When Bill Belichick and Josh McDaniels spoke on the Patriots sidelines in the third quarter of their Divisional Round game with the Ravens last year, they knew their season might be over if they didn't try something new. They were down, 28-14, and they had either punted or turned the ball over on three of their previous four possessions.
"Look, this is it," Belichick said, recalling his conversation with McDaniels for NFL Network's "Do Your Job" special. "We're down by 14. We're in the playoffs. We gotta try to get it going here. Let's go with 'Baltimore.' Let's spring it on them and see if we can get a play here and get it going."
The four-man line formations used by the Patriots, called "Baltimore" and "Raven," were used three times in the span of six plays and picked up 41 yards on completions to tight end Michael Hoomanwanui and receiver Julian Edelman. Confusing the Ravens and infuriating their coach John Harbaugh -- he was so certain a rule was being broken that he was flagged for an unsportsmanlike penalty -- the Patriots found something to spark their offense and keep their season alive.
It was an idea that had been crafted almost two weeks earlier. While the Patriots prepared during their bye week, Belichick called McDaniels, tight ends coach Brian Daboll and receivers coach Chad O'Shea into his office to come up with something different that might be able to help them if they needed it in the postseason.
After seeing the Titans use skill-position players at their guard and tackle spots during a desperation final play against the Jets in Week 15, and after seeing Alabama use a tackle lined up in the slot as an ineligible receiver against LSU, they had their templates. With a few adjustments, a pair of never-before-used plays had been born.
Without that meeting a little over a year ago, where creativity and an openness to new ideas were prerequisites, the Patriots franchise still may be waiting on its fourth championship ring. And without Belichick, whose old-school demeanor belies his outside-the-box approach, it would not have happened.
To understand where Belichick developed his willingness to try plays like "Baltimore," and the double-pass he deployed later in that win over the Ravens, one must understand his football upbringing in Annapolis, Maryland.
Belichick was first and foremost influenced by his father, Steve Belichick, the longtime scout and assistant for the Naval Academy's program. The younger Belichick learned the game by his father's side for years, tagging along at practices, watching film, breaking it down and diagramming schemes. He soaked up everything he could.
Yet it was one of his father's good friends, Wayne Hardin, who was Navy's head coach from 1959-64, who left a risk-taker's imprint on the young football prodigy.
"I was young so I didn't really know anything, but you could tell when something was different," said Belichick, who was 7 years old when Navy played its first game with Hardin at the helm. "You could tell when something was new. I'd say I learned from him that there's nothing wrong with being aggressive. He was very innovative in the kicking game, which he continued to be at Temple (where he was head coach from 1970-82). I mean, I still remember some of the things he did, that were -- they were brilliant. They were just brilliant."
Hardin, who was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 2013, was equally struck by the youngster who very clearly had a thirst for football and showed a greater interest in playing the game as he got older. It was Hardin who suggested Belichick mold himself after Navy captain Tom Lynch, a smart and respected leader who played center and linebacker.
Like Lynch, Belichick took to center and eventually played there for Wesleyan during his college football career.
"Bill would come to practice when he was 11 or 12 years old, something like that," Hardin said. "And my kids would come to practice. And my kids would be looking at the sky and seeing what the weather's like. If the weather was good, they were out of there and going to play golf.
"Bill's eyes were glued on practice and everything that was going on. He was constantly talking football, thinking football. His dad trained him better than anybody."
