The Exile's Report: Bruce Springsteen Edition
Tuesday, 16 September 2008 23:38
The Exile's Blog
He’s got the fever
Whoa he’s got the fever
Nothin’ that a boy can do
When he’s got the fever…..
Sean Payton got the fever again. (Not to mention an extension of his contract, but more on that below.)
Look, I like Payton. I believe that the Saints are generally well-coached, yes, even on defense, and that he is largely willing to constantly re-examine and question his own broader doctrines as well as their individual applications. (Almost, but not quite, enough to make him look like a Jesuit.)
But let’s review the bidding, shall we?
In 2000, he lost his job as play-caller, but kept his job as offensive coordinator, when NY Giants HC Jim Fassel took over play calling late in the season and guided the Giants all the way to the Super Bowl. Fassel at the time said not to read this is as a negative about Payton, and I wrote it off as either coach-speak, or Fassel was simply insane. How can you be a good enough OC but not be allowed to call the plays?
Nevertheless, Payton next shows up as OC for none other than legendary control-freak Bill Parcells, who makes Dick Cheney look like Tommy Chong. Parcells also obviously believes Payton is qualified to be an NFL OC, but says “…sometimes he [Payton] gets the fever.” Fever? What fever? Hay fever? Dengue fever? Jim LeFebvre?
How about the “I cannot resist just one more freaking passing play” fever?
If I have one criticism of Payton, and it really is my only one right now, it is that he is so addicted to the pass, brought on no doubt by success in his creative and flexible passing schemes and his willingness to trust his QB, that he has no idea of when to go to the body and just load up and run right at the other team. His change of pace is to just throw it further down the field. But when you’ve been throwing all day, you’re not catching anyone by surprise.
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I go back to the 2006 NFCCG against the Bears, IMHO a very similar game to Sunday’s loss to the Redskins. A valiant defense, somewhat undermanned, fought to keep the opponent out of the end zone, while the offense sat down and went poot for the first 27 minutes. The Saints, down 16-0, parlayed a late first half TD and a quick score to open the third quarter into a 16-14 game, and after finally getting a three-and-out were driving with some rhythm, a mix of pass and run, and had a first down at about the Bears’ 30.
It seemed as if the Bears were about to crack, and the situation was begging, just begging, for another grinding first down on the way to taking the lead with another TD. Instead, Payton cannot resist a kill shot, and we went for the end zone. Of course, the other team is trying, too, and these are difficult plays to complete. Second and ten became third and ten, then a missed FG and the game slipped away.
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Fast forward back to this past Sunday. The Saints defense, savaged by injury, has miraculously bailed out the AWOL, two-turnover offense by forcing five, yes five first half FG attempts by Washington. Late in the third quarter, the Saints are up 17-15 and finally force their first three-and-out/punt of the game, which Reggie Bush returns for a TD. The D then forces a second consecutive three-and-out/punt, and the Saints pick up one first down and are at their own 46, 11:39 to play, with a 24-15 lead. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR LOSING THIS GAME.
The Saints have survived on the road with half the defense injured and an AWOL offense, and the Redskins are about to let them steal the kind of road win that good teams grab. Momentum has completely shifted, and it is time to go to the body and take the rest of the air out of the stadium. Instead, once again we have to go for the head shot, which is underthrown and incomplete. (Save me any excuses, it’s a high-risk, high-reward play.) Now it’s second and ten, and we end up punting, the defense utterly collapses, game over.
Sure, this is second-guessing of the highest order. But first, I was in the stadium, trust me, you had to feel the heat of the day and the Redskins and the crowd juuuuuust about heading for the bus. (Which bus, in Danny Snyder’s world, costs you $6 just to get back to the $20 pay parking lots on the other side of I-95.) Second, we’ve seen this act before. The rhythm of the game demanded continuing to pound and grind, not taking a chance on a play that might be huge but might also leave you in a down-and-distance you just don’t need to deal with when you are in control of the situation.
Later, compounding the issue for the second week in a row this pass-addicted team ran on a key late third-and-one and failed (again, spare me the “one missed block” excuse), and unlike the Tampa Bay win, this time we paid for it.
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Payton may be the boss, but until he loses the fever, clearly he was not born to run. And it is not enough that Deuce is wrapped up, his glory days behind him; RB Pierre Thomas is two years in now, and he is either your TB or he isn’t. You cannot have the OL constantly dropping back in pass protection all day, with the run used only as the moderately distracting weak fastball of a change-up artist, and expect to suddenly pound out first downs late when you need them. We called 35 passes and 19 runs Sunday, with a chance to steal a road win against a physically stronger but overall lesser team, and in the end it bit us right in the ass.
This team is well-organized, competes well, executes well. And yet now maybe we see why Fassel did what he did, and Parcells said what he said, and yet Payton still is a HC in the NFL. It’s a solvable issue, with enough will and self-awareness: when we decide to spend as much time, effort, emphasis and creativity on the ground game as the pass, this organization’s only limit will be talent and health. The veteran HC Payton most resembles right now in coaching style, albeit Payton is far more comfy with the media: Eagles HC Andy Reid. (Ignore their respective public media personae; look what media Reid has to deal with.)
On that basis, I am OK with Payton’s contract extension, announced this weekend, through 2012.
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Some notes about the “fan experience” at FedEx Field; at these prices, the recent demise of American investment banking is going to make it harder. 12 oz. beer? Eight dollars. Bottle of Dasani water? Five freaking dollars.
And it was hot. I mean Tulane Stadium in September with west-facing seats hot. And we were in the shade, under the overhang. Each time we left and came back to our seats, we had to kick out squatters back to their seats in the sun. If I wasn’t probably the sweatiest white person in history (think Moses Malone in the ’83 NBA Finals, but shorter, paler, and without the skilz), Middle Child could easily have ended up driving home.
Nevertheless, there were plenty of Saints fans representing, and I only had to warn the one drunk Redskins idiot once not to bother Middle Child. One of the Skins fans actually reprimanded him (the drunk idiot) for cursing not at, but just in earshot of, Middle Child. (Good thing this well-meaning fan doesn’t watch games with me at home; I’d get reprimanded in my own house, assuming the guy didn’t show up at 12:50 EST every Sunday with a restraining order.) And the fans behind us were cool. I cannot complain about the Redskins crowd.
The scoreboard actually reminds the fans, and this is no lie, that they should be quiet on offense, but make noise on defense. You weren’t scared about the federal government before?
In sum, if there is a hell for Daniel Snyder….it will be an enclosed room of mirrors, complete with sun lamps. Water will be only $1.00 per gallon….and he will have 99 cents and an expired credit card in his little hand.
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Is it me, or does Martin Grammatica look exactly like Monty Python’s Terry Jones in a jheri-curl fright wig?
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Later this week: we consider how to make sure Drew Brees has a dramatic stage backdrop in Denver, and whether or not taking small children to NFL road games is the proper way to teach them that hostility also exists outside the home.
