The only thing more annoying than the lack of news at this time of year when free agency, the Draft, mini-camps and OTA’s have ended and training camp is still a few weeks away, is the need (especially on the NFL Network) to cover this absence of anything noteworthy with the annual will-he-won’t-he debate concerning Brett Favre’s future. This has been a yearly fixture in the NFL’s off-season calendar since I started following the game, and every year it gets more frustrating, boring and, dare I say it, irrelevant. Never have so many on-air minutes being dedicated to an off-the-field issue, and, apart from the feeling of irritating déjà vu, the saga is in danger of damaging the legacy of one of American football’s most legendary quarterbacks.
The latest episode of this soap opera sees Favre ponder on whether he should return or not (again!) after announcing his retirement a few months ago (again!). This time, however, the discussion concerns the Minnesota Vikings who – directly or otherwise – have expressed an interest in Favre should he decide to come out of retirement. This mirror’s last year’s chapter, where a disgruntled Favre un-retired and was traded to the New York Jets. To be fair, though, Favre has been silent on this year’s debate, the communications coming mostly from his agent Bus Cook, Minnesota’s head coach Brad Childress, and every sports reporter in the US. Even so, it is ridiculous to see that a man can warrant so much interest and speculation without even opening his mouth.
For, despite his silence, Favre is the one who is coming across worst here. His bizarre, indecisive and, at times, petulant behaviour has made him a disappointment in the eyes of many. Because of his strong arm, his leadership and his toughness, Favre was admired, not just by Packers fans, but by NFL enthusiasts in general. Here was a living legend, a man who everyone wanted on their team but who is now, sadly, outstaying his welcome. The problem is not his refusal to retire – anyone would find it hard to walk away from something they have enjoyed doing all their lives. Instead, the problem is in the procrastinating, the fact that teams, players and fans are kept in suspense for months before he makes up his mind. And this infuriates many.
Case in point: in 2005, Green Bay drafted Aaron Rodgers, their quarterback for the future and Favre’s heir apparent. Naturally, the youngster had to wait his turn. And he waited. And waited. Admittedly, Favre was playing to a high standard, so the Packers were fine with allowing their future project to learn in the sidelines. When the 2007 off-season came along, Favre took the franchise on a dance of indecision which the team patiently tolerated, allowing Favre to take his time, much to the detriment of Rodgers’ development as the team’s leader. Favre returned, and led the team to the NFC Championship game, breaking key long-term passing records in the process. Last year, he announced his retirement, allowing the Packers to close the book on his era and move on to the next chapter.
However, once the Packers had agreed to mortgage their future on Rodgers, Favre decided to return. Correctly so, especially seeing as Rodgers had been practising as the first-string quarterback, the Packers failed to guarantee Favre the starting spot. Instead of seeing this as a sensible move for a franchise that has long-term plans for the quarterback position, Favre took this as an insult. He refused to compete for the starting job, instead requesting a trade, which was granted. Favre’s legendary career at Green Bay had ended in a most immature and sulky manner.
Favre’s time with the Jets has been well-documented, how he started off strong and then faded significantly down the stretch. He picked up an injury which convinced him that retirement was best, a conviction he seems to have forgotten.
Can Favre still play? The answer is a clear yes. There are many franchises who would value his experience, and Minnesota would certainly benefit from his contribution in the development of Tavares Jackson, their quarterback of the future. Can Favre still play to his usual standard? I am afraid that the answer there is not that clear-cut. 2007 aside, Favre’s numbers have been noticeably lower over the last few seasons. He has been troubled by injury and age is taking its strain on his famous gun slinging arm-strength. And, while Kerry Collins and Kurt Warner demonstrated last season that a franchise can still be safe in the hands of a thirty-something triggerman, any bets on Favre can only bring short-term relief.
But it is the impact on his legacy that concerns me the most. Like many others, I have gone off Favre. In my eyes, he has gone from a rugged leader to a spoilt drama queen. His latest decision to keep the Vikings waiting until the self-imposed deadline of the 30th July is yet another example of an attention-seeking and ego-massaging behaviour that is ruining his credibility as one of the game’s true greats.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Lakers Win!
Despite being born only a few months ago, this blog now has its first champion. The Gods of Sport have spared us an Arizona Cardinals-style wait for an inaugural celebration and, instead, have served up a moment of triumph in only our fourth month of existence, spoiling us rotten. And that it should come from the NBA makes it almost the sweetest it could possibly be, second only to, of course, the NFL’s Rams.
But the Lakers’ 4-1 series win over the Orlando Magic (the team’s fifth championship since I first noticed it existed) has shockwaves which exceed our own little victory parade. It enables the Lakers, for example, to re-set the gap between them and the Celtics in total championships, which temporarily increased after Boston’s win last season; it finally places Phil Jackson ahead of Red Auerbach in terms of rings; it also proved that Pau Gasol can defend – albeit only slightly; but, finally and perhaps most importantly, it shakes the monkey of Kobe Bryant’s back in earning him a championship win as the leading man, thereby helping to cement his place among those with a legendary status.
It has taken a while but it finally arrived at the third time of asking. Kobe’s legacy was always going to be tarnished by the fact that his three rings came in Shaq’s shadow. He benefited from the Big Man and, with Jackson’s coaching, won the first three of what many assumed would be many rings in his career. Unfortunately for him, however, O’Neal’s eventual departure put an end to the streak, forcing many to ponder whether Kobe was capable of leading a team to the championship by himself. The supporting cast of the likes Karl Malone and Gary Payton was not enough for him to prevent Detroit from winning the final series in 2004, and, last year, his team was outplayed by the rival Celtics in a repeat of the 1980’s enmity between both franchises. Like Michael Jordan in the pre-Pippen days, Bryant was looking like a man who, while extremely talented, would end his career as a frustrated man who knows he failed to lead when his team called him.
But the Bryant that we have seen over the last two seasons is very different to O’Neal’s tag-team partner. A much more focused and mature player, he has put his days of sensationalism behind him and concentrated on proving that he could lead a team of champions. Last year’s failure made this year even more important, and Bryant was key in inspiring his team-mates to pick up their game and help him make the dream possible. And, yes, Kobe has had an excellent team around him: the savvy and experienced Derek Fisher, the under-rated Lamar Odom, the promising but oft-injured Andrew Bynum and, of course, Pau Gasol, whose soft play many held responsible for last year’s defeat. Gasol’s years in Memphis proved that he was not a leader of men; instead, he is far more suited as the right-hand man, the James Worthy of this generation of Lakers. His and Kobe’s relationship is a symbiotic one, but it is clear that the Spaniard has been the biggest benefiter from the partnership. His response to Kobe’s challenge – whether it happened or not – was to toughen his game, to develop a more aggressive style that held Dwight Howard in check and allowed Kobe to win the series with an MVP-winning performance. And with Coach Phil in the sidelines, the script was set.
But there is no denying who the star was. Whenever his team-mates struggled, an introverted and determined Kobe simply took over and proved his critics wrong. Here was a man who needed no-one to prop him up. Less stylish and more reliant on jump-shooting than ever (a similar pattern to MJ’s), Kobe did what leaders do and stepped up when needed. And, in doing so, he won them a championship.
The only negative aspect of winning is that it makes one think about whether it will continue or not. This could end up being a one-off, but, at least, this blog has had an early taste of success and wants more.
Over to you, Rams.
But the Lakers’ 4-1 series win over the Orlando Magic (the team’s fifth championship since I first noticed it existed) has shockwaves which exceed our own little victory parade. It enables the Lakers, for example, to re-set the gap between them and the Celtics in total championships, which temporarily increased after Boston’s win last season; it finally places Phil Jackson ahead of Red Auerbach in terms of rings; it also proved that Pau Gasol can defend – albeit only slightly; but, finally and perhaps most importantly, it shakes the monkey of Kobe Bryant’s back in earning him a championship win as the leading man, thereby helping to cement his place among those with a legendary status.
It has taken a while but it finally arrived at the third time of asking. Kobe’s legacy was always going to be tarnished by the fact that his three rings came in Shaq’s shadow. He benefited from the Big Man and, with Jackson’s coaching, won the first three of what many assumed would be many rings in his career. Unfortunately for him, however, O’Neal’s eventual departure put an end to the streak, forcing many to ponder whether Kobe was capable of leading a team to the championship by himself. The supporting cast of the likes Karl Malone and Gary Payton was not enough for him to prevent Detroit from winning the final series in 2004, and, last year, his team was outplayed by the rival Celtics in a repeat of the 1980’s enmity between both franchises. Like Michael Jordan in the pre-Pippen days, Bryant was looking like a man who, while extremely talented, would end his career as a frustrated man who knows he failed to lead when his team called him.
But the Bryant that we have seen over the last two seasons is very different to O’Neal’s tag-team partner. A much more focused and mature player, he has put his days of sensationalism behind him and concentrated on proving that he could lead a team of champions. Last year’s failure made this year even more important, and Bryant was key in inspiring his team-mates to pick up their game and help him make the dream possible. And, yes, Kobe has had an excellent team around him: the savvy and experienced Derek Fisher, the under-rated Lamar Odom, the promising but oft-injured Andrew Bynum and, of course, Pau Gasol, whose soft play many held responsible for last year’s defeat. Gasol’s years in Memphis proved that he was not a leader of men; instead, he is far more suited as the right-hand man, the James Worthy of this generation of Lakers. His and Kobe’s relationship is a symbiotic one, but it is clear that the Spaniard has been the biggest benefiter from the partnership. His response to Kobe’s challenge – whether it happened or not – was to toughen his game, to develop a more aggressive style that held Dwight Howard in check and allowed Kobe to win the series with an MVP-winning performance. And with Coach Phil in the sidelines, the script was set.
But there is no denying who the star was. Whenever his team-mates struggled, an introverted and determined Kobe simply took over and proved his critics wrong. Here was a man who needed no-one to prop him up. Less stylish and more reliant on jump-shooting than ever (a similar pattern to MJ’s), Kobe did what leaders do and stepped up when needed. And, in doing so, he won them a championship.
The only negative aspect of winning is that it makes one think about whether it will continue or not. This could end up being a one-off, but, at least, this blog has had an early taste of success and wants more.
Over to you, Rams.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
The Cutler Trade: The Winners and The Losers
(originally written after the Cutler trade but delayed in posting)
Over the past few years, Tom Brady has been a persistent thorn on the sides of many teams. Franchises like the Colts, the Chargers and all the AFC East teams have frequently found themselves in the wrong side of a Brady-led beat-down, while the Patriots have found themselves the envy of the League, largely down to their quarterback’s play. Despite his injury, however, it seems that the 2007 MVP can now lay claim to another franchise as his victim.
For Brady’s season-ending injury back in Week 1 set in motion a chain of events that culminated in the Denver Broncos mortgaging their future by trading their young franchise quarterback: Jay Cutler. Brady was naturally replaced in the starting line-up by Matt Cassell, who went on to raise many eyebrows in a career-making season that inevitably made him the target of many come the off-season. While the Patriots tried to protect him with a franchise tag, they nonetheless understandably traded him to the Kansas City Chiefs. With Brady returning, Cassell was now an expensive luxury that the Patriots could cash in, yet another fortunate investment that would make the rich even richer, and the Chiefs readily obliged.
When the dust settled on the trade, it emerged that Denver had shown itself willing to trade for Cassell as part of a three-way exchange that would see Cutler go elsewhere, allegedly Tampa Bay. Cutler – on the back of a Pro Bowl season that seemed to show that the Broncos had finally found a successor to John Elway – naturally took offence at being placed in the trading block by Josh McDaniels, Denver’s new coach who had a relationship with Cassell following his years as New England’s offensive co-ordinator. In public and presumably in private, Cutler expressed his outrage at his new coach’s dismissal of his status as Denver’s leader for the next ten years and demanded to be traded. A bitter and highly-publicised exchange of words followed, after which the franchise cut their losses and traded Cutler to the Chicago Bears for Kyle Orton and some valuable first and third round picks spread over the next two years. And Brady heads back to training camp.
The trade makes sense for the Chicago Bears. Given Cutler’s steadily improving performances since his arrival in the League three seasons ago, the Bears jumped at the opportunity to snap him up, albeit at considerable cost. Following the McMahon-Quinn-Grossman-Orton wilderness that has been the Bears’ quarterback situation over these past few years, Cutler finally brings them some much-needed quality and stability under center, particularly as he heads towards the peak of his career. Unexpectedly, the Bears have landed one of the League’s hottest young quarterback commodities, and he is expected to contribute from the start. Chicago also suddenly finds itself with the best quarterback in the NFC North, an important factor should Aaron Rodgers’ development continue. And, with no heirs lined up, the Bears have solidified a key position for the long term.
The same, however, cannot be said for the Broncos. A team that has struggled to replace the iconic Elway, they seemed to have struck gold with Cutler, who, after all, was the third quarterback drafted back in 2006. He had formed an excellent relationship with Brandon Marshall – from the same draft class – and sown the seeds for a Manning/Harrison-style partnership that would serve Denver for many years. With other players such as Eddie Royal and Tony Scheffler also blossoming at the receiving end of Cutler’s passes, the Broncos were only a running back and a few defensive players away from being considered serious Super Bowl contenders.
