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.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
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.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Rematch
1990. This season’s LSU and Alabama football teams remind me of that year. Twenty-one years ago, the Giants and 49ers were the NFL’s superpowers. Like the LSU and Alabama teams that will meet in the Superdome on January 9, the Giants and 49ers were defensive juggernauts. And like the Tigers and Crimson Tide, New York and San Francisco played a highly anticipated regular season game that many thought was a dud (in both cases, I found the games to be among the best regular season football games I’ve ever seen). Once the LSU-Alabama rematch became official, I started thinking about the 1990 Giants-49ers games. I can’t get them out of my head, so I figured I’d just go ahead and revisit.
By mid-October 1990 it was apparent that the Giants and 49ers were the class of the league. Both teams remained undefeated and football fans looked forward to November 25th, the Monday after Thanksgiving, and the prospect of a pair of 11-0 teams facing off against each other. The two teams had won 3 of the previous 4 Super Bowls—the 49ers were two-time defending champions looking to become the first team to win 3 consecutive Lombardi Trophies.
8 days before they played each other, both teams’ undefeated runs ended against division rivals. The 10-0 Giants were blown out in Philly (this was the game that featured Keith Byars’ block on Pepper Johnson, the greatest block in NFL history); the 49ers lost by double digits to the Rams in Candlestick (I’ve always found it interesting that through his first 2 seasons as head coach, George Seifert’s 49ers were 15-5 at home and 16-0 on the road). It’s easy to say that both teams were looking ahead, but that would be false. The Rams had been the 49ers’ opponent in the previous season’s NFC Championship Game and the Eagles had taken 4 of the previous 5 against New York. Those two rivalries have been vicious for over 50 years; the Giants and 49ers were just flat-out beaten.
Still, the anticipation for 10-1 Giants at 10-1 49ers was high. I was 13 back then and didn’t watch much Monday Night Football because I had a hard time staying up until 1:00 in the morning. I made sure I stayed up for this one, though. I knew it was going to be hard-hitting and low-scoring. Those defenses were the best and most consistent of my childhood—yes, even more so than Chicago’s—and neither team gave up a lot of points. Including the postseason, only twice that season had San Francisco allowed more than 21 points; the Giants only gave up that much once. I was looking forward to one of those games that my dad told me he remembered from his childhood. I hoped it would live up to the hype. Man, what a game. The 49ers won 7-3, and the game ended with the Giants failing to score a touchdown from a goal-to-go situation.
I went to school the next day looking forward to talking about how great the game was. When I got there, all I heard was how boring the game was. I was so disappointed. When I got home from school, I turned on WIP because I needed to hear somebody who had enjoyed the game. Howard Eskin came on the air and said the game proved to him that the Giants and 49ers were the two best teams in the NFL. Caller after caller told him he was an idiot. I turned off the radio.
That disappointment is similar to what I felt in the aftermath of the LSU-Alabama game in November. I thought the game was great, the best regular season college game I’d seen since the 7-3 Auburn-LSU game from 2006. People at work, on Twitter, and in the media expressed the opposite viewpoint. Even though I’m not a college football rematch fan, I started looking forward to the possibility of an LSU-Alabama national championship game.
Back in 1990, I started looking forward to a Giants-49ers rematch in the NFC Championship Game. I didn’t think anyone else in the NFC could beat either team in a playoff game. Then a crazy game occurred on a Saturday afternoon in Jersey. The Bills came in to play the Giants in a game so physical that both teams lost their starting quarterbacks. Buffalo lost Jim Kelly for the rest of the regular season; the Giants lost Phil Simms for the regular season and playoffs.
I didn’t think Jeff Hostetler would be good enough to get the job done, but he was. The Giants won the NFC East and Hostetler only had to throw 17 passes as his team destroyed the Bears in their first playoff game. The 49ers easily disposed of the Redskins in theirs. The rematch was set.
I went on the internet and looked up defensive statistics for the 1990 NFL season. I found that the Giants and 49ers ranked second and third, respectively, in yards allowed that year. They were also the two least scored upon defenses in the league. New York allowed 13.2 points a game while San Francisco gave up 14.9 (how perfect was it that their rematch ended in a 15-13 Giants victory?).
