By Jared Trexler
Parity is what former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue wanted, at least that's what Andy Reid said at his weekly diatribe with the media this week. You know Reid, the head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles, the club with the undersized front seven, poor special teams and Jeff Garcia at quarterback.
As of today, the playoff bound Philadelphia Eagles.
That's not a knock on the Eagles, at least not directly. It's more like a glancing blow that stings the franchises from Atlanta right up the eastern seaboard to Charlotte, Philadelphia and New York.
All of you stink this season. Yet, two of you will enter the NFC playoffs with as much chance as any to reach the Super Bowl, where you will be greeted by a far superior team.
Think I'm crazy for believing Garcia can keep this mirage going for another two months?
Two words: Rex Grossman. The fraud (like that Johnny Mac) started the season making many believe a quarterback short on height and even shorter on skill could consistently throw the football in the horse race that is the NFL.
Yet, after film was passed around and Chris Henry checked out the tape at a drive-in movie with his newest 16-year-old "victim" and a bottle of Jolly Rancher, Grossman was dissected for what he truly is.
A signal-caller genetically unequipped to life in the NFL with the decision-making skills of a quarterback in the Catholic league. A back-up.
How can that team -- even a squad with a defense that shows striking similarities to groups called the Monsters, People Eaters and Curtain -- slip through two high-pressure playoff games into the Super Bowl?
Some will argue that Ben Roethlisberger was horrible in the Super Bowl last season. You bet he was, and another performance like that would have sent the Steelers home.
But they didn't have another game.
Grossman will have two chances to destroy the Bears' season. And he will. Mostly because his mind sees John Elway, while his body is Danny Wuerffel.
But he's not alone.
Drew Brees may be the league's MVP, but the Saints straw defense will blow down in the playoffs. 11 men disguised as 1 always do. A starting front seven of Grant, Thomas, Young, Smith, Fujita, Simoneau and Shanle?
The playoffs expose units, not mask flaws. Sorry Saints, you are what you are.
Tony Romo? This year's golden child -- sipping soup for Campbells and dating hot celebrity blondes -- is a great story. So are regular-season stats. But the playoffs are for the wise, not the young. The one-and-done is an arena for perseverance. In order to persevere, you have to be knocked down.
Sorry kid. Maybe next year.
Mike Vick? How loud will your fans be in the crucial moment, you know, the one's you flipped off? And how bad is Atlanta's run defense? Ladell Betts just gashed it for 155 big ones.
Can't run? C u lata. And that C stands for Carolina, which doesn't control the line of scrimmage on the offensive side of the ball. You may have Steve Smith and Keyshawn Johnson. Julius Peppers is the best defensive player in football. But if you can't run on Philly, how do you expect to run on Chicago at Soldier Field in mid-January?
Answer: See above tirade on Grossman.
The point is the NFC stinks. Get in the six-team steel cage match and just hang on. You don't have to win, just don't lose. Grasp the pigskin like its Rachel Bilson and survive.
Survival will win you a shiny trophy, Philadelphia. Just not the ultimate prize you are looking for.
Tagliabue wanted parity. Now, it's tough to differentiate Wally Lundy from Stephen Jackson. Marc Bulger from Charlie Frye. The good from the bad.
Parity is a nice, polite word for sh&*^%.
Welcome to the NFC.
Parity is what former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue wanted, at least that's what Andy Reid said at his weekly diatribe with the media this week. You know Reid, the head coach of the Philadelphia Eagles, the club with the undersized front seven, poor special teams and Jeff Garcia at quarterback.
As of today, the playoff bound Philadelphia Eagles.
That's not a knock on the Eagles, at least not directly. It's more like a glancing blow that stings the franchises from Atlanta right up the eastern seaboard to Charlotte, Philadelphia and New York.
All of you stink this season. Yet, two of you will enter the NFC playoffs with as much chance as any to reach the Super Bowl, where you will be greeted by a far superior team.
Think I'm crazy for believing Garcia can keep this mirage going for another two months?
Two words: Rex Grossman. The fraud (like that Johnny Mac) started the season making many believe a quarterback short on height and even shorter on skill could consistently throw the football in the horse race that is the NFL.
Yet, after film was passed around and Chris Henry checked out the tape at a drive-in movie with his newest 16-year-old "victim" and a bottle of Jolly Rancher, Grossman was dissected for what he truly is.
A signal-caller genetically unequipped to life in the NFL with the decision-making skills of a quarterback in the Catholic league. A back-up.
How can that team -- even a squad with a defense that shows striking similarities to groups called the Monsters, People Eaters and Curtain -- slip through two high-pressure playoff games into the Super Bowl?
Some will argue that Ben Roethlisberger was horrible in the Super Bowl last season. You bet he was, and another performance like that would have sent the Steelers home.
But they didn't have another game.
Grossman will have two chances to destroy the Bears' season. And he will. Mostly because his mind sees John Elway, while his body is Danny Wuerffel.
But he's not alone.
Drew Brees may be the league's MVP, but the Saints straw defense will blow down in the playoffs. 11 men disguised as 1 always do. A starting front seven of Grant, Thomas, Young, Smith, Fujita, Simoneau and Shanle?
The playoffs expose units, not mask flaws. Sorry Saints, you are what you are.
Tony Romo? This year's golden child -- sipping soup for Campbells and dating hot celebrity blondes -- is a great story. So are regular-season stats. But the playoffs are for the wise, not the young. The one-and-done is an arena for perseverance. In order to persevere, you have to be knocked down.
Sorry kid. Maybe next year.
Mike Vick? How loud will your fans be in the crucial moment, you know, the one's you flipped off? And how bad is Atlanta's run defense? Ladell Betts just gashed it for 155 big ones.
Can't run? C u lata. And that C stands for Carolina, which doesn't control the line of scrimmage on the offensive side of the ball. You may have Steve Smith and Keyshawn Johnson. Julius Peppers is the best defensive player in football. But if you can't run on Philly, how do you expect to run on Chicago at Soldier Field in mid-January?
Answer: See above tirade on Grossman.
The point is the NFC stinks. Get in the six-team steel cage match and just hang on. You don't have to win, just don't lose. Grasp the pigskin like its Rachel Bilson and survive.
Survival will win you a shiny trophy, Philadelphia. Just not the ultimate prize you are looking for.
Tagliabue wanted parity. Now, it's tough to differentiate Wally Lundy from Stephen Jackson. Marc Bulger from Charlie Frye. The good from the bad.
Parity is a nice, polite word for sh&*^%.
Welcome to the NFC.
1 comment:
Nice Rachel Bilson reference.
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