Now, though, they are back to square one. Marshall has lost his triggerman, a factor which could impact on what has hitherto been a promising career. Kyle Orton is also certainly not the answer, a man who could not even hold his starting job in Chicago. In terms of arm strength, ability under pressure, and even leadership, the Broncos have suffered a serious setback. Without a viable running back, the passing game is of extreme importance to the Broncos (although they have consistently managed to succeed even without big-name backs), a game that was built entirely around Cutler. Although Denver has gained two first-round picks (meaning they will have four such picks in the next two years), it is evident that the difficulties in finding their next franchise quarterback through these might render them useless. After all, if a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, then surely an established and developing quarterback is worth two players that might be good. One look at recent failures when it comes to drafting quarterbacks – David Carr, Alex Smith, Kyle Boller, Matt Leinart, Vince Young – should have shown the Broncos leadership that trading Cutler was not in the interest of the club.
But it was not in Cutler’s interest either. Although the Bears reached the Super Bowl only a few seasons ago, they are no longer considered Championship candidates, even with their new quarterback. Denver certainly seemed on the way up, whereas Chicago’s better days seem behind them. More importantly, their style of play is not one which will benefit Cutler. Chicago’s success lies on their newly-rejuvenated running game through Matt Forte, and on their still-stifling defence; even their special teams unit has contributed more to their accomplishments than the passing game. Like Grossman before him, Cutler will be asked to simply move the team forward and avoid turnovers. And whilst this might have served Grossman well when he got the team to the Super Bowl, it is hardly going to benefit Cutler’s numbers. The Bears have a weak corps of receivers and, given what they have given in return, are unlikely to be drafting any new ones any time soon. The likes of Marshall and Royal are now replaced by unproven players at the wide receiver position (Earl Bennett, Devin Hester), a host of rookies (most notably Juaquin Iglesias) and a first-round tight end (Greg Olsen) who, while showing some potential, is still to emerge as a top target at this level. So, despite his enthusiasm at arriving in Chicago, Cutler might have just taken significant steps backwards.
Which makes the AFC powerhouses the real winners in this deal. New England, Indianapolis, Pittsburgh and San Diego (among others) must all be smiling wryly at the fact that a consistent threat in their division has been diminished by an inter-conference move. These teams will be glad to see the back of Cutler, a player reaching a prime which, alas, may now be beyond him.
Over the past few years, Tom Brady has been a persistent thorn on the sides of many teams. Franchises like the Colts, the Chargers and all the AFC East teams have frequently found themselves in the wrong side of a Brady-led beat-down, while the Patriots have found themselves the envy of the League, largely down to their quarterback’s play. Despite his injury, however, it seems that the 2007 MVP can now lay claim to another franchise as his victim.
For Brady’s season-ending injury back in Week 1 set in motion a chain of events that culminated in the Denver Broncos mortgaging their future by trading their young franchise quarterback: Jay Cutler. Brady was naturally replaced in the starting line-up by Matt Cassell, who went on to raise many eyebrows in a career-making season that inevitably made him the target of many come the off-season. While the Patriots tried to protect him with a franchise tag, they nonetheless understandably traded him to the Kansas City Chiefs. With Brady returning, Cassell was now an expensive luxury that the Patriots could cash in, yet another fortunate investment that would make the rich even richer, and the Chiefs readily obliged.
When the dust settled on the trade, it emerged that Denver had shown itself willing to trade for Cassell as part of a three-way exchange that would see Cutler go elsewhere, allegedly Tampa Bay. Cutler – on the back of a Pro Bowl season that seemed to show that the Broncos had finally found a successor to John Elway – naturally took offence at being placed in the trading block by Josh McDaniels, Denver’s new coach who had a relationship with Cassell following his years as New England’s offensive co-ordinator. In public and presumably in private, Cutler expressed his outrage at his new coach’s dismissal of his status as Denver’s leader for the next ten years and demanded to be traded. A bitter and highly-publicised exchange of words followed, after which the franchise cut their losses and traded Cutler to the Chicago Bears for Kyle Orton and some valuable first and third round picks spread over the next two years. And Brady heads back to training camp.
The trade makes sense for the Chicago Bears. Given Cutler’s steadily improving performances since his arrival in the League three seasons ago, the Bears jumped at the opportunity to snap him up, albeit at considerable cost. Following the McMahon-Quinn-Grossman-Orton wilderness that has been the Bears’ quarterback situation over these past few years, Cutler finally brings them some much-needed quality and stability under center, particularly as he heads towards the peak of his career. Unexpectedly, the Bears have landed one of the League’s hottest young quarterback commodities, and he is expected to contribute from the start. Chicago also suddenly finds itself with the best quarterback in the NFC North, an important factor should Aaron Rodgers’ development continue. And, with no heirs lined up, the Bears have solidified a key position for the long term.
The same, however, cannot be said for the Broncos. A team that has struggled to replace the iconic Elway, they seemed to have struck gold with Cutler, who, after all, was the third quarterback drafted back in 2006. He had formed an excellent relationship with Brandon Marshall – from the same draft class – and sown the seeds for a Manning/Harrison-style partnership that would serve Denver for many years. With other players such as Eddie Royal and Tony Scheffler also blossoming at the receiving end of Cutler’s passes, the Broncos were only a running back and a few defensive players away from being considered serious Super Bowl contenders.
Now, though, they are back to square one. Marshall has lost his triggerman, a factor which could impact on what has hitherto been a promising career. Kyle Orton is also certainly not the answer, a man who could not even hold his starting job in Chicago. In terms of arm strength, ability under pressure, and even leadership, the Broncos have suffered a serious setback. Without a viable running back, the passing game is of extreme importance to the Broncos (although they have consistently managed to succeed even without big-name backs), a game that was built entirely around Cutler. Although Denver has gained two first-round picks (meaning they will have four such picks in the next two years), it is evident that the difficulties in finding their next franchise quarterback through these might render them useless. After all, if a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, then surely an established and developing quarterback is worth two players that might be good. One look at recent failures when it comes to drafting quarterbacks – David Carr, Alex Smith, Kyle Boller, Matt Leinart, Vince Young – should have shown the Broncos leadership that trading Cutler was not in the interest of the club.
But it was not in Cutler’s interest either. Although the Bears reached the Super Bowl only a few seasons ago, they are no longer considered Championship candidates, even with their new quarterback. Denver certainly seemed on the way up, whereas Chicago’s better days seem behind them. More importantly, their style of play is not one which will benefit Cutler. Chicago’s success lies on their newly-rejuvenated running game through Matt Forte, and on their still-stifling defence; even their special teams unit has contributed more to their accomplishments than the passing game. Like Grossman before him, Cutler will be asked to simply move the team forward and avoid turnovers. And whilst this might have served Grossman well when he got the team to the Super Bowl, it is hardly going to benefit Cutler’s numbers. The Bears have a weak corps of receivers and, given what they have given in return, are unlikely to be drafting any new ones any time soon. The likes of Marshall and Royal are now replaced by unproven players at the wide receiver position (Earl Bennett, Devin Hester), a host of rookies (most notably Juaquin Iglesias) and a first-round tight end (Greg Olsen) who, while showing some potential, is still to emerge as a top target at this level. So, despite his enthusiasm at arriving in Chicago, Cutler might have just taken significant steps backwards.
Which makes the AFC powerhouses the real winners in this deal. New England, Indianapolis, Pittsburgh and San Diego (among others) must all be smiling wryly at the fact that a consistent threat in their division has been diminished by an inter-conference move. These teams will be glad to see the back of Cutler, a player reaching a prime which, alas, may now be beyond him.
Murray Wins Queens: Is Wimbledon Next?
I have just finished watching Andy Murray winning Queens (sorry, the Aegon Championships), becoming the first British player to win the tournament in over 70 years. And, despite my occasional cynicism (and yesterday’s musing), I must confess that I too have been drawn into that discussion that will no doubt dominate the media over these next few weeks, the discussion that will make the average British man and woman tennis fans for only a short period: Could this possibly be the year?
Could this possibly be the year? A question that has been at the forefront of every Wimbledon tournament since the birth of Henmania but which, unfortunately, has been met with the same answer: no. Maybe next year. This time, though, things are different. The nation’s obsession with a native winning ‘their’ Grand Slam – an obsession that has seen hopes go from a fast-serving Canadian to a quintessentially plucky Englishman with a tendency for choking on big occasions – now has a new poster boy in the form of a sullen Scot with an American twang when he speaks. With Murray winning Wimbledon’s traditional warm-up tournament, and reaching Number 3 in the World Rankings, he seems to have finally shaken the Henman monkey off his back and give us all the feeling that this could truly be the year. Genuinely.
The interesting thing is that, despite the annual elevation of British hopes, there was a prevalent feeling that Henman was never really going to win it. He might have reached the heights of Number 4 in the world – a position he held for a considerable amount of time – but Henman was unfortunate in that he was caught up between both the Sampras and the Federer eras, two of the strongest periods of domination in the sport. Only in one of his four semi-final appearances was it really felt that Henman could have won it, and while many maintain that his rain-delayed loss to Goran Ivanisevic represented his closest moment, it must nonetheless be emphasised that not only did Henman fail to win Wimbledon but he never even reached the final (of any Grand Slam event too). Was he skilful? Yes. Was he plucky? Yes. Was he brave? Yes. Was he a Champion? No.
And this is where the difference between Henman and Murray lies. Henman simply lacked that fibre that separates winners from losers. Call it clutch factor, or passion, or second-wind, Henman was just – dare I say it – too nice to be a winner. Too English. His career was more as a gracious loser than a vanquishing victor, a role which, as he started to fill, the British public started to respond to. Even in the twilight of his days, when he was still consistently reaching Grand Slam semi-finals, fans were resigned to the fact that it was more a question of when rather than whether Henman would lose. It stopped being about whether this would be the year that Henman won, but whether it would be the year that Henman would not lose. And when your career is looked at from the point of view of defeat rather than victory you know that a Champion you will never be.
But this feeling of defeat is not evident in Murray’s play, despite his inexperience. Not for Murray the label of “brave and plucky” but rather that of “winner”. He plays with a passion and an intensity that was missing in Henman’s tactical side. Murray has addressed his weaknesses – the mark of a true champion – and is waiting to unleash this spirit. He is not interested in being the British hope – he has even openly admitted to preferring the U. S. Open – but merely in being a winner. And while his attitude, his style and his lack of charisma might never fully endear him to the British fan, his Wimbledon trophy will one day take care of that.
And that could just be this year.
Could this possibly be the year? A question that has been at the forefront of every Wimbledon tournament since the birth of Henmania but which, unfortunately, has been met with the same answer: no. Maybe next year. This time, though, things are different. The nation’s obsession with a native winning ‘their’ Grand Slam – an obsession that has seen hopes go from a fast-serving Canadian to a quintessentially plucky Englishman with a tendency for choking on big occasions – now has a new poster boy in the form of a sullen Scot with an American twang when he speaks. With Murray winning Wimbledon’s traditional warm-up tournament, and reaching Number 3 in the World Rankings, he seems to have finally shaken the Henman monkey off his back and give us all the feeling that this could truly be the year. Genuinely.
The interesting thing is that, despite the annual elevation of British hopes, there was a prevalent feeling that Henman was never really going to win it. He might have reached the heights of Number 4 in the world – a position he held for a considerable amount of time – but Henman was unfortunate in that he was caught up between both the Sampras and the Federer eras, two of the strongest periods of domination in the sport. Only in one of his four semi-final appearances was it really felt that Henman could have won it, and while many maintain that his rain-delayed loss to Goran Ivanisevic represented his closest moment, it must nonetheless be emphasised that not only did Henman fail to win Wimbledon but he never even reached the final (of any Grand Slam event too). Was he skilful? Yes. Was he plucky? Yes. Was he brave? Yes. Was he a Champion? No.
And this is where the difference between Henman and Murray lies. Henman simply lacked that fibre that separates winners from losers. Call it clutch factor, or passion, or second-wind, Henman was just – dare I say it – too nice to be a winner. Too English. His career was more as a gracious loser than a vanquishing victor, a role which, as he started to fill, the British public started to respond to. Even in the twilight of his days, when he was still consistently reaching Grand Slam semi-finals, fans were resigned to the fact that it was more a question of when rather than whether Henman would lose. It stopped being about whether this would be the year that Henman won, but whether it would be the year that Henman would not lose. And when your career is looked at from the point of view of defeat rather than victory you know that a Champion you will never be.
But this feeling of defeat is not evident in Murray’s play, despite his inexperience. Not for Murray the label of “brave and plucky” but rather that of “winner”. He plays with a passion and an intensity that was missing in Henman’s tactical side. Murray has addressed his weaknesses – the mark of a true champion – and is waiting to unleash this spirit. He is not interested in being the British hope – he has even openly admitted to preferring the U. S. Open – but merely in being a winner. And while his attitude, his style and his lack of charisma might never fully endear him to the British fan, his Wimbledon trophy will one day take care of that.