The NFC Championship Game. Man, that game was everything. And everybody. Madden and Summerall. Rice, Montana, and Craig. Parcells and Belichick. Millen, Haley, Turner, and Burt. LT, Pepper, and Reasons. Ronnie Lott versus Mark Bavaro. And Candlestick Park. The only thing missing was Brent Musberger’s patented “You are looking live…”
The winner would play the Bills (these are the first-time Super Bowl participant Bills, not the punch line Bills who played the Cowboys in later years), but nobody cared. It had been seven years since the AFC had won a Super Bowl and, though we didn’t know it at the time, it would be another seven years before that streak was broken. In the Parcells era, the Giants had never allowed more than 21 points in a playoff game. The 49ers had not allowed a touchdown in their previous 3 NFC Championship Game appearances. This game, Giants at 49ers, was going to be a war. It was the real Super Bowl. At least, that’s how I saw it.
Today, more than 20 years removed from the game, I believe it is the most physical, hard-hitting football game I’ve ever seen, more physical, even, than the Bucs-Rams championship game of January 2000 and the Steelers-Ravens championship game of January 2009. There was some vicious hitting going on out there. Both starting quarterbacks were knocked out the game. Hostetler managed to come back in. 23 months went by before Joe Montana played again.
The game also turned out to be the best football game I’ve ever seen. I can watch that game over and over and over again, and I have. I’ve seen it at least a dozen times, and I never get tired of it. The Giants and 49ers of 1990 were two aging teams making what both knew would be their respective cores’ last Super Bowl run. Rumor of Parcells’ (first) retirement were swirling. Bill Belichick was going to get a head coaching job. Lawrence Taylor was about to turn 32. In San Francisco, it was about to be Steve Young’s time. Ronnie Lott was leaving. Both teams were getting old, but they were still the best. And this game was the last time the old rivals were going to go at it. This was their Thrilla in Manilla. This was the Giants and 49ers’ fight for the championship of each other. They took the glory and splendor of the November game and created something so much grander, so much more intense. To those men, that game was everything. That game epitomizes football to me.
When I look at LSU and Alabama, I see the same thing. Take a look at the LSU schedule and the Alabama schedule for 2011. LSU only gave up 10 or more points six times this season, never more than 27. The Crimson Tide game up 10 points five times with a maximum of 21 points allowed. All told, LSU and Alabama have the two best defenses in the country. Alabama ranks first in the nation in each of the following: yards allowed per game, rushing yards allowed per game, passing yards allowed per game, and points allowed per game. LSU ranks second, third, eight, and second, respectively, in those same categories. Between the two defenses, they allow a combined 19.3 points per game. And both teams represent a conference that will win its 6th consecutive national championship. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to January 9th. I want to see these two teams play with more intensity than they did on November 5th. I want to see the Tigers and Tide bring each other to a higher level. I expect they will. Why shouldn’t I?
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Sometimes, though, wishes do come true.
By mid-October 1990 it was apparent that the Giants and 49ers were the class of the league. Both teams remained undefeated and football fans looked forward to November 25th, the Monday after Thanksgiving, and the prospect of a pair of 11-0 teams facing off against each other. The two teams had won 3 of the previous 4 Super Bowls—the 49ers were two-time defending champions looking to become the first team to win 3 consecutive Lombardi Trophies.
8 days before they played each other, both teams’ undefeated runs ended against division rivals. The 10-0 Giants were blown out in Philly (this was the game that featured Keith Byars’ block on Pepper Johnson, the greatest block in NFL history); the 49ers lost by double digits to the Rams in Candlestick (I’ve always found it interesting that through his first 2 seasons as head coach, George Seifert’s 49ers were 15-5 at home and 16-0 on the road). It’s easy to say that both teams were looking ahead, but that would be false. The Rams had been the 49ers’ opponent in the previous season’s NFC Championship Game and the Eagles had taken 4 of the previous 5 against New York. Those two rivalries have been vicious for over 50 years; the Giants and 49ers were just flat-out beaten.
