THE Phantom of the Meadowlands will be watching the Jets play the Steelers this afternoon, from an unknown location and with thoughts that only he is privy to.
He may be among the 76,000 in Giants Stadium for the 1 p.m. kickoff, although judging by recent performance and past habits, don’t bet on it.
He built this team, The Phantom did, and for awhile, he ran it from the sidelines, but now, he has become a shadowy presence, felt but rarely seen.
And as of today, the team he built is 4-0, one of only three unbeaten teams left in the NFL – the others are the defending Super Bowl champ Rams and the Vikings – but he has yet to watch his team perform in person.
The Phantom of the Meadowlands is Bill Parcells. You may remember the name, because he used to be a big shot around here.
Now, he is a big mystery.
Parcells still has the big title – Chief Football Operations Officer is what they call it – but while he still buys the groceries, he no longer cooks the meal. Still, he is said to oversee every bit of New York Jets football except for the three hours or so when Al Groh gets to carry the clipboard on Sunday afternoon.
And apparently, it is that perception that Parcells is trying so hard to change.
“Bill’s support and insights couldn’t be more helpful if he were standing on the sidelines with me,” Groh has said, a statement which takes on different meanings depending upon how you read it.
But Bill Parcells is not standing on the sidelines anymore.
This is Groh’s team now, not Parcells’, and so far, it is tough to take issue with anything the new coach has done.
Groh may not have been Parcells’ first choice – anybody remember Bill Belichick? – but five weeks into his first NFL season, he sure appears to be the right choice.
It may seem odd that the Jets’ football boss does not attend Jets football games, especially when you look at the Giants and see the convoy they travel with every week.
Last week in Nashville, for instance, half a row in the press box was taken up by Wellington Mara, Bob Tisch, Tisch’s hair, GM Ernie Accorsi, Tom Boisture and assorted other mid- and low-level executives, all wanting to see the train wreck of Giants vs. Titans up close and personal.
And yet, the highest-ranking football official in the Jets front office has yet to be seen at a Jets game.
Those who know Parcells say he is obsessed with not being seen as looking over Groh’s shoulder, or pulling his strings, or serving as ventriloquist to the new dummy in town.
Plus, there is his legendary superstition, which tells him that since he stayed away from the Green Bay game on Week 1 – and every week thereafter – his continued absence can only result in continued success.
You can either buy it or not, but the record speaks for itself. Four games, four victories. No Parcells.
Anyway, there never was a game played in any arena or on any field that was won by any suit, the conceits of Boss Steinbrenner notwithstanding.
Besides, what could Bill Parcells possibly say or do that would not look or sound like a second-guess or a grab for a bit of the spotlight?
That could be why Parcells is in his office at Weeb Ewbank Hall six days a week, sometimes long after most everyone else is gone, and yet nobody outside the Jets’ inner circle ever sees him.
And it is likely why on Sunday, he goes home to the Jersey shore, puts his feet up on the couch, pops open a beer and a bag of Doritos, and catches the game in privacy on the tube.
And it is definitely why you don’t see any quotes from Bill Parcells in the newspaper, either.
That’s because Bill Parcells refuses to talk to the press, or at least, that lowly portion of the press that earns its living writing for newspapers.
If you host a certain afternoon AM radio show in New York, you can always get Bill Parcells, and if you bring a camera crew with you, you have at least a fighting chance. But if you cover football for a New York daily, you can’ t talk to Parcells, at least not on the record. That’s the head coach’s job, he says.
And that’s a shame, because that leaves us to only imagine the things he might say to us.
If The Phantom would talk, perhaps he would tell us how much he really wants Al Groh to succeed with the team he left him, to complete the job that he, Bill Parcells, wasn’t up to finishing.
Perhaps he would tell us how much he liked and admired Keyshawn Johnson, and how little pleasure it gave him to see his humiliation at the hands of the Jets, and his nemesis Wayne Chrebet two weeks ago in Tampa.
Maybe he would admit that in his time away from the field, he has been working on developing a new skill, the biting of his own tongue because it is oh so hard to watch someone else do a job that you once excelled at. Even if the guy is doing it better than you did with the same personnel.
He might even tell you that these days, he is getting his clothes made by Al Certo, the same guy who is trying to tailor Andrew Golota into enough of a fighter to beat Tyson on October 20.
One of these days, somebody in the newspaper business is going to have a hell of a conversation with Bill Parcells. Some of it even might have to do with the New York Jets.
Maybe he’ll give out with the good stuff, the stuff everybody hoped would be in his latest book, but wasn’t. The stuff he is holding back until he is finally, officially, out of football.
It might even be on the record.
In the meantime, he will spend six days a week being Bill Parcells, the Invisible Man of Weeb Ewbank Hall, and one day – Sunday – being The Phantom of the Meadowlands, peering down at a football team he built from an unknown location, thinking thoughts that are not ready to be shared with anyone else.