Brain Raisin

The More Devin Hester, the Better

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Fri, 20 Apr 2007 17:14:00 +0000

In just one season in the NFL, Devin Hester has become a household name. His explosiveness and blazing speed have broken many a game wide open – just ask the Arizona Cardinals – and his penchant for finding the end zone gives heartburn to opposing coaches. Bears’ fans are itching to see more of their All-Pro return man next season, and Lovie Smith feels the same way.

“You could argue that he’s the most exciting player in the NFL with his hands on the ball,” Smith says.

Dilemma:

“Exciting” may be an understatement. After setting an NFL regular-season record with 6 returns for a touchdown (which does not include his amazing 92-yard dash on the first play of Super Bowl XLI) the Bears have begun mulling over the different ways they may be able to use Hester next season. Although he played on only special teams and defense in 2006, Smith and offensive coordinator Ron Turner are not ruling out the possibility of playing the former Miami Hurricane on offense in 2007.

“He’s obviously a special talent, and to be honest with you, I’ve been trying to recruit him since the day we drafted him,” Turner said at the recent Bears fan convention. “I’m going to keep working on that and see if we can get him on offense.”

Considering his natural elusiveness and uncanny ability to score from anywhere on the field, it would seem a waste to not get Hester the ball as many times as possible in the course of a game – even on offense.

Consider this scenario:

Hester lines up on offense as the H back. At the snap of the ball, the Bears enter the beginning stages of a screen pass. Grossman drops back deep, while the linemen slowly gather in the flats. The play is run well, and Grossman finds Hester in open space just a few yards off the line of scrimmage with blockers in front of him. He scampers through the defense and explodes down the sidelines for a game-changing touchdown.

If anyone does not feel the previous scenario is a real possibility, then you haven’t seen Hester play. Devin Hester, in open space, with blockers in front of him: it is an image that will keep defensive coordinators awake at night if the Bears choose to use him in this fashion.

“He’s shown what he can do when he gets the ball in his hands,” Turner said. “If he’s on offense and we can get his hands on the ball six, seven or eight more times a game, who knows what he might be able to do with it.”

Even Bears’ Hall of Fame running back Gale Sayers sees Devin’s potential on offense. “He has a feel for the field, I’ll put it that way,” he says. “It seems like he has great peripheral vision like I had.”

If Ron Turner has his way, expect him to create a weekly package of 6-10 plays that are designed specifically for Hester. He can line up Devin anywhere on the field and use him as either a receiver or running back – similar to the creative fashion in which New Orleans uses their stud athlete, Reggie Bush. This produces another weapon on the field that opposing defenses must account for. If the other team starts to key too much on the second-year Pro Bowler, Turner can just use him as a decoy to make room for playmakers such as Cedric Benson and Bernard Berrian.

There is a myriad of ways Hester can be used on offense, and it would be a shame for the Bears not to take advantage of him. His presence, coupled with the strong core of position players already in Chicago’s offense, could be the final piece in next season’s championship puzzle.

Make Lovie, Not War: Bears Risk Losing Smith in Contract Fight

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 20:52:00 +0000

I think I speak for all Chicago sports fans when I say enough is enough.

Chicago is the third largest media market in the country, trailing only New York and Los Angeles. Chicago fans come out in droves to see their teams play. And yet, as has always been the case, Chicago owners ply their trade with the kind of frugality that only Ebeneezer Scrooge could love.

Don't believe me? Just ask Lovie Smith.

According to one source, recent contract talks between Smith’s agent Frank Bauer and Bears team president Ted Phillips have left the two parties "miles apart." For penny-pinching Chicago owners, it's just another chapter in a long, shameful history.

Take the Tribune Company, which bought the Cubs in 1981 for the unbelievably low sum of $21 million. Only recently has the Tribune started to reinvest its profits on the field. For twenty years, company brass had no problem pocketing the money of dedicated fans who were willing to support mediocre teams—and even stooped to a price-raising ticket-brokerage scam along the way.

Jerry Reinsdorf, majority owner of the Bulls and White Sox, gets a free pass because of his seven championship rings. But let's not forget that he was one of the primary architects of the 1994 MLB strike—even though his team had the best record in the majors and was the odds-on favorite to win the World Series.