Still, the anticipation for 10-1 Giants at 10-1 49ers was high. I was 13 back then and didn’t watch much Monday Night Football because I had a hard time staying up until 1:00 in the morning. I made sure I stayed up for this one, though. I knew it was going to be hard-hitting and low-scoring. Those defenses were the best and most consistent of my childhood—yes, even more so than Chicago’s—and neither team gave up a lot of points. Including the postseason, only twice that season had San Francisco allowed more than 21 points; the Giants only gave up that much once. I was looking forward to one of those games that my dad told me he remembered from his childhood. I hoped it would live up to the hype. Man, what a game. The 49ers won 7-3, and the game ended with the Giants failing to score a touchdown from a goal-to-go situation.
I went to school the next day looking forward to talking about how great the game was. When I got there, all I heard was how boring the game was. I was so disappointed. When I got home from school, I turned on WIP because I needed to hear somebody who had enjoyed the game. Howard Eskin came on the air and said the game proved to him that the Giants and 49ers were the two best teams in the NFL. Caller after caller told him he was an idiot. I turned off the radio.
That disappointment is similar to what I felt in the aftermath of the LSU-Alabama game in November. I thought the game was great, the best regular season college game I’d seen since the 7-3 Auburn-LSU game from 2006. People at work, on Twitter, and in the media expressed the opposite viewpoint. Even though I’m not a college football rematch fan, I started looking forward to the possibility of an LSU-Alabama national championship game.
Back in 1990, I started looking forward to a Giants-49ers rematch in the NFC Championship Game. I didn’t think anyone else in the NFC could beat either team in a playoff game. Then a crazy game occurred on a Saturday afternoon in Jersey. The Bills came in to play the Giants in a game so physical that both teams lost their starting quarterbacks. Buffalo lost Jim Kelly for the rest of the regular season; the Giants lost Phil Simms for the regular season and playoffs.
I didn’t think Jeff Hostetler would be good enough to get the job done, but he was. The Giants won the NFC East and Hostetler only had to throw 17 passes as his team destroyed the Bears in their first playoff game. The 49ers easily disposed of the Redskins in theirs. The rematch was set.
I went on the internet and looked up defensive statistics for the 1990 NFL season. I found that the Giants and 49ers ranked second and third, respectively, in yards allowed that year. They were also the two least scored upon defenses in the league. New York allowed 13.2 points a game while San Francisco gave up 14.9 (how perfect was it that their rematch ended in a 15-13 Giants victory?).
The NFC Championship Game. Man, that game was everything. And everybody. Madden and Summerall. Rice, Montana, and Craig. Parcells and Belichick. Millen, Haley, Turner, and Burt. LT, Pepper, and Reasons. Ronnie Lott versus Mark Bavaro. And Candlestick Park. The only thing missing was Brent Musberger’s patented “You are looking live…”
The winner would play the Bills (these are the first-time Super Bowl participant Bills, not the punch line Bills who played the Cowboys in later years), but nobody cared. It had been seven years since the AFC had won a Super Bowl and, though we didn’t know it at the time, it would be another seven years before that streak was broken. In the Parcells era, the Giants had never allowed more than 21 points in a playoff game. The 49ers had not allowed a touchdown in their previous 3 NFC Championship Game appearances. This game, Giants at 49ers, was going to be a war. It was the real Super Bowl. At least, that’s how I saw it.
Today, more than 20 years removed from the game, I believe it is the most physical, hard-hitting football game I’ve ever seen, more physical, even, than the Bucs-Rams championship game of January 2000 and the Steelers-Ravens championship game of January 2009. There was some vicious hitting going on out there. Both starting quarterbacks were knocked out the game. Hostetler managed to come back in. 23 months went by before Joe Montana played again.
The game also turned out to be the best football game I’ve ever seen. I can watch that game over and over and over again, and I have. I’ve seen it at least a dozen times, and I never get tired of it. The Giants and 49ers of 1990 were two aging teams making what both knew would be their respective cores’ last Super Bowl run. Rumor of Parcells’ (first) retirement were swirling. Bill Belichick was going to get a head coaching job. Lawrence Taylor was about to turn 32. In San Francisco, it was about to be Steve Young’s time. Ronnie Lott was leaving. Both teams were getting old, but they were still the best. And this game was the last time the old rivals were going to go at it. This was their Thrilla in Manilla. This was the Giants and 49ers’ fight for the championship of each other. They took the glory and splendor of the November game and created something so much grander, so much more intense. To those men, that game was everything. That game epitomizes football to me.
