Sunday, January 31, 2016
The Final Pursuit
For a while there, it looked like September 12, 2015 was shaping up to be one of the best and most memorable days ever. Earlier in the week, Petra Kvitová and Victoria Azarenka went down. Then, in the first semifinal on September 11, Flavia Pennetta upset Simona Halep. All Serena had to do was beat Roberta Vinci, a player who had never won more than four games in any of the eight sets played in the four matches between them. Then, on Saturday the 12th, my sister were going to spend the morning and early afternoon driving to Cincinnati before checking into a hotel to watch Serena complete the calendar year Grand Slam by beating Pennetta before seeing Janet Jackson in concert. That’s a pretty good day. Instead…
When Roberta Vinci served out the third set on September 11 and Serena’s calendar year Grand Slam quest was over, I…it would be a lie to say I was hurt. There was, and is, too much shock for hurting. I didn’t know what to do; I didn’t know how to take it. My wife and I did not speak about it. My sister and I have never discussed it. I haven’t spoken about that match, that day, or that tournament with anyone. As I write this roughly on the final night of January 2016, there is still no speaking about it. There is still no hurt. There is, I think, only shock.
Serena Williams’ 2014 season was characterized by stress and disappointment in her quest to equal Chris Evert and Martina Navrátilová’s mark of eighteen Grand Slam singles titles. Although she remained at the top of the WTA rankings all season, Serena lost before the quarterfinals of each of the year’s first three Grand Slam events: in Melbourne, she lost to Ana Ivanović in the fourth round; she fell to Garbiñe Muguruza in the second round of the French Open; and at Wimbledon, Alizé Cornet defeated Serena in the third round.
At the US Open, Serena held on and won that eighteenth major championship. Then she was able to relax a little going into the Australian Open in 2015. She had a little trouble with Muguruza and Elina Svitolina, but it wasn’t a terribly stressful tournament. Still, Serena Williams’ 2015 season was one of struggle.
When the French Open began, there was a sense that Serena was all in to win it. After 2014’s flameout versus Muguruza, she had something to prove to herself. We’ve seen her really struggle through tournaments when she really, really wants them. The first three Grand Slams of 2014 are just the most recent example of this. Remember the 2013 French Open when she was trying to win it for only the second time? The draw opened up for her, but Serena turned Roland Garros 2015 into a gauntlet. She lost five sets, an Open Era women’s record, during her title run. From the second round on—with the exception of the quarterfinal versus Sara Errani—Serena had to talk (yell and scold) herself through each match. She wanted it badly. Too badly. The stress was visible on her face. The tension was palpable through the television screen. Every round, Serena’s French Open dreams were on the precipice of imploding. But she is Serena. And tennis has no clock. She worked for it. She got it. That’s when the widespread Grand Slam talk began.
In her championship press conference after defeating Lucie Šafářová at the 2015 French Open, Serena stated that she was rooting for Novak Djokovic to defeat Stanislas Wawrinka in the next day’s men’s final because she did not want to be the only one going into Wimbledon and the US Open with Grand Slam pressure. By bringing it up, Serena acknowledged that she was thinking about it, that she was going for it. Sure, every player opens the season with the Grand Slam as a possibility. In 2015, Serena Williams was actually going for it. And even though she shut down talk of it down at Wimbledon, it was there. She wanted it.
For the past several years, both Venus and Serena Williams have spoken publicly of their desire to play in the 2016 Rio Olympics. Ever since they began speaking of it, I have wondered it those Olympics would be it for the sisters, especially Serena.
After the disappointment that ended 2015, I was interested to see how world #1 would play this year. From the first point of her first round match against Camila Giorgi, it was a more relaxed and serene Serena Williams. Even though both sets against Giorgi were tight, the stressed Serena was not there. From that first match, I knew what the 2016 Serena Williams would be.
I think the Grand Slam run of 2015 was Serena Williams’ final pursuit. She wanted to catch Evert and Navrátilová and their eighteen Grand Slams. She’s done that. She wanted the calendar year Grand Slam. She fell short. From all of her talk over the past several years, I get the sense that Steffi Graf’s twenty-two and Margaret Court’s twenty-four are not on Serena’s radar. Sure, she’d like to win more Grand Slams, but I don’t think reaching those two marks are a quest. Instead, I think she wants to win each tournament as they come.
From a big picture perspective, I think Serena’s history chasing is over. I believe she is happy with what she’s done. And I believe that, more than anything else, 2016 is her victory lap. She has not announced anything, and this is just speculation by me, but I think Serena is preparing to walk away. The French Open begins in May. Then there is one last Wimbledon, the Rio Olympics, and one final run in Flushing Meadow. All the while, I expect to see Serena play happy, free tennis. If she gets to twenty-two, great. If she doesn’t, I think she’ll be as happy and content as she was in her speech yesterday in Rod Laver Arena. The final pursuit is over, and for the rest of this year, we get to see the great Serena Williams enjoy the moment.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Usain Bolt's Double
It really bothers me when people, especially people within the track & field community talk about Usain Bolt becoming the first man to complete the 100m-200m double in consecutive Olympic Games. It diminishes the greatness of what the man just did.
The identification of Bolt as the first man to repeat the double carries an implication that other men have tried--or have been in the position to try--doing it before him. In reality, only one man had been in position to attempt repeating the double. See, prior to Sunday, Carl Lewis was the only man to repeat as Olympic 100m champion. Through 30 Olympic Games, Usain Bolt is only the second man to win the 100m twice, consecutive or not. Last night, Bolt became the only man to win the Olympic 200m twice. Those are the accomplishments. Bringing up the repeated double without putting his victories in the individual races into proper context hides the greatness of his feats. Context is the key whenever one tries to describe or identify greatness.
This is a pet peeve of mine. I remember baseball announcers marveling at Barry Bonds becoming the only player to hit 500 homeruns and steal 500 bases without ever saying how close anyone else ever came to doing it themselves. In truth, Bonds is the only man with 350 homers and 350 steals. That makes the 500-500 more impressive.
So let us look at Bolt's unprecedented defense of his 200m championship as the amazing thing that it is. Let us look at his repeat in the 100m as something that had only been accomplished by a man who may be the greatest--until tonight?--Olympian of all time. We can look at these two things together, in context, and only then can people understand what it means for Usain Bolt to have repeated the 100m-200m double.
The identification of Bolt as the first man to repeat the double carries an implication that other men have tried--or have been in the position to try--doing it before him. In reality, only one man had been in position to attempt repeating the double. See, prior to Sunday, Carl Lewis was the only man to repeat as Olympic 100m champion. Through 30 Olympic Games, Usain Bolt is only the second man to win the 100m twice, consecutive or not. Last night, Bolt became the only man to win the Olympic 200m twice. Those are the accomplishments. Bringing up the repeated double without putting his victories in the individual races into proper context hides the greatness of his feats. Context is the key whenever one tries to describe or identify greatness.
This is a pet peeve of mine. I remember baseball announcers marveling at Barry Bonds becoming the only player to hit 500 homeruns and steal 500 bases without ever saying how close anyone else ever came to doing it themselves. In truth, Bonds is the only man with 350 homers and 350 steals. That makes the 500-500 more impressive.
So let us look at Bolt's unprecedented defense of his 200m championship as the amazing thing that it is. Let us look at his repeat in the 100m as something that had only been accomplished by a man who may be the greatest--until tonight?--Olympian of all time. We can look at these two things together, in context, and only then can people understand what it means for Usain Bolt to have repeated the 100m-200m double.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Dying by Seniority
In continuing a tradition we began a few years ago, my wife and I went to NCAA tournament games this weekend. Over the past five Marches, we have been to games in California, Missouri, Pennsylvania, and, this past weekend, Maryland. This year, we attended the first and second-round games of the women’s tournament held at the Comcast Center in College Park. Last night’s game featured second-seeded Maryland against seventh-seeded Louisville. My big takeaway from the game, which is probably the best women’s college game I’ve ever attended live, is that Louisville coach Jeff Walz cost his team any chance of surviving and advancing by putting the game into the hands of the lone senior on his active roster.