And that could just be this year.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The Pantheon of British Sporting Losers
What do Frank Bruno, David Coulthard, Colin Montgomerie and the Olympics version of Paula Radcliffe have in common? Well, apart from the fact that none of them shot J. R., and that none of them would ever have considered letting the dogs out, they are all also proud members of that dubiously illustrious brotherhood: the pantheon of British Sporting Losers (President: Timothy Henman). Along with many others, these athletes represent that fine list of also-rans whose silver medals epitomise that great British tradition of sporting pluck, and that great British tradition of sporting underachievement, individuals who ran, drove, punched or simply hit a ball towards the promised land but then, perhaps far too predictably, fell rather short.
But do not let this tongue-in-cheek introduction confuse, or even offend, you. In the words of the South African chiropodist, there is, after all, nothing wrong with defeat – particularly at the top-level. The British sporting media – and even the average fan – are responsible for this, often over-inflating a prospect’s hopes and exciting the nation, only to see these dashed to pieces and leading to wry smiles of ‘not again’. Perhaps the British are to blame for not recognising sporting achievement in a far more general way. Henman was, after all, the fourth best in the world for a long time and, in Pete Sampras and Roger Federer, was sandwiched between two of the greatest tennis players in history; Coulthard won 13 Grand Prix races and was a thorn in the side of Formula 1’s greatest ever champion: Michael Schumacher; Montgomerie is third all-time among European golfers; and Radcliffe, of course, holds the women’s world record for the marathon. But, in the eyes of John Bull (is that expression still used?), the fact that their particular Holy Grails (Wimbledon, the F1 Drivers’ Championship, any golf major, and Olympic gold) eluded them belittles their other achievements and makes Losers of them all.
Boxing is a particular victim of this gold-or-bust attitude that turns men from over-hyped heroes to lowly zeroes. While Bruno flies the Loser flag, he nonetheless leads a parade of disappointment that includes “Prince” Naseem Hamed, Amir “Rustler’s Burger” Khan, Audley “Who?” Harrison and, following his recent humiliation, Ricky “Almost Made It” Hatton. Lennox Lewis, we hear, is pleased at not being invited to this party.
This is a shame because Britain is not exactly short of sporting heroes. The nation that gave us Sir Steve Redgrave has also given us snooker’s Ronnie O’Sullivan, darts’ Phil “The Power” Taylor and, in recent years, Formula 1’s Lewis Hamilton and Jensen Button (apparently his success this season has nothing to do with his car). The Beijing Olympics also revealed a new generation of world-class swimmers, cyclists and boxers. And, yet, there is almost a lack of pride in these individuals in favour of those who did not make it. While the back pages are dominated by Radcliffe’s latest injury, few column inches are dedicated to the likes of Rebecca Adlington’s world-beating performances. Had Britain been Spain – where sporting heroes are lauded to the point of asphyxiation – Rocket Ronnie’s face would be emblazoned on cheap bandanas and sold in every street market in the country in celebration of one of Britain’s golden sportsmen. But, instead, Monty missed the cut. Again.
Whether the solution is for Britain to switch their attention to their true winners, or to stop over-blowing the chances of the slightest of contenders, or to simply accept the fact that lesser-populated Australia can produce better runners, swimmers, cricketers and rugby players, I am not sure. But what I am sure of is that the British Sporting Losers’ annual meat-market – Wimbledon – is just around the corner, and we might just be welcoming in the group’s latest member.
But do not let this tongue-in-cheek introduction confuse, or even offend, you. In the words of the South African chiropodist, there is, after all, nothing wrong with defeat – particularly at the top-level. The British sporting media – and even the average fan – are responsible for this, often over-inflating a prospect’s hopes and exciting the nation, only to see these dashed to pieces and leading to wry smiles of ‘not again’. Perhaps the British are to blame for not recognising sporting achievement in a far more general way. Henman was, after all, the fourth best in the world for a long time and, in Pete Sampras and Roger Federer, was sandwiched between two of the greatest tennis players in history; Coulthard won 13 Grand Prix races and was a thorn in the side of Formula 1’s greatest ever champion: Michael Schumacher; Montgomerie is third all-time among European golfers; and Radcliffe, of course, holds the women’s world record for the marathon. But, in the eyes of John Bull (is that expression still used?), the fact that their particular Holy Grails (Wimbledon, the F1 Drivers’ Championship, any golf major, and Olympic gold) eluded them belittles their other achievements and makes Losers of them all.
Boxing is a particular victim of this gold-or-bust attitude that turns men from over-hyped heroes to lowly zeroes. While Bruno flies the Loser flag, he nonetheless leads a parade of disappointment that includes “Prince” Naseem Hamed, Amir “Rustler’s Burger” Khan, Audley “Who?” Harrison and, following his recent humiliation, Ricky “Almost Made It” Hatton. Lennox Lewis, we hear, is pleased at not being invited to this party.
This is a shame because Britain is not exactly short of sporting heroes. The nation that gave us Sir Steve Redgrave has also given us snooker’s Ronnie O’Sullivan, darts’ Phil “The Power” Taylor and, in recent years, Formula 1’s Lewis Hamilton and Jensen Button (apparently his success this season has nothing to do with his car). The Beijing Olympics also revealed a new generation of world-class swimmers, cyclists and boxers. And, yet, there is almost a lack of pride in these individuals in favour of those who did not make it. While the back pages are dominated by Radcliffe’s latest injury, few column inches are dedicated to the likes of Rebecca Adlington’s world-beating performances. Had Britain been Spain – where sporting heroes are lauded to the point of asphyxiation – Rocket Ronnie’s face would be emblazoned on cheap bandanas and sold in every street market in the country in celebration of one of Britain’s golden sportsmen. But, instead, Monty missed the cut. Again.
Whether the solution is for Britain to switch their attention to their true winners, or to stop over-blowing the chances of the slightest of contenders, or to simply accept the fact that lesser-populated Australia can produce better runners, swimmers, cricketers and rugby players, I am not sure. But what I am sure of is that the British Sporting Losers’ annual meat-market – Wimbledon – is just around the corner, and we might just be welcoming in the group’s latest member.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Pushing The Button On Formula 1
Before any accusations are made: I have always been a Jensen Button fan. I realise this is much easier to say now that he is leading the World Championship, but Button and, in particular, his BAR / Honda / Brawn team has been a the top of my Formula 1 preferences since I first started following the sport. From the outset, I liked this at-the-time-young British hopeful, a fine example of modesty and skill which far outclassed the arrogant (see David Coulthard) and rubbish (see Alan McNish) British drivers of the time. I have always liked how Button would point the finger firmly at himself whenever he was wrong, an honesty rarely seen in this sport of rear-enders and finger-flickers. I have enjoyed the up-and-down-and-up pattern of his career and how he has revived hopes in himself just when it seemed that we had all lost faith in him. The fact that he teamed up with perennial nice guy Reubens Barrichello a few years ago gave further credence to his place in my sporting affections, and even the temptation to leave him in favour of an actual British winner in Lewis Hamilton was resisted in a successful effort to avoid bandwagon-jumping, even if this came at the expense of finally being able to celebrate a championship. So you would think that to finally see Button at the top of the standings would be a cause for jubilation.
Instead, it is not. For a wily sports fan like myself knows full well that a sportsman rarely becomes good again overnight. The annals of sporting history are instead littered with failed attempts at recapturing past glories, of athletes refusing to accept their diminishing talents and the increasingly younger competition, only to see evidence of their wilting through poor performance and, at times, undignified defeat. I can accept, however, that there are exceptions, that, only very occasionally, does this athlete recover his former greatness (see André Agassi), but for this to happen to two individuals – as has happened to Button and to the even older and past-his-prime Barrichello – is unheard of. At least as far as their own talents are concerned.
For the resurgence of the British and Brazilian drivers is not down to a hectic off-season training schedule, or a sudden injection of youth, but is simply further evidence of the huge role that mechanical engineering plays in Formula 1 success. While this is nothing new, the recent triumphs of youngsters like Fernando Alonso, Kimi Raikonnen and Hamilton gave the impression that the sport was being re-gained by the driver, and that the precisely balanced combination of car and pilot represented the sport’s Holy Grail. Instead, this season we have two drivers who, while they have enjoyed success in the past, have been dismal for at least two seasons and are suddenly good again.
The difference? Nothing other than technical expertise, mostly provided by former Ferrari technical director Ross Brawn who, upon purchasing the team for this season, brought with him his considerable knowledge, experience and contacts, combining all of them to produce a car which would make a winner out of a good, rather than excellent, driver. True, confidence in his equipment would also have made some contribution to Button’s success, but, ultimately, the driver must ensure he qualifies well, keeps the car on the road, and not make mistakes. A simple and effective guide for winning, but one which, alas, does not a great driver make.
So Button’s unexpected success has not brought with it the enjoyment I would predicted. Instead, it has cast a further shadow on the role of the individual behind the wheel in favour of boffins behind computers. And until the sport is returned to the drivers, it will fail to capture my imagination, no matter how much I like the leader.
Instead, it is not. For a wily sports fan like myself knows full well that a sportsman rarely becomes good again overnight. The annals of sporting history are instead littered with failed attempts at recapturing past glories, of athletes refusing to accept their diminishing talents and the increasingly younger competition, only to see evidence of their wilting through poor performance and, at times, undignified defeat. I can accept, however, that there are exceptions, that, only very occasionally, does this athlete recover his former greatness (see André Agassi), but for this to happen to two individuals – as has happened to Button and to the even older and past-his-prime Barrichello – is unheard of. At least as far as their own talents are concerned.
For the resurgence of the British and Brazilian drivers is not down to a hectic off-season training schedule, or a sudden injection of youth, but is simply further evidence of the huge role that mechanical engineering plays in Formula 1 success. While this is nothing new, the recent triumphs of youngsters like Fernando Alonso, Kimi Raikonnen and Hamilton gave the impression that the sport was being re-gained by the driver, and that the precisely balanced combination of car and pilot represented the sport’s Holy Grail. Instead, this season we have two drivers who, while they have enjoyed success in the past, have been dismal for at least two seasons and are suddenly good again.
The difference? Nothing other than technical expertise, mostly provided by former Ferrari technical director Ross Brawn who, upon purchasing the team for this season, brought with him his considerable knowledge, experience and contacts, combining all of them to produce a car which would make a winner out of a good, rather than excellent, driver. True, confidence in his equipment would also have made some contribution to Button’s success, but, ultimately, the driver must ensure he qualifies well, keeps the car on the road, and not make mistakes. A simple and effective guide for winning, but one which, alas, does not a great driver make.
So Button’s unexpected success has not brought with it the enjoyment I would predicted. Instead, it has cast a further shadow on the role of the individual behind the wheel in favour of boffins behind computers. And until the sport is returned to the drivers, it will fail to capture my imagination, no matter how much I like the leader.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
"Boring!" - Or European Football
The upcoming Champions League final between Manchester United and Barcelona, while undoubtedly exhilarating for the teams’ many fans, and galling for Liverpool and Real Madrid supporters, nonetheless brings into focus the predictable tedium of European football’s finest annual extravaganza. While it can be safely argued that the tournament’s finale will pit together the Old Continent’s strongest teams of the moment, the spectre of banality hangs over the conflict with the familiar sense of quasi-déjà vu.
This showpiece feud scores a point in favour of American sports over its European counterparts. The statistics – at least as far as the continents’ largest sports are concerned – speak for themselves. Since its inception in 1955, only 6 teams (Real Madrid, AC Milan, Liverpool, Bayern Munich, Ajax Amsterdam and Manchester United) have won over 60% of the European Cup / (not-just-for) Champions League tournaments. The number is similar for the NFL, although the latter has been running for eleven years fewer and involves a lower amount of teams. Less than half of the forty semi-final appearances in the Champions League over the past ten years have been made by different teams, in which period there have been seven different winners – the same as in the NFL.
However, to compare the 32-team NFL to the 76-team Champions League (which change from year-to-year) is not the fairest of juxtapositions. Instead, comparisons can be made with the (admittedly smaller) national leagues, where the figures are even more once-sided. Since 1994, when the NFL introduced the salary cap, there have been 12 champions. In the same period, the Premier League trophy has been held aloft by only four different clubs; the Spanish La Liga and Italian Serie A fare little better, with only five different champions in the same period. Even adjusting for the lower amount of teams in the European leagues, the gulf between both traditions in terms of parity is significant.
The reasons for these differences can be attributed to three main superior practices in American sports: free agency, the draft, and the afore-mentioned salary cap. European football clubs have no league-imposed wage restrictions, meaning that the richer – and, usually, more successful – franchises can simply buy any player they want. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that the ten richest football clubs account for over 30 Champions League titles and over 170 domestic league titles. And, of course, as these teams enjoy more success, their coffers grow……and so on. Conversely, the NFL tightly regulates each clubs’ spending, throwing more focus on teamwork, coaching and player development, and avoiding the “player-off-the-shelf” shopping-spree mentality that has affected clubs such as Real Madrid and Chelsea. The NFL has traditionally employed a rigid “hard-cap” approach, which contrasts with the “soft-cap” strategy of the NBA, a league where compromises are made and loopholes are found, resulting in a less well-distributed list of victors.
