It was a late autumn morning in 1995, and Dennis Brolin had a job to do. As field superintendent for the New England Patriots, he was tasked with the responsibility of preparing the Foxboro Stadium playing surface for an upcoming showdown against the New York Jets, and on this particular morning he was planning to lay down those all-important white lines that chronicle the ebb and flow of each game.
One small problem: A Patriots coach was out there on the sideline — right smack at the 50-yard line, dammit — preparing to conduct some kind of drill.
“You can’t come out on the field, we’re still painting,” said Brolin.
“Well, I’m coming out on the field,” said the Patriots coach, and a signal was given to begin the drill, white lines or no white lines.
“Well, it would be extremely difficult for us to get the field ready if you’re out here,” Brolin countered.
At which point the Patriots coach turned to the group and said, “OK, let’s go,” and they walked out to the field to commence with the drill.
It took a couple more minutes of awkward negotiations, but, finally, a grudging compromise was reached: The Patriots coach agreed to hold the practice drill in the end zone.
Brolin motioned for his equipment to be moved to midfield. The painting commenced.
And so it was that Dennis Brolin came to know one Tracy Sormanti, and, OK, sure, she wasn’t a football coach. Her official title for all those years she worked for the New England Patriots was cheerleading director.
Except that the thinking at 1 Patriots Place has always been that Tracy Sormanti was as much a coach of theirs as anybody who ever wore a set of headphones, or a hoodie, or an attitude.