The Cardinals inbounded the ball under their own basket trailing by 3 with 15.2 seconds left in regulation. The play Walz called in the preceding timeout was to give senior Becky Burke a three for the tie. I understand that college coaches trust seniors, and I understand that Burke would appreciate having the continuation of her career be in her hands. BUT…at the time, Burke was 1-5 shooting from the field in the game. The single made field goal was a fast-break layup at the receiving end of a gorgeous 60-foot pass by sophomore Shoni Schimmel for an and-one. All four misses were from beyond the three-point arc. In Saturday’s first-round game versus Michigan State, Burke shot 3-10 (2-6 from 3), so she was on a 4-15 (2-10) stretch in the Comcast Center. Clearly, the game-saving shot should have been taken by someone else.
It was a poor choice by Walz, whose team had played a tough, gutsy game. In my opinion, he robbed his Cardinals of a chance to send the game into overtime. I feel bad for Burke; she did the best she could. She, Shoni Schimmel, and the rest of the Louisville team was let down by the man charged with leading them.
Don’t get me wrong; I actually like Walz. He’s done a great job in Louisville. He just made a bad decision last night, and it cost his team its season.
The Cardinals inbounded the ball under their own basket trailing by 3 with 15.2 seconds left in regulation. The play Walz called in the preceding timeout was to give senior Becky Burke a three for the tie. I understand that college coaches trust seniors, and I understand that Burke would appreciate having the continuation of her career be in her hands. BUT…at the time, Burke was 1-5 shooting from the field in the game. The single made field goal was a fast-break layup at the receiving end of a gorgeous 60-foot pass by sophomore Shoni Schimmel for an and-one. All four misses were from beyond the three-point arc. In Saturday’s first-round game versus Michigan State, Burke shot 3-10 (2-6 from 3), so she was on a 4-15 (2-10) stretch in the Comcast Center. Clearly, the game-saving shot should have been taken by someone else.
It was a poor choice by Walz, whose team had played a tough, gutsy game. In my opinion, he robbed his Cardinals of a chance to send the game into overtime. I feel bad for Burke; she did the best she could. She, Shoni Schimmel, and the rest of the Louisville team was let down by the man charged with leading them.
Don’t get me wrong; I actually like Walz. He’s done a great job in Louisville. He just made a bad decision last night, and it cost his team its season.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
5 Years Ago Tonight, My Saddest Night in Sports
Wednesday, March 7, 2007. Five years ago tonight. That was my saddest night as a sports fan. Not the worst, but the saddest. By far.
I was at work on the afternoon of December 19, 2006 when the news that Allen Iverson had been traded from my hometown 76ers to the Denver Nuggets was revealed. Iverson’s time as a Sixer had ended a while earlier. Both he and the team had fallen upon hard times, and he was banished in exile. We all knew the end was coming and that he was going to be traded away. Still, the moment we all learned the news was a surreal one.
The first thing I did when I got home from work that evening was to boot up my computer, find the next time the Nuggets were coming to Oakland, and buy a pair of tickets to that game. I do mean first thing. I made the ticket purchase before taking off my jacket, before going to the bathroom, before saying hello to the woman who would become my wife.
Nearly 3 months later, I hopped onto BART to cross the San Francisco Bay. It was the night the truth set in for me. I had seen AI in his Nugget uniform on TV, but seeing it in person made the trade even more real. They wore throwbacks that night—the Nuggets wore white jerseys with black block letters reading “Denver”, the Warriors wore their yellow “The City” jerseys—so I didn’t see #3 in the baby blue road uniform I had expected. The white jersey threw me off. I was so used to seeing him play in the CoreStates/First Union Center in the home whites that familiarity set in. I had to keep reminding myself, “I’m in Oakland. The Warriors are the home team. Allen’s a Nugget.”
Going in, I knew they had little chance to win (Yakhouba Diawara, whom I consider to be the worst NBA starter I have ever seen, played significant minutes that night), but I wanted to see if the little guy still had it. The Nuggets were without Carmelo Anthony that night (LaLa was having a baby), so Denver’s chances, as was usually the case in Philly, lay squarely on Iverson’s shoulders. The box score reads the same way it would have back in 1999 or 2001: 47 minutes, 12-25 from the field, 10-14 from the line, 6 rebounds, 3 assists, 2 steals, 5 turnovers, 35 points. But it wasn’t the same. He was noticeably slower to me. He owned neither the floor nor the arena like he once had. He’d grown old, only the numbers were still in denial. He couldn’t do the things he’d once been able to do on a whim. I could see it, but he couldn’t.
He was like Brett Favre that way. That which had made him so dominant the first half of his career had stayed around to destroy the latter half. In my mind, March 7, 2007 ended the career of Allen Iverson. He was gone.
It seems like yesterday. It feels like 15 years ago. But it’s only been 5. And a lot of us 76er fans are still mourning.
I was at work on the afternoon of December 19, 2006 when the news that Allen Iverson had been traded from my hometown 76ers to the Denver Nuggets was revealed. Iverson’s time as a Sixer had ended a while earlier. Both he and the team had fallen upon hard times, and he was banished in exile. We all knew the end was coming and that he was going to be traded away. Still, the moment we all learned the news was a surreal one.
The first thing I did when I got home from work that evening was to boot up my computer, find the next time the Nuggets were coming to Oakland, and buy a pair of tickets to that game. I do mean first thing. I made the ticket purchase before taking off my jacket, before going to the bathroom, before saying hello to the woman who would become my wife.
Nearly 3 months later, I hopped onto BART to cross the San Francisco Bay. It was the night the truth set in for me. I had seen AI in his Nugget uniform on TV, but seeing it in person made the trade even more real. They wore throwbacks that night—the Nuggets wore white jerseys with black block letters reading “Denver”, the Warriors wore their yellow “The City” jerseys—so I didn’t see #3 in the baby blue road uniform I had expected. The white jersey threw me off. I was so used to seeing him play in the CoreStates/First Union Center in the home whites that familiarity set in. I had to keep reminding myself, “I’m in Oakland. The Warriors are the home team. Allen’s a Nugget.”
Going in, I knew they had little chance to win (Yakhouba Diawara, whom I consider to be the worst NBA starter I have ever seen, played significant minutes that night), but I wanted to see if the little guy still had it. The Nuggets were without Carmelo Anthony that night (LaLa was having a baby), so Denver’s chances, as was usually the case in Philly, lay squarely on Iverson’s shoulders. The box score reads the same way it would have back in 1999 or 2001: 47 minutes, 12-25 from the field, 10-14 from the line, 6 rebounds, 3 assists, 2 steals, 5 turnovers, 35 points. But it wasn’t the same. He was noticeably slower to me. He owned neither the floor nor the arena like he once had. He’d grown old, only the numbers were still in denial. He couldn’t do the things he’d once been able to do on a whim. I could see it, but he couldn’t.
He was like Brett Favre that way. That which had made him so dominant the first half of his career had stayed around to destroy the latter half. In my mind, March 7, 2007 ended the career of Allen Iverson. He was gone.
It seems like yesterday. It feels like 15 years ago. But it’s only been 5. And a lot of us 76er fans are still mourning.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
1991
Twenty years ago, I saw the best defense of my lifetime. In 1991, the Philadelphia Eagles led the NFL in rushing, passing, and overall defense. Despite having one of the worst offenses I’ve ever watched, the Eagles won 10 games on the strength of that defense. This post was supposed to celebrate the season the defense had that year. Instead, I’ve found that I can’t discuss them without going into detail about the offense. Overall, I think it reads as an indictment of that offense, which is, in fact, an indictment of Buddy Ryan’s offensive talent evaluation and Rich Kotite’s coaching.
Eagle fans had high expectations for 1991. Sure, they had fired Buddy Ryan, but he hadn’t won a playoff game anyway. No one really knew much about Rich Kotite, but he had been hired as the offensive coordinator prior to the previous season, and the result was Randall Cunningham becoming, as Sports Illustrated would call him, The Ultimate Weapon. Randall threw for 3,400 yards with 30 touchdowns against only 13 interceptions while also collecting 942 rushing yards. That was in his first season in a new offensive system. And, because Mike Quick’s career ended only 9 receptions into 1990, the Eagles’ starting wide receivers that season were Fred Barnett and Calvin Williams, both of whom were rookies. It was only going to get better, thought everyone in Philly. 4,000 yards passing with 40 touchdowns and 1,000 rushing by the quarterback was not out of the question. Then Bryce Paup happened. On the first play of the second quarter of Rich Kotite’s first game as a head coach, Paup hit Randall just as he released the ball and tore the quarterback’s ACL (17 years later, Bernard Pollard would hit Tom Brady in the exact same fashion and become the catalyst for an NFL rule change). I remember playing Lakers vs. Celtics with my friend Mike during halftime of the Eagles-Packers game when we heard the news over the radio that Randall was out for the season. We thought the Eagles were done. We ALL thought they were headed for 3-13. Sure, the same players from Buddy’s defense were still there, but neither Ryan nor his coordinator, Jeff Fisher, was around anymore. Bud Carson, the fired Browns head coach, ran the defense in 1991. Who knew that unit could get better?