Reinsdorf also signed off on former GM Jerry Krause's decision to dismantle the Bulls after they won their sixth title in 1998. And the owner's current cost-cutting plan to purge the White Sox of nearly every pitcher from the 2005 World Series team is sickening to anyone who cares about baseball on the South Side.

But none of it compares to the exploits of Blackhawks owner Bill Wirtz. Known around the NHL as “Dollar Bill," Wirtz has brought stinginess and selfishness to entirely new levels. ESPN recently ranked the Blackhawks as the worst franchise in sports, and named Wirtz the third greediest owner. His worst sin: He refuses to televise Blackhawks’ home games in Chicago. Add in a complete disregard for basic business ethics—the 1999 Illinois Wine and Spirits Fair Dealings Act is also known as the “Wirtz Law”, and was inspired by the owner's power-abusing liquor company—and you have the worst person to ever run a professional sports team.

And trust me, it's not even close.

Now, Ted Phillips and the McCaskey family (majority owners of the Bears) can't hold a candle to Wirtz's money-grubbing, but their handling of the Smith negotiations makes you wonder if they've been taking deal-making advice from ol' Dollar Bill.

Smith was paid $1.3 million in 2006, which garnered him the inglorious title of Lowest Paid Head Coach in the NFL. He is set to hold that position again with a contract worth $1.45 million in 2007—unless the current talks take a drastic turn in the coming months.

“We’re not close,” says Bauer. “We’re not encouraged and based on where talks have gone recently, Lovie will be a free agent after next season.”

The new contracts handed to Brian Billick (five years for $28.5 million, from the Ravens) and first-time head coach Bobby Petrino (four years and $24 million, from the Falcons) prove that teams around the NFL put a premium on the men wearing the headsets.

So what are the Bears thinking? Take your pick:

“Anybody can win Coach of the Year in only his second NFL season.”

“It’s not that hard to get to the Super Bowl...we just did it 21 years ago.”

"Coaches of character and class are a dime a dozen in this league. (Someone get Nick Saban on the phone.)"

“We know what we’re doing. Look at our track record before Smith showed up...”

The bottom line here is an economic one. The supply of talented head coaches in the NFL is at a record low (just ask the Raiders). With so many teams scrambling to hire anyone with even a semblance of competence, it's understandable that contracts for coaches are more lucrative than ever. The market demands it. And what the market wants, the market gets—no matter what the cost.

“When we signed Lovie Smith, it was a market-value contract for coaches who had never been a head coach in the NFL," said Ted Phillips before the Super Bowl. “He received a fair deal.”

No one can blame the Bears for defending Lovie’s current contract—it was, at the time it was signed, a “fair deal." But that was three seasons ago, and the current market value for a young head coach with Super Bowl credentials is somewhere in the range of $4-6 million per season. If Phillips wants to fall back on the “market value” argument, he's digging himself a hole.

In any event, facts are still facts. As of this week, only a month after the Super Bowl, talks between Smith and the Bears are all but dead. And Chicago fans, once again, have been left to wonder whether management will let money come before the good of their team.

“Lovie Smith has indicated to me he wants to be head coach of the Bears for a long time,” Phillips said. “That’s my goal. That’s the organization’s goal.”

If this is true—and forgive me, as a Chicago sports fan, if I tend to question the integrity of such statements—then why balk at paying Smith what the market states he should be paid?

The answer, of course, has to do with profits, and with the fact that the McCaskeys don't want to open their wallets any more than they absolutely have to. It's the same old story in the Windy City, where at least one fan can't keep it any longer:

PAY THE MAN WHAT HE'S WORTH AND STOP BEING GREEDY FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIVES!

After all: Enough is enough, right?

Chicago Bears in Review for 2006

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Wed, 21 Feb 2007 21:02:00 +0000

It is a moment I would like to forget.

With just twelve minutes remaining in the 4th quarter of Super Bowl XLI, the Chicago Bears, down 22-17 to the Indianapolis Colts, lined up for a first down play on their own 38-yard line.

Quarterback Rex Grossman took a step back from the line, pump-faked to his right, and then threw a wobbly ball off his back foot into the waiting hands of Colts’ cornerback Kelvin Hayden.

Hayden, who had just intercepted his first pass of the season, proceeded to weave his way through the Bears offense on his way to the game-clinching touchdown.

At that moment, Chicago’s inhabitants fell eerily silent, as the dreams of winning our first Super Bowl in 21 years were shattered.

