Move Over NFL: This September 1st, College Football Makes Its Primetime Power Play with Belichick and Monday Night

On Monday, September 1, American football fans will witness something unusual, a marquee college football matchup taking center stage on a night traditionally reserved for the NFL. In what feels less like a scheduling fluke and more like a strategic strike, UNC will face TCU in a game packed with talent, storylines, and most importantly, symbolism.

The most intriguing subplot isn’t just the talent on the field  it’s the presence of Bill Belichick, now head coach at UNC, making his college football debut under the primetime lights. Belichick was hired by the Tar Heels in December 2024, and by “coincidence”, just a month later in January 2025, the decision was made to move this highly anticipated game from its originally scheduled Saturday, August 30 to Monday night.

Coincidence? Highly unlikely.

Belichick, who was effectively blacklisted by NFL ownership after his long tenure in New England, is now in a position to challenge the very league that cast him aside, not on the field directly, but on the airwaves and in the advertising budgets. The NIL era has already cracked open the college football landscape, giving large college football programs new tools to build teams loaded with top level talent. Now, with Monday Night Football sitting idle until the NFL kicks off the following week, college football appears ready to test the limits of its own ambitions.

This scheduling move may be college football’s first direct step into the NFL’s media territory. For decades, college football respected the NFL’s domain over Monday nights.  In fact in the entire history of college football only one regular season college game was played on a Monday evening, that was on September 9, 1974:  Notre Dame vs. Georgia Tech.  This game also took place "before" the NFL season started and it surely is no coicidence that Monday evening was never again touched by a college team until now.  

But in the post-NIL world with star players operating as brands, alumni bases energized by high-profile hires, and TV networks hungry for content that unwritten rule may be about to change.

At the center of this moment is Belichick. He knows the value of structure, leverage, and competition. It’s hard not to imagine him relishing the idea of building a college powerhouse that doesn’t just win games, but starts to chip away at the NFL’s $14 billion TV empire. In fact, it’s hard not to imagine him helping college football develop a strategy to compete for the same audience, starting with something as symbolic as Monday night football game that’s not the NFL.

UNC vs. TCU will be an entertaining contest. But it might also be something more, a broadcast beachhead in a broader cultural and commercial shift. If ratings soar and buzz builds, don’t be surprised to see more college programs start circling Monday night as prime real estate.

It’s not just a game. It’s a quiet challenge to the football hierarchy. And it starts one week before the NFL even kicks off.

I know I will be watching! 

Dawg Pound vs Fairy

I am trying to imagine the inner workings of the Cleveland Browns leadership team debating in 2022 whether the team should focus it's midfield logo on Brownie the Elf or the Dawg Pound.

Here is my imagination's version of that debate:

Those in favor of Brownie the elf being the Browns midfield mascot please make your case:  

Brownie the Elf belongs as the Cleveland Browns mascot because he taps into deep roots of tradition, magic, and identity. In Scottish folklore, brownies are fairy-like beings who quietly help with hard work and bring good luck to those who respect them—just the kind of energy a football team and its fans need. Brownie isn’t just whimsical; he’s a symbol of grit, heritage, and a little magic on our side.

Those in favor of a big, vicious dawg being the Cleveland Browns midfield mascot please make your case:

The Cleveland Browns should be represented by a big, mean looking dawg because it captures the toughness, intensity, and alpha mindset that defines the modern NFL. The Dawg Pound isn’t just a fan section, it’s a legacy born in the 1980s from Hanford Dixon’s rallying cry that turned Browns defenders into snarling, relentless defenders. A fierce dog embodies that edge, that fight, and the intimidating presence every team needs. It’s raw, it’s real, and it reflects exactly what it takes to dominate on Sundays.

Who wins???  The fairy of course!!!

Laughingstock: Part II - Brown Helmet Promo...

Only in Browns town does something as dumb as this take place.   Do a PR reveal promo of your new helmet on Lake Erie and have the cameraman fall into the Lake.  Can you say "pay attention to safety" when you do this dumb shit?

Here's Rich Eisen making fun of us: 

Laughingstock: Part I - Brownie the Elf

There is one subject and one subject only that I absolutely 100% agree with Art Modell on.  When Modell took over the Cleveland Browns in 1961 he declared with reference to Brownie the Elf that his first official act would be to "Get rid of that fucker"   Amen, Art!

This week, Pat McAfee dedicated an entire segment to ridiculing Brownie....

Do the Browns not realize that when they held that stupid poll to decide in 2022 whether or not to have Brownie be our midfield logo that it was Steelers, Bengals and Ravens fans that voted for that insanely stupid idea!

I've been a fan since 1974, never not once did I have an emotional attachment to that ridiculous symbol.

A Suggestion to the Cleveland Browns

For the second consecutive year, a Cleveland Browns second-round draft pick has been arrested on a domestic violence charge before training camp even begins. I’m not here to comment on the specific charges this year or last, those are matters for the legal system and for personal accountability. But I do want to offer a sincere suggestion to the Cleveland Browns organization: consider rethinking how you evaluate human beings.

Football is, of course, a violent game played by fierce competitors. Evaluating athletic performance like speed, strength, tape is essential. But when it comes to determining how someone will behave as a professional, as a teammate, and as a representative of your organization, athletic ability is only part of the equation. There’s another side to talent evaluation that too often gets overlooked: the deep, subtle, and nuanced process of understanding character.

Let me share a personal story from a very different world, corporate leadership.