Because of their superiority in the secondary, I rate the 1991 Eagles defense above the 1985 Bears and 2000 Ravens, in that order. Neither of those other defenses was handicapped by poor offense as much as the Eagles were—to fully appreciate how great the 1991 Eagles defense was, you have to understand exactly how bad the offense was. I know what you’re thinking: the 2000 Ravens offense went 5 consecutive games without scoring a touchdown, so there’s no way the Philadelphia offense was worse. Au contraire mon frère. The Ravens actually scored very well compared to the Eagles. 5 consecutive games without a touchdown, but Baltimore scored nearly 21 points per game in 2000; the 1991 Eagles scored just shy of 18 per game. 3 points per game difference may not seem like a lot, but look at it this way: since 1979, only three 10-win teams have scored fewer points than the 10-6 Eagles of 1991.
That Philly offense was pitiful. It had already been pitiful, but Randall Cunningham masked it. A few weeks ago on Twitter, someone noticed that the Eagles’ leading rusher in 1991 only gained 440 yards. That’s bad, but that statistic alone doesn’t give the entire picture. It doesn’t tell you that the Eagles played 1991 without their man who had been their leading rusher for years. Randall Cunningham was the Eagle running game. Look at this:
The lack of running game in Philly was a disgrace, and the 1991 season illustrates how bad it was without Randall’s contributions. In the 28-team NFL, the Eagles had the 13th most rushing attempts, but ranked only 21st in rushing yards. Unsurprisingly, they finished 20th in rushing first downs. It should come as no shock to you that the 1991 Eagles were dead last in yards per rush. Since 1980, only 7 teams were worse than the 1991 Eagles’ 3.13 yards per carry average. Four of those teams had top ten passing offenses quarterbacked by the likes of Drew Brees and Dan Marino; the other 3 were at the bottom of the NFL in points scored (2 of those 3 are the 1999 and 2000 San Diego Chargers, who drafted LaDainian Tomlinson in 2001). Point is, the Eagles were a historically bad rushing team. Because of Randall Cunningham, the Eagles 2nd in the NFL in rushing yards, rushing first downs, and yards per carry in 1990.
What a difference one man made between 1990 and 1991, and we haven’t even discussed the Eagles’ passing game yet. The 1990 Eagles, quarterbacked by Cunningham, were 13th out of the league’s 28 teams in passes thrown. For their efforts, they finished 7th in passing yards & first downs and 2nd in touchdown passes. In 1991, those ranks fell to 20th, 27th, and 12th, respectively, while attempting the 7th most passes in the league. Overall, the Eagles fell from 3rd in points scored to 18th and 8th in yards per play to 25th. Randall Cunningham may not have been anywhere near the quarterback as Peyton Manning was, but his absence had a nearly identical effect on the team’s offense.
A team having the 13th most rushing attempts in the league and finishing 21st in yards sounds really, really bad, but it also sounds almost somewhat plausible. Finishing 20th in passing yards while throwing the 7th most passes is unfathomable to me. How does that happen? These statistics are an condemnation of the quarterback play.
I know your first question: who was the Eagles’ backup quarterback? The answer is: 32-year old Jim McMahon. McMahon wasn’t completely awful—he was serviceable, just a little bit below average—but he was brittle even as a young pro. There was no way he was going to survive as a 15-game starter in his 30s. Coming into 1991, McMahon had only three times played as many as 10 games in a season, but he actually turned in one of his healthier seasons that year. He started eleven games and finished six of them (some unfinished due to benchings). All told, McMahon was responsible for only 60.6% of the Eagles’ 513 pass attempts that season. His numbers won’t wow you (60.1% completions, 12 TDs, 11 INTs, 80.3 rating), but he was infinitely better than the guys who backed him up.
Jeff Kemp threw the second-most passes for Philly in 1991. Kemp actually began that season as he had the previous four, serving as Dave Kreig’s backup in Seattle. Kemp played in 7 games, starting 5, as a Seahawk. In his final two games with Seattle, Kemp started and went a combined 26-56 for 351 yards, 1 touchdown, and 6 interceptions. He was released a few hours after that last start. Two weeks later, he made his Eagles debut after the 49ers knocked out McMahon. Jack Kemp, the quarterback’s father and member of George Bush’s Cabinet, was Eagle owner Norman Braman’s guest that day. I soon felt sorry for the old man. Jeff Kemp’s stat line for that game reads 1 incomplete pass and 1 rush for 7 yards. What you can’t see from the box score is that the 7-yard scramble ended with Kemp sandwiched between two defensive linemen. Kemp fell to the ground face down and stayed there. No movement at all, not even a twitch. I thought he was dead. Jack was pale as a ghost. Jeff was out cold. That’s the first time I can remember seeing a player’s facemask removed with his helmet left in place.
Kemp came back 5 weeks later and played in four more games, starting two of them. His stat line as an Eagle: 57-114, 546 yards, 5 TDs, 5 INTs, 60.1 rating. At 32 years old, Jeff Kemp retired at the end of the season.
The archaic Pat Ryan (any Jet fans older than 30 are probably vomiting at reading his name) played in four games. He only threw 26 passes, but that was enough to complete 4 to the other team and post a 10.3 rating. He threw, by the way, zero touchdown passes.
Brad Goebel, the man I consider the face of the 1991 Eagles offense, started two of the 5 games he played. Those two starts resulted in 23 combined first downs, 375 yards of total offense, 10 turnovers, and not a single offensive touchdown. Goebel finished that season with 6 interceptions. He only threw 3 passes the rest of his career, which ended without a touchdown pass.
If you were keeping track, you noticed that Eagle quarterbacks combined to throw 17 touchdown passes against 26 interceptions (27 if you include the pick thrown by Keith Byars). Their rating for the season was 63.2. Ouch.
Overall, the Eagles turned the ball over 43 times in 1991. 43 turnovers. 43 turnovers. In one season. 16 games. 43 turnovers. And they went 10-6. In the early 1990s NFC East. 10-6. With 43 turnovers.
It’s difficult to explain how handicapped this defense was to someone who did not see them play. The best way I can do it is to take a look at the 6 games the Eagles lost in 1991. First was Week 2 at home against Phoenix. The Eagles allowed 80 yards on the ground, but it took the Cardinals 33 carries to gain them. The leading rusher picked up 54 yards on 19 carries. And Tom Tupa only completed 6 passes on the day. Still, the Eagles lost 26-10 (the touchdown came 2 plays after Seth Joyner picked off a pass, returned it to Phoenix’s 5-yard line, got up, and shoved the ball into Jim McMahon’s gut while telling him, “Score.”). The Eagles offense turned the ball over 6 times that day, one of which was a fumble returned for a Cardinal touchdown.
The defense responded by shutting out the Cowboys in Texas Stadium. A few weeks later, they played in RFK on Monday Night Football. The Redskins were still undefeated. It was the defense’s worst performance of the year. They allowed 184 yards through the air and 173 on the ground (41 carries), although they did force 4 turnovers. But it’s hard to offer any type of resistance without any rest. The offense only managed 4 first downs and 89 total yards. 35 passing yards. 4 first downs. In an entire game. Pitiful. It was a performance that makes LSU’s offensive performance against Alabama look less pathetic.
The next Sunday, the Eagles went to Tampa to play an 0-5 Buccaneers team that finished 3-13. This is the most memorable Eagles game from my high school years. Of all the games I wish I had on DVD, this is at the top of the list. The Eagles held the Bucs to only 12 first downs and 193 total yards. They also forced 6 turnovers. And, yes, the Buccaneers won. How? Rich Kotite.