When I look at LSU and Alabama, I see the same thing. Take a look at the LSU schedule and the Alabama schedule for 2011. LSU only gave up 10 or more points six times this season, never more than 27. The Crimson Tide game up 10 points five times with a maximum of 21 points allowed. All told, LSU and Alabama have the two best defenses in the country. Alabama ranks first in the nation in each of the following: yards allowed per game, rushing yards allowed per game, passing yards allowed per game, and points allowed per game. LSU ranks second, third, eight, and second, respectively, in those same categories. Between the two defenses, they allow a combined 19.3 points per game. And both teams represent a conference that will win its 6th consecutive national championship. Yeah, I’m really looking forward to January 9th. I want to see these two teams play with more intensity than they did on November 5th. I want to see the Tigers and Tide bring each other to a higher level. I expect they will. Why shouldn’t I?
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Sometimes, though, wishes do come true.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Can't See the Forest...
Most of the time I either agree with what I read from the Cold Hard Football Facts or feel convinced enough to at least consider what they write. What they, specifically Kerry J. Byrne, posted on cnnsi.com yesterday struck out with me. (I should also add that something this morning on their own website actually angered me. In this post about the “scrambling quarterback double standard”, Patrick Imig complained about ESPN’s Monday Night Football preview show guys not complaining about a late out of bounds hit on Tim Tebow in overtime on Sunday. I saw the replay at least a dozen times. Tebow was not hit out of bounds. It was proper that no personal foul was called. Sure, he was headed out of bounds, but his right foot was on the ground in bounds. I wish more officials avoided calling late hits on quarterbacks when no foot has yet landed out of bounds. Donovan McNabb stole many yards and caused many penalty flags exploiting this throughout his career.)
Anyway, the conclusion of Byrne’s post was that the Broncos are 5-1 with Tebow starting because he has outplayed the opposing quarterback in each of the 5 victories. To quote Byrne: “Put most simply, Tebow consistently outplays the other team’s quarterback, often by wide margines. This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success….But these superior performances seem lost on even the most knowledgeable football minds, like that of Broncos executive and Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway, for example.” Um…what??? By technical definition, you can say that Tebow’s play has been superior to that of the opposing quarterbacks. In technical definition only. Colloquially, however, the use of the word superior is inappropriate here. Tebow’s quarterback play has been far below average, especially considering that the Broncos have scored a total of 4 offensive touchdowns in their last 3 games.
Let’s look at the Broncos’ 5-1 stretch more closely. They have played, in order, Miami, Detroit, Oakland, Kansas City, New York Jets, and San Diego. Those teams currently rank 27, 15, 8, 10, 16, and 7, respectively, most points allowed in the NFL this season. Against those defenses, the Broncos have averaged 19.3 points per game. Considering that Eddie Royal returned a punt for a touchdown in Oakland and Andre Goodman returned an interception for a touchdown versus the Jets, the Broncos’ offense has averaged exactly 17 points per game during Tebow’s 6 starts. The 38 points (31 by the offense) against the Raiders vastly skews those numbers. Eliminating that game and the one loss to Detroit, the Broncos other 4 Tebow-led victories featured a total of 68 points (61 by the offense) for an average of 17 (15.25) points per contest. The Broncos have totaled four offensive touchdowns in their most recent three games, versus the Chiefs, Jets, and Chargers. And I’m only now mentioning that from the 3rd quarter of the game in Oakland through the 3rd quarter the next Sunday in Kansas City, Tebow went 62 minutes of game time without throwing a completed pass. The Broncos scored 34 points during that stretch. It is borderline offensive to use the word “superior” to describe the quarterback play during this stretch.
One might hypothesize that the Broncos’ low scoring is due to their heavy running and spread option offensive attack leading to long, time-consuming drives that drain the clock. One would be incorrect. Only the Rams, Seahawks, and Jaguars have punted more often in 2011 than have the Broncos. Bronco punter Britton Colquitt ranks fourth and fifth, respectively, in net punt average and punts inside the opponents’ 20. And Tebow’s 6 starts represent Colquitt’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 8th heaviest punting loads of the season. Only once in Tebow’s starts have the Broncos punted less than 7 times; they never punted that much in a game started by Kyle Orton.
