I'd add for Conerly, and from what i can tell about all these guys is they fit the culture. From this article (if anyone here hasn't read it, its worth a read), the culture-bonding that drove last years team wasn't some random luck that they stumbled on.
How did a laughingstock of a franchise become a contender overnight? Jayden Daniels is the catalyst, of course. But the head coach was also a grand-slam hire. His unorthodox approach is paying off.
www.golongtd.com
Inside Dan Quinn's total transformation of the Washington Commanders
How did a laughingstock of a franchise become a contender overnight? Jayden Daniels is the catalyst, of course. But the head coach was also a grand-slam hire. His unorthodox approach is paying off.
...Usually, that’s when head coaches are dying to surgically implant X’s and O’s and coaching philosophies into the brains of players. Fancy slogans are painted on walls. T-shirts are printed. This is their chance to put into action everything they’ve learned from endless mentors and self-help books. Here? Quinn’s mandate to his entire staff of 20+ assistants was simple:
Do not talk football. He told the position coaches to learn as much as they could about their players’ upbringing, interests, families, how they’re wired.
The Commanders would be built on a foundation of genuine relationships. Not a dictatorship.
Playbooks could collect dust. Quinn informed his staff that football would take care of itself because they’re all athletic, all smart, all gifted. Players needed to know coaches cared about them —
first.
Quinn’s mission was
immediate and
explicit, adds quarterbacks coach Tavita Pritchard: “Make this the best environment to work in, in all of pro sports.”
To accomplish this, Quinn knew his coaches needed to understand the people in their room.
“Because everything we can and will do,” Pritchard says, “will hinge on how connected we are in ways beyond football.”
...One day, Tapp took all 18 guys inside his defensive line room go-karting. They picked teams through a random draft, wore the team colors (white, gold, burgundy) and raced. Tapp, Daron Payne and Benning Potoa’e took the crown with the fastest cumulative time. (“To see a bunch of grown 250-pound to 310-pound men acting like kids,” Tapp says, “is pretty comical.”)
Another day, they all went skeet shooting.
Another day, Andre Jones Jr. — an avid fisherman — took teammates to a local lake.
Other position groups went bowling. Or out for dinners. Naturally, everyone became more of a family. This period set the tone for relationship-building all season long. Inside the D-Line room, Tapp figured out which type of music each of his players enjoyed so he could blare certain artists as they walked into his meeting room. Efe Obada, a Nigerian native
profiled here, loves a genre called “Afrobeats.” A few others like the rapper Future. Others are into gospel. Each day, Tapp switches it up.
Quinn’s edict initially took veteran coaches by surprise. It was strange to not jump right into Install No. 1. Lynn remembers telling himself,
I hope this pays off. (“It is paying off,” he later said. “We measure everything.”)
The defensive coordinator around here, Joe Whitt Jr, calls Quinn the single-most caring person he knows. If the coach asks “How’s your day going?” he sincerely means it. Back on his Falcons staff in 2020, Whitt couldn’t believe what he was seeing day-to-day up close. Whitt also pans a magnifying glass over Phase 1 as
the defining moment for these Commanders. The defensive backs congregated for sessions pass-game coordinator Jason Simmons called “My Story.” Everyone sent in pictures of themselves and then — one by one, in front of the room — each player shared their life story.
Players were allowed to talk as long as they wanted. Several were extremely vulnerable. Several shed tears. It took a full week for all DBs to speak. Teammates forged a true brotherhood over shared trauma. The exercise was so powerful that Whitt decided right then to conduct the same “My Story” session with his entire team if he gets the opportunity to be a head coach.
All of this directly translates to the field.
When things go haywire, the coordinator never sees players from either side of the ball pointing fingers.