KANSAS CITY, Mo. — It’s hard to imagine a more accomplished candidate for the Pro Football Hall of Fame than Bill Belichick, who led the New England Patriots to an unprecedented six Super Bowl victories and whose 333 career wins are the second-most in NFL history.

His profile is such that you could make his case among Hall of Fame voters simply by saying his name. Certainly, it can reasonably be wondered what the meaning of a Hall of Fame that doesn’t ultimately elect him is.

And if the curious selection dynamics now in place allowed for a simple up-down vote on Belichick, as a selector I absolutely would have voted for him this year. I believe he’d have assumed his much-deserved place in Canton in his first year of eligibility in 2026.

But, alas, that’s just not how the voting works. And that’s led to understandable puzzlement and furious assumptions in reaction to ESPN’s report Tuesday citing four anonymous sources saying Belichick won’t be part of the Hall of Fame’s class of 2026 when it’s announced next week.

That report presumably was news to all 50 PFHOF voters, who in the name of confidentiality weren’t given the final results after any of the voting via the Jan. 13 meeting, including the phase specific to Belichick.

Separate from the vote-down of modern era candidates from 15 to as many as five, the aspect involving Belichick illogically lumps together in one category the coaching candidate, the contributor candidate (in this case, Patriots owner Robert Kraft) and three seniors (we’ll come back to those). Voters can choose three of the five at most, and an 80% approval (40 votes) is needed for any to go forward.

One simple way to consider this: Under a setup that should be separate and distinct, even Belichick and Kraft essentially are in competition.

Many are calling Belichick’s apparent lack of inclusion a sham or a snub, and even the most reasonable of NFL fans — like Patrick Mahomes — are baffled.

“Insane …,” the Kansas City Chiefs quarterback posted on X. “Don’t even understand how this could be possible.”

ESPN’s piece heavily suggests that Deflategate and Spygate and “politics” led to this situation, and it quotes a veteran Hall voter as saying, “The only explanation (for the outcome) was the cheating stuff. It really bothered some of the guys.”

Perhaps that affected some voters, perhaps not. I can’t and won’t try to speak for others, and it’s a condition of being a voter to not divulge the deliberations.

But the so-called “cheating stuff” is not at all the only possible explanation. Because it certainly didn’t ultimately influence my vote.

In fact, I didn’t vote against Belichick or Kraft.

I voted for the three senior candidates: Ken Anderson, Roger Craig and L.C. Greenwood.

You could call that rationalizing, I suppose. And I’m suddenly reminded of the fortune cookie wisdom that you should never try to explain, since your friends don’t need it and your enemies won’t believe it anyway.

And no doubt this thinking won’t satisfy those many who feel this was an egregious misjudgment.

But here’s how it unfolded for me during a discussion I entered with an open mind for the third spot, while figuring I’d definitely vote for Belichick and Craig, the trailblazing three-time Super Bowl champion who was on the NFL All-Decade team in the 1980s.

(When I became a Hall of Fame voter in 2021, I was astonished to realize Craig wasn’t already in.)

As the presentations and discussions proceeded, I found myself wanting to vote for all five — including Steelers great Greenwood, a four-time Super Bowl champ who was All-Decade in the 1970s, and Bengals quarterback Anderson, the 1981 MVP who led the league in passer rating four times.

All three have been long deserving of induction in the Hall. All three have been, well, snubbed for decades.

As it came time to cast the vote, I found myself thinking not just of them but of the experiences of recent senior semifinalists and finalists who didn’t make it.

Especially several for whom I’ve repeatedly advocated: former Chiefs greats Albert Lewis, who was strongly considered both in his final year of modern eligibility and his first as a senior; Otis Taylor; and Jim Tyrer, whose candidacy resurfaced after being dormant for decades because of increasing awareness of the ravages of CTE and near-certainty he was in its clutches when he murdered his wife and killed himself in 1980.

Each case was its own matter, of course. But each of those men, in my opinion, unequivocally belongs in Canton — among dozens of at least semi-similarly decorated players who have been relegated to what PFHOF voters have come to call the “abyss” of senior candidates.

Despite 10 senior players (along with three contributors and two coaches) being inducted in 2020 as part of the NFL 100 celebration, the senior backlog remains so overwhelming — including approximately 60 one-time all-decade players — that any chance to climb out is fleeting and fraught.

In the last two years, under the new system fused together with the coach and contributor candidates, only three of the six senior nominees have made it through to the Hall.

None of the three who were stopped short, including Tyrer, resurfaced on the next year’s ballot.

All of that went into why I felt duty-bound to vote for the richly deserving seniors, who most likely won’t ever have a hearing again as more senior candidates enter the pool and fresh cases get made for others.

Meanwhile, Belichick is inevitable soon … as he should be. At the risk of contradicting my own vote, really, he shouldn’t even have to wait. I understand why people are offended that he isn’t going in the first moment he can.

In the end, though, I felt more compelled by what I perceive to be last chances and looming lost causes within the system as we have it — a system I hope the Hall will see fit to change now.

©2026 The Kansas City Star. Visit kansascity.com. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.