FOXBOROUGH, Mass. — Ask people who've known Mike Vrabel for decades and you'll hear the same word crop up over and over. It's not exactly flattering on the surface, but for football players, it's meant as the highest compliment.

"Mike's kind of an asshole," Tom Brady said in 2021, flashing a sarcastic grin.

"The first thing that comes to mind is an asshole," Julian Edelman added this year.

And Larry Izzo, the former Patriots special teams standout now coaching for the Commanders? He confirms the description fits—though there's something more beneath the insult.

"He can strike a nerve better than anybody. It's a gift that he has in terms of pushing buttons. At any level of s---talking that I've been around in my entire career—almost 30 years in the NFL going back to college—he is at an elite level in terms of being able to bust balls."

Former Patriots quarterback Matt Cassel put it bluntly: "The verbal assault came with the physical assault."

But here's the thing: Every single one of these former teammates loves Vrabel. Izzo even lived at Vrabel's house for two months when they coached together for the Houston Texans in 2017. So alongside the insults comes another word that keeps surfacing: "Love."

It takes a rare person to draw people close while constantly challenging them to be better. Vrabel has mastered that balance.

The Hands-On Enforcer

The 50-year-old former 14-season NFL linebacker is legendary for suiting up alongside his players during practice, diving into the fray without hesitation. Before the Patriots drafted LSU tackle Will Campbell with the fourth overall pick this year, Vrabel worked directly against him for a full hour—blocking, tackling, grinding through drill after drill against a 21-year-old prospect.

More recently, Vrabel was laughing like a kid on Christmas morning as one of his 300-pound defensive linemen hammered him repeatedly before a preseason game.

"That's his style," Patriots defensive tackle Milton Williams told me. "He always tells us that he was an asshole as a player. He says he's still an asshole now. That's just how he coaches. He's gonna get the best out of us. He's really getting on you. He really just harps on the details."

Matt Cassel, now an NBC analyst, pushes back on the reductive label. "It's the easy way out—describing him, at times, as an asshole. It's more of a joking way to say that he coaches the same way that he played. He's going to try to push you to get the best out of yourself. He's also going to try to push you to the limit, to where you didn't think that you could go, and actually make you understand, 'Look, I pushed you because I believed in you and got you here, and then we'll show you that love when you get there.'"

There's a cultish devotion breaking out in the Patriots locker room. It's not just that New England has rocketed to the top of the AFC standings. It's that they're witnessing the dawn of a new era, anchored by elite young quarterback Drake Maye.

Every person in the building follows Vrabel. But strip away the color commentary and what you find at his core is a single word: accountability.

A Calculated Philosophy

"You try to treat [the players] the same way they treat the team," Vrabel told me. "If you treat the team like s---, hopefully you're not around very long. But if you are, I don't have much to say to you. But if you're somebody that treats the team well, knows what to do, shows up on time, plays hard, practices and does everything that you're supposed to do, then I'm willing to listen to what you have to say."

Back in the early 2000s when Vrabel played for the Patriots under Bill Belichick, he was a Swiss Army knife—a starting linebacker who also dominated on special teams when needed. When the special teams unit faltered, Belichick would call on Vrabel. He'd take the field for kick coverage, sprint 70 yards, and be the first man to meet the returner. Every single time.

"It would drive me crazy," Izzo said. "He would get up and celebrate, and he would walk off the field talking s--- to the rest of us, me specifically."

Vrabel would shout: "Okay, I got mine. It's your turn."

He was holding his teammates accountable before he ever held a clipboard. He did it by dropping truth bombs and talking trash—but more importantly, by demonstrating that underperformance wouldn't fly.

Now, as the Patriots head coach, he's weaponized those lessons. Vrabel admits he had to learn the hard way about timing and power. As a player, he could sling a quick jab and move on. As a head coach, his words carry weight that echoes through the entire organization.

"As far as an asshole, I can be a good asshole, I can be a bad asshole. There's a wide range. Sometimes that's a good thing, and sometimes I could probably take it to the other side."

Seven years into his head coaching career, Vrabel has refined his approach. "I have to be cautious of that. That's what happens when you're the head coach. You say things. People—it means something to them, positively and negatively. So a lot of that has to be intentional and understanding who the audience is."

The Teaching Through Challenge

During the first week of training camp this July, Vrabel laid out three objectives for the Patriots: Build a team. Earn a role. Prepare to win.

During a media session the next day, a reporter couldn't remember them. Vrabel called out the entire press corps with a smile and then walked them through it again—right there in front of everyone. It was a masterclass in holding people accountable without being cruel about it.

"Hey, that's how it is when we're in a team meeting room," receiver DeMario Douglas said. "So, you've got to know your stuff."

Each week, Vrabel stands in front of his team and warns them about the opposing running back or receiver. Before Week 9 against Atlanta, he made sure everyone understood what Bijan Robinson could do if given space.

"I hope you're ready for such-and-such this week. He's going to run through y'all," Williams imitated Vrabel saying. "He's trying to get us pissed. Every week, it's been somebody new. He gets us ready to play."

But Vrabel's warnings aren't manufactured drama. "He's laying the facts out there," backup quarterback Joshua Dobbs explained. "That is true. If you give Bijan Robinson too much space, you saw what he did against the Buffalo Bills. He had 200 yards of offense. He's truthful in that."

Vrabel believes the best time to coach is after a win. "I think that when you win, you can coach them harder, because you won." Good timing for the Patriots, who are 10-2.