The game in Tampa was Brad Goebel’s first career start. He was facing a Buccaneer defense that would finish the season ranked 5th in passing but only 25 in rushing—you can probably attribute much of that to the fact that the offense stunk and, therefore, the Bucs were trailing throughout just about every game—so Kotite went into the game refusing to let Goebel lose it for him. The Eagles just ran and ran and ran. They ran so much they gained 117 yards on the ground. On 41 carries. 2.85 yards per carry. And that includes a reverse to Kenny Jackson and 2 carries by the punter. The Eagles’ true ground game (running backs and quarterback) picked up an even hundred yards on 38 carries (2.63). That’s just ugly. The big guy that day was Heath Sherman, who gained 89 yards on his 35 carries (2.54). Kotite did let Goebel throw it 20 times; those passes resulted in 62 yards and 2 interceptions.
Check out these nuggets from Paul Domowitch’s game story in the next day’s Philadelphia Daily News:
In The Philadelphia Inquirer, Bill Lyon wrote the following:
Kotite, Kotite, Kotite. This is what the head coach had to say about his conservative attack: “I was running Sherman up the middle and off tackle; I was alternating, mixing it up that way. What I was trying to do was burn the clock and punt it.” That’s such a losing mentality. And it backfired when punter Jeff Feagles dropped a snap and gave the Bucs possession at the Eagles’ 7 (this went as a -12-yard run for Feagles; he’d previously successfully run a fake punt for 11).
Tampa converted that into a touchdown as they did the short field after the ensuing 3 & out by the Philly offense. 14-13 was the final score. In the Washington and Tampa Bay games, the offense gained a total of 89 passing yards.
Bowden: “As a unit, the defense had done all it could and more: intercepted three passes, scored a touchdown, sacked Tampa Bay quarterbacks three times for 24 yards, forced four fumbles and recovered three.” Those guys were not happy with their coach. Seth Joyner said, “How do you play like that?” Jerome Brown called it, “the worse I’ve ever felt.” Bowden’s game story closed with this: “‘It hurts,’ said [Wes] Hopkins, who contributed six tackles, two sacks, an interception, a forced fumble and two recovered fumbles. ‘Hell, I don’t know if we can do any more. We’re gonna try.’”
You would think the Eagle offense would have come out the next week and put some points on the board. Against the 6-0 NFC West-leading Saints, they did not. They ran the ball better than they did in Tampa (53 yards on 17 carries, 3.12 average), but Goebel and Pat Ryan threw 5 interceptions. The defense was brilliant again (2.1 yards allowed per rush, 40% completions, 162 total yards allowed, 2 turnovers forced), but the offense just couldn’t score. This time they lost 13-6.
The loss to the Saints stretched the losing streak to 3 games. The defense’s totals for those three games are: 39 first downs allowed, 712 yards allowed, 415 yards passing, 297 yards rushing, 12 turnovers forced, and 50 points allowed. For the offense: 27 first downs gained, 464 yards gained, 240 yards passing, 224 yards rushing, 13 turnovers given up, 19 points scored. The closest comparison I can come up with is Randy Johnson’s 1999 season, which featured a 4-game stretch during which he went 0-4 with a 1.41 ERA and his team’s offense totaled 0 runs and 6 hits.
The following week was the aforementioned 49ers game. What I did not tell you earlier was that Jeff Kemp’s 7-yard rush was the Eagles’ longest run of the game. As team, they gained 29 yards on 14 carries. They also turned the ball over 5 times. But they did score an offensive touchdown, a feat they’d not accomplished during the previous 3 games. But they didn’t put any other points on the board. The defense held Jerry Rice to 2 receptions for 4 yards, Steve Young to 96 yards in the air, and held the 49ers running game to less than 3.5 yards per carry. But it still wasn’t enough. In the Lehigh Valley Morning Call, Terry Larimer wrote, “The Eagles, who have now lost four straight games, used pretty much the same formula for failure as they have in the past—no running game, no pass protection, too many mistakes, too many penalties and too many broken bodies at quarterback.”
Jim McMahon came back early from his injury to start that game. He was knocked out, but returned after Kemp was concussed. Regarding the 29 yards the Eagles earned on the ground, Larimer wrote, “eight of which were contributed by a pair of quarterbacks—one of whom got carried off on a stretcher and the other who probably shouldn’t have played in the first place and certainly shouldn’t have come back to play again in the second place.”
It didn’t matter who played quarterback, the offense was just pitiful. Also from Larimer’s game story: “[Rod] Harris bobbled a pair of punts, including a controversial one that nearly ended in a San Francisco TD, while [Keith] Jackson foolishly tried to lateral to Byars after one of his catches and instead coughed up a fumble. Asked what he thought of that play, Kotite said, ‘I didn’t see it. I didn’t have my glasses on.’” Since Kotite once lost his play chart on a rainy day because he forgot to laminate it, I wholeheartedly believe that explanation.
The loss to the 49ers was the 3rd consecutive game that no Eagle running back had a carry that went for 10 or more yards and the 6th in a row in which no back had a carry go for more than 12 yards. That’s unreal.
At that point in the season, the defense started playing even better and led the team to a 6-game winning streak that ended when Dallas visited the Vet for a matchup of 9-5 teams. The winner was going to make the playoffs; the loser would be out. Dallas’ first points came on a safety. Their winning points came on a Kelvin Martin punt return for a touchdown. Once again, the Eagle defense balled out. The Cowboys rushed for less than 2.5 yards per carry and Steve Beuerlein completed only 9 of 31 passes. And yet, the Eagles offense couldn’t do better.
So yeah, that great defense won 10 games with that offense. The numbers are amazing. 3,549 yards, 3.9 yards per play, 206 first downs (133 in the air, 56 on the ground), 206 completions, 2,413 passing yards, 6.0 yards per pass, 44.1% completions, 52.1 passer rating, 55 sacks, 1,136 rushing yards, 4 rushing touchdowns, 3.0 yards per rush, 48 turnovers. Every single one of those led the NFL. The Eagles picked off 26 passes, which was good for third in the league. And they gave up only 244 points (15.2 per game), 5th in the league, despite that poor, turnover-prone offense.
Not once all season did an opposing offense tally 20 first downs in a game. 10 times in 16 games they held their opponent for less than 200 yards passing and 85 yards rushing. They gave up 300 yards of total offense exactly one time, at eventual Super Bowl champion Washington.
They could blanket you in coverage and they were impenetrable versus the run. What had been missing in previous seasons had been a second cornerback to play alongside Eric Allen. Prior to 1990, that guy had been someone we used to call “I Smell” Izell “Stinkin’” Jenkins (if you ever see highlights of Joe Montana’s comeback at the Vet in 1989, it’s Jenkins’ #46 that you see chasing John Taylor and Jerry Rice into the end zone). In the first round of the 1990 draft, most thought the Eagles were going to draft Georgia running back Rodney Hampton. Instead, they chose his teammate, cornerback Ben Smith. Smith was very good as a rookie and played outstandingly in 1991. Unfortunately, he suffered a non-contact injury on the painted dirt in Cleveland and was never the same again. Eric Allen is, in my opinion, a Hall of Fame cornerback. What a great, great player.
Both outside linebackers were versatile: strong against the run, excellent blitzers, and could smother an opposing tight end. Seth Joyner is, along with Wilber Marshall and Derrick Brooks, one of the three best 4-3 outside linebackers I’ve ever seen. In 1991, he was unreal. 6.5 sacks, 3 interceptions, 6 forced fumbles, 4 fumble recoveries, and 2 touchdowns were his numbers, but they don’t tell the whole story. He was an enforcer. On a team with Reggie White, Clyde Simmons, Jerome Brown, Wes Hopkins, and Andre Waters, Seth may have been the most feared defender. William Thomas was just a rookie and wasn’t inserted into the starting lineup until midway through the season. But he was fast and proved to be an above average defender in pass coverage and a great blitzer.
The man in the middle was Byron Evans. B & E wasn’t spectacular and he wasn’t quite on the level of Mike Singletary. But he made all the calls and held down the middle. Most importantly, he didn’t miss tackles. He was the one the men on the defense saw as the leader.
The front four. Far and away the best four-man line I’ve ever seen (my football memories begin in 1982). Reggie. Clyde. Jerome. Mike Pitts is the forgotten man, but he was also a beast. Mike Golic and Andy Harmon also took reps as tackles. How good were they? You don’t always see defensive linemen near the top of a tackling leaderboard, but Simmons, White, and Pitts all had 100 or more tackles in 1991. The 4 starting linemen totaled 39 sacks. That never happens.
Often, you see great defenses have their best seasons after a collective realization that their offense wasn’t going to be able to help them. You know about the Ravens. The 1985 Bears played with the memory of being shut out in the 1984 playoffs by the 49ers, who taunted them with, “Bring your offense next time.” The Giants’ best defensive season came a year after they were shut out in the playoffs. In 1991, the Eagles defense rallied around Cunningham’s injury and knew that winning football games was going to be their responsibility.
