Play Like You Mean It: Passion, Laughs, and Leadership in the World's Most Beautiful Game by Rex Ryan, Don Yaeger

can see the stress in my face or maybe in my actions when things don’t go well. I get quiet, and maybe even a little snappy after a loss. I may not say much on the drive home from the field, but Michelle understands. Even when we win games, I still might be pissed with the way we played. Those are the nights I need to go to bed; but one time I was so pissed at how we played defensively after a win that I went back to the office that night instead of going home. It doesn’t have to be like that, and it’s wrong, but Michelle never complained. Usually after games, I want to read the newspaper and watch television so I can see what the media has said about our team and me. That way I’m not surprised when I meet with the media at our daily news conference the following day. Michelle is the complete opposite. She doesn’t read the papers or watch television when it relates to our games. She believes the media distorts winning and losing. She can’t control the games, she can’t control the press, but she can—and she does—control our home. Our home is my sanctuary away from football, and she’s the one who makes it work. I can relax the few hours I am at home each night during the season because of Michelle. She makes it easy on me.
    Take our games—Michelle knows my routine better than I do. When I break down film on Monday after a loss, that’s when I usually start to feel better. I usually see that we played better than I had thought, that maybe one or two plays were the difference in the game. We may have lost, but I’ll see some good things and I always believe we are going to win the next game. By Tuesday, I already start to game-plan for Sunday’s opponent, so the previous week’s game and loss are behind us. I need a short memory in this business. I don’t forget how we lost or why we lost, but I can’t dwell on it for too long because we always have another game in a few short days. Michelle and my kids know that. They understand me, just like I understood my father.
    Michelle also understands that all my bravado, though genuine, is not always about me. I have confidence in everyone involved with the Jets, top to bottom. I know I have a great team and I have great coaches, so why shouldn’t I be confident in myself? I tell my children to be confident. Why not? If you set your standards low, what are the odds you’re going to achieve at a high level? If there’s no pressure to win, why coach? Who wants to hear a coach say, “Hey, let’s be average this year. Great! We’re on course to win half of our games, so let’s take it easy the rest of the way”? If a head coach, the leader on the football field, doesn’t believe in himself, who is going to follow? That’s why leadership, confidence, and bravado are an important part of the equation, in the NFL and, I really think, anywhere. If you believe in yourself, then you can often overcome a flawed plan or a negative circumstance just by willpower.
    This is why I work so well under pressure and under the gun. There are a lot of people in the world, even in the coaching profession, who don’t want the pressure on them. I want that pressure. I am confident in what I can do. I want our children to be confident and believe in themselves and each other, too. Michelle gets it, and that’s why our family is such a great team.
    Michelle and I really didn’t have a chance to relish the moment I was hired in New York until a few weeks later after the initial pressconference. I was so tired from the NFL season that had just ended, and after a few weeks we finally had the opportunity to enjoy it all and look at each other and say, “We made it.” I had reached my goal to be a head coach in the NFL—and it was in New York City, of all places.
    We absolutely love New York, too. We like to take the train into the city and walk around or eat at a restaurant that somebody recommended. I actually have tried to play more golf, too, during the last off-season