On a recent episode of The View, America’s most popular daytime talkshow, the women hosts got around to discussing reports of Bill Belichick’s new relationship. Arguably the greatest coach in NFL history, Belichick’s love life or anything to do with him in fact is not usual fodder for the ladies as they chew the pop cultural cud every morning. But Jordon Hudson, his new girlfriend, is 24 years old, nigh on half a century younger than him, so they decided to weigh in on the age gap.
“She’s having a good time,” said Sarah Haines. “I’m guessing he takes her places she wouldn’t be going on her own.”
“Not in the bedroom he’s not,” quipped Joy Behar. “There’s only so much Viagra in the world, okay?”
Back in January, Belichick “mutually parted ways” with the New England Patriots after helming a historic dynasty that won six Super Bowls, reached three more, and annexed 17 divisional championships in 19 seasons. Record-breaking achievements never to be repeated. With a reputation for stretching the rule book to the very margins and sometimes beyond, the spoiled Patriots’ fan base may have soured on him towards the disastrous end of his tenure, but he still headed off into the sunset at 72, his place in the all-time pantheon secure. Now, less than six months later, he’s a punchline, a staple of the tabloids, and the butt of erectile dysfunction jokes on national television.
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Whatever else might have been expected of his superannuation, nobody would have envisaged reading reports about the divorced father of three (all significantly older than Hudson) turning up at a cheerleading competition to root for a competitor he happened to be dating. Not to mention cringe-watching, doorbell camera footage of Belichick, shirtless, hurriedly leaving the woman’s house, embarking on a pensioner walk of shame. Or seeing Tom Brady, with whom he shared all those glories before they spectacularly fell out, mocking him to his face about his amorous antics at the quarterback’s own televised celebrity roast.
“When somebody asked me which ring was my favourite, I used to say, ‘The next one!’” said Brady. “Now that I’m retired, my favourite is that Ring camera that caught Coach Belichick slinking out of that poor girl’s house at 6am a few months ago.”
Nicknamed Doom for his relentless pessimism during his days as assistant coach with the New York Giants, Belichick sat on stage and smiled through every uncomfortable word of that jibe. The price he must pay for morphing into a silver-haired Romeo.
Because nothing is private any more, we know the senescent Lothario and his new love first met on a flight from Boston to Florida in 2021, during which they chatted about her college philosophy project before he autographed her copy of Warren Goldfarb’s “Deductive Logic” with, “Jordon, Thanks for giving me a course on logic! Safe travels!” Then, in a shockingly vainglorious and sort of pathetic moment, he wrote the numbers of the Super Bowls he won and the word “championships” beneath the message. Lest she forget what the wrinkly auld lad sitting next to her was famous for.
Their paths presumably crossed again sometime after the occasional beauty pageant contestant graduated Brightwater State University and he finally split from Linda Holliday, his girlfriend of 16 years and president of his charitable foundation. Hardly the first septuagenarian multimillionaire to be ensnared in a May to December romance, few others have endured ridicule and abuse on quite this scale. Just the other day, Mark Schleroth, a one-time Denver Broncos lineman turned radio host, labelled Belichick “a pig” and “an absolute clown” for seeing somebody of Hudson’s age. Across the country, the airwaves are crackling with a potent amalgam of mockery and mortification. Social media is awash with cruel and hilarious memes about gold-diggers and cradle snatchers.
There is no doubt some of the pile-on, especially from media outlets, is retaliatory. Belichick was notoriously difficult to deal with in his pomp, often grunting monosyllabic answers and unhelpful responses to the most basic press questions. Determinedly taciturn and often downright ignorant to journalists, he carefully cultivated the public persona of a prisoner under interrogation rather than a coach being asked about injuries to players ahead of a big game. His sour puss and celebrated knack for rule bending earned him sobriquets like “Darth Belichick”, “Bill Voldemort” and “Coach Clandestine”.
Aside from that time he tried and spectacularly failed to sneak out of her house, there has been precious little subterfuge deployed in this relationship. The hand-holding lovers have been photographed everywhere from his yacht (called VI Rings in case anyone forgets) on Nantucket to a trip to Croatia. There, he received honorary citizenship from his ancestral homeland and hung out with Luka Modric, somebody else who knows a little about defying age expectations, albeit in a very different way. It is a measure of the coach’s enduring celebrity and the endless contemporary appetite for sneering and snark that there now exists a thriving market for paparazzi-style snaps of the couple.
Some years back, Belichick turned up at a friend’s birthday and gave a surprising and lusty rendition of The Searchers’ Love Potion Number 9. A song about a man finding all manner of success with the ladies following his purchase of a mystery elixir from Madame Rue seemed like a strange party piece for such a laconic character. These days it sounds kind of autobiographical.