What they did that season was both awe-inspiring and unprecedented. Nobody before or since was that good against the run and the pass. I don’t just mean finishing best in the league in both categories—the Eagles were historically great in both. Since I started watching football in 1982, only four defenses held quarterbacks to a lower passer rating than the 1991 Eagles’ 52.1: the 1985 (7th in the NFL) and 1986 Bears (2nd), 1988 Vikings (7th), and 2002 Buccaneers (8th). All of them allowed at least 3.4 yards per carry. Since the NFL-AFL merger, only four defenses have held opposing teams to fewer than the 1991 Eagles’ 2.97 yards per carry: the 1998 Chargers (3rd in the NFL), 2000 (3rd) and 2007 Ravens (24th), and 2006 Vikings (5th). None of them had a defensive passer rating below 62.5. Overall, the Eagles allowed 3.922 yards per play. Since the passing rules changed in 1978, that number has only been bested by the 1979 Bucs (3.891) and 2008 Steelers (3.896). They were also historically great at forcing turnovers. They forced 48 that year, tied for the league lead with New Orleans. In the years since, only the 2000 Ravens have surpassed that number (Baltimore force 49), and only the 2007 Chargers have tied it. These numbers are unbelievable, especially considering they were posted by one team.
You’ve already seen the statistics, but what do they mean? The measure of the defense’s greatness is that they won 10 games against a schedule that was not at all easy. The Eagles’ 1991 opponents had a combined 129-127 record. That may not seem all that tough to you, but look at year-by-year NFL schedules. Most playoff teams don’t play a schedule that strong. 7 of the 16 games were against teams with 10 or more wins on the season. They went 3-4 in those games, allowing 112 total points. 1991 was also year 6 in a decade-long period during which the NFC East won the Super Bowl 7 times (it was also year 2 of a four-in-a-row stretch). As such, there were 6 games against teams that were within a season of winning the Super Bowl (keep in mind this is the pre-free agency era when rosters did not change drastically from season to season). They went 4-2 in those games (91 total points allowed).
The offense’s 1991 performance was criminal. That defense should have been in the playoffs. The season they had was special. Despite their offense, the Eagles went 3-4 against 10-win teams and 3-3 against playoff teams. That shows how great they were. But instead of shining in January, their destiny is to be forgotten by all but the die-hards.
Eagle fans had high expectations for 1991. Sure, they had fired Buddy Ryan, but he hadn’t won a playoff game anyway. No one really knew much about Rich Kotite, but he had been hired as the offensive coordinator prior to the previous season, and the result was Randall Cunningham becoming, as Sports Illustrated would call him, The Ultimate Weapon. Randall threw for 3,400 yards with 30 touchdowns against only 13 interceptions while also collecting 942 rushing yards. That was in his first season in a new offensive system. And, because Mike Quick’s career ended only 9 receptions into 1990, the Eagles’ starting wide receivers that season were Fred Barnett and Calvin Williams, both of whom were rookies. It was only going to get better, thought everyone in Philly. 4,000 yards passing with 40 touchdowns and 1,000 rushing by the quarterback was not out of the question. Then Bryce Paup happened. On the first play of the second quarter of Rich Kotite’s first game as a head coach, Paup hit Randall just as he released the ball and tore the quarterback’s ACL (17 years later, Bernard Pollard would hit Tom Brady in the exact same fashion and become the catalyst for an NFL rule change). I remember playing Lakers vs. Celtics with my friend Mike during halftime of the Eagles-Packers game when we heard the news over the radio that Randall was out for the season. We thought the Eagles were done. We ALL thought they were headed for 3-13. Sure, the same players from Buddy’s defense were still there, but neither Ryan nor his coordinator, Jeff Fisher, was around anymore. Bud Carson, the fired Browns head coach, ran the defense in 1991. Who knew that unit could get better?
Because of their superiority in the secondary, I rate the 1991 Eagles defense above the 1985 Bears and 2000 Ravens, in that order. Neither of those other defenses was handicapped by poor offense as much as the Eagles were—to fully appreciate how great the 1991 Eagles defense was, you have to understand exactly how bad the offense was. I know what you’re thinking: the 2000 Ravens offense went 5 consecutive games without scoring a touchdown, so there’s no way the Philadelphia offense was worse. Au contraire mon frère. The Ravens actually scored very well compared to the Eagles. 5 consecutive games without a touchdown, but Baltimore scored nearly 21 points per game in 2000; the 1991 Eagles scored just shy of 18 per game. 3 points per game difference may not seem like a lot, but look at it this way: since 1979, only three 10-win teams have scored fewer points than the 10-6 Eagles of 1991.
That Philly offense was pitiful. It had already been pitiful, but Randall Cunningham masked it. A few weeks ago on Twitter, someone noticed that the Eagles’ leading rusher in 1991 only gained 440 yards. That’s bad, but that statistic alone doesn’t give the entire picture. It doesn’t tell you that the Eagles played 1991 without their man who had been their leading rusher for years. Randall Cunningham was the Eagle running game. Look at this:
- In 1986, Buddy Ryan’s first season as head coach, Randall played all 16 games while starting only 5, yet only trailed the team rushing leader by 37 yards. Randall had 540 yards and 5 rushing touchdowns. Keith Byars led the team with 577 on 3.3 yards per carry. Also, Cunningham was the only Eagle with more than 1 rushing touchdown that season.
- In 1987, as the full-time starter, Randall led the Eagles in rushing. He had 505 yards while Anthony Toney finished second with 473 on 3.7 yards per carry.
- In 1988, as the full-time starter, Randall led the Eagles in rushing. He had 624 yards while Keith Byars finished second with 517 on 3.4 yards per carry.
- In 1989, as the full-time starter, Randall led the Eagles in rushing. He had 621 yards while Anthony Toney finished second with 582 on 3.4 yards per carry.
- In 1990, as the full-time starter, Randall led the Eagles in rushing. He had 942 yards while Heath Sherman finished second with 685 on 4.2 yards per carry.
The lack of running game in Philly was a disgrace, and the 1991 season illustrates how bad it was without Randall’s contributions. In the 28-team NFL, the Eagles had the 13th most rushing attempts, but ranked only 21st in rushing yards. Unsurprisingly, they finished 20th in rushing first downs. It should come as no shock to you that the 1991 Eagles were dead last in yards per rush. Since 1980, only 7 teams were worse than the 1991 Eagles’ 3.13 yards per carry average. Four of those teams had top ten passing offenses quarterbacked by the likes of Drew Brees and Dan Marino; the other 3 were at the bottom of the NFL in points scored (2 of those 3 are the 1999 and 2000 San Diego Chargers, who drafted LaDainian Tomlinson in 2001). Point is, the Eagles were a historically bad rushing team. Because of Randall Cunningham, the Eagles 2nd in the NFL in rushing yards, rushing first downs, and yards per carry in 1990.
What a difference one man made between 1990 and 1991, and we haven’t even discussed the Eagles’ passing game yet. The 1990 Eagles, quarterbacked by Cunningham, were 13th out of the league’s 28 teams in passes thrown. For their efforts, they finished 7th in passing yards & first downs and 2nd in touchdown passes. In 1991, those ranks fell to 20th, 27th, and 12th, respectively, while attempting the 7th most passes in the league. Overall, the Eagles fell from 3rd in points scored to 18th and 8th in yards per play to 25th. Randall Cunningham may not have been anywhere near the quarterback as Peyton Manning was, but his absence had a nearly identical effect on the team’s offense.
A team having the 13th most rushing attempts in the league and finishing 21st in yards sounds really, really bad, but it also sounds almost somewhat plausible. Finishing 20th in passing yards while throwing the 7th most passes is unfathomable to me. How does that happen? These statistics are an condemnation of the quarterback play.
I know your first question: who was the Eagles’ backup quarterback? The answer is: 32-year old Jim McMahon. McMahon wasn’t completely awful—he was serviceable, just a little bit below average—but he was brittle even as a young pro. There was no way he was going to survive as a 15-game starter in his 30s. Coming into 1991, McMahon had only three times played as many as 10 games in a season, but he actually turned in one of his healthier seasons that year. He started eleven games and finished six of them (some unfinished due to benchings). All told, McMahon was responsible for only 60.6% of the Eagles’ 513 pass attempts that season. His numbers won’t wow you (60.1% completions, 12 TDs, 11 INTs, 80.3 rating), but he was infinitely better than the guys who backed him up.