“The whole year our thing has been to finish (games),” linebacker Hunter Hillenmeyer said after the game, “And that’s exactly what we didn’t do.”

For most Bears’ fans, the shock and depression of losing the Super Bowl has mostly worn off. However many are still haunted by the visions of that dreadful fourth quarter. It is that visualization that has some Chicago fans lying awake at night. I’ll admit, for the week following the Super Bowl, I was one of the sleepless.

Nevertheless one can only pout for so long, and I eventually began pondering over the amazing season of the 2006 Chicago Bears.

Has there ever been a quarterback who has undergone as much intense media scrutiny in one season as Rex Grossman did in 2006?

Most quarterbacks in their first full year of starting would have crumbled under that type of pressure. Yet Grossman stood firm, never made excuses for himself, and went about his business in a professional manner. Imagine how Ryan Leaf would have reacted after fielding the 478th question about Brian Griese.

Whether you think he’s the next Brett Favre or the next Elvis Grbac, there is no denying Grossman played a big part in the development of the Bears’ offense this season. Chicago ended the 2005 season ranked 29th in total offense, 31st in passing offense, and 26th in points scored. This season, the Bears ranked 15th in total offense, 14th in passing offense, and 2nd in points scored. That is a marked improvement over the span of only one season and much of that had to do with the play of Rex Grossman.

I’ll admit he was awful at times, but his 23 touchdown passes were the most by any Bears’ quarterback since Erik Kramer threw 29 in 1995. Grossman’s inconsistency is maddening but one can only hope that he continues to develop and push this offense in the right direction.

An enhanced receiving corps, led by the speedy Bernard Berrian, also contributed to Chicago’s strong offensive output. Berrian caught 51 passes for 775 yards and 6 touchdowns in his first season as a starter. His 15.2 receiving average was 20th best in the NFL. The Bears utilized his blazing speed to stretch opposing defenses and open up underneath routes for possession receiver Muhsin Muhammad (60 catches, 863 yards, 5 touchdowns) and resurgent tight end Desmond Clark (45 catches, 626 yards, 6 touchdowns). It was a downfield passing attack, that when clicking, was one of the best in the league.

The running game was just what you would expect from a Chicago Bears team: relentless. Thomas Jones was their bread and butter, carrying the ball 296 times and gaining over 1,200 yards for the second straight season. Former 1st round pick Cedric Benson played a much bigger role this year, gaining 647 yards and scoring 6 touchdowns. His bruising, downhill running style complemented the shifty Jones nicely.

Chicago’s newfound offensive balance was augmented by the great field position given to them by return man Devin Hester. Hester ranked 2nd in the NFL in punt returns average and set a single-season record with 6 kicks returned for a touchdown – none more important than his game-winner on Monday Night Football against the Arizona Cardinals. He then added one more return touchdown on the opening kickoff of the Super Bowl. For those reasons, Devin Hester is my pick for the 2006 MVP of the Chicago Bears.

Just like last season, the Bears’ defense was the key to the team’s success. Brian Urlacher and company were absolutely dominant in the first half of the season, ranking 1st in nearly every defensive category. Their amazing team speed and hunger for turnovers has become a staple of the cover 2 system Lovie Smith has installed in Chicago.

However, losing two Pro Bowl players to season ending injuries – safety Mike Brown in Week 6 and tackle Tommie Harris in Week 13 –severely crippled the defense heading into the playoffs. One can only wonder how their presence on the field might have affected the outcome of the Super Bowl.

The biggest issue for the defense moving forward is the unrestricted free agent status of weak-side middle linebacker Lance Briggs. The Bears are $16.3 million under the salary cap heading into next season. This should give them enough money to sign Briggs to a long-term contract. If the two sides cannot reach a contract agreement, the Bears still have the option of placing the franchise tag on their second leading tackler. Either way, the Bears need to do whatever it takes to keep Briggs on the team. He has the ability to hit the gaps and stop runners in their tracks. Obviously this is a key element to this defense’s success.

Heading into the draft, it is imperative that the Bears select an offensive tackle early. John Tait and Fred Miller are savvy veterans who still have a good year or two left in them. Although they are 32 and 34 years old respectively, and no one behind them on the depth chart is ready to step in and produce.