It is fact, though, that Tebow’s performances have been better than his opponents’. That does not imply that Tebow has played well. He has not. The other quarterbacks have played worse. The Broncos defense has completely shut down the last three starting quarterbacks: Matt Cassel, Mark Sanchez, and Philip Rivers. While none of these 3 quarterbacks is having a good statistical year, the Bronco defense held each of them to an even lower level than their personal season average. During the current 4-game winning streak, no quarterback has achieved as high as an 80 passer rating. Carson Palmer’s 79.7 is the highest rating of the 4. Cassel’s 66.5 rating is 10.1 lower than his season rating, Sanchez’s 67.9 is 13.0 lower than his season rating, and Rivers’ 77.1 is 3.7 below his season rating. So, yes, Tebow has outplayed his opponents’ quaterbacks. He’s done it by sucking less. The man deserves credit for that, not praise. How can anyone look at those opposing passer ratings compared to each quarterback’s season rating and write, “This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success”? As far as I’m concerned, that statement ignores the clear, obvious, and definitive answer.
Tebow’s success is due to his abilities to take hits while running the ball constantly and to avoid turnovers. His ability to lead Denver’s offense to punts gives the defense some cushion. And, yes, he’s led some great drives at the ends of games, but he has not played well. He has not scored points. As I wrote on Twitter earlier this week, the Broncos scored 20 or more points in 4 of Kyle Orton’s 5 starts while only reaching that mark once in Tim Tebow’s 6 starts. Don’t tell me the quarterback is the reason for the victories. It’s nonsense. And it is dismissive of the defense and the running game, the latter of which happens to lead the NFL at over 150 yards per game. (And if you want to know why the defense has suddenly begun playing better, look at the pass rushers. Von Miller is a rookie; Elvis Dumervil is a veteran who missed all of 2010 and 2 games earlier this season. The lockout prevented OTAs and real training camp, and it took these guys some time to get rolling. Also throw in the brand new coaching staff, including on the defensive side of the ball, and the slow start retroactively seems both logical and inevitable.) Defense, defense, defense with a huge dose of the running game. The Broncos have become Les Miles’ LSU Tigers for the second half of this season. It’s clear, it’s obvious, and there really should be no debate.
Anyway, the conclusion of Byrne’s post was that the Broncos are 5-1 with Tebow starting because he has outplayed the opposing quarterback in each of the 5 victories. To quote Byrne: “Put most simply, Tebow consistently outplays the other team’s quarterback, often by wide margines. This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success….But these superior performances seem lost on even the most knowledgeable football minds, like that of Broncos executive and Hall of Fame quarterback John Elway, for example.” Um…what??? By technical definition, you can say that Tebow’s play has been superior to that of the opposing quarterbacks. In technical definition only. Colloquially, however, the use of the word superior is inappropriate here. Tebow’s quarterback play has been far below average, especially considering that the Broncos have scored a total of 4 offensive touchdowns in their last 3 games.
Let’s look at the Broncos’ 5-1 stretch more closely. They have played, in order, Miami, Detroit, Oakland, Kansas City, New York Jets, and San Diego. Those teams currently rank 27, 15, 8, 10, 16, and 7, respectively, most points allowed in the NFL this season. Against those defenses, the Broncos have averaged 19.3 points per game. Considering that Eddie Royal returned a punt for a touchdown in Oakland and Andre Goodman returned an interception for a touchdown versus the Jets, the Broncos’ offense has averaged exactly 17 points per game during Tebow’s 6 starts. The 38 points (31 by the offense) against the Raiders vastly skews those numbers. Eliminating that game and the one loss to Detroit, the Broncos other 4 Tebow-led victories featured a total of 68 points (61 by the offense) for an average of 17 (15.25) points per contest. The Broncos have totaled four offensive touchdowns in their most recent three games, versus the Chiefs, Jets, and Chargers. And I’m only now mentioning that from the 3rd quarter of the game in Oakland through the 3rd quarter the next Sunday in Kansas City, Tebow went 62 minutes of game time without throwing a completed pass. The Broncos scored 34 points during that stretch. It is borderline offensive to use the word “superior” to describe the quarterback play during this stretch.
