Math Wasn't a Factor in Belichick's Fourth and Two Equation

Enough already. Give it up.

Put away your calculator, your abacus, and your ZUES computer system. Please, no more freakonomics , or statistics, or probabilities. Save your analytics , algorithms, and algebra equations for baseball season. They don't fit this situation.

Bill Belichick's decision to go for it on fourth and two on his own 28 wasn't a glimpse of mathematical genius, or statistical prowess. It wasn't even mildly intelligent. It was wrong, and there isn't a single equation that is going to make it right.

The problem with stats and probabilities is they are fun if you're playing fantasy football, but they're also about as dry and unemotional as a Belichick press conference.

Probability doesn't account for momentum swings, crowd noise, Peyton Manning, a blister on Tom Brady's finger, or a horrendous case of jock-itch. In the world of probabilities, Chris Simms has the same chance of converting a fourth down as Joe Montana.

But somehow, in the last few days football started becoming an intense game of numbers.

Probability says Eli Manning never escapes that sack in Super Bowl XLII, and David Tyree never catches that football with his head. But he did. They both did. That's what happens with probabilities. Relying on them in make-or-break situations usually gets you sucker-punched in the gut when it matters most.

Besides, do you honestly believe Bill was on the sideline crunching numbers next to the Gatorade cooler?

Tom: I dunno coach, what do you think? We should probably punt, huh?

Bill: Shhhhh Tom, what's the square root of 82?

It was a poor decision. A piss-poor one.

They happen every Sunday. Hey, it happens to Eric Mangini virtually every time he opens his mouth, and that's including the buffet line. Unfortunately, this one lost the Patriots the game.

Bill's been known to toe the line between gutsy and clinically insane on fourth down calls more than once in his career, and to his credit, it's worked out pretty well so far. On Sunday, he barely glanced at that line before he jumped headfirst into the straight-jacket on the other side.

But for some reason, Belichick "gets a pass" (read the discussion section of the Boston Globe for evidence). A few analysts and an astonishing amount of fans claw desperately to find a shred of support for the decision, and then latch onto it emphatically.

And when in doubt, there's always the trusty, "He's got three rings, I'm not going to question it."

Look, it's OK to criticize a head coach. Fans do it every day. No one's going to take his rings away, or even knock off his crown as one of the greatest coaches in the game. But clinging to arbitrary statistics in defense of a clearly illogical decision is simply overdosing on Kool-Aid.