Two offensive tackles in this year’s draft stand out as great fits for Chicago’s system. Joe Staley of Central Michigan is a converted tight end that runs the 40-yard dash in 4.81 seconds – outrageously fast for a 6’5”, 296-pound offensive lineman. His speed and range would work well in Chicago’s pull and trap-heavy rushing attack.

Tony Ugoh of Arkansas would also be a nice pick for the Bears. He has good size (6’5”, 301 lbs.) and a powerful upper body that he uses to drive defenders off the ball. His athleticism at left tackle would provide some much-needed backside protection for the lead-footed Grossman.

The final off-season concern for the Bears' front office is to upgrade the salary of their egregiously under-paid head coach Lovie Smith. Smith is in the final year of a four-year contract that pays him $1.3 million a year – the lowest salary of any head coach in the NFL. He was named Coach of the Year last season and brought this franchise back to the Super Bowl – a place they had not been in 21 years. He is a class act and one of the best football minds in the game. It is time the Bears' front office stepped up and paid the man what he is worth. They’ve waited too long as it is.

Overall, don’t expect many changes for the Chicago Bears next season; their schemes and personnel will remain pretty similar to that of this year. As was proven this season, the Bears have a winning formula in place, so don’t be surprised if you see them playing in Super Bowl XLII.

Memphis Tigers: Powerhouse Program or Product of Relocation?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Fri, 09 Feb 2007 20:54:00 +0000

It all started two years ago.

In 2004, the ACC began pulling high-visibility basketball programs away from the Big East, who then responded by grabbing four of the top teams from Conference USA.

C-USA then lost three more squads to the A-10 and Mountain West and was left scrambling for replacements. They recruited seven teams from the MAC and WAC in an effort to restore their depleted talent pool -- with little success.

In the wake of this conference jumble, C-USA, a once proud basketball conference that many put on par with the Big 10 and SEC, is now left with a group of low-tier mid-major squads -- and Memphis.

Memphis University, currently ranked No. 8 in the AP poll, is the only team left in C-USA worth talking about for longer than it takes Bruce Pearl to take his shirt off. Replacing top-tier programs like Louisville, Cincinnati and DePaul with Central Florida, Rice and Tulsa has made C-USA no more powerful than the Colonial Athletic Association or the Big West Conference -- perennially among the worst conferences in the country. That leaves many wondering whether or not Memphis is worthy of such a lofty No. 8 ranking.

On paper, the 19-3 Tigers look to be a team that can make it deep into the NCCA Tournament. They are 9-0 in C-USA and are beating their conference foes by an average margin of 16.3 points. In addition, they have not lost a game since 2006 and are currently in the hunt for a No. 2 seed in this year's tournament.

However, look closer and you'll see a team made of smoke and mirrors, a team that has everyone fooled, and it all began last season.

Using their No. 1 seed in the 2006 NCAA Tournament, Memphis advanced to the Elite 8 by defeating Oral Roberts, Bucknell and Bradley -- three mid-major squads. When it came time to face an opponent from one of the six major conferences (ACC, Big 10, Big 12, SEC, Big East, and Pac-10) though, the Tigers crumbled, losing to UCLA 50-45.

Their dreams of a Final Four berth were destroyed by one of the best teams in the country, but look at how Memphis made it to that position in the first place: they beat up on a weak, mid-major conference during the regular season and then beat three more mid-majors in the first rounds of the tournament. Not exactly a "stocked" resume.

That brings us to the current Memphis squad.

In week eight of this season, the Tigers, coming off a road loss to Arizona, were ranked No. 22 in the country. With losses to Tennessee, Georgia Tech, and the aforementioned Wildcats, Memphis' record stood at 8-3.

Since then, the Tigers have won 11 straight, rising steadily up the rankings along the way. But 9 of those 11 wins have come in conference play (the other two wins were against Middle Tennessee State and Lamar) -- thus the conundrum.

After having its member teams mixed up like a cage of bingo balls, C-USA's current average RPI ranking (sans Memphis) is 160.8. In simpler terms, the measurement system employed by the NCAA to determine the merit of all 336 Division I teams states that the 11 other schools of C-USA are better than only half of the programs in the entire country.

To further the point, here is a brief list of teams currently ranked higher than 160 on the RPI scale: San Francisco (8-15), Western Michigan (9-13), Charlotte (9-12), Utah (8-14) and Temple (9-12).