Jeff Kemp threw the second-most passes for Philly in 1991. Kemp actually began that season as he had the previous four, serving as Dave Kreig’s backup in Seattle. Kemp played in 7 games, starting 5, as a Seahawk. In his final two games with Seattle, Kemp started and went a combined 26-56 for 351 yards, 1 touchdown, and 6 interceptions. He was released a few hours after that last start. Two weeks later, he made his Eagles debut after the 49ers knocked out McMahon. Jack Kemp, the quarterback’s father and member of George Bush’s Cabinet, was Eagle owner Norman Braman’s guest that day. I soon felt sorry for the old man. Jeff Kemp’s stat line for that game reads 1 incomplete pass and 1 rush for 7 yards. What you can’t see from the box score is that the 7-yard scramble ended with Kemp sandwiched between two defensive linemen. Kemp fell to the ground face down and stayed there. No movement at all, not even a twitch. I thought he was dead. Jack was pale as a ghost. Jeff was out cold. That’s the first time I can remember seeing a player’s facemask removed with his helmet left in place.
Kemp came back 5 weeks later and played in four more games, starting two of them. His stat line as an Eagle: 57-114, 546 yards, 5 TDs, 5 INTs, 60.1 rating. At 32 years old, Jeff Kemp retired at the end of the season.
The archaic Pat Ryan (any Jet fans older than 30 are probably vomiting at reading his name) played in four games. He only threw 26 passes, but that was enough to complete 4 to the other team and post a 10.3 rating. He threw, by the way, zero touchdown passes.
Brad Goebel, the man I consider the face of the 1991 Eagles offense, started two of the 5 games he played. Those two starts resulted in 23 combined first downs, 375 yards of total offense, 10 turnovers, and not a single offensive touchdown. Goebel finished that season with 6 interceptions. He only threw 3 passes the rest of his career, which ended without a touchdown pass.
If you were keeping track, you noticed that Eagle quarterbacks combined to throw 17 touchdown passes against 26 interceptions (27 if you include the pick thrown by Keith Byars). Their rating for the season was 63.2. Ouch.
Overall, the Eagles turned the ball over 43 times in 1991. 43 turnovers. 43 turnovers. In one season. 16 games. 43 turnovers. And they went 10-6. In the early 1990s NFC East. 10-6. With 43 turnovers.
It’s difficult to explain how handicapped this defense was to someone who did not see them play. The best way I can do it is to take a look at the 6 games the Eagles lost in 1991. First was Week 2 at home against Phoenix. The Eagles allowed 80 yards on the ground, but it took the Cardinals 33 carries to gain them. The leading rusher picked up 54 yards on 19 carries. And Tom Tupa only completed 6 passes on the day. Still, the Eagles lost 26-10 (the touchdown came 2 plays after Seth Joyner picked off a pass, returned it to Phoenix’s 5-yard line, got up, and shoved the ball into Jim McMahon’s gut while telling him, “Score.”). The Eagles offense turned the ball over 6 times that day, one of which was a fumble returned for a Cardinal touchdown.
The defense responded by shutting out the Cowboys in Texas Stadium. A few weeks later, they played in RFK on Monday Night Football. The Redskins were still undefeated. It was the defense’s worst performance of the year. They allowed 184 yards through the air and 173 on the ground (41 carries), although they did force 4 turnovers. But it’s hard to offer any type of resistance without any rest. The offense only managed 4 first downs and 89 total yards. 35 passing yards. 4 first downs. In an entire game. Pitiful. It was a performance that makes LSU’s offensive performance against Alabama look less pathetic.
The next Sunday, the Eagles went to Tampa to play an 0-5 Buccaneers team that finished 3-13. This is the most memorable Eagles game from my high school years. Of all the games I wish I had on DVD, this is at the top of the list. The Eagles held the Bucs to only 12 first downs and 193 total yards. They also forced 6 turnovers. And, yes, the Buccaneers won. How? Rich Kotite.
The game in Tampa was Brad Goebel’s first career start. He was facing a Buccaneer defense that would finish the season ranked 5th in passing but only 25 in rushing—you can probably attribute much of that to the fact that the offense stunk and, therefore, the Bucs were trailing throughout just about every game—so Kotite went into the game refusing to let Goebel lose it for him. The Eagles just ran and ran and ran. They ran so much they gained 117 yards on the ground. On 41 carries. 2.85 yards per carry. And that includes a reverse to Kenny Jackson and 2 carries by the punter. The Eagles’ true ground game (running backs and quarterback) picked up an even hundred yards on 38 carries (2.63). That’s just ugly. The big guy that day was Heath Sherman, who gained 89 yards on his 35 carries (2.54). Kotite did let Goebel throw it 20 times; those passes resulted in 62 yards and 2 interceptions.
Check out these nuggets from Paul Domowitch’s game story in the next day’s Philadelphia Daily News:
- “They’ve got the type of running game that you can shut down,” said [Jesse] Solomon, whose unit held the Eagles to 117 mostly insignificant yards on 41 carries in the Bucs’ 14-13 come-from-behind victory. “They’re not very sophisticated. They’re not going to do a lot that’s going to pull you away from what you know.”
- “I’ve played against Philadelphia on a number of occasions and they’ve never really had a strong offensive line that they felt confident with,” Solomon said. “Today was further evidence of that.”
In The Philadelphia Inquirer, Bill Lyon wrote the following:
- The Eagles’ failure to run with any degree of success, whether it is the fault of the offensive line or because the lack of backs with acceleration, has been well-chronicled. It didn’t change yesterday.
- On the sole occasion the Eagles’ offense actually generated its own momentum, it drove 47 yards. Unfortunately, it needed 48. On first and goal at the Tampa Bay 3, Sherman was stopped for no gain, with the defense massed in the middle, simply waiting for him. Keith Byars was flagged for illegal motion on the play, and the Eagles tried again from the 8. They tried, to no one’s surprise, Sherman. He got 2 yards. Plus a ringing in his ears that wouldn’t go away. They tried him again. He got 2 more. Plus a contusion, a welt and a limp. The Eagles called time. They conferred. Trick play? No, Sherman again. For 3 more, to the 1.
Kotite, Kotite, Kotite. This is what the head coach had to say about his conservative attack: “I was running Sherman up the middle and off tackle; I was alternating, mixing it up that way. What I was trying to do was burn the clock and punt it.” That’s such a losing mentality. And it backfired when punter Jeff Feagles dropped a snap and gave the Bucs possession at the Eagles’ 7 (this went as a -12-yard run for Feagles; he’d previously successfully run a fake punt for 11).
Tampa converted that into a touchdown as they did the short field after the ensuing 3 & out by the Philly offense. 14-13 was the final score. In the Washington and Tampa Bay games, the offense gained a total of 89 passing yards.
Bowden: “As a unit, the defense had done all it could and more: intercepted three passes, scored a touchdown, sacked Tampa Bay quarterbacks three times for 24 yards, forced four fumbles and recovered three.” Those guys were not happy with their coach. Seth Joyner said, “How do you play like that?” Jerome Brown called it, “the worse I’ve ever felt.” Bowden’s game story closed with this: “‘It hurts,’ said [Wes] Hopkins, who contributed six tackles, two sacks, an interception, a forced fumble and two recovered fumbles. ‘Hell, I don’t know if we can do any more. We’re gonna try.’”
You would think the Eagle offense would have come out the next week and put some points on the board. Against the 6-0 NFC West-leading Saints, they did not. They ran the ball better than they did in Tampa (53 yards on 17 carries, 3.12 average), but Goebel and Pat Ryan threw 5 interceptions. The defense was brilliant again (2.1 yards allowed per rush, 40% completions, 162 total yards allowed, 2 turnovers forced), but the offense just couldn’t score. This time they lost 13-6.
The loss to the Saints stretched the losing streak to 3 games. The defense’s totals for those three games are: 39 first downs allowed, 712 yards allowed, 415 yards passing, 297 yards rushing, 12 turnovers forced, and 50 points allowed. For the offense: 27 first downs gained, 464 yards gained, 240 yards passing, 224 yards rushing, 13 turnovers given up, 19 points scored. The closest comparison I can come up with is Randy Johnson’s 1999 season, which featured a 4-game stretch during which he went 0-4 with a 1.41 ERA and his team’s offense totaled 0 runs and 6 hits.
