he ever gets inducted into the Hall of Fame, he wanted me to present him. With the passing of time, and with his prominence, I wasn’t going to hold Bill to that. For the first time — trust me — in my life, I was absolutely speechless.
I’m introducing my friend Bill Parcells into the Hall of Fame. No greater honor have I ever received as a ballplayer. I know I’ll never get to the Hall of Fame. This is the next best thing.