Some Dogs Have Their Day

A late-night switch to motel near the airport helped the 2001 Patriots, which included Rod Rutledge (83), record one of the greatest Super Bowl upsets. (By Doug Mills -- Associated Press)

Just two weeks before, Lasorda employed a similar tactic as Los Angeles faced an equally formidable New York Mets team in the National League Championship Series. Already up 1-0 in the series, Mets pitcher David Cone -- in a New York Daily News journal -- said Dodgers reliever Jay Howell pitched like a Little Leaguer throwing curveball after curveball. Lasorda posted the article and railed about it to the team.

That night, with Cone pitching, he said the entire team was irate, shouting at Cone. Just 46 pitches later, Cone had been knocked from the game and the Dodgers went on to win the series.

Keep routines. Belichick, who is brilliant at using any hint of motivation, also works tirelessly to maintain a steady hand through any chaos. When the Patriots moved their hotel that Super Bowl weekend, the trip went from being a show to something resembling normal. Belichick always prefers to stay near airports on road trips, figuring the isolation will keep the players focused. So when the team moved to its motel in New Orleans, everything seemed normal to the players and coaches, Seely said. Even if the conditions of the hotel itself were somewhat beneath what the Patriots were accustomed to.

Seely remembers the locker room that day being very much the same. Very little, in fact, seemed to change. While a party raged around them in New Orleans, the Patriots managed to turn that week into something dull and ordinary, which came to matter when the game finally began.

Dick Tarrant agrees. The former basketball coach at the University of Richmond, who led the Spiders to upsets over Indiana, Georgia Tech and Syracuse in the NCAA tournament in the 1980s and 1990s, did not like to change tactics for the tournament. His players ran the same plays and employed the same defenses they had during the season. The difference, he said, was that they played crisper, without mistakes.

"You just know you had to play it close to the vest," Tarrant said.

In a league game, where his players might have felt they were on the same level as their opponents, Tarrant said they might be tempted to make behind-the-back passes or otherwise try to show off. But in the NCAAs, against mightier teams, they played cautious, careful and in all their upsets the same pattern emerged: Richmond made around 50 percent of its shots and had very few turnovers.

Never let them know how good the other team is. In his years at Richmond, Tarrant never showed his players tape of an NCAA tournament opponent. This became especially true in 1991 when the Spiders were preparing to play Syracuse at Cole Field House. Syracuse was a No. 2 seed, Richmond a 15th. The last thing Tarrant wanted to do was let his players get a glimpse of how formidable the Orangemen really were.

"I believe they found the films more entertaining than informative," Tarrant said. "When someone had a reverse dunk they would go 'wow!' and jump out of their seats."

In 1988 when Richmond, a 13th seed, went to play Indiana in the first round of the NCAA tournament in Hartford, Conn., Tarrant figures his players knew little about the Indiana history other than the fact the Hoosiers had won the national championship the year before. This was by design. The less they knew, the looser they would play, he figured.

Tarrant has been watching the NFL playoffs. And in many ways he figures there is a huge difference between coaching a college basketball team and one in professional football. The players are older, smarter, more aware. Though, he said, "you're still dealing with people."

But the David who routinely beat the Goliath is not optimistic about the same thing today. When asked about it, he laughed.

"I don't think you're seeing an upset happening," he said.

Then again who said the same about the Richmond Spiders against the Syracuse Orangemen?