The following week was the aforementioned 49ers game. What I did not tell you earlier was that Jeff Kemp’s 7-yard rush was the Eagles’ longest run of the game. As team, they gained 29 yards on 14 carries. They also turned the ball over 5 times. But they did score an offensive touchdown, a feat they’d not accomplished during the previous 3 games. But they didn’t put any other points on the board. The defense held Jerry Rice to 2 receptions for 4 yards, Steve Young to 96 yards in the air, and held the 49ers running game to less than 3.5 yards per carry. But it still wasn’t enough. In the Lehigh Valley Morning Call, Terry Larimer wrote, “The Eagles, who have now lost four straight games, used pretty much the same formula for failure as they have in the past—no running game, no pass protection, too many mistakes, too many penalties and too many broken bodies at quarterback.”
Jim McMahon came back early from his injury to start that game. He was knocked out, but returned after Kemp was concussed. Regarding the 29 yards the Eagles earned on the ground, Larimer wrote, “eight of which were contributed by a pair of quarterbacks—one of whom got carried off on a stretcher and the other who probably shouldn’t have played in the first place and certainly shouldn’t have come back to play again in the second place.”
It didn’t matter who played quarterback, the offense was just pitiful. Also from Larimer’s game story: “[Rod] Harris bobbled a pair of punts, including a controversial one that nearly ended in a San Francisco TD, while [Keith] Jackson foolishly tried to lateral to Byars after one of his catches and instead coughed up a fumble. Asked what he thought of that play, Kotite said, ‘I didn’t see it. I didn’t have my glasses on.’” Since Kotite once lost his play chart on a rainy day because he forgot to laminate it, I wholeheartedly believe that explanation.
The loss to the 49ers was the 3rd consecutive game that no Eagle running back had a carry that went for 10 or more yards and the 6th in a row in which no back had a carry go for more than 12 yards. That’s unreal.
At that point in the season, the defense started playing even better and led the team to a 6-game winning streak that ended when Dallas visited the Vet for a matchup of 9-5 teams. The winner was going to make the playoffs; the loser would be out. Dallas’ first points came on a safety. Their winning points came on a Kelvin Martin punt return for a touchdown. Once again, the Eagle defense balled out. The Cowboys rushed for less than 2.5 yards per carry and Steve Beuerlein completed only 9 of 31 passes. And yet, the Eagles offense couldn’t do better.
So yeah, that great defense won 10 games with that offense. The numbers are amazing. 3,549 yards, 3.9 yards per play, 206 first downs (133 in the air, 56 on the ground), 206 completions, 2,413 passing yards, 6.0 yards per pass, 44.1% completions, 52.1 passer rating, 55 sacks, 1,136 rushing yards, 4 rushing touchdowns, 3.0 yards per rush, 48 turnovers. Every single one of those led the NFL. The Eagles picked off 26 passes, which was good for third in the league. And they gave up only 244 points (15.2 per game), 5th in the league, despite that poor, turnover-prone offense.
Not once all season did an opposing offense tally 20 first downs in a game. 10 times in 16 games they held their opponent for less than 200 yards passing and 85 yards rushing. They gave up 300 yards of total offense exactly one time, at eventual Super Bowl champion Washington.
They could blanket you in coverage and they were impenetrable versus the run. What had been missing in previous seasons had been a second cornerback to play alongside Eric Allen. Prior to 1990, that guy had been someone we used to call “I Smell” Izell “Stinkin’” Jenkins (if you ever see highlights of Joe Montana’s comeback at the Vet in 1989, it’s Jenkins’ #46 that you see chasing John Taylor and Jerry Rice into the end zone). In the first round of the 1990 draft, most thought the Eagles were going to draft Georgia running back Rodney Hampton. Instead, they chose his teammate, cornerback Ben Smith. Smith was very good as a rookie and played outstandingly in 1991. Unfortunately, he suffered a non-contact injury on the painted dirt in Cleveland and was never the same again. Eric Allen is, in my opinion, a Hall of Fame cornerback. What a great, great player.
Both outside linebackers were versatile: strong against the run, excellent blitzers, and could smother an opposing tight end. Seth Joyner is, along with Wilber Marshall and Derrick Brooks, one of the three best 4-3 outside linebackers I’ve ever seen. In 1991, he was unreal. 6.5 sacks, 3 interceptions, 6 forced fumbles, 4 fumble recoveries, and 2 touchdowns were his numbers, but they don’t tell the whole story. He was an enforcer. On a team with Reggie White, Clyde Simmons, Jerome Brown, Wes Hopkins, and Andre Waters, Seth may have been the most feared defender. William Thomas was just a rookie and wasn’t inserted into the starting lineup until midway through the season. But he was fast and proved to be an above average defender in pass coverage and a great blitzer.
The man in the middle was Byron Evans. B & E wasn’t spectacular and he wasn’t quite on the level of Mike Singletary. But he made all the calls and held down the middle. Most importantly, he didn’t miss tackles. He was the one the men on the defense saw as the leader.
The front four. Far and away the best four-man line I’ve ever seen (my football memories begin in 1982). Reggie. Clyde. Jerome. Mike Pitts is the forgotten man, but he was also a beast. Mike Golic and Andy Harmon also took reps as tackles. How good were they? You don’t always see defensive linemen near the top of a tackling leaderboard, but Simmons, White, and Pitts all had 100 or more tackles in 1991. The 4 starting linemen totaled 39 sacks. That never happens.
Often, you see great defenses have their best seasons after a collective realization that their offense wasn’t going to be able to help them. You know about the Ravens. The 1985 Bears played with the memory of being shut out in the 1984 playoffs by the 49ers, who taunted them with, “Bring your offense next time.” The Giants’ best defensive season came a year after they were shut out in the playoffs. In 1991, the Eagles defense rallied around Cunningham’s injury and knew that winning football games was going to be their responsibility.
What they did that season was both awe-inspiring and unprecedented. Nobody before or since was that good against the run and the pass. I don’t just mean finishing best in the league in both categories—the Eagles were historically great in both. Since I started watching football in 1982, only four defenses held quarterbacks to a lower passer rating than the 1991 Eagles’ 52.1: the 1985 (7th in the NFL) and 1986 Bears (2nd), 1988 Vikings (7th), and 2002 Buccaneers (8th). All of them allowed at least 3.4 yards per carry. Since the NFL-AFL merger, only four defenses have held opposing teams to fewer than the 1991 Eagles’ 2.97 yards per carry: the 1998 Chargers (3rd in the NFL), 2000 (3rd) and 2007 Ravens (24th), and 2006 Vikings (5th). None of them had a defensive passer rating below 62.5. Overall, the Eagles allowed 3.922 yards per play. Since the passing rules changed in 1978, that number has only been bested by the 1979 Bucs (3.891) and 2008 Steelers (3.896). They were also historically great at forcing turnovers. They forced 48 that year, tied for the league lead with New Orleans. In the years since, only the 2000 Ravens have surpassed that number (Baltimore force 49), and only the 2007 Chargers have tied it. These numbers are unbelievable, especially considering they were posted by one team.
You’ve already seen the statistics, but what do they mean? The measure of the defense’s greatness is that they won 10 games against a schedule that was not at all easy. The Eagles’ 1991 opponents had a combined 129-127 record. That may not seem all that tough to you, but look at year-by-year NFL schedules. Most playoff teams don’t play a schedule that strong. 7 of the 16 games were against teams with 10 or more wins on the season. They went 3-4 in those games, allowing 112 total points. 1991 was also year 6 in a decade-long period during which the NFC East won the Super Bowl 7 times (it was also year 2 of a four-in-a-row stretch). As such, there were 6 games against teams that were within a season of winning the Super Bowl (keep in mind this is the pre-free agency era when rosters did not change drastically from season to season). They went 4-2 in those games (91 total points allowed).