Free agency is enjoyed by sports organisations on both sides of the Atlantic but, again, the salary cap plays a big role. The introduction of free agency had a significant impact in European football in terms of player movement, with free agents signing with the highest bidder. This concept, however, is misshapen when the highest bidder has greater flexibility. NFL teams, for example, are restricted by the salary cap ceiling from making big-name signings they cannot “afford”, giving a fairer advantage to teams with a lower payroll. These smaller teams, however, are simply pushed aside by the big European clubs, who can eclipse their bids in the annual player auction. The lack of a salary cap also helps these teams to re-sign their players during their contracts, thereby avoiding free agency, a luxury not always available to American sports teams. Instead, player movement is increased, leading towards greater parity and an annual sense of hope as franchises get a chance to consider signing proven superstars.
The draft, however, is probably the best example of giving all teams a fair chance. Unlike in Europe, American sports franchises cannot sign promising young players and “own” their rights before they have even stepped on a professional playing field. Instead, aspiring NFL players must pass through the well-funded collegiate ranks where they receive world-class training without the intervention of any professional sports team. Once they have done this for a few years, they are given the chance to enter the NFL’s annual draft, where teams can select new players for their franchises. In the interests of parity, the worst-performing team from the previous season is given the first choice, allowing the club to potentially sign the best play in that year’s college crop. This has allowed underperforming franchises to change their fortunes (as was the case with the Indianapolis Colts’ drafting of Peyton Manning), an exercise in equal opportunities that is replicated in the NBA, the NHL and many of America’s major sporting organisations.
But not, sadly, in Europe. Teams sign players to their academies at a ridiculously young age, with the top teams getting the chance to handpick their future stars. These youngsters play at various levels and receive an indoctrination into the club that has signed them, with the services of the majority dispensed with, forcing them to the ‘lower’ clubs. Again, the rich get richer.
As successful as these measures have proved in America in terms of creating unpredictability, excitement and equality, they have not gone beyond the discussion stage in European football (although major European rugby leagues do employ salary cap restrictions). There is simply too much money involved, and the richest clubs enjoy a tremendous amount of power and influence. Most importantly, however, the move is unlikely to receive the support of the players themselves, despite the fact that American athletes saw the value of a salary cap system and approved the measure. In the US, the organisation, and, in particular, their commissioners wield the power; in Europe, this falls on the clubs.
And, instead, the opposite is likely to happen. The news that the NFL and its players’ union is yet to agree on a renewed Collective Bargaining Agreement that will keep the salary cap is disturbing. Should the situation continue, next season could be the last one regulated with a salary cap. With insiders predicting that any disappearance of the salary cap would be permanent, one must only wonder what the future holds for small-market teams such as the Buffalo Bills and Tennessee Titans when up against the Dallas Cowboys and New York Giants: a future as predictable as what the league itself would become.
This showpiece feud scores a point in favour of American sports over its European counterparts. The statistics – at least as far as the continents’ largest sports are concerned – speak for themselves. Since its inception in 1955, only 6 teams (Real Madrid, AC Milan, Liverpool, Bayern Munich, Ajax Amsterdam and Manchester United) have won over 60% of the European Cup / (not-just-for) Champions League tournaments. The number is similar for the NFL, although the latter has been running for eleven years fewer and involves a lower amount of teams. Less than half of the forty semi-final appearances in the Champions League over the past ten years have been made by different teams, in which period there have been seven different winners – the same as in the NFL.
However, to compare the 32-team NFL to the 76-team Champions League (which change from year-to-year) is not the fairest of juxtapositions. Instead, comparisons can be made with the (admittedly smaller) national leagues, where the figures are even more once-sided. Since 1994, when the NFL introduced the salary cap, there have been 12 champions. In the same period, the Premier League trophy has been held aloft by only four different clubs; the Spanish La Liga and Italian Serie A fare little better, with only five different champions in the same period. Even adjusting for the lower amount of teams in the European leagues, the gulf between both traditions in terms of parity is significant.
The reasons for these differences can be attributed to three main superior practices in American sports: free agency, the draft, and the afore-mentioned salary cap. European football clubs have no league-imposed wage restrictions, meaning that the richer – and, usually, more successful – franchises can simply buy any player they want. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that the ten richest football clubs account for over 30 Champions League titles and over 170 domestic league titles. And, of course, as these teams enjoy more success, their coffers grow……and so on. Conversely, the NFL tightly regulates each clubs’ spending, throwing more focus on teamwork, coaching and player development, and avoiding the “player-off-the-shelf” shopping-spree mentality that has affected clubs such as Real Madrid and Chelsea. The NFL has traditionally employed a rigid “hard-cap” approach, which contrasts with the “soft-cap” strategy of the NBA, a league where compromises are made and loopholes are found, resulting in a less well-distributed list of victors.
Free agency is enjoyed by sports organisations on both sides of the Atlantic but, again, the salary cap plays a big role. The introduction of free agency had a significant impact in European football in terms of player movement, with free agents signing with the highest bidder. This concept, however, is misshapen when the highest bidder has greater flexibility. NFL teams, for example, are restricted by the salary cap ceiling from making big-name signings they cannot “afford”, giving a fairer advantage to teams with a lower payroll. These smaller teams, however, are simply pushed aside by the big European clubs, who can eclipse their bids in the annual player auction. The lack of a salary cap also helps these teams to re-sign their players during their contracts, thereby avoiding free agency, a luxury not always available to American sports teams. Instead, player movement is increased, leading towards greater parity and an annual sense of hope as franchises get a chance to consider signing proven superstars.
The draft, however, is probably the best example of giving all teams a fair chance. Unlike in Europe, American sports franchises cannot sign promising young players and “own” their rights before they have even stepped on a professional playing field. Instead, aspiring NFL players must pass through the well-funded collegiate ranks where they receive world-class training without the intervention of any professional sports team. Once they have done this for a few years, they are given the chance to enter the NFL’s annual draft, where teams can select new players for their franchises. In the interests of parity, the worst-performing team from the previous season is given the first choice, allowing the club to potentially sign the best play in that year’s college crop. This has allowed underperforming franchises to change their fortunes (as was the case with the Indianapolis Colts’ drafting of Peyton Manning), an exercise in equal opportunities that is replicated in the NBA, the NHL and many of America’s major sporting organisations.
But not, sadly, in Europe. Teams sign players to their academies at a ridiculously young age, with the top teams getting the chance to handpick their future stars. These youngsters play at various levels and receive an indoctrination into the club that has signed them, with the services of the majority dispensed with, forcing them to the ‘lower’ clubs. Again, the rich get richer.
As successful as these measures have proved in America in terms of creating unpredictability, excitement and equality, they have not gone beyond the discussion stage in European football (although major European rugby leagues do employ salary cap restrictions). There is simply too much money involved, and the richest clubs enjoy a tremendous amount of power and influence. Most importantly, however, the move is unlikely to receive the support of the players themselves, despite the fact that American athletes saw the value of a salary cap system and approved the measure. In the US, the organisation, and, in particular, their commissioners wield the power; in Europe, this falls on the clubs.
And, instead, the opposite is likely to happen. The news that the NFL and its players’ union is yet to agree on a renewed Collective Bargaining Agreement that will keep the salary cap is disturbing. Should the situation continue, next season could be the last one regulated with a salary cap. With insiders predicting that any disappearance of the salary cap would be permanent, one must only wonder what the future holds for small-market teams such as the Buffalo Bills and Tennessee Titans when up against the Dallas Cowboys and New York Giants: a future as predictable as what the league itself would become.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Steelers: The Best Team of All-Time
Ben Roethlisberger’s story is, even in these early stages, an impressive one to tell. A Number Eleven pick by the Steelers back in the 2004 draft, Big Ben was pressed into action earlier than expected after incumbent starter Tommy Maddox suffered an injury in the second game of the season and Roethlisberger had to step in. As it happened, the team’s concerns about not starting their future quarterback too early were unfounded as Roethlisberger led the franchise to a 15-1 record, picking up Offensive Rookie of the Year plaudits in the process. Though the Steelers lost at the AFC Championship Game, they went on to reach, and win, the Super Bowl the following season, with Roethlisberger very much at the helm. In 2009, he won to the Big Game again, defeating the Arizona Cardinals and emerging as the leader of his quarterback class, while also winning more Super Bowls than Dan Marino, Peyton Manning and Brett Favre.
I mention Roethlisberger because I have a close affinity with his career. I started following the NFL in 2004, when Ben was drafted, and have seen him win the Super Bowl on more occasions than any other quarterback. It is a shame, therefore, that I did not pledge my allegiances to Pittsburgh for, as my research shows, they are the most successful team in my five years as an NFL fan.
The Steelers do not have the best record in that period; they rank behind the Patriots and the Colts in this field. However, their two Super Bowl victories put them above these contemporaries as the undisputed Best Team of All-Time (as in MY all-time). Interestingly, the arch-rivals Patriots and Colts have a league-leading identical record over the past five seasons, though the Patriots’ losing Super Bowl appearance in Super Bowl XLII sets them apart from the Colts, who have only reached the Big Game once in these five years. San Diego and Denver – both with no Super Bowl appearances – close the Top Five, a Top Five intriguingly made up entirely out of AFC teams.
The top NFC team in this time span are the New York Giants, tied with the Broncos in fifth place overall. It is hardly surprising that they lead the NFC given that they are the only team in the conference to have won the Super Bowl in my all-time. Who is next, however, raises a number of interesting questions. While Dallas has the next best record (and 7th overall), they only have one division title, whereas Chicago, Philadelphia and Seattle has multiple divisional triumphs (two, two and four respectively, though the latter is in the weak NFC West). They also have one Super Bowl appearance apiece. By virtue of a slightly superior record and a greater consistency over this period, Philadelphia is probably worthy of second best NFC team of all-time, while the Cowboys, Bears and Seahawks can fight for the scraps among themselves.
Talking of the scraps, at the opposite end of the table is a familiar pattern of futility over the past five seasons. Unsurprisingly, Oakland is rock bottom, with over 40 victories less than New England and Indianapolis. Averaging four wins per season, it is not surprising that they have not amounted to anything since I started following the League. The Lions, despite their best (or is it worst?) efforts, have one more win than the Raiders, 20 wins away from their nearest division rival! As for my Rams, well they are the 29th best team of all-time, though you might be surprised to know that I am actually happy about this, mainly because, over the last five seasons, we have won 2 more games than our rival San Francisco 49ers and, when you support a team that has performed as direly as the Rams have in my time, then any victory counts.
On another note, the figures show that 16 NFL teams have winning total records over these five seasons; fifteen have losing records (the Tennessee Titans are squarely on 40-40). Perhaps this shows that parity is working.
Ben Roethlisberger’s story is, even in these early stages, an impressive one to tell. A Number Eleven pick by the Steelers back in the 2004 draft, Big Ben was pressed into action earlier than expected after incumbent starter Tommy Maddox suffered an injury in the second game of the season and Roethlisberger had to step in. As it happened, the team’s concerns about not starting their future quarterback too early were unfounded as Roethlisberger led the franchise to a 15-1 record, picking up Offensive Rookie of the Year plaudits in the process. Though the Steelers lost at the AFC Championship Game, they went on to reach, and win, the Super Bowl the following season, with Roethlisberger very much at the helm. In 2009, he won to the Big Game again, defeating the Arizona Cardinals and emerging as the leader of his quarterback class, while also winning more Super Bowls than Dan Marino, Peyton Manning and Brett Favre.
I mention Roethlisberger because I have a close affinity with his career. I started following the NFL in 2004, when Ben was drafted, and have seen him win the Super Bowl on more occasions than any other quarterback. It is a shame, therefore, that I did not pledge my allegiances to Pittsburgh for, as my research shows, they are the most successful team in my five years as an NFL fan.
The Steelers do not have the best record in that period; they rank behind the Patriots and the Colts in this field. However, their two Super Bowl victories put them above these contemporaries as the undisputed Best Team of All-Time (as in MY all-time). Interestingly, the arch-rivals Patriots and Colts have a league-leading identical record over the past five seasons, though the Patriots’ losing Super Bowl appearance in Super Bowl XLII sets them apart from the Colts, who have only reached the Big Game once in these five years. San Diego and Denver – both with no Super Bowl appearances – close the Top Five, a Top Five intriguingly made up entirely out of AFC teams.
The top NFC team in this time span are the New York Giants, tied with the Broncos in fifth place overall. It is hardly surprising that they lead the NFC given that they are the only team in the conference to have won the Super Bowl in my all-time. Who is next, however, raises a number of interesting questions. While Dallas has the next best record (and 7th overall), they only have one division title, whereas Chicago, Philadelphia and Seattle has multiple divisional triumphs (two, two and four respectively, though the latter is in the weak NFC West). They also have one Super Bowl appearance apiece. By virtue of a slightly superior record and a greater consistency over this period, Philadelphia is probably worthy of second best NFC team of all-time, while the Cowboys, Bears and Seahawks can fight for the scraps among themselves.
