With all the weeping sentimentality leading up to the AFC Divisional Playoff’s, you’d have thought the Indianapolis Colts were the NFL’s version of the 1980 U.S. Hockey Team…”do you believe in Miracles?” Well, perhaps the official reviewing Troy Polamalu’s non-interception does. But even that wasn’t enough to allow America’s sports punditry their desired shmaltzfest. That said, the Colts are back in their stables, morosely looking back at their “destined” season while football’s epicenters shift to Denver and Seattle.
With the NFL clearly the Goliath of all professional sports, it would seem criminal, if not downright absurd, for them to be headquartered anywhere but New York City. However, even the mighty NFL can succumb to the deadly spores of marketing garble from nearby Madison Avenue. And with Tony Dungy, a black, mild mannered coach who’s even less innocuous to white audiences than Morgan Freeman, and Peyton Manning, the tall white quarterback who hails from football’s most blessed gene pool, you have all the elements in place to sell the Colts the way Proctor & Gamble sells Tide. Add in Manning’s hometown being ravaged by Hurricane Katrina, and Tony Dungy losing his eldest son before Christmas…and, well, what’s stopping a shiny bow from being tied around this Hollywood script of a season?
While the temperatures got colder, the Colts presumably got hotter. Oh yes, they were 13-0 as December rolled in, but they were not just any 13-0 team, they were perhaps the most “complete” 13-0 team of all time. Sure there have been past juggernauts. The ’85 Bears are often the first to come to mind, but they lacked proper “balance”. Too defensively oriented, some said, not to mention lacking a durable quarterback in Jim McMahon. Still, they won the Super Bowl by trouncing the New England Patriots 46-10. Then there were the ’98 Broncos who also went 13-0 en route to winning their second Super Bowl. Yet despite their dominance, they too came with chinks in their armor; hinging too much of their fate on the aging arm of John Elway. But these Colts…these 2005 Indianapolis Colts…had every nook and cranny filled. They could run, block, pass…oh could they pass…and better yet, this year’s model came with a defense. Add on the most accurate kicker in NFL history, and here was a team with more bells and whistles than the 1958 Edsel. What could possibly go wrong?
Early signs of slippage came as the Colts let up towards the end of the regular season. Sure they lost to San Diego, a team that could beat anybody when they had their act together; which they did when they handed the Colts their first loss on December 18th. So history wouldn’t be rewritten, and Don Shula, Nick Buoniconti and the rest of the 1972 Dolphins could breath a sigh of relief knowing their perfect season remained solely intact. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Past teams like the ’85 Bears and ’98 Broncos both went on record to say that they were relieved from the pressure of replicating the Dolphins’ perfect season when they finally took their first loss. So now the Colts could focus on what really mattered most, winning the Super Bowl. But rather than step up to make a statement that they to be feared in the post season, Indy took the safe route and rested its starters; losing again to Seattle and then eking out a win against the moribund Arizona Cardinals in Week 17. For all the mushy rah-rah we were supposed to embrace with the Colts, a backlash was looming.
And what is it about these guys that’s so great anyway? Peyton Manning gets paid $98 million to quarterback the Colts. Granted he works hard and probably watches more game film than aspiring pilots log hours in the air, but with that kind of salary, what’s to make him tug at our hearts more than a Trent Dilfer, Jeff Hostetler, Doug Williams or Kurt Warner? The gulf of talent between these guys and Peyton Manning stretches multiple area codes, yet, unlike Manning, they all won Super Bowls for their teams. And Marvin Harrison? Indeed, he gets the nod for his professional demeanor in a position synonymous with self-aggrandizement. The NFL could probably use more Marvin Harrison’s and fewer Terrell Owens’, but you’d be hard pressed to see him take a hit across the middle. When Marvin Harrison isn’t in the end zone, he’s sprinting for the sidelines or diving to the turf so he doesn’t get hurt. Say what you want about the shenanigans of guys like T.O., Michael Irvin and Keyshawn Johnson, at least they weren’t afraid to take their shots. As for Edgerrin James, his number 32 jersey and gangsta persona reminds us of O.J. Simpson in more ways than one.
Then of course you have Tony Dungy seeing his “storybook” season marred by the tragic death of his 18-year-old son. Surely nobody wants to wish this upon anyone, much less a very decent guy like Tony Dungy. But in all fairness, fans like coaches for who they are, how they coach, and how they cope with adversity on the field, not by what happens off the field, even when it comes to losing a son. America didn’t suddenly bleed Yankee pinstripes during the World Series after 9/11, nor we did become instant Colt fans because of Dungy’s tragedy. If anything, we may have felt a bit manipulated by the whole thing. Hence more anti-Colt backlash.