One might hypothesize that the Broncos’ low scoring is due to their heavy running and spread option offensive attack leading to long, time-consuming drives that drain the clock. One would be incorrect. Only the Rams, Seahawks, and Jaguars have punted more often in 2011 than have the Broncos. Bronco punter Britton Colquitt ranks fourth and fifth, respectively, in net punt average and punts inside the opponents’ 20. And Tebow’s 6 starts represent Colquitt’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 8th heaviest punting loads of the season. Only once in Tebow’s starts have the Broncos punted less than 7 times; they never punted that much in a game started by Kyle Orton.
It is fact, though, that Tebow’s performances have been better than his opponents’. That does not imply that Tebow has played well. He has not. The other quarterbacks have played worse. The Broncos defense has completely shut down the last three starting quarterbacks: Matt Cassel, Mark Sanchez, and Philip Rivers. While none of these 3 quarterbacks is having a good statistical year, the Bronco defense held each of them to an even lower level than their personal season average. During the current 4-game winning streak, no quarterback has achieved as high as an 80 passer rating. Carson Palmer’s 79.7 is the highest rating of the 4. Cassel’s 66.5 rating is 10.1 lower than his season rating, Sanchez’s 67.9 is 13.0 lower than his season rating, and Rivers’ 77.1 is 3.7 below his season rating. So, yes, Tebow has outplayed his opponents’ quaterbacks. He’s done it by sucking less. The man deserves credit for that, not praise. How can anyone look at those opposing passer ratings compared to each quarterback’s season rating and write, “This superior play is the No. 1 reason for Denver’s sudden success”? As far as I’m concerned, that statement ignores the clear, obvious, and definitive answer.
Tebow’s success is due to his abilities to take hits while running the ball constantly and to avoid turnovers. His ability to lead Denver’s offense to punts gives the defense some cushion. And, yes, he’s led some great drives at the ends of games, but he has not played well. He has not scored points. As I wrote on Twitter earlier this week, the Broncos scored 20 or more points in 4 of Kyle Orton’s 5 starts while only reaching that mark once in Tim Tebow’s 6 starts. Don’t tell me the quarterback is the reason for the victories. It’s nonsense. And it is dismissive of the defense and the running game, the latter of which happens to lead the NFL at over 150 yards per game. (And if you want to know why the defense has suddenly begun playing better, look at the pass rushers. Von Miller is a rookie; Elvis Dumervil is a veteran who missed all of 2010 and 2 games earlier this season. The lockout prevented OTAs and real training camp, and it took these guys some time to get rolling. Also throw in the brand new coaching staff, including on the defensive side of the ball, and the slow start retroactively seems both logical and inevitable.) Defense, defense, defense with a huge dose of the running game. The Broncos have become Les Miles’ LSU Tigers for the second half of this season. It’s clear, it’s obvious, and there really should be no debate.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Smokin' Joe
When I heard that Joe Frazier had passed on last night, my first thought was about my father. On March 8, 1971, he was a college sophomore and away at school far from our hometown of Philadelphia. He said the only Black people in America rooting for Frazier that night were those from Philly. Far as he was from home, there weren’t too many Black Philadelphians in the theater where he watched the closed-circuit broadcast. With all the other Black folk in the audience looking at him angrily, my dad loudly and proudly cheered on Smokin’ Joe. Philadelphians.
From the moment my dad told me that story—and it’s been about 25 years now—Joe Frazier has been my favorite athlete of all time. I never saw him fight live, obviously, and I’ve only seen 5 of his fights on video. Still, he’s my favorite of all time. He ranks higher than Julius Erving, Moses Malone, Charles Barkley, Allen Iverson, Mike Schmidt, Ryan Howard, Cole Hamels, Steve Atwater, John Elway, Ray Lewis, Jerome Brown, Bernard Hopkins, Barry Bonds, Rickey Henderson, Joe Montana, Wilbur Marshall…all of them. For me, Joe Frazier is #1.