Yet Memphis, a team that is afforded the luxury of beating up on this lack of competition and is only 1-2 versus teams ranked in the top 25, is able to climb 14 spots in the rankings to No. 8.

How is this possible?

Yes, Memphis sits at No. 9 on the RPI scale, but their strength of schedule is ranked 48th in the country -- the worst of any top 10 RPI team. They may be 19-3, but what would their record be if they played in the ACC or Big 12?

Even their coach, the venerable John Calipari, knows his team is far and above the rest of the competition in C-USA. After a 72-59 win against Tulsa, Calipari said, "To get guys to understand to play harder than the guys they are playing against, especially if they think they are better, is a tough challenge. My thing is we need to compete against us and not the other team."

I'm not implying that Memphis is a mediocre squad, but should a top 10 ranking be distributed to a team whose coach openly admits that the competition within the division doesn't stack up -- to the point where he has to challenge his team to get better internally because their opponents are so over-matched?

I say "no."

Everyone was impressed when Seinfeld character Cosmo Kramer bragged of his dominance over his karate class… until they found out he was punching and kicking his way past a group of 10-year-olds.

So why should we take Memphis seriously, when it is clear they are grown men beating up on children?

What About Bob Knight?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Mon, 05 Feb 2007 20:47:00 +0000

Among the stories-of-the-moment in college basketball—the watered-down mid-majors, the fall of the Big East, the overabundance of star freshmen—Texas Tech coach Bobby Knight is little more than an afterthought.

Sure he’s won more games than anyone else in the history of the game—but as soon as he broke the record, the country stopped paying attention. Had he won his 880th game at Indiana, we may have taken a little more time to honor arguably the greatest coach to ever bark orders in front of the scorer’s table.

But Bob Knight doesn’t coach the Hoosiers any more. He’s down in Lubbock, Texas, trying his best to get back to the tournament he once dominated.

Texas Tech basketball doesn’t garner a fraction of the attention that Indiana hoops do. There are no candy-striped warmup pants and time-tested traditions; no championship expectations from deep-pocketed boosters; no blue-chip recruits lining up for scholarship offers; and certainly no movies named after the school’s mascot starring Gene Hackman.

At Texas Tech there is Bob Knight—and not much more.

And that's precisely why coach Knight deserves to be recognized for the job he's doing with the Red Raiders.

There’s no questioning Knight’s body of work (three national championships and an Olympic gold medal), but we live in a “what-have-you-done-for-me-lately?” society. Truth be told, it’s been awhile since coach Knight has done anything of significance—unless you consider his constant theatrics and opprobrious penchant for groping his players around the neck "significant."

But forget for one second the yelling, the chair throwing, the choking incidents, and the whip. Forget the contentious press conferences and the plaid sports blazers. Forget the inglorious dismissal from Indiana and the subsequent war of words in the media...and focus, for one moment, on the current Red Raiders team.

At 15-7, and having lost two straight games, Tech isn't a frontrunner for the national championship, or even a likely candidate to crack the Top 25. But look closer and you’ll find a squad with a dearth of top-line talent that has recently beaten then #5 Kansas and #6 Texas A&M back-to-back. Tech has won road games against Arkansas and an underrated Kansas State team, and they are 4-2 in the Big 12—arguably the toughest conference in the country. They've accomplished all that with only one big-name player (Jarrius Jackson) and a host of kids who will never sniff the NBA.

So how are they doing it?

With sound fundamentals—the staple of any Knight-coached team.

Knight has instilled in his group of upperclassmen the sort of discipline and skills with which talent-starved teams upset powerhouse programs. Tech runs his motion offense to perfection, wearing down opponents by forcing them to chase Red Raiders all over the floor.

“We haven’t seen a motion offense as well organized,” said Texas A&M coach Billy Gillispie after his team’s 70-68 loss to the Raiders. “It is the master offense and the master does a great job of doing it.”

Kansas coach Bill Self also had high praise for Tech’s offense.

“We knew we were going to have to defend the entire shot clock,” he said. “That’s who they are. Their patience was certainly much, much better than our impatience.”

Self added, “We didn’t play our best but I think Texas Tech had a lot to do with that. They executed well for about a 10-minute stretch there in the second half superbly.”