Finally there’s the intangible element that’s yet to be brought up. So at the risk of sounding a little earthy, I make this point. The untold truth of the Colts failing again is because they are still in karmic debt from bolting from Baltimore in 1984. It was a surprise and sleazy move, where the footage of Mayflower trucks leaving in the middle of the night remains etched in our minds like that of the Zapruder Film. The Colts were the soul of Baltimore; which at the time was so depressed it banked its economic future on the success of a new aquarium. A blue-collar city where business lunches consist of spiced crab and draft beer, Baltimorians found out via the local news that their storied franchise had up-and-left to a sterile, Midwestern city known best for a speedway before dawn. A new stadium awaited the Colts in Indianapolis – a dome of all things – while Memorial Stadium was left to rust. Through another ugly uprooting of a beloved franchise from Cleveland, Baltimore eventually got a new team in 1996. In fact, their replacement team even won a Super Bowl in 2001. But saying the Ravens are the same to Baltimore is like saying Sammy Hagar is the same to Van Halen fans raised on the kicks and screams of David Lee Roth. The wound may have stopped bleeding, but the scar tissue remains.
As for kicks and screams, Colts’ kicker Mike Vanderjagt provided plenty for all that were watching Sunday’s defeat to Pittsburgh. More than a just a kicker who could tie the game in the final seconds, Vanderjagt was thrust into the role as the Colts’ lone representative to the karmic parole board. As he got ready to attempt his 46-yard field goal, the Steelers called time out to “ice” the kicker, and perhaps, give an extra moment for the Powers-That-Be to deliberate. The ball was snapped, Vanderjagt planted his left leg and then watched, watched, watched the ball badly sail wide to the right off his kicking foot. Clearly a verdict had been reached…
PAROLE DENIED.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Sunday, January 08, 2006
LOOKING LIKE WHAT THE CATS BROUGHT IN
Despite the mild January temperatures, low winds and raucous crowd, you’d have better luck finding a spark with two twigs than what the Giants brought to the field. And while LT, Harry Carson and Carl Banks were brought in for inspiration, the way the Giants linebackers played, perhaps they should have suited up instead. Even the toll collectors on the Jersey Turnpike could have stopped the run better. Oh, but if only the linebackers were the problem…
In the opening minutes of the game, the Giants, who were hosting their first playoff game in five years, seemed poised to cash in on home field advantage. Their opening kick coverage was fast and swift; of which Carolina stumbled with two false start penalties, not to mention having a frazzled Jake Delhomme looking sucked in beneath a Big Blue undertow. Unfortunately, the currents quickly changed, of which the stench of low tide lingered for the rest of this agonizing game.
It’s hard to pinpoint where the game turned, but the Giant’s recent formula as the sleepy dinosaur coming to life shouldn’t have been in their playoff game plan. They had a chance to seize control early, as they moved the ball nicely on their opening drive, only then failing to convert while passing on a third and two on Carolina’s 45-yard-line. Somehow, somewhere that seemed to send a message that the door was wide open, even if it was only the opening minutes of the game. Didn’t they learn anything for their dismal loss to Washington two weeks ago?
In terms of performance, Eli Manning (10/18, 133 yards, 3 INT’s) was simply awful. Sure, one could say it was his first NFL playoff game, but Manning’s “aw shucks” demeanor seems better fit for Baskin-Robbins than it does the NFL. Early in the season, we were in awe of his “poise” and “composure”, not to mention his being uncannily unflappable. Instead, it’s quite obvious that Manning now needs a wet towel snapped on his ass before each possession. Beating the Giants is simple: force Manning to win the game on his own and watch him lead the Giants’ head right through the noose. And with Tiki Barber relegated to a supporting role (13/41), Manning was rowing with just one oar.
While Manning couldn’t get anything going all day, it was Carolina’s simple exploitation of the Giants’ porous run defense that put this one away early. With the Giant linebackers looking sent over from a temp agency, Carolina ran the ball with a scheme simple enough for a Pop Warner team to follow. No draws, no counters, just rammed it right down the Giants’ throats with balanced production by DeShaun Foster and Nick Goings. Perhaps the most incriminating case of this came late in the first half after Jeff Feagles pinned Carolina to their own 7-yard-line. With the Giants only down by a touchdown, and a 3rd and 7 situation looming for the Panthers, a stop on this play would force a punt and presumably give good field position for the Giants to score. The Giants instead allowed Carolina to convert with a screen to Goings. Three plays later, Carolina faced a 3rd and 11 from their own 18-yard-line. Same scenario for the Giants, yet again Carolina runs Goings up the middle for a first down. When the Giants finally did force a punt, Carolina still gets the ball back, as the Giants muffed the return as the result of a bad punt gone good. Somehow, the Panthers were only up 10-0 at the half.
