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During his tenure with the New England Patriots Bill Belichick has taken a lot of abuse for controlling the information doled out to the press. His laconic style has starved the media of stories about stories and personal views about brewing controversies.   Now it all makes sense. Belichick was right all along.

The media frenzy surrounding professional athletes crosses the line of gossip every day.  The New York Jets were transformed from mediocre performance to soap opera by the New York media. Tim Tebow was rescued by the Patriots, because there was no better sanctuary from the insatiable media.   Every member of the Patriots has been questioned about their views on a team mate now under indictment for murder, and yet no sensations have emerged at the outset of the summer camp.

The problem, of course, is that there is a story to be told in each of these cases. The question is when does the story become idle chatter and filling up airspace and column inches?

The Hernandez story has reached that threshold. A man is on trial for a capital crime, and his team mates are asked to pass judgment on that crime and indeed on the man’s character as a football player.  The Patriots have responded with characteristic restraint, including forbidding unauthorized commentary to the media.  Sound strategy for the team, as well as the legal process.

Now Belichick looks like a prophet of media control. The discipline he has enforced with the Patriots has made them a model of discretion and team solidarity.  They refuse to give fuel to the story-within-the-story, the idle chatter, known also as gossip.  They released their views of the Hernandez proceeding through their team captains and made it clear that Hernandez would not be the story to cover during training camp.  They shrank the gossip factor to zero.

Although I enjoy a story drained to its dregs as much as the next reader, I also think the need-to-know is an American obsession, challenged only by the British lunatic stalking of the royal family.  Athletes and celebrities who resist the pressure of the media and its voyeuristic readers can preserve a team culture, preserve family or fraternal solidarity, and prevent perversion of justice.  The news that is fit to print or broadcast is a lot less than the media deems necessary.

Belichick got it right.  Opinionating needs to be restrained in an era of omnipresent news coverage.  Professional athletes have no obligation to fill the media’s appetite for gossip, and they are wiser not to indulge it. But don’t expect the media to give Belichick credit for shutting them out.

The Tale of Tebow

Once there was a  young man of devout faith who courageously led warriors to victory on Florida’s football fields.  For his feats he received the Trophy of Heisman. The scribes and songsters variously reported that the young man was an inspirational leader, a powerful runner and blocker, a mediocre passer, and an athlete with talent ill-suited to professional football.

The scribes marveled at the young man’s constant faith, his devotion to the needy, his confidence in his athletic prowess, and his determination to succeed as a leader of men.  They went out into the countryside and questioned every relative and acquaintance of the young man, known as Tebow, and reported everything in the outlets of media.

In short, young Tebow became a phenomenon.

The young man journeyed to the land of Denver where he acquitted himself heroically in some contests, but erratically in others. The sports prophets quarreled among themselves about Tebow’s potential in the kingdom of National Football.  The phenomenon grew to a mighty wind, but the Lord was not in the wind.

After a year’s sojourn in the west, Tebow ventured east to the land of Babel (also called “New York”), where the scribes and prophets and chroniclers were numerous.  They filled many pages and hours with stories and prophecies. The name of “Tebow” echoed in every field and temple, an earthquake of commentary. But the Lord was not in the earthquake.

God looked down on the Tebow phenomenon and said, “Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other” (Genesis 11:7). And it was so.  The priests and scribes, the captains and bowmen, the fathers and mothers, the daughters and sons were questioned about young Tebow. Is Tebow a good teammate?  Will Tebow replace the captain of eleven warriors? Will Tebow cause the downfall of the commander of 50? Will Tebow become a new part of speech? Their language became a raging firestorm. But the Lord was not in the fire.

In the din of Babel, the young man remained steadfast in his dream of leading professional warriors in battle. He spoke respectfully of his captain and commander and fellow warriors.  He visited the temple and continued to serve those in need. He perceived God was testing him.

In the fullness of time, Tebow encountered the High Priest Belichick of New England, who was wise in the ways of scribes and prophets and songsters.  Belichick often confounded the questions of the scribes with his empty words. Throughout the kingdom he was known for faithfully revealing nothing.  The high priest offered young Tebow  a lowly position among his regiment of 90, a great demotion for the former winner of the Trophy of Heisman.

But Tebow knew he had been called by the still, bland monotone of Belichick. He accepted the call to be clipboard-carrier for Brady, the vaunted prince of the forward pass. He retreated to the wilderness of  Foxboro, land of the inscrutable Patriots, solemn warriors who spoke only the cryptic language of the High Priest Belichick.

And  he sojourned there for a season.