Back in 2007, I was the General Manager of the Italian subsidiary of an American multinational. I was on the rise, and a major corporation, one with global revenues north of $10 billion had expressed interest in me for an executive-level position. As I traveled to the U.S. for final interviews, I was asked to meet a third-party evaluator in a private room at O’Hare Airport. This wasn't a business discussion. This was a psychological evaluation, conducted by a professional with an advanced degree in psychology.

I’ll never forget three aspects of that evaluation, each of which revealed something more about me than any resume could capture.

First, I was given a timed written test and left alone. Five minutes in, a cleaning lady entered by “mistake.” She interrupted me, apologized, and left. Five minutes later, she did it again. It wasn’t random. It was a test: to see if I’d lose my cool, become dismissive, or show signs of impatience under pressure. I didn’t. That wasn’t because I guessed I was being evaluated it’s simply who I am. I treated her kindly and kept my focus.

Second, the test itself contained a few questions that were unsolvable by design. The evaluator wanted to see how I’d react. Would I waste time stubbornly trying to solve the unsolvable, or would I move on and maximize my score? I quickly recognized the trick and finished the test well. That wasn’t about raw intelligence it was about emotional intelligence, adaptability, and judgment.

Third, and most importantly, the evaluator asked a series of quiet, thoughtful questions about my parents and my upbringing. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the intent. But looking back, I see now it was a way of probing my emotional maturity, my inner stability, and the kind of trust I’d learned to build with others from a young age.

In the end, the multinational made me an offer. I turned it down for other reasons, but what stuck with me wasn’t the prestige of the offer it was the quality of the evaluation. They had spent real resources to make sure they understood who they were hiring. Not just the professional. The person.

Cleveland Browns, you’re a billion-dollar enterprise in a league that generates tens of billions annually. Your players represent your brand on and off the field. You invest millions in each draft pick and you invest and guarantee up to $230M in one specific case of an athlete you traded for who had known character question marks. You make enormous investments in players and based on the results I have to seriously question whether or not you are doing the kind of deep, psychological, emotional, and relational evaluation that other industries would consider table stakes for leadership hires.   Maybe you are unlucky, but as the saying goes, fool me once....

Maybe it’s time to bring in expert help or if you already have one, a new expert. Not a guy with a stopwatch. A professional who understands people. Someone who can ask the right questions, create the right pressure tests, and separate immaturity from instability, confidence from arrogance, resilience from volatility.

No system is perfect. No process will catch everything. But with the right approach, you can reduce your risk. And perhaps more importantly, you can build a team of men who will make your fans proud both on Sundays and every other day of the week.

It’s time to take evaluating character as seriously as you evaluate combine results. Because the real test of a team doesn’t begin on the field. It begins with the choices you make off it.

Shedeur and Kumar Go To White Castle

There is a hilarious moment in Harold & Kumar go to White Castle that never fails to crack me up and now, unexpectedly, it also reminds me of Shedeur Sanders.  In the movie, Kumar is sitting in an interview with a respected medical school. The interviewer, played with absurd deadpan by Fred Willard, is clearly an old-school bigot. As the interview unfolds, Kumar brilliant, self-aware, and done with this type of performative nonsense decides to light the whole thing on fire. He makes a mockery of the moment. He knows he doesn’t need this guy’s approval. He knows he’s good enough without it.

And just like that, it all clicked: That’s Shedeur Sanders.

When the 2025 NFL Draft rolled around, I couldn’t help but notice a slow, stunning freefall. Shedeur, once projected as a top-10 pick, watched as team after team passed on him not once, not twice, but four times. The buzz afterward was worse: anonymous NFL executives whispering to reporters that Sanders “didn’t respect the process.” That he acted like he was “above” it.

Above it?

I remember watching ESPN’s live coverage of the draft. They often cut to team draft rooms, supposedly the beating heart of football intellect. And in room after room, one thing stood out: 90% white faces. In a league where over half the players are Black, the front-office representation looked like a corporate boardroom from 1985. It was hard not to notice.

Now let’s be honest. Shedeur Sanders was raised by Deion Sanders a man who’s not just a Hall of Famer, but a cultural force. Prime Time didn’t just play the game; he reshaped it. He taught his kids to believe they belong not to ask permission. So when Shedeur shows up to draft interviews confident, polished, and unwilling to kiss rings, it shouldn’t surprise anyone.

Just like Kumar, Shedeur knew the script and chose not to read from it.

In both cases, there’s something cathartic in watching a brilliant young man reject the approval of a system that’s historically skeptical of people who look like him, sound like him, and carry themselves with the kind of self-possession that makes gatekeepers uncomfortable.

But here’s the twist: Kumar didn’t need Fred Willard’s blessing. And in the long run, Shedeur doesn’t need the NFL’s outdated notion of “process” either.

Because let’s face it how many of these NFL decision-makers have been wrong over and over? They missed on Tom Brady. They passed on Lamar Jackson. They dismissed Jalen Hurts. The league loves to preach meritocracy but too often rewards compliance over courage, familiarity over authenticity.

And Shedeur? He’s betting on himself. He’s betting that talent, preparation, leadership, and self-belief matter more than knowing which privileged NFL scout or executive to flatter.

Will it work? I think it will. Shedeur Sanders might become a superstar quarterback not because he played the game but because he refused to and the fact that 32 NFL teams passed on him four times probably means less than nothing if you really think about it.