And even though he retired before I was born and only fought once after that, I find myself rooting for Joe every time I watch one of his fights. This is especially true when I watch the Thrilla in Manilla. To this day, that is the most brutal, close-to-death for both participants sporting event I’ve ever seen.
The end of that fight, 36 years later, is surreal to me. Both fighters were spent; they were both done. According to Frazier and Ali’s trainer, Angelo Dundee, Muhammad Ali begged Dundee to cut his gloves off. Dundee told him to hold on and looked over his shoulder at Frazier’s corner. In the opposite corner, Frazier told his trainer, Eddie Futch, that he had one round left in him. Futch looked at his fighter, down to about half an eye, and told him that he loved him too much to let him continue. “OK,” Joe said he said. “Shut it down.” Dundee’s hunch paid off, and Ali won the rubber match. Yes, it was that close between them. As the Newark Star-Ledger’s Jerry Izenberg once said, “They weren’t fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world. They were fighting for the heavyweight championship of each other.”
The heavyweight championship of each other. What a perfect way to put it. They killed each other that night in Manilla. To some extent, their minds and bodies held on for decades longer, but neither man was the same after that fight. And the 30 seconds Angelo Dundee waited allowed Ali to go down in history as the greatest heavyweight boxer ever and Frazier left to be considered top 5 or top 10 by most experts. Essentially, he is all but forgotten outside of the trilogy with Ali.
But that’s OK. That’s how it seems to go with Philly’s best. But he’s ours. And we remember him. And that left hook that made Muhammad’s tassels fly in the air.
Joe Frazier lived a good life and hard life, if not such a long life. But he never backed down from a fight and did himself and his people proud. Now, his body told him it was time to shut it down. We remember March 8, 1971; October 1, 1975 (September 30 here in the States); and everything before, between, and after.
God bless you, Smokin’ Joe.
From the moment my dad told me that story—and it’s been about 25 years now—Joe Frazier has been my favorite athlete of all time. I never saw him fight live, obviously, and I’ve only seen 5 of his fights on video. Still, he’s my favorite of all time. He ranks higher than Julius Erving, Moses Malone, Charles Barkley, Allen Iverson, Mike Schmidt, Ryan Howard, Cole Hamels, Steve Atwater, John Elway, Ray Lewis, Jerome Brown, Bernard Hopkins, Barry Bonds, Rickey Henderson, Joe Montana, Wilbur Marshall…all of them. For me, Joe Frazier is #1.
And even though he retired before I was born and only fought once after that, I find myself rooting for Joe every time I watch one of his fights. This is especially true when I watch the Thrilla in Manilla. To this day, that is the most brutal, close-to-death for both participants sporting event I’ve ever seen.
The end of that fight, 36 years later, is surreal to me. Both fighters were spent; they were both done. According to Frazier and Ali’s trainer, Angelo Dundee, Muhammad Ali begged Dundee to cut his gloves off. Dundee told him to hold on and looked over his shoulder at Frazier’s corner. In the opposite corner, Frazier told his trainer, Eddie Futch, that he had one round left in him. Futch looked at his fighter, down to about half an eye, and told him that he loved him too much to let him continue. “OK,” Joe said he said. “Shut it down.” Dundee’s hunch paid off, and Ali won the rubber match. Yes, it was that close between them. As the Newark Star-Ledger’s Jerry Izenberg once said, “They weren’t fighting for the heavyweight championship of the world. They were fighting for the heavyweight championship of each other.”
The heavyweight championship of each other. What a perfect way to put it. They killed each other that night in Manilla. To some extent, their minds and bodies held on for decades longer, but neither man was the same after that fight. And the 30 seconds Angelo Dundee waited allowed Ali to go down in history as the greatest heavyweight boxer ever and Frazier left to be considered top 5 or top 10 by most experts. Essentially, he is all but forgotten outside of the trilogy with Ali.
But that’s OK. That’s how it seems to go with Philly’s best. But he’s ours. And we remember him. And that left hook that made Muhammad’s tassels fly in the air.
Joe Frazier lived a good life and hard life, if not such a long life. But he never backed down from a fight and did himself and his people proud. Now, his body told him it was time to shut it down. We remember March 8, 1971; October 1, 1975 (September 30 here in the States); and everything before, between, and after.
God bless you, Smokin’ Joe.
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