Execution when it counts has been a winning recipe for Knight for the past 40 years. His team may not be as exciting as, say, North Carolina—but you will be hard-pressed to find a more prepared and motivated group of athletes, night-in and night-out, than the one under Coach Knight’s watch.

It is these often-overlooked intangibles that Bob Knight brings to every team he coaches. For that reason, even though you may not like him, he deserves your respect. He's done too much for college basketball to merit anything less.

Before Tech’s most recent game against the Texas Longhorns, Knight presented a plaque to Texas coach Rick Barnes as a token of gratitude for the kind words Barnes expressed after Knight’s 880th win. It was an emotional scene, one Barnes will not soon forget.

“I'm just overwhelmed by it,” he said. “When it comes from a man that is the best coach in what we do, it just means the world to me.”

The best coach in what he does? Yeah, Rick, that sounds about right.

21 Years I've Waited. This Better Be Worth It.

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 01:20:00 +0000

I was eight years old the last time this happened. It was January 26, 1986 and my grandparents had the entire family over for the game. We sat in their living room, a bunch of us crowding the couch, a few on the edge of the end table, and the rest on the floor, munching away on cookies grandma had made in the shape of football players...blue and orange frosting only. We watched one of the greatest and most entertaining teams in the history of football dismantle an overmatched Patriots team clad in bright red. My grandfather sat in his crusty lazy boy, wash rags under his elbows in place of long forgotten arm rest covers, leading the cheers.

"Super Bowl, Super Bears," he roared in a voice much too deep for his squat, graying frame.

"Super Bowl, Super Bears." And we all cheered along.

The 46-10 drubbing of the Patriots in Super Bowl XX was the highlight of the decade for every Chicago sports fan. Subsequent Bears teams -with the same basic players and coaches - failed to live up to expectations and we stumbled into the 90s with a sour feeling in our collective gut. Even through six Bulls championships and a recent White Sox title, the city of Chicago still pined for the days of McMahon, Singletary, Payton, and, of course, the almighty Ditka. We leaned on the memory of that season like a crutch whenever the Bears teams of the '90s became too much to handle. And up until a few days ago, I honestly wondered if I would see the Bears in the Super Bowl before I turned 40 (I'm 29).

Then it happened.

On a snowy Sunday afternoon in Soldier Field, amidst periodic snowfall and stinging winds, the Chicago Bears defeated the New Orleans Saints 39-14 in the NFC Championship Game. I watched the game with my wife in my apartment on the north side of Chicago. I collapsed from exhaustion on my couch as the final whistle blew, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. The Bears had just advanced to the Super Bowl and I laid in wait for the moment when someone would wake me from my dream. But as the minutes ticked it became obvious that I really was awake and that in two weeks I would be watching the Bears, my favorite of favorite teams, play in the Super Bowl for only the second time in my life.

And so I chanted, "Super Bowl, Super Bears," over and over, "Super Bowl, Super Bears," my fists pumping alternately in front of me, "Super Bowl, Super Bears," and in a small town three hours outside of Chicago, I was sure grandpa was doing the same thing.

Lovie Smith showed up three years ago, usurping the failed regime of Dick Jauron. He stated his first goal was to beat the Packers and his second was to win a Super Bowl. He accomplished the former in his first year with a new look defense that shut down Brett Favre. The cover-2 D continued to dominate the following season, helping lead the team to their first playoff berth in four years. It was a home game against the Carolina Panthers and Steve Smith ripped through the vaunted defense en route to a 28-21 upset. A home loss to a wild card team: Lovie vowed it wouldn't happen again.

As the Bears prepared for their home playoff game this year against Seattle, I wallowed in nervousness at the thought of another one-and-done playoff run. And damn if it almost didn't happen that way. The Bears gave up a lead in the 4th quarter to the Seahawks and my heart sunk. But two Robbie Gould field goals later, one the game-winner in overtime, and my worries were put off for another week.

Then came the Saints.

"Who dat? Who dat? Who dat say they gonna beat them Saints?"

The Bears, that's who dat. Chicago came roaring out of the gates against New Orleans, piling up 16 straight points in the first half. Two fumbles by the Saints gave the Bears great field position throughout the first two quarters, and a stifling defense held the explosive Saints offense to only 7 points. The second half started out ugly, with Reggie Bush's catch-and-run TD the low point. But just before the rookie needlessly dove into the end zone he pointed mockingly at a trailing Brian Urlacher. Like waking a sleeping giant, Bush's finger point served as the howling alarm that woke up the Bears defense. The Saints never scored again.

