The
39-word statement was posted at 7:24 p.m. ET on a Thursday night in mid-January.
A franchise so often cloaked in secrecy offered a glimpse of transparency after a disappointing 8-9 season. The message was deemed so important that the team opted to go live with the statement at dinnertime rather than waiting until the following morning.
The New England Patriots and Head Coach Bill Belichick have begun contract extension discussions with Jerod Mayo that would keep him with the team long-term. In addition, the team will begin interviewing for offensive coordinator candidates beginning next week.
News headlines were quickly crafted about the latter half of the statement: the
Patriots were going to hire a new offensive coordinator, notable because of the title itself and the suggestion of parting ways with Matt Patricia. New England eventually rehired Bill O’Brien for the role.
The more meaningful long-term development for one of North America’s most successful sports franchises was initially covered as an afterthought, but the rest of the league took note of the Mayo update. He had been asked by the
Carolina Panthers to interview for their vacant head-coaching job. Now he was staying in New England and turning down a shot at fulfilling his self-proclaimed dream of becoming a head coach.
“When he turned those guys down, I understood without even talking to him what went on,” said Kevin Faulk, a friend and former teammate.
What went on, people close to Mayo believe, was a profession of support from Patriots ownership, perhaps an implicit indication of what could lie ahead for him — and for the franchise.
Belichick, who turns 71 next month, is 19 victories away from surpassing Don Shula for the most total wins in
NFL history. If he intended to retire afterward, as some believe he will, who might be the right person to handle the daunting task of succeeding the greatest coach of all time?
The Kraft family — Robert has been the Patriots’ principal owner since 1994 and son Jonathan has been team president since 2005 — thinks highly of Mayo. Belichick is fond of him. Former teammates revere him. Coaching colleagues praise him.
“They definitely know they have something here and don’t want to let him go,” Rob Ninkovich, a former teammate, said of Patriots ownership.
What they have is a man capable of leading a locker room of professional athletes and discussing investments with hedge-fund executives. Someone who hangs out with Harvard business professors, ballet composers and “Jeopardy!” winners in his free time. Someone who only five years ago was working with the board of a major healthcare company and still theorizes about how blockchain technology could solve the healthcare backlog.
But he’s also so good at the X’s and O’s of football that he has become one of Belichick’s most trusted assistants. A fierce former linebacker who was named the league’s Defensive Rookie of the Year in 2008 and an All-Pro two years later, with a Super Bowl ring from his playing days and a rapid ascension up the coaching ladder.
“Some people, I don’t know what it is, have that
it factor. And he’s got
it,” said Brandon Spikes, a former teammate. “He makes everyone around him better. He’s a perfect human being. If I had a son, I’d want him to be just like Jerod Mayo.”
When Mayo first arrived in New England in 2008, he entered a locker room filled with Pro Bowlers and future Hall of Famers:
Tom Brady, Randy Moss, Richard Seymour, Vince Wilfork, Tedy Bruschi, Mike Vrabel. He was just a rookie — albeit the second-highest draft pick of the Belichick era, taken 10th overall out of Tennessee — but when Mayo heard the stars complaining about wear and tear during the season, he felt the need to stick up for them.
“The guys are tired,” he’d say on occasional visits to Belichick’s office. “They’re beat-up from practice. Maybe we can take it easy today?”
Most of the time Belichick told him to go away. But about 30 percent of the time, Mayo estimated, he’d relent. And on those days, Mayo would eagerly head back to the locker room to share the news with his teammates.
“And it was like an eruption,” Mayo
told Gautam Mukunda, a Research Fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School’s Center for Public Leadership. “Literally, they would pick me up and throw me on their shoulders.”
He was named a team captain in his second season, 23 years old and one of the leaders of a star-studded roster.
Ninkovich arrived in New England before that 2009 season as a castoff who had only played in eight NFL games over the last three seasons. The first player who introduced himself was Mayo, who offered thoughts on the playbook and simple advice like where to get lunch. Ninkovich was impressed, but, somewhat embarrassingly, didn’t know anything about Mayo. So he asked the defending Defensive Rookie of the Year how long he’d been in the NFL.
“I assumed this was like his eighth year,” Ninkovich said. “He just had that presence about him. I thought he was a veteran because of how he carried himself.”
Ninkovic was so impressed with Mayo that he moved in next door on Neff Drive in Foxboro. They’d play “FIFA” — Mayo usually won — and talk football late into the night. For some players, reaching the NFL means football becoming really difficult for the first time. The schemes are more complex, the checks are more important and everything happens more quickly.
When Ninkovich didn’t understand something, he just asked Mayo, and Mayo always had the answer.