There are plays that speak volumes in games even though they may not have had much impact on the overall outcome. The Giants have been playing on the defensive in recent weeks. First by an ugly, unconvincing win against Philadelphia, then by getting manhandled at Washington, and finally by surviving a lackluster yawn-athon in Oakland on New Year’s Eve. Sure they’ve won games, just as Silicon Valley produced paper millionaires, but there’s been very little meat besides what Tiki Barber has done recently. In Sunday’s game against Carolina, the one play that may have ignited some badly needed mojo came with an asterisk. It came in the opening play of the third quarter on a 44-yard floater to Jeremy Shockey. Sure Shockey caught the ball, then it squirted out, but thanks to a quick whistle he was ruled down by contact. After numerous replays it seemed pretty apparent that Shockey did indeed fumble. But because he was ruled “down by contact” the play could not be reviewed. In essence, the Giants biggest play of the day was fraud. They knew it, and carried out the rest of the drive, and game, as if they didn’t deserve it.
Ironically, Tim Lewis, the Giants defensive coordinator, will interview with Green Bay and St. Louis in the wake of one of the most abysmally played performances by his squad. No doubt he’ll have some tough questions to answer. The Giants too, have plenty answers to search for; starting with a long look in the locker room mirror.
In the opening minutes of the game, the Giants, who were hosting their first playoff game in five years, seemed poised to cash in on home field advantage. Their opening kick coverage was fast and swift; of which Carolina stumbled with two false start penalties, not to mention having a frazzled Jake Delhomme looking sucked in beneath a Big Blue undertow. Unfortunately, the currents quickly changed, of which the stench of low tide lingered for the rest of this agonizing game.
It’s hard to pinpoint where the game turned, but the Giant’s recent formula as the sleepy dinosaur coming to life shouldn’t have been in their playoff game plan. They had a chance to seize control early, as they moved the ball nicely on their opening drive, only then failing to convert while passing on a third and two on Carolina’s 45-yard-line. Somehow, somewhere that seemed to send a message that the door was wide open, even if it was only the opening minutes of the game. Didn’t they learn anything for their dismal loss to Washington two weeks ago?
In terms of performance, Eli Manning (10/18, 133 yards, 3 INT’s) was simply awful. Sure, one could say it was his first NFL playoff game, but Manning’s “aw shucks” demeanor seems better fit for Baskin-Robbins than it does the NFL. Early in the season, we were in awe of his “poise” and “composure”, not to mention his being uncannily unflappable. Instead, it’s quite obvious that Manning now needs a wet towel snapped on his ass before each possession. Beating the Giants is simple: force Manning to win the game on his own and watch him lead the Giants’ head right through the noose. And with Tiki Barber relegated to a supporting role (13/41), Manning was rowing with just one oar.
While Manning couldn’t get anything going all day, it was Carolina’s simple exploitation of the Giants’ porous run defense that put this one away early. With the Giant linebackers looking sent over from a temp agency, Carolina ran the ball with a scheme simple enough for a Pop Warner team to follow. No draws, no counters, just rammed it right down the Giants’ throats with balanced production by DeShaun Foster and Nick Goings. Perhaps the most incriminating case of this came late in the first half after Jeff Feagles pinned Carolina to their own 7-yard-line. With the Giants only down by a touchdown, and a 3rd and 7 situation looming for the Panthers, a stop on this play would force a punt and presumably give good field position for the Giants to score. The Giants instead allowed Carolina to convert with a screen to Goings. Three plays later, Carolina faced a 3rd and 11 from their own 18-yard-line. Same scenario for the Giants, yet again Carolina runs Goings up the middle for a first down. When the Giants finally did force a punt, Carolina still gets the ball back, as the Giants muffed the return as the result of a bad punt gone good. Somehow, the Panthers were only up 10-0 at the half.
There are plays that speak volumes in games even though they may not have had much impact on the overall outcome. The Giants have been playing on the defensive in recent weeks. First by an ugly, unconvincing win against Philadelphia, then by getting manhandled at Washington, and finally by surviving a lackluster yawn-athon in Oakland on New Year’s Eve. Sure they’ve won games, just as Silicon Valley produced paper millionaires, but there’s been very little meat besides what Tiki Barber has done recently. In Sunday’s game against Carolina, the one play that may have ignited some badly needed mojo came with an asterisk. It came in the opening play of the third quarter on a 44-yard floater to Jeremy Shockey. Sure Shockey caught the ball, then it squirted out, but thanks to a quick whistle he was ruled down by contact. After numerous replays it seemed pretty apparent that Shockey did indeed fumble. But because he was ruled “down by contact” the play could not be reviewed. In essence, the Giants biggest play of the day was fraud. They knew it, and carried out the rest of the drive, and game, as if they didn’t deserve it.
Ironically, Tim Lewis, the Giants defensive coordinator, will interview with Green Bay and St. Louis in the wake of one of the most abysmally played performances by his squad. No doubt he’ll have some tough questions to answer. The Giants too, have plenty answers to search for; starting with a long look in the locker room mirror.
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