Talking of the scraps, at the opposite end of the table is a familiar pattern of futility over the past five seasons. Unsurprisingly, Oakland is rock bottom, with over 40 victories less than New England and Indianapolis. Averaging four wins per season, it is not surprising that they have not amounted to anything since I started following the League. The Lions, despite their best (or is it worst?) efforts, have one more win than the Raiders, 20 wins away from their nearest division rival! As for my Rams, well they are the 29th best team of all-time, though you might be surprised to know that I am actually happy about this, mainly because, over the last five seasons, we have won 2 more games than our rival San Francisco 49ers and, when you support a team that has performed as direly as the Rams have in my time, then any victory counts.
On another note, the figures show that 16 NFL teams have winning total records over these five seasons; fifteen have losing records (the Tennessee Titans are squarely on 40-40). Perhaps this shows that parity is working.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
A Farewell to Holt and Pace
The news that the Rams have cut Pro Bowlers Orlando Pace and Torry Holt was as expected as it was sad. A drain on the team’s salary cap and in the slow but steady downturn of their careers, these key components of the Greatest Show On Turf are now consigned to highlight reels, record books and that perpetual of Halls of Fame: the memory of the Rams fan. A demolition process that started with the release of Kurt Warner in 2004 has now finally led to the departure of the team’s O-line lynchpin and its game-breaking receiver, leaving Leonard Little as the only hangover from the Super Bowl days. In the view of many Rams fans, Friday the 13th really lived up to its reputation as the page has turned on a proud era.
The vehement anger expressed by these fans on the Internet display both the loyalty felt towards these players, and the naïveté (or state of denial) in expecting them to remain on the team next season. In the early stages of yet another rebuilding strategy, it was clear that Pace and Holt’s days were numbered. The $14 million their releases clear in the salary cap will pay for many newcomers who, it is hoped, will revitalise the franchise in the same way that these two did in the late nineties. With the Steven Jackson window of opportunity open for only a few more years, it is imperative that they get the right players in and, unfortunately, neither Pace nor Holt form (nor should they form) part of the plan. Pace has struggled with injuries in the last few seasons and is not the protective force he once was; Holt’s numbers have been dwindling, and his last season was by far his least productive, and as much as we would like to blame that on double-teams and weak O-lines, one must face reality and accept that a receiver well into his early thirties is an expensive lavishness in the twilight of his career. And, yes, these players might have won the Super Bowl one year, but they also did NOT win it in many others. Even with Pace and Holt, the Rams have accumulated a 28-54 record over the last five seasons. Times change, and that time is now.
Despondent Rams fans should only look at the Miami Dolphins to see how effective such a purge can be, and the similarities are many. The Dolphins started from the top, making key changes in the front office; likewise, the Rams, albeit on a lower profile. The Dolphins released veteran fan favourites like Jason Taylor and Zach Thomas, a move mirrored by the release of Pace and Holt. Miami had the Number One pick last year, whilst the Rams have had two consecutive second picks, the next one in a class replete with young tackles (one cannot deny the effect Number One pick tackle Jake Long had on the Dolphins’ eventual success). The inspired signing of Chad Pennington was the final ingredient, and it is perhaps this missing link that the Rams have prepared so much cap space for. We can only wait and see.
In the meantime, if there is one thing we can be grateful for is the manner of this painful departure. Not for Pace and Holt the drawn-out, Favre-esque quarrel between franchise and fading player. Instead, they were released in a clinical style that showed sensitivity towards the players, complete with a big show of gratitude from a front office that no longer has any room for them. A front office that is looking towards the future, as we fans should be. And when we win the Super Bowl next year, we will quickly forget.
The vehement anger expressed by these fans on the Internet display both the loyalty felt towards these players, and the naïveté (or state of denial) in expecting them to remain on the team next season. In the early stages of yet another rebuilding strategy, it was clear that Pace and Holt’s days were numbered. The $14 million their releases clear in the salary cap will pay for many newcomers who, it is hoped, will revitalise the franchise in the same way that these two did in the late nineties. With the Steven Jackson window of opportunity open for only a few more years, it is imperative that they get the right players in and, unfortunately, neither Pace nor Holt form (nor should they form) part of the plan. Pace has struggled with injuries in the last few seasons and is not the protective force he once was; Holt’s numbers have been dwindling, and his last season was by far his least productive, and as much as we would like to blame that on double-teams and weak O-lines, one must face reality and accept that a receiver well into his early thirties is an expensive lavishness in the twilight of his career. And, yes, these players might have won the Super Bowl one year, but they also did NOT win it in many others. Even with Pace and Holt, the Rams have accumulated a 28-54 record over the last five seasons. Times change, and that time is now.
Despondent Rams fans should only look at the Miami Dolphins to see how effective such a purge can be, and the similarities are many. The Dolphins started from the top, making key changes in the front office; likewise, the Rams, albeit on a lower profile. The Dolphins released veteran fan favourites like Jason Taylor and Zach Thomas, a move mirrored by the release of Pace and Holt. Miami had the Number One pick last year, whilst the Rams have had two consecutive second picks, the next one in a class replete with young tackles (one cannot deny the effect Number One pick tackle Jake Long had on the Dolphins’ eventual success). The inspired signing of Chad Pennington was the final ingredient, and it is perhaps this missing link that the Rams have prepared so much cap space for. We can only wait and see.
In the meantime, if there is one thing we can be grateful for is the manner of this painful departure. Not for Pace and Holt the drawn-out, Favre-esque quarrel between franchise and fading player. Instead, they were released in a clinical style that showed sensitivity towards the players, complete with a big show of gratitude from a front office that no longer has any room for them. A front office that is looking towards the future, as we fans should be. And when we win the Super Bowl next year, we will quickly forget.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
How A-Rod Ruined Baseball (But Not For Me)
Baseball has never really appealed to me. A sport where someone can hit a ball only thirty per cent of the time and be considered a star would never warm my heart, and no amount of RBI’s, ERA’s or NPI’s could ever make it remotely interesting to me. Yes, I once saw AT&T Park from the outside, and I was in San Francisco when Barry Bonds broke the all-time home run record, but these were periphery experiences to finding an NFL store or buying NBA jerseys at discounted prices. It is the only major American sport in which I do not follow a team, mainly because I find it difficult to get excited about this jazzed-up, slightly more intelligible form of cricket.
The problem with baseball, of course, is that, apart from me finding it a dull sport, it is a game which I now continuously associate with drug cheats. Game Of Shadows would do that to a man. It is shocking that a man’s achievement in breaking a long-standing record could be so overly eclipsed by doping allegations and steroid-related doubts, but this, alas, is something which the sport has brought on itself. To be honest, many of the numbers put up in MLB diamonds over the last few decades are irrelevant to me, coated as they are with the stink of scandal. Bonds is, naturally, the poster boy for this doping era, an unpopular player whose feats will forever be tainted. Thorough journalistic attempts to discredit Bonds led to further allegations of steroid abuse by some of the sport’s recent greats, including Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Jose Canseco. The whole affair also led to BALCO, Victor Conte, the Mitchell Report…..bla….bla…bla.
But there was one saving grace for baseball. The damage done to the game by the scandal could be minimized by pointing the finger to Alex Rodriguez, baseball’s next ambassador who would help the sport avoid the same fate as the Tour de France and Marion Jones’ medals. This heroic figure, playing for the MLB’s stellar Yankees franchise, would show everyone that not all baseball greats were doped up, and that records would fall legitimately without a shadow of doubt falling anywhere.
Too good to be true? Of course. A-Rod’s recent revelations that he used banned substances between 2001 and 2003 have hit the game right out of the park and soiled the image of America’s favourite pastime. Displaying an honesty which perhaps should have emerged much earlier, A-Rod shook of the mantle of the MLB’s Future Hope and left the game in tatters. Now there are no clean, anti-Bonds figures, but purely a legion of fans that are left to ponder whether any dignity remains in the game they love.
But none of this is Rodriguez’s fault, of course. He was only doing, after all, what up to 85% of players (according to Canseco) do. The blame lies squarely on the League’s willingness to turn a blind eye to steroids and its failure to tackle with the issue, at the expense of the health of its players. The tightening of substance-related policies since the scandal might not be too little (although it was initially), but it is certainly too late. Now that widespread use of illegal substances has been confirmed even by the MLB’s biggest star, the achievements and even victories of all players and teams in the so-called doping era are rendered invalid, as if they never happened. And that must be quite a blow for the game’s fans.
Luckily, though, I am not one of them.
The problem with baseball, of course, is that, apart from me finding it a dull sport, it is a game which I now continuously associate with drug cheats. Game Of Shadows would do that to a man. It is shocking that a man’s achievement in breaking a long-standing record could be so overly eclipsed by doping allegations and steroid-related doubts, but this, alas, is something which the sport has brought on itself. To be honest, many of the numbers put up in MLB diamonds over the last few decades are irrelevant to me, coated as they are with the stink of scandal. Bonds is, naturally, the poster boy for this doping era, an unpopular player whose feats will forever be tainted. Thorough journalistic attempts to discredit Bonds led to further allegations of steroid abuse by some of the sport’s recent greats, including Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Jose Canseco. The whole affair also led to BALCO, Victor Conte, the Mitchell Report…..bla….bla…bla.
But there was one saving grace for baseball. The damage done to the game by the scandal could be minimized by pointing the finger to Alex Rodriguez, baseball’s next ambassador who would help the sport avoid the same fate as the Tour de France and Marion Jones’ medals. This heroic figure, playing for the MLB’s stellar Yankees franchise, would show everyone that not all baseball greats were doped up, and that records would fall legitimately without a shadow of doubt falling anywhere.
Too good to be true? Of course. A-Rod’s recent revelations that he used banned substances between 2001 and 2003 have hit the game right out of the park and soiled the image of America’s favourite pastime. Displaying an honesty which perhaps should have emerged much earlier, A-Rod shook of the mantle of the MLB’s Future Hope and left the game in tatters. Now there are no clean, anti-Bonds figures, but purely a legion of fans that are left to ponder whether any dignity remains in the game they love.
But none of this is Rodriguez’s fault, of course. He was only doing, after all, what up to 85% of players (according to Canseco) do. The blame lies squarely on the League’s willingness to turn a blind eye to steroids and its failure to tackle with the issue, at the expense of the health of its players. The tightening of substance-related policies since the scandal might not be too little (although it was initially), but it is certainly too late. Now that widespread use of illegal substances has been confirmed even by the MLB’s biggest star, the achievements and even victories of all players and teams in the so-called doping era are rendered invalid, as if they never happened. And that must be quite a blow for the game’s fans.
Luckily, though, I am not one of them.
How A-Rod Ruined Baseball (But Not For Me)
Baseball has never really appealed to me. A sport where someone can hit a ball only thirty per cent of the time and be considered a star would never warm my heart, and no amount of RBI’s, ERA’s or NPI’s could ever make it remotely interesting to me. Yes, I once saw AT&T Park from the outside, and I was in San Francisco when Barry Bonds broke the all-time home run record, but these were periphery experiences to finding an NFL store or buying NBA jerseys at discounted prices. It is the only major American sport in which I do not follow a team, mainly because I find it difficult to get excited about this jazzed-up, slightly more intelligible form of cricket.
The problem with baseball, of course, is that, apart from me finding it a dull sport, it is a game which I now continuously associate with drug cheats. Game Of Shadows would do that to a man. It is shocking that a man’s achievement in breaking a long-standing record could be so overly eclipsed by doping allegations and steroid-related doubts, but this, alas, is something which the sport has brought on itself. To be honest, many of the numbers put up in MLB diamonds over the last few decades are irrelevant to me, coated as they are with the stink of scandal. Bonds is, naturally, the poster boy for this doping era, an unpopular player whose feats will forever be tainted. Thorough journalistic attempts to discredit Bonds led to further allegations of steroid abuse by some of the sport’s recent greats, including Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Jose Canseco. The whole affair also led to BALCO, Victor Conte, the Mitchell Report…..bla….bla…bla.
But there was one saving grace for baseball. The damage done to the game by the scandal could be minimized by pointing the finger to Alex Rodriguez, baseball’s next ambassador who would help the sport avoid the same fate as the Tour de France and Marion Jones’ medals. This heroic figure, playing for the MLB’s stellar Yankees franchise, would show everyone that not all baseball greats were doped up, and that records would fall legitimately without a shadow of doubt falling anywhere.
Too good to be true? Of course. A-Rod’s recent revelations that he used banned substances between 2001 and 2003 have hit the game right out of the park and soiled the image of America’s favourite pastime. Displaying an honesty which perhaps should have emerged much earlier, A-Rod shook of the mantle of the MLB’s Future Hope and left the game in tatters. Now there are no clean, anti-Bonds figures, but purely a legion of fans that are left to ponder whether any dignity remains in the game they love.
But none of this is Rodriguez’s fault, of course. He was only doing, after all, what up to 85% of players (according to Canseco) do. The blame lies squarely on the League’s willingness to turn a blind eye to steroids and its failure to tackle with the issue, at the expense of the health of its players. The tightening of substance-related policies since the scandal might not be too little (although it was initially), but it is certainly too late. Now that widespread use of illegal substances has been confirmed even by the MLB’s biggest star, the achievements and even victories of all players and teams in the so-called doping era are rendered invalid, as if they never happened. And that must be quite a blow for the game’s fans.
Luckily, though, I am not one of them.
The problem with baseball, of course, is that, apart from me finding it a dull sport, it is a game which I now continuously associate with drug cheats. Game Of Shadows would do that to a man. It is shocking that a man’s achievement in breaking a long-standing record could be so overly eclipsed by doping allegations and steroid-related doubts, but this, alas, is something which the sport has brought on itself. To be honest, many of the numbers put up in MLB diamonds over the last few decades are irrelevant to me, coated as they are with the stink of scandal. Bonds is, naturally, the poster boy for this doping era, an unpopular player whose feats will forever be tainted. Thorough journalistic attempts to discredit Bonds led to further allegations of steroid abuse by some of the sport’s recent greats, including Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Jose Canseco. The whole affair also led to BALCO, Victor Conte, the Mitchell Report…..bla….bla…bla.
But there was one saving grace for baseball. The damage done to the game by the scandal could be minimized by pointing the finger to Alex Rodriguez, baseball’s next ambassador who would help the sport avoid the same fate as the Tour de France and Marion Jones’ medals. This heroic figure, playing for the MLB’s stellar Yankees franchise, would show everyone that not all baseball greats were doped up, and that records would fall legitimately without a shadow of doubt falling anywhere.
Too good to be true? Of course. A-Rod’s recent revelations that he used banned substances between 2001 and 2003 have hit the game right out of the park and soiled the image of America’s favourite pastime. Displaying an honesty which perhaps should have emerged much earlier, A-Rod shook of the mantle of the MLB’s Future Hope and left the game in tatters. Now there are no clean, anti-Bonds figures, but purely a legion of fans that are left to ponder whether any dignity remains in the game they love.
But none of this is Rodriguez’s fault, of course. He was only doing, after all, what up to 85% of players (according to Canseco) do. The blame lies squarely on the League’s willingness to turn a blind eye to steroids and its failure to tackle with the issue, at the expense of the health of its players. The tightening of substance-related policies since the scandal might not be too little (although it was initially), but it is certainly too late. Now that widespread use of illegal substances has been confirmed even by the MLB’s biggest star, the achievements and even victories of all players and teams in the so-called doping era are rendered invalid, as if they never happened. And that must be quite a blow for the game’s fans.
Luckily, though, I am not one of them.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Class of 2006 Review I: QBs and RBs
Class Of ’06 Review Part I: Quarterbacks and Running Backs
The period of grace is over. If, as they say, it takes three years for a draft class to show its true colours in the NFL, then the 2006 class is ripe for evaluating. This was, after all, an intriguing draft in that, despite the apparent wealth of talent available, the Houston Texans raised many eyebrows with their first overall pick. Now that the three seasons are over, it is time to see whether the Texans’ gamble paid off, and which teams are suffering the egg-wiping impact of a poor selection.
So what would be the Class of ’06 team? This position-by-position analysis tries to separate the busts from the steals with that perfect 20/20 vision that is three years of hindsight.
Quarterback
Twelve quarterbacks were chosen in the 2006 Draft and, out of those twelve, only one can be said to have a safe starting job. Vince Young (R1, #3) was tipped by many to be the first overall pick, and the Titans’ star showed the reasons why with an impressive – though not spectacular – rookie campaign that not only saw him win the Offensive Rookie of the Year, but also a place in the Pro Bowl. Matt Leinart (R1, #10) and Tavaris Jackson (R2, #64) showed similar solid flashes of talent for the Cardinals and the Vikings respectively. However, poor play in their second and third seasons, as well as injuries, saw them all unseated by veterans: Kerry Collins, Kurt Warner and Gus Frerotte. The Titans’ and Cardinals’ successes last season indicate that neither Young nor Leinart will be regaining their starting spots sometime soon (retirements aside, of course), while Jackson – who has been afforded a second opportunity – still has a great deal to prove.
Instead, our starting QB spot must go to Jay Cutler (R1, #11). A starter for the Broncos since the tail-end of his rookie season, the Vanderbilt product has solidified his place in the team and demonstrated year-on-year improvement. In 2008, for example, he threw for a career-high and AFC-leading 4,526 yards, contributing to his first Pro Bowl appearance. With a fleet of talented young receivers, Cutler has shown the long-term potential that his classmates have lacked so far, making him the best of an otherwise lacklustre bunch. With his big-play ability, Young would serve as our backup, a position he has gained considerable experience in so far.
Running Backs
The Class of ’06 Team will use two running backs and, in this case, we are spoilt for choice. Many of the big names chosen have made a significant impact, though, annoyingly, some left it late. It was only until this year, for example, that DeAngelo Williams (R1, #27) and LenDale White (R2, #45) have shown us what they are capable of doing. Instead, there are a number of other options who have displayed their abilities on a more long-term basis. Reggie Bush (R1, #3) is, unfortunately, not one of these. The Saints back, who some had predicted as the first overall pick, has had a solid, though uninspiring, start to his NFL career. As much of a big-play and multi-skill threat as he might be (as a rusher, a receiver and a returner), his stats come short of Pro Bowler Joseph Addai (R1, #30). A consistently productive player, Addai has cemented his place in the Colts’ backfield and has minimized the impact of Edgerrin James’ departure. Although it must be noted that his numbers dropped last season, Addai played a big part in the Colts’ Super Bowl-winning season, where he was still a rookie. He must now prove that he can recover positively from injury to avoid being overtaken by his peers.
The problem now is who to start alongside Addai. If we were looking for a third-down or goal-line specialist, then either Bush or White would be worthy of serious consideration. However, if we were to concentrate on pure ability as demonstrated in their young NFL careers, then we should look elsewhere. Laurence Maroney (R1, #21) is an option, but the New England Patriot is still to put up significant numbers, especially given an injury-plagued third season. Our answer instead lies in the diminutive form of Jacksonville’s Maurice Jones-Drew (R2, #60). With over 40 touchdowns to his name, has shown remarkable consistency in yards-per-carry, despite sharing the load with Fred Taylor. Although he is yet to break the 1,000-yard mark, his success within his team cannot be argued, and it is this progression over his three years in the League that make him right for our team.
In honesty, running back is a strong position in the Class of 2006. Should the aforementioned late-bloomers maintain their form, and Bush start delivering on his potential, then Addai and Jones-Drew could find their starting jobs at risk, and this rookie class develop into one of the most successful at the running back position.
The period of grace is over. If, as they say, it takes three years for a draft class to show its true colours in the NFL, then the 2006 class is ripe for evaluating. This was, after all, an intriguing draft in that, despite the apparent wealth of talent available, the Houston Texans raised many eyebrows with their first overall pick. Now that the three seasons are over, it is time to see whether the Texans’ gamble paid off, and which teams are suffering the egg-wiping impact of a poor selection.
So what would be the Class of ’06 team? This position-by-position analysis tries to separate the busts from the steals with that perfect 20/20 vision that is three years of hindsight.
Quarterback
Twelve quarterbacks were chosen in the 2006 Draft and, out of those twelve, only one can be said to have a safe starting job. Vince Young (R1, #3) was tipped by many to be the first overall pick, and the Titans’ star showed the reasons why with an impressive – though not spectacular – rookie campaign that not only saw him win the Offensive Rookie of the Year, but also a place in the Pro Bowl. Matt Leinart (R1, #10) and Tavaris Jackson (R2, #64) showed similar solid flashes of talent for the Cardinals and the Vikings respectively. However, poor play in their second and third seasons, as well as injuries, saw them all unseated by veterans: Kerry Collins, Kurt Warner and Gus Frerotte. The Titans’ and Cardinals’ successes last season indicate that neither Young nor Leinart will be regaining their starting spots sometime soon (retirements aside, of course), while Jackson – who has been afforded a second opportunity – still has a great deal to prove.
Instead, our starting QB spot must go to Jay Cutler (R1, #11). A starter for the Broncos since the tail-end of his rookie season, the Vanderbilt product has solidified his place in the team and demonstrated year-on-year improvement. In 2008, for example, he threw for a career-high and AFC-leading 4,526 yards, contributing to his first Pro Bowl appearance. With a fleet of talented young receivers, Cutler has shown the long-term potential that his classmates have lacked so far, making him the best of an otherwise lacklustre bunch. With his big-play ability, Young would serve as our backup, a position he has gained considerable experience in so far.
Running Backs
The Class of ’06 Team will use two running backs and, in this case, we are spoilt for choice. Many of the big names chosen have made a significant impact, though, annoyingly, some left it late. It was only until this year, for example, that DeAngelo Williams (R1, #27) and LenDale White (R2, #45) have shown us what they are capable of doing. Instead, there are a number of other options who have displayed their abilities on a more long-term basis. Reggie Bush (R1, #3) is, unfortunately, not one of these. The Saints back, who some had predicted as the first overall pick, has had a solid, though uninspiring, start to his NFL career. As much of a big-play and multi-skill threat as he might be (as a rusher, a receiver and a returner), his stats come short of Pro Bowler Joseph Addai (R1, #30). A consistently productive player, Addai has cemented his place in the Colts’ backfield and has minimized the impact of Edgerrin James’ departure. Although it must be noted that his numbers dropped last season, Addai played a big part in the Colts’ Super Bowl-winning season, where he was still a rookie. He must now prove that he can recover positively from injury to avoid being overtaken by his peers.
The problem now is who to start alongside Addai. If we were looking for a third-down or goal-line specialist, then either Bush or White would be worthy of serious consideration. However, if we were to concentrate on pure ability as demonstrated in their young NFL careers, then we should look elsewhere. Laurence Maroney (R1, #21) is an option, but the New England Patriot is still to put up significant numbers, especially given an injury-plagued third season. Our answer instead lies in the diminutive form of Jacksonville’s Maurice Jones-Drew (R2, #60). With over 40 touchdowns to his name, has shown remarkable consistency in yards-per-carry, despite sharing the load with Fred Taylor. Although he is yet to break the 1,000-yard mark, his success within his team cannot be argued, and it is this progression over his three years in the League that make him right for our team.
In honesty, running back is a strong position in the Class of 2006. Should the aforementioned late-bloomers maintain their form, and Bush start delivering on his potential, then Addai and Jones-Drew could find their starting jobs at risk, and this rookie class develop into one of the most successful at the running back position.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Why Bolt Must Remain Drug-Free
This musing (I will insist on calling them that) was written shortly after Usain Bolt's amazing performances during the Beijing Olympics. It raises serious repercussions should bad news break......
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Before I start, I must warn you: I am currently bracing myself for one of those life-changing moments that comes along every once in a while. Like actually seeing your parents lay out your presents on Christmas Eve, or confirming that your wife actually is sleeping with that trendy guy from Accounts, this could be one of those moments when your faith is shattered, your confidence disappears, and doubts emerge about the point of living. Because I know that if my fears are realised, I will never be the same person again.
Many would argue that the cause of my fears is not the same as the niggling feeling that you might have failed that final exam, or that giving your account details to the Nigerian lottery agency that contacted you over e-mail was probably not a good idea, but I know that the impact would be tremendous and will shake me to the core.
But enough prevaricating. I am sure you are all wondering what it is that is keeping me up at night and makes me dread the news headlines. And it is this: that Usain Bolt fails a doping test.
For what the speedy Jamaican has done in the Beijing Olympics is nothing short of saving the sport of athletics and, with it, the Games in general. His storming performances in the 100m, 200m and 4x100 relay – all of them gold-medal-winning and world-record-breaking – has brought much-needed credibility to a tarnished sport in great style and, as a result, anyone with even the slightest interest in sports cannot help but feel fondness towards the amusingly cocky, lanky sprinter in the shorts and vest who suddenly came out of nowhere to save a sporting tradition. And I just pray that this legacy will not be tarnished.
Olympics athletics has been dying a slow drug-fuelled death for many years. Since 1988, three gold medallists in the 100m – Ben Johnson, Linford Christie and Justin Gatlin – have failed drugs tests (though, in Christie’s case, this came years after his Barcelona triumph as he attempted to boost his waning powers through artificial and illegal means). The women have not exactly helped either, with Marion Jones and Lauryn White throwing their hats into the let’s-ruin-athletics ring. The result has been that the sport has been blind-sided by a rush of scandal which threatened to knock it into the irrelevance of the Tour de France or Barry Bonds breaking the home-run record. And this has threatened the Olympic Games as a whole, casting doubt on our favourite sports party. Despite Michael Phelps’ valiant efforts, athletics is the flagship event of the Games, precisely because it tests the very basics of human performance: running quickly, jumping high and throwing far (also, most people can see the more obvious life-saving benefits of running quickly – after all, swimming will not save you from the only threats you would encounter in the water – sharks and motorboat pirates – and, unless he comes across a psychopathic killer who is ungainly in water at his local pool, Phelps’ remarkable talent will rarely serve a practical function). And the 100m, through its speed, power and suspense, is, in turn, the leading event of the athletics programme, which makes it imperative that its ambassadors are pure of heart and non-synthesised of hormone. For, to refer to a Jacobean tragedy I once studied, if the head of a fountain is polluted, its stream of corruption flows downwards, even to the most irrelevant events (speaking of which, what do you do if you are the only person in your town interested in synchronised swimming?) And, in order to really matter, the 100m event at the Beijing Olympics must remain clean.
Which is exactly where Bolt comes in. To see him race ahead of his peers in a truly sensational 100m sprint was one of those sporting moments which you will never forget. Not only did he demonstrate tremendous feats of human performance (how can you knock three hundreds of a second off a sub-10 second record?) but, in doing so, he made running, the athletics, nay, the Olympics themselves, important again. And then he did it more than once. Three times, in fact (incidentally, whoever decided to give Asafa Powell the last leg of the 4x100m relay deserves a knighthood for services to scooping up a man at his lowest ebb). And he did it in a cheerfully brash style that indicated that this young man was having the time of his life. Not only was this man in the golden shoes capturing the hearts of the entire world, but he was also doing it without a nandrolone injection in sight.
Which is exactly what is worrying me. Forgive me for being cynical, but I have seen many moments in sport which have seemed too good to be true. And my doubts are not derived from a perceived lack of honesty in Bolt, but from what it would mean if these achievements were unnaturally aided. To put it bluntly, if Bolt turns out to be the latest in a line of Prince Charmings who sweeps us off our feet with empty promises of marriage and children before running off with his sexy HGH secretary, the whole Olympian institution could be destroyed…irrevocably. It would be the one last slap in the face that would push us towards asking for a divorce from the holiest of sporting events, our hopes dashed by vials, unscrupulous scientists and over-ambitious cheats. It is not just that we hope Bolt is clean; it is that we simply cannot afford him not to be. (Or even worse: that he turns out to be a cheat but the powers-that-be keep quiet about it, aware of the impact this revelation would have on the sport).
So, in the meantime, I am going to keep bracing myself just in case. And hope that I am wrong.
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Before I start, I must warn you: I am currently bracing myself for one of those life-changing moments that comes along every once in a while. Like actually seeing your parents lay out your presents on Christmas Eve, or confirming that your wife actually is sleeping with that trendy guy from Accounts, this could be one of those moments when your faith is shattered, your confidence disappears, and doubts emerge about the point of living. Because I know that if my fears are realised, I will never be the same person again.
Many would argue that the cause of my fears is not the same as the niggling feeling that you might have failed that final exam, or that giving your account details to the Nigerian lottery agency that contacted you over e-mail was probably not a good idea, but I know that the impact would be tremendous and will shake me to the core.
But enough prevaricating. I am sure you are all wondering what it is that is keeping me up at night and makes me dread the news headlines. And it is this: that Usain Bolt fails a doping test.
For what the speedy Jamaican has done in the Beijing Olympics is nothing short of saving the sport of athletics and, with it, the Games in general. His storming performances in the 100m, 200m and 4x100 relay – all of them gold-medal-winning and world-record-breaking – has brought much-needed credibility to a tarnished sport in great style and, as a result, anyone with even the slightest interest in sports cannot help but feel fondness towards the amusingly cocky, lanky sprinter in the shorts and vest who suddenly came out of nowhere to save a sporting tradition. And I just pray that this legacy will not be tarnished.
Olympics athletics has been dying a slow drug-fuelled death for many years. Since 1988, three gold medallists in the 100m – Ben Johnson, Linford Christie and Justin Gatlin – have failed drugs tests (though, in Christie’s case, this came years after his Barcelona triumph as he attempted to boost his waning powers through artificial and illegal means). The women have not exactly helped either, with Marion Jones and Lauryn White throwing their hats into the let’s-ruin-athletics ring. The result has been that the sport has been blind-sided by a rush of scandal which threatened to knock it into the irrelevance of the Tour de France or Barry Bonds breaking the home-run record. And this has threatened the Olympic Games as a whole, casting doubt on our favourite sports party. Despite Michael Phelps’ valiant efforts, athletics is the flagship event of the Games, precisely because it tests the very basics of human performance: running quickly, jumping high and throwing far (also, most people can see the more obvious life-saving benefits of running quickly – after all, swimming will not save you from the only threats you would encounter in the water – sharks and motorboat pirates – and, unless he comes across a psychopathic killer who is ungainly in water at his local pool, Phelps’ remarkable talent will rarely serve a practical function). And the 100m, through its speed, power and suspense, is, in turn, the leading event of the athletics programme, which makes it imperative that its ambassadors are pure of heart and non-synthesised of hormone. For, to refer to a Jacobean tragedy I once studied, if the head of a fountain is polluted, its stream of corruption flows downwards, even to the most irrelevant events (speaking of which, what do you do if you are the only person in your town interested in synchronised swimming?) And, in order to really matter, the 100m event at the Beijing Olympics must remain clean.
Which is exactly where Bolt comes in. To see him race ahead of his peers in a truly sensational 100m sprint was one of those sporting moments which you will never forget. Not only did he demonstrate tremendous feats of human performance (how can you knock three hundreds of a second off a sub-10 second record?) but, in doing so, he made running, the athletics, nay, the Olympics themselves, important again. And then he did it more than once. Three times, in fact (incidentally, whoever decided to give Asafa Powell the last leg of the 4x100m relay deserves a knighthood for services to scooping up a man at his lowest ebb). And he did it in a cheerfully brash style that indicated that this young man was having the time of his life. Not only was this man in the golden shoes capturing the hearts of the entire world, but he was also doing it without a nandrolone injection in sight.
Which is exactly what is worrying me. Forgive me for being cynical, but I have seen many moments in sport which have seemed too good to be true. And my doubts are not derived from a perceived lack of honesty in Bolt, but from what it would mean if these achievements were unnaturally aided. To put it bluntly, if Bolt turns out to be the latest in a line of Prince Charmings who sweeps us off our feet with empty promises of marriage and children before running off with his sexy HGH secretary, the whole Olympian institution could be destroyed…irrevocably. It would be the one last slap in the face that would push us towards asking for a divorce from the holiest of sporting events, our hopes dashed by vials, unscrupulous scientists and over-ambitious cheats. It is not just that we hope Bolt is clean; it is that we simply cannot afford him not to be. (Or even worse: that he turns out to be a cheat but the powers-that-be keep quiet about it, aware of the impact this revelation would have on the sport).
So, in the meantime, I am going to keep bracing myself just in case. And hope that I am wrong.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Rams Preview - 2008 Season
This was written before the start of the 2008 season where the Rams went 2-14. Oh, well. So much for hope.
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There it is again. That feeling.
The 2008 season is almost upon us. The free agency period is over, the Draft is but a distant memory, training camp has been and gone, and the exercise in pointlessness (sorry, the pre-season) has hidden its ugly head for another year. Next week, the Rams take on the …….. in the first of sixteen (and hopefully more) weeks of seat-edging, roller-coasting fandom. And, somewhere deep down, the niggling has returned.
For the second year running, the off-season has had an unfinished feel to it, a sense of our needs not having been fully addressed. This time, though, there were no major casualties. Only a starting linebacker (Brandon Chillar), a backup quarterback (Gus Frerotte) and a handful of offensive linemen – most of them acquired on short-term contracts during the war of O-line attrition that was last season – would require replacing. So, as long as the Rams made a priority of addressing Steven Jackson’s expiring contract and used their impending second pick wisely, the ghosts of 2007’s 3-13 season could be exorcised.
The Rams decided to approach free agency cautiously, like an inexperienced tourist slowly wading into the sea, unsure of both the temperature and of what lies beneath. Not for them a Redskins-style hunt for the marquee name, but rather a patient analysis of what was available and whether it would provide the team with that all-important value for money. Even the off-season’s first blind-siding surprise – the retirement of long-time kicker Jeff Wilkins – failed to unfaze the franchise, who calmly, and with the approval of the fans, replaced him with Seahawks kicker Josh Brown, thereby killing two birds with the perennial one stone: obtaining an effective kicker and pruning a major thorn in the team’s side. The like-for-slightly-better-than-like swap continued with the acquisition of quarterback Trent Green, an oft-injured but undeniable upgrade over Frerotte should Bulger spend another chunk of this next season in the treatment room. Although some found Green’s contract high, most agreed that the front office seemed to have got off to a good start.
The most important free agency move, however, was going to concern the offensive line. Aware of the urgent need to upgrade Bulger’s protection, it was clear that the Rams were going to make a move for a new guard. While most teams – and Rams fans – focused their wish-lists on Alan Faneca, the front office instead chose to pay scant attention to the former Steeler and concentrate their courting on under-the-radar Jacob Bell, an impressive, up-and-coming lineman from the Tennessee Titans. Once Faneca was officially off the market (choosing to go to the Jets), everyone noticed the Rams’ flanking manoeuvre, by which time it was too late and, shortly before Green’s signing, Bell was declared a Ram. The move was met with tremendous support from fans who recognised that the team had landed a prize catch at a position of great need. With the little-fanfared acquisition of protective tight end Anthony Becht from Tampa Bay, as well as a handful of almost-anonymous cornerbacks and linemen, the Rams seemed to have come out of free agency stronger than they had entered it, an endorsement that few would have made at the same time last year, where impressive signings did not coincide with the team’s main needs.
It was at this time of rare positivism that Jay Zygmunt’s team did their typical impression of that person who turns up to a party armed with bad news about the health of absent family members. The release of crowd favourite Isaac Bruce was met with incredulity both at the fact that it had happened and that we had not seen it coming. Sure, Bruce was aging and his skills diminishing, but he had still proved last season that he was effectively solid at this position, and possessed that rare quality: leadership. When coupled with the fact that next on the depth chart was Butterfingers Bennett, the loss of Bruce was a bitter pill to swallow. That he was picked up by division rivals San Francisco 49ers turned that bitterness to pure rancidity and shifted focus onto the wide receiver position for the draft.
Armed with the highest pick in the draft since Orlando Pace joined the team, the draft gave the Rams an opportunity to pick a cornerstone for the rebuilding of the franchise. Miami helped matters by revealing their choice for Number One pick – Jake Long – days before the draft, effectively giving the Rams the first pick on the actual night. The franchise went with what was perhaps the safest choice, and one which addressed a major need in the pass-rush: Chris Long. Fans seemed happy with Howie’s son, a choice that suddenly turned the defensive line into a seemingly unstoppable force, and the Rams were off to a good start.
The team’s second choice, however, was a bigger surprise. Taking place at the start of the second round (the Patriots’ Commissioner-induced loss of their first round pick effectively making it the first of that round), the Rams ignored the players available at the linebacker position – a gaping need – and selected a wide receiver, the first taken in the whole draft. Donnie Avery, however, was not on most experts’ draft boards within the Top Five at the position – in some cases even the Top Ten! The controversy sent Rams bloggers into overdrive, the YouTube videos showing Avery’s dazzling speed going some way towards assuaging concerns that resurfaced whenever anyone drafted a linebacker. In fact, this position of dire need was not addressed until Round Seven, following two offensive linemen, another wide receiver, and a cornerback. Although some good gains had been made, the consensus in Rams Nation was that the draft had failed to fully deal with the key linebacker issue.
An issue which, at the time of writing (with a week to go to the start of the season), has still not been satisfactorily addressed. The Round Seven drafting of Chris Chamberlain and Mr Irrelevant David Vobora was seen as too little, too late. The Rams had also shown little interest in some big-name free agent linebackers such as Takeo Spikes and !!!! . Instead, the fans had to content themselves with a training camp duel between Chris Draft and barely-known Quinton Culberson to fill an all-important starting spot that has still not been clearly filled.
Training camp was to throw up another one of those nasty situations that seem to follow the Rams everywhere. This time, however, it was far more expected with news of Steven Jackson holding out due to his contract not being extended catching few by surprise. The Mulder-and-Scully-like dance of will-they-won’t-they continued for 27 days, with the Rams’ key player sidelined from training camp all that time. To make matters worse, the issue was not handled with the utmost diplomacy. Jackson’s legitimate demands for a restructuring of his rookie contract was met confrontationally by the front office, with Zygmunt even refusing to negotiate with the running back until he showed up at camp. The war of words was followed by silence from both camps, sending Rams fans into a fury of frustration as they saw their prize asset slip from their grip through management incompetence, rendering the hard work of the past few months useless. Eventually, Jackson signed a new contract, returned to camp, and a collective sigh of relief rang around Rams Nation.
And that is how it stands at the moment, a mere few days before the start of the season. With a stronger offensive line, a fleet of speedy round receiver and a legend’s son at the defensive end position, combined with a more settled Jackson, a point-to-prove Bulger, and a tireless Witherspoon leading an otherwise suspect linebacker corps, this team has the potential to go far. And by far I don’t mean an improvement on last year’s 3-13 record; or the first winning season since I have been following the team; or a one-and-done appearance in the playoffs, trounced by a division champion; or even appearing in, but losing the Super Bowl; no, this team is going to go all the way and lift the Vince Lombardi. One can only hope.
Ah, that is what that niggling feeling is: hope.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There it is again. That feeling.
The 2008 season is almost upon us. The free agency period is over, the Draft is but a distant memory, training camp has been and gone, and the exercise in pointlessness (sorry, the pre-season) has hidden its ugly head for another year. Next week, the Rams take on the …….. in the first of sixteen (and hopefully more) weeks of seat-edging, roller-coasting fandom. And, somewhere deep down, the niggling has returned.
For the second year running, the off-season has had an unfinished feel to it, a sense of our needs not having been fully addressed. This time, though, there were no major casualties. Only a starting linebacker (Brandon Chillar), a backup quarterback (Gus Frerotte) and a handful of offensive linemen – most of them acquired on short-term contracts during the war of O-line attrition that was last season – would require replacing. So, as long as the Rams made a priority of addressing Steven Jackson’s expiring contract and used their impending second pick wisely, the ghosts of 2007’s 3-13 season could be exorcised.
The Rams decided to approach free agency cautiously, like an inexperienced tourist slowly wading into the sea, unsure of both the temperature and of what lies beneath. Not for them a Redskins-style hunt for the marquee name, but rather a patient analysis of what was available and whether it would provide the team with that all-important value for money. Even the off-season’s first blind-siding surprise – the retirement of long-time kicker Jeff Wilkins – failed to unfaze the franchise, who calmly, and with the approval of the fans, replaced him with Seahawks kicker Josh Brown, thereby killing two birds with the perennial one stone: obtaining an effective kicker and pruning a major thorn in the team’s side. The like-for-slightly-better-than-like swap continued with the acquisition of quarterback Trent Green, an oft-injured but undeniable upgrade over Frerotte should Bulger spend another chunk of this next season in the treatment room. Although some found Green’s contract high, most agreed that the front office seemed to have got off to a good start.
The most important free agency move, however, was going to concern the offensive line. Aware of the urgent need to upgrade Bulger’s protection, it was clear that the Rams were going to make a move for a new guard. While most teams – and Rams fans – focused their wish-lists on Alan Faneca, the front office instead chose to pay scant attention to the former Steeler and concentrate their courting on under-the-radar Jacob Bell, an impressive, up-and-coming lineman from the Tennessee Titans. Once Faneca was officially off the market (choosing to go to the Jets), everyone noticed the Rams’ flanking manoeuvre, by which time it was too late and, shortly before Green’s signing, Bell was declared a Ram. The move was met with tremendous support from fans who recognised that the team had landed a prize catch at a position of great need. With the little-fanfared acquisition of protective tight end Anthony Becht from Tampa Bay, as well as a handful of almost-anonymous cornerbacks and linemen, the Rams seemed to have come out of free agency stronger than they had entered it, an endorsement that few would have made at the same time last year, where impressive signings did not coincide with the team’s main needs.
It was at this time of rare positivism that Jay Zygmunt’s team did their typical impression of that person who turns up to a party armed with bad news about the health of absent family members. The release of crowd favourite Isaac Bruce was met with incredulity both at the fact that it had happened and that we had not seen it coming. Sure, Bruce was aging and his skills diminishing, but he had still proved last season that he was effectively solid at this position, and possessed that rare quality: leadership. When coupled with the fact that next on the depth chart was Butterfingers Bennett, the loss of Bruce was a bitter pill to swallow. That he was picked up by division rivals San Francisco 49ers turned that bitterness to pure rancidity and shifted focus onto the wide receiver position for the draft.
Armed with the highest pick in the draft since Orlando Pace joined the team, the draft gave the Rams an opportunity to pick a cornerstone for the rebuilding of the franchise. Miami helped matters by revealing their choice for Number One pick – Jake Long – days before the draft, effectively giving the Rams the first pick on the actual night. The franchise went with what was perhaps the safest choice, and one which addressed a major need in the pass-rush: Chris Long. Fans seemed happy with Howie’s son, a choice that suddenly turned the defensive line into a seemingly unstoppable force, and the Rams were off to a good start.
The team’s second choice, however, was a bigger surprise. Taking place at the start of the second round (the Patriots’ Commissioner-induced loss of their first round pick effectively making it the first of that round), the Rams ignored the players available at the linebacker position – a gaping need – and selected a wide receiver, the first taken in the whole draft. Donnie Avery, however, was not on most experts’ draft boards within the Top Five at the position – in some cases even the Top Ten! The controversy sent Rams bloggers into overdrive, the YouTube videos showing Avery’s dazzling speed going some way towards assuaging concerns that resurfaced whenever anyone drafted a linebacker. In fact, this position of dire need was not addressed until Round Seven, following two offensive linemen, another wide receiver, and a cornerback. Although some good gains had been made, the consensus in Rams Nation was that the draft had failed to fully deal with the key linebacker issue.
An issue which, at the time of writing (with a week to go to the start of the season), has still not been satisfactorily addressed. The Round Seven drafting of Chris Chamberlain and Mr Irrelevant David Vobora was seen as too little, too late. The Rams had also shown little interest in some big-name free agent linebackers such as Takeo Spikes and !!!! . Instead, the fans had to content themselves with a training camp duel between Chris Draft and barely-known Quinton Culberson to fill an all-important starting spot that has still not been clearly filled.
Training camp was to throw up another one of those nasty situations that seem to follow the Rams everywhere. This time, however, it was far more expected with news of Steven Jackson holding out due to his contract not being extended catching few by surprise. The Mulder-and-Scully-like dance of will-they-won’t-they continued for 27 days, with the Rams’ key player sidelined from training camp all that time. To make matters worse, the issue was not handled with the utmost diplomacy. Jackson’s legitimate demands for a restructuring of his rookie contract was met confrontationally by the front office, with Zygmunt even refusing to negotiate with the running back until he showed up at camp. The war of words was followed by silence from both camps, sending Rams fans into a fury of frustration as they saw their prize asset slip from their grip through management incompetence, rendering the hard work of the past few months useless. Eventually, Jackson signed a new contract, returned to camp, and a collective sigh of relief rang around Rams Nation.
And that is how it stands at the moment, a mere few days before the start of the season. With a stronger offensive line, a fleet of speedy round receiver and a legend’s son at the defensive end position, combined with a more settled Jackson, a point-to-prove Bulger, and a tireless Witherspoon leading an otherwise suspect linebacker corps, this team has the potential to go far. And by far I don’t mean an improvement on last year’s 3-13 record; or the first winning season since I have been following the team; or a one-and-done appearance in the playoffs, trounced by a division champion; or even appearing in, but losing the Super Bowl; no, this team is going to go all the way and lift the Vince Lombardi. One can only hope.
Ah, that is what that niggling feeling is: hope.
Super Bowl XLIII
Super Bowled Over
It was billed as a Super Bowl of contrasts. A stingy, opportunistic defence against a high-octane, opportunistic offense; a traditionally run-first team against one that has no qualms about airing the ball to a fleet of talented and fast young receivers; a gridiron stalwart chasing its sixth Lombardi Trophy against a perennial joke making its first Super Bowl appearance; East Coast against West; a young quarterback who landed his place in the team in only the second game of his first season, against a veteran counterpart who worked the fields of NFL Europe and the AFL before winning two MVP awards and settling in, it seemed, for backup roles in his twilight years. The main point in common: two second-year head coaches trying to look as if they were not overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation and the unforgettable game Super Bowl XLIII promised to be.
And boy did the Steelers and the Cardinals deliver.
In what is already being considered one of the best three Super Bowls, the game confounded expectations by, at times, almost reversing the roles the candidates were supposed to play. Arizona’s goal-line stand, for example, forcing the Steelers to kick a field goal even after a new set of downs following a penalty, was reminiscent of Pittsburgh’s own suffocating D, while the game-winning drive that ended in a crisp pass to Santonio Holmes seemed straight out of Arizona’s book. The result: an exciting rollercoaster of a game that, despite the result, did little to establish a winning side in this war of contrasts. True, the Steelers won, but, to do so, they needed some of the Cardinals’ game, while the latter required elements of the former to keep it as close as they did. Ultimately, it was perhaps experience, or maybe penalties, or maybe James Harrison’s cardiac arrest-inducing run, that pushed the balance in favour of the NFL’s sole leader in Super Bowl triumphs.
To be honest, I thought the Steelers were going to win it easily. To think so, though, was to underestimate Messrs Warner and Fitzgerald. Warner’s story added the required touch of romance to the game, with visions of everyone’s favourite plucky underdog riding off into retirement with his second Lombardi in tow at the forefront of our minds. Fitzgerald was going to be the new Jerry Rice, stepping up in the Big Game and seal the deal as the League’s best receiver (something he has accomplished already anyway). And the Cardinals – THE CARDINALS – were going to win the Super Bowl.
But it was not to be. In a game with a long tradition of big plays – The Catch, The Drive, The Tackle At The One-Yard Line – it was only appropriate that it was decided by a player with a long tradition of big plays. It is easy to forget that Ben Roethlisberger got his team to Super Bowl XL, not through a pass or a sneaky run, but through a tackle following a goal-line fumble. The man has a knack for making the big plays and, with less than a minute left and down by three points, there is no-one else not called Brady or (Peyton) Manning who I would much rather have leading my team. The oft-sacked Big Ben showed an Eli-esque ability to elude tackles and make big plays downfield, none less than the awfully risky pass to Holmes in the corner of the endzone. It could so easily have gone wrong. An interception, or even simply a deflection, by any of the numerous defenders playing the pass, and it would have been a different ending. But that is the thing about the Super Bowl: the high-risk play somehow succeeds, and that is what makes it so good.
And, in this case, so truly special.
It was billed as a Super Bowl of contrasts. A stingy, opportunistic defence against a high-octane, opportunistic offense; a traditionally run-first team against one that has no qualms about airing the ball to a fleet of talented and fast young receivers; a gridiron stalwart chasing its sixth Lombardi Trophy against a perennial joke making its first Super Bowl appearance; East Coast against West; a young quarterback who landed his place in the team in only the second game of his first season, against a veteran counterpart who worked the fields of NFL Europe and the AFL before winning two MVP awards and settling in, it seemed, for backup roles in his twilight years. The main point in common: two second-year head coaches trying to look as if they were not overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation and the unforgettable game Super Bowl XLIII promised to be.
And boy did the Steelers and the Cardinals deliver.
In what is already being considered one of the best three Super Bowls, the game confounded expectations by, at times, almost reversing the roles the candidates were supposed to play. Arizona’s goal-line stand, for example, forcing the Steelers to kick a field goal even after a new set of downs following a penalty, was reminiscent of Pittsburgh’s own suffocating D, while the game-winning drive that ended in a crisp pass to Santonio Holmes seemed straight out of Arizona’s book. The result: an exciting rollercoaster of a game that, despite the result, did little to establish a winning side in this war of contrasts. True, the Steelers won, but, to do so, they needed some of the Cardinals’ game, while the latter required elements of the former to keep it as close as they did. Ultimately, it was perhaps experience, or maybe penalties, or maybe James Harrison’s cardiac arrest-inducing run, that pushed the balance in favour of the NFL’s sole leader in Super Bowl triumphs.
To be honest, I thought the Steelers were going to win it easily. To think so, though, was to underestimate Messrs Warner and Fitzgerald. Warner’s story added the required touch of romance to the game, with visions of everyone’s favourite plucky underdog riding off into retirement with his second Lombardi in tow at the forefront of our minds. Fitzgerald was going to be the new Jerry Rice, stepping up in the Big Game and seal the deal as the League’s best receiver (something he has accomplished already anyway). And the Cardinals – THE CARDINALS – were going to win the Super Bowl.
But it was not to be. In a game with a long tradition of big plays – The Catch, The Drive, The Tackle At The One-Yard Line – it was only appropriate that it was decided by a player with a long tradition of big plays. It is easy to forget that Ben Roethlisberger got his team to Super Bowl XL, not through a pass or a sneaky run, but through a tackle following a goal-line fumble. The man has a knack for making the big plays and, with less than a minute left and down by three points, there is no-one else not called Brady or (Peyton) Manning who I would much rather have leading my team. The oft-sacked Big Ben showed an Eli-esque ability to elude tackles and make big plays downfield, none less than the awfully risky pass to Holmes in the corner of the endzone. It could so easily have gone wrong. An interception, or even simply a deflection, by any of the numerous defenders playing the pass, and it would have been a different ending. But that is the thing about the Super Bowl: the high-risk play somehow succeeds, and that is what makes it so good.
And, in this case, so truly special.
Why this blog?
This blog was set up to publically air the number of sports-related musings that I have compiled over the last few months. Perhaps inspired by Bill Simmonds' "Now I Can Die In Peace", I have found myself writing down my thoughts on different sports, most notably the NFL. Now I am ready to share some of these and will publish the existing ones gradually, as well as writing some new ones as and when.
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