The offense’s 1991 performance was criminal. That defense should have been in the playoffs. The season they had was special. Despite their offense, the Eagles went 3-4 against 10-win teams and 3-3 against playoff teams. That shows how great they were. But instead of shining in January, their destiny is to be forgotten by all but the die-hards.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The End of an Era
It is currently 7:04am on January 1, 2012. As I wait for my wife to wake up, I am sitting in my living room eating a bowl of oatmeal, drinking a cup of tea, and watching the Cowboys @ Giants game from January 1994. The NFL Network labels it “Emmitt’s Gutsiest Game”. You know the one—Emmitt Smith separated his right shoulder near the end of the first half, yet he remained in the game and carried Dallas to an overtime victory in the regular season finale. It is a similar situation to the game that will take place tonight: Cowboys at Giants, winner wins the NFC East. The stakes of that 1994 game were significantly higher—the winner would earn home field advantage throughout the NFC playoffs and the loser would have to go to San Francisco in the second round—but what strikes me more right now is that the game marked the end of an era.
Only two weeks earlier, CBS lost its NFC broadcast rights to Fox. January 2, 1994 marked the last CBS broadcast of a regular season NFL Game until 1998. Back then, though, CBS meant the NFC. The network has never really recovered from that lost. Football still isn’t right on Fox, and the AFC just doesn’t carry the same cachet for CBS now that the NFC did back then.
Due to conflicting egos, this game was also the last regular season game for Jimmy Johnson as head coach of the Cowboys. Special circumstances are required for a coach to get fired weeks after winning a championship. Even Paul Westhead kept his job with the Lakers for more than a year after winning the NBA title. We may never see anything play out like the Jimmy and Jerry saga ever again.
Lawrence Taylor. Phil Simms. This was the final regular season game in the careers of both legendary Giants. No two players symbolize the Bill Parcells era in New York like those two. They are just two of the players who made the NFC East what it was.
Speaking of my favorite division, this game, which appropriately went to overtime, was the last great moment of the old NFC East. Sure, Dallas went on a win a Super Bowl a couple of years later under Barry Switzer, but the rest of the division wasn’t the same. 1993 was the last year that the entire division (I mean, who really considered the Cardinals part of the division?) were contenders.
This game was the perfect end to the era. It was close, hard-hitting, and legendary. And it was called by John Madden and Pat Summerall.
Only two weeks earlier, CBS lost its NFC broadcast rights to Fox. January 2, 1994 marked the last CBS broadcast of a regular season NFL Game until 1998. Back then, though, CBS meant the NFC. The network has never really recovered from that lost. Football still isn’t right on Fox, and the AFC just doesn’t carry the same cachet for CBS now that the NFC did back then.
Due to conflicting egos, this game was also the last regular season game for Jimmy Johnson as head coach of the Cowboys. Special circumstances are required for a coach to get fired weeks after winning a championship. Even Paul Westhead kept his job with the Lakers for more than a year after winning the NBA title. We may never see anything play out like the Jimmy and Jerry saga ever again.
Lawrence Taylor. Phil Simms. This was the final regular season game in the careers of both legendary Giants. No two players symbolize the Bill Parcells era in New York like those two. They are just two of the players who made the NFC East what it was.
Speaking of my favorite division, this game, which appropriately went to overtime, was the last great moment of the old NFC East. Sure, Dallas went on a win a Super Bowl a couple of years later under Barry Switzer, but the rest of the division wasn’t the same. 1993 was the last year that the entire division (I mean, who really considered the Cardinals part of the division?) were contenders.
This game was the perfect end to the era. It was close, hard-hitting, and legendary. And it was called by John Madden and Pat Summerall.
Friday, December 9, 2011
CP3...No
On its face, I can see the logic behind the nixing of the trade that would have sent Chris Paul to the Lakers. Beneath the surface, however, nothing besides shadiness resides. Nixing this deal was a bad, bad thing. I’m having a hard time seeing how player-management relations don’t grow more contentious from this point forward. The canceling of the trade reeks of dishonesty, spite, and paternalism.
This is and was always going to be a nightmare scenario for the NBA. It all starts with George Shinn, who himself has been a nightmare for the league. Stern and the other owners should have forced Shinn to sell years ago. When he left Charlotte, the Hornets should have stayed behind. Bad decisions have a tendency to lead to more bad decisions. That’s a huge part of what got us to yesterday’s debacle.
Another huge, yet overlooked, factor is the CBA ratification. I’ve read a lot of stories about the canceled deal over the past 12 hours, but most failed to mention something that Sam Amick tweeted last night: “if Stern did this yesterday [December 7], deal would not have been ratified by players today [December 8].” That’s an excellent point. All parties involved were led to believe that any Chris Paul trade could be pursued per normal operation. Stern knew, however, that he wasn’t going to let that happen. He lied—as of now, it is unclear to me whether that lie was overt, implicit, or by omission—about Hornet GM Dell Demps’ authority to handle the franchise’s most significant roster move since the Alonzo Mourning trade.
The Hornets got fair value back for Paul. Some would argue that the Hornets got the better end of the trade. So what’s the objection? We have to go back to the reason we were told the lockout occurred. According to one of Adrian Wojnarowski’s sources, “In the end, David didn’t like that the players were dictating where they wanted to go, like Carmelo had, and he wasn’t going to let Chris Paul dictate where he wanted to go.” Dan Gilbert sent an email to Stern in which he wrote the following: “Over the next three seasons this deal would save the Lakers approximately $20 million in salaries and approximately $21 million in luxury taxes. That $21 million goes to non-taxpaying teams and to fund revenue sharing.” That’s right, he’s concerned about the money the trade will cost him in charity from the Lakers. How dare they try to be cap-conscience?
Let’s recap this. Stern didn’t like that Chris Paul, who is in the final year of his contract, is trying to play where he wants to play next year. Small market owners are upset because the Lakers were lowering their luxury tax burden. And Bryant Gumbel’s the bad guy?
Demps’ reported initial reaction was the same as mine would have been, but he was “persuaded” to stay on the job. But what is he supposed to do now? The current state is one of league-wide confusion. Can he make another trade for Chris Paul that will send him to a non-contender? Another trade will not supply the Hornets with the players Demps was able to acquire from Los Angeles and Houston. By no means was this an unfair trade. It was fair in terms of both talent and finances. This was about players doing what owners did not want them to do. It’s not complicated. It’s just the doing of what the O’Jays called Shiftless, Shady, Jealous Kind of People.
This is and was always going to be a nightmare scenario for the NBA. It all starts with George Shinn, who himself has been a nightmare for the league. Stern and the other owners should have forced Shinn to sell years ago. When he left Charlotte, the Hornets should have stayed behind. Bad decisions have a tendency to lead to more bad decisions. That’s a huge part of what got us to yesterday’s debacle.
Another huge, yet overlooked, factor is the CBA ratification. I’ve read a lot of stories about the canceled deal over the past 12 hours, but most failed to mention something that Sam Amick tweeted last night: “if Stern did this yesterday [December 7], deal would not have been ratified by players today [December 8].” That’s an excellent point. All parties involved were led to believe that any Chris Paul trade could be pursued per normal operation. Stern knew, however, that he wasn’t going to let that happen. He lied—as of now, it is unclear to me whether that lie was overt, implicit, or by omission—about Hornet GM Dell Demps’ authority to handle the franchise’s most significant roster move since the Alonzo Mourning trade.
The Hornets got fair value back for Paul. Some would argue that the Hornets got the better end of the trade. So what’s the objection? We have to go back to the reason we were told the lockout occurred. According to one of Adrian Wojnarowski’s sources, “In the end, David didn’t like that the players were dictating where they wanted to go, like Carmelo had, and he wasn’t going to let Chris Paul dictate where he wanted to go.” Dan Gilbert sent an email to Stern in which he wrote the following: “Over the next three seasons this deal would save the Lakers approximately $20 million in salaries and approximately $21 million in luxury taxes. That $21 million goes to non-taxpaying teams and to fund revenue sharing.” That’s right, he’s concerned about the money the trade will cost him in charity from the Lakers. How dare they try to be cap-conscience?
Let’s recap this. Stern didn’t like that Chris Paul, who is in the final year of his contract, is trying to play where he wants to play next year. Small market owners are upset because the Lakers were lowering their luxury tax burden. And Bryant Gumbel’s the bad guy?
Demps’ reported initial reaction was the same as mine would have been, but he was “persuaded” to stay on the job. But what is he supposed to do now? The current state is one of league-wide confusion. Can he make another trade for Chris Paul that will send him to a non-contender? Another trade will not supply the Hornets with the players Demps was able to acquire from Los Angeles and Houston. By no means was this an unfair trade. It was fair in terms of both talent and finances. This was about players doing what owners did not want them to do. It’s not complicated. It’s just the doing of what the O’Jays called Shiftless, Shady, Jealous Kind of People.
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