Drawing inspiration from Patriots' playcalling blunder

Bill Belichick, who has made his reputation over the years in part by being Up To Something, now may be On To Something.

The difference, as you will see, is clear.

Belichick's genius rep takes a bit of a hit. (Getty Images)

Belichick's rep as the smartest guy in the room took a right hammering Sunday night when, against every stricture of football thinking going back to Amos Alonzo Stagg's first illicit tryst in a horse-drawn carriage, decided to try for a first down on a fourth-and-two at his own 28-yard line with a six-point lead with 2:08 to go.

To steal the line from Comrade Prisco, "Fourth-and-jackass."

If the play works, it's a bad idea. If it doesn't, it's a really bad idea. If it doesn't and the Colts win the game -- inspiration.

And here's the inspiration. Mandate the bad idea for every game -- one by each coach in each game. Called ahead of time, signaled to the replay booth and nobody else so that element of surprise for the receiving team is still in play. I mean, Indianapolis Colts coach Jim Caldwell must have been flummoxed for at least a moment, as in, "Is that idiot really doing this? Oh my God, he is! Quick, give me the stupid chart! It's right next to the red flag!"

And then, if the stupid idea works, the coach gets away with it, and if it doesn't, games seemingly sealed away are back in play, or games that haven't yet taken shape can be changed.

True, stupid ideas are at their best when they're organic, like Belichick's was. But you can't rely on stupid to just happen in the NFL; people are too duck-hinder tight for that. It must be mandated, like everything else in the sport, and it must have a technological component or else Roger Goodell cries.

Unpredictable yahoo-esque behavior as a rule -- God, it's so NFL it's beyond seamless.

Now let's understand each other here. We're not talking about bad plays. There are a good eight to 12 teams who have those down every week, and in abundant supply. Or bad penalties, either. You've already got enough safety issues in the league already without the coach telling someone, "We need a really good personal foul here, Stan."

We're talking about bad ideas -- things that are idiotic even if they lead to touchdowns. Running the Wildcat with a guard. Leading the sweep with your placekicker. Punting on second down. Lining your defense up single-file right down the middle of the field. Taking a knee on fourth-and-inches with 13 minutes to go. Things that cannot under any circumstances be defended, not even with the trite, "We thought we could get the yards."

Or in Belichick's stated case, "yard," which if his plan had succeeded would still have left the Patriots with a fifth-and-one at the 29.

Think this is a stupid idea? Of course you do, because you had money on the Patriots plus-one and you pushed instead of cashing. Or you lost your Fantasy week because of Reggie Wayne. Because it's all about you, isn't it, you selfish bastards.

No, this is perfect. It fits into the NFL's vision of over-over-regulation. It involves people in ties on the on-field happenings. It's pretend-wacky so that Cris Collinsworth can fulminate his way to a mini-stroke right on the air.

And the league can turn it into some new life lesson given us by the all-knowing all-seeing coach -- "Watch as the genius makes a rare mistake, and then overcomes it and turns it into a brilliant tactical moment by the sheer might of his cerebral cortex, as George Halas and Curly Lambeau once did during the Battle of the Bulge."

And it can be sponsored by Rosetta Stone or some other learn-to-be-an-egghead-on-the-Internet company. It's a moneymaker, fo' sho'.

Plus, this way, Belichick could have had cover. "We hadn't used the stupid idea yet, so we were stuck." Of course, then some wise-ass like Comrade Prisco would have asked, "Well, isn't that bad stupid-idea clock management, Bill?"

But that's just us never being happy. Belichick could blame the league, or the rulebook, or Communism, and have at least some measure of defense for what last night was purely defenseless. And while we appreciate his work, we know it won't happen again anytime soon, unless the rules committee, which is never happy unless it puts 30 more pages in the rulebook every year so that it looks like a hand-painted big print version of the Canterbury Tales, makes it a rule for 2010.

You know, the un-brain-capped year.

Ray Ratto is a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle.