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.
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.
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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