Earned Trust

The Patriots quarterback understands what Vrabel is doing. "I think it starts with the head coach telling you what you need to hear, instead of what you want to hear," Maye said.

Vrabel's ability to get away with his biting criticism stems from one thing: his players know it comes from genuine investment in their success.

"Because [the conversations] come from a place of support, and that's why you're trying to build relationships, so that when people do tell you the truth, you don't bristle at it. If a stranger tells you the truth, you tell them to f--- off. If somebody that you care about tells you the truth, you take a good hard look at it and say, 'Hey, am I doing this the right way?'"

Wide receiver Stefon Diggs has become a lieutenant in enforcing this culture, challenging Maye when needed—something that happens because Vrabel set the tone.

"I don't trust many people," Diggs said. "I appreciate straight shooters, and you can tell me the truth, no matter what it is. I rock with you if it's the truth."

Tight end Austin Hooper has played for coaches afraid to confront their star players. Not here. "Here, everyone's treated the same," he said.

The Hidden Softer Side

There's another dimension to Vrabel that his public persona doesn't fully capture. At a joint practice with Washington on August 6, the 50-year-old coach jumped into a pile of players and left bleeding from a gash on his face. Patriots guard Jared Wilson was stunned.

"That is sick. That is sick! I love that," Wilson said. "Ever since then, I'm like, 'That's the guy right there.' It just gets me going. It makes me want to run through a wall. Your coach is willing to do things for you. I don't think a lot of coaches would do that."

Vrabel isn't just an enforcer—he's a protector who de-escalates tensions, hugs players after every game, and holds the hands of injured players even after benching them for performance.

As a player, Vrabel took care of teammates in need. In 2008, practice-squad defensive lineman Vince Redd needed housing, so Vrabel let him live in his basement for the entire season. Former linebacker Pierre Woods did the same. The Vrabels hosted as many as 25 players for Thanksgiving and Christmas—a logistical undertaking with young kids running around and NFL-sized appetites to feed.

"Yeah, they get their laundry done. I'd come home from practice, and Vince would be sitting there at the kitchen table with the boys, and Jen would be making dinner," Vrabel recalled. "These guys were young players. It saved them some money on a place to stay. It didn't matter to me. Certainly didn't matter to Jen. Whatever we can do to help."

When he coached in Houston, he extended the same hospitality to newly hired coaches Izzo, Wes Welker, and John Perry.

The Coach Who Admits When He's Wrong

Despite his brutal honesty, Vrabel can admit mistakes. Undrafted Patriots linebacker Jack Gibbens remembers a 2022 moment from Vrabel's time in Tennessee. Before a snap against the Chargers, chaos erupted. Gibbens and his safety switched coverage assignments pre-snap, and the defense worked perfectly—the quarterback was sacked immediately.

On the sideline, Vrabel was chewing him out. "You're supposed to have the back here," the coach barked.

Gibbens explained: "I know, but the safety said he had the back so I covered his guy."

Vrabel responded simply: "All right," and walked away.

That's it. Gibbens had a legitimate explanation, and Vrabel backed off. The next week, Gibbens played 72% of snaps. The week after, he played 100%.

"If you know what to do, he'll definitely put that trust in you and let you kind of make things happen on the field," Gibbens said.

More recently, Vrabel noticed players grew hushed whenever he entered the cafeteria. He recognized the problem and addressed it head-on during a team meeting, acknowledging he wanted everyone comfortable, not scared.

"You can get the best out of everybody when they're comfortable, not when they're all tensed up and scared to make a mistake," cornerback Carlton Davis said.

"He's the most in-tune coach that I've probably played for. You could tell he puts himself in our shoes, whether it's the game, practice, scheduling, meetings, he's always there. He's super involved."

The Rapid Ascension

Vrabel wasn't always certain he'd return to the NFL after leaving Ohio State in 2014. The Buckeyes were winning consistently under Urban Meyer, and leaving for a lateral move felt risky. He called Izzo for advice.

"You're gonna crush it. You're going to be a D-coordinator in like two, three years. This is going to lead to where you want to go. Bro, take it. You're going to rise quickly," Izzo told him.

By 2017, Vrabel was the Texans' defensive coordinator. By 2018, he was Tennessee's head coach. Six seasons later, after being fired in 2023, he spent time consulting for Cleveland before Patriots owner Robert Kraft hired him to replace Jerod Mayo after back-to-back losing seasons.

Vrabel took a teardown approach, moving out players like Kyle Dugger, Keion White, and Ja'Lynn Polk at the deadline. The Patriots sold and continued ascending—a radical strategy that's worked because Vrabel surrounded himself with the right players, not the best players. Guys who can handle his particular blend of criticism and care.

The additions included Milton Williams, Stefon Diggs, and a collection of under-the-radar culture builders: Mack Hollins, K'Lavon Chaisson, Jaylinn Hawkins, Austin Hooper, and Garrett Bradbury.

"He's going to strike a nerve, but the message is getting delivered," Izzo said. "I think all of that helps him connect in his role as a coach now."

The Razor's Edge

There's a razor-thin line between insulting someone and ribbing them. Vrabel spends most of his time finding that line—and then crossing it by millimeters, just to see what you'll do. Just to see if what he said will make you better.

That's the calculation that separates a great coach from a good one. It's the reason Tom Brady, Julian Edelman, and Larry Izzo—accomplished men who've heard every insult and criticism imaginable—all smile when they talk about him.

Because behind every jab is genuine investment. Behind every challenge is belief.