Not that they didn't have their chances. After a three-and-out on the Bears' next offensive series, the New Orleans offense drove into Bears territory before being forced into a field goal attempt. The Saints brought out their long field goal kicker, Billy Cundiff, whose kick couldn't traverse the cold winds and fell a yard short of the goal post. That was the closest they would come to scoring for the rest of the game.

After an awful intentional grounding penalty on Saints quarterback Drew Brees - where New Orleans was charged with a safety, making the score 18-14 - the Chicago offense decided that enough was enough and Rex Grossman, who had played poorly up until that point, began moving the ball with ease. He completed three stright passes and the Bears were soon in Saints territory. Then, on 1st and 10 at the New Orleans 33-yard line, Rex showed the skills that have kept him his job all season. As Hollis Thomas came storming through the middle of the Bears' offensive line with his mind set on drilling Grossman into the turf, Rex let fly a pass he'd thrown hundreds of times during the season. It was a deep pass to his left that floated high in the air while Bernard Berrian and 11-year veteran Fred Thomas jockied for position 30 yards down the field. The tight spiral came down like a gift into the waiting hands of a falling Berrian. It was one of the greatest catches I have ever seen. Touchdown.

As he rolled into the endzone to put the game away, I thought of my grandparents and how happy they must've been to see the Bears in the Super Bowl again. I thought of all the Chicago fans who have waited over two decades for this moment and of all the fans who wallowed through the bad years hoping that one day they'd see their team reach the biggest stage in all of sports. I felt a joy unlike any I'd felt before and I reveled in the mini-shock of pleasure my body was going through.

For the rest of that day and the one following, I walked around in a haze of excitement and happiness. You just couldn't get the smile off my face. And then a more sinister thought crept through the cloud of emotion my head had been swimming in. I thought of all the doubters who said the Bears didn't have a chance; of all the pundits and supposed "fans" who barbecued Rex throughout the season; I thought of the eight ESPN football "experts" who picked the Bears to lose that game; and for a second I felt sick.

"What if they lose the Super Bowl?" I thought.

The idea hadn't even occured to me before then and I tremored slightly at the pictures it pressed in my brain: of a dejected Lovie Smith hugging the victorious Tony Dungy at midfield; of Peyton Manning holding up the Championship trophy; of Brian Urlacher leaving the field with his chin touching his chest. It made me scared, nervous, and angry. And I realized that our NFC Champions have only one choice: win the damn game!

I've waited 21 years for this Bears, it better be worth it.

Freshmen Stars Shine from Kansas to Carolina - But What Happens in March?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Fri, 19 Jan 2007 20:44:00 +0000

After his team squeaked out a home win against archrival Missouri on Monday night, Kansas coach Bill Self had some high praise for star freshman Sherron Collins.

“That’s the Sherron we recruited,” he said after the game. “(He) was the man tonight."

Collins and fellow freshman Darrell Arthur combined for 17 of Kansas’ last 19 points, and helped the fifth-ranked Jayhawks hold off Missouri 80-77.

“I was a little surprised that we were both in there at the end,” Arthur said.

Arthur may have been surprised to find himself playing in the final minutes of a tough conference matchup—but it’s a situation that he and Kansas fans should get used to.

With new NBA rules forcing high school players to wait a year before entering the league, an influx of young talent has taken over the college game. Add in the fact that most of the top collegiate players bolt for the pros after their freshman or sophomore seasons, and you’re looking at a situation in which the fate of your favorite program will be riding on the shoulders of 18-year-olds for years to come.

Scary thought huh?

It seems like only yesterday that Carmelo Anthony led Syracuse to a national title in his freshman season. Anthony’s play in the 2003 NCAA Tournament showed coaches that raw ability can produce championships—and fat new contracts for the men who engineer them. Besides that, molding young athletes into savvy players isn’t really an option anymore, as most high school recruits won’t even look at a program unless they’re guaranteed playing time from day one.

So what else is a coach to do?

Consider this: Four of the top teams in the country—North Carolina, Kansas, Ohio State, and Texas—rely heavily on 18-year-old talent.

The Tar Heels have three freshman starters in forward Brandan Wright, guard Wayne Ellington, and guard Ty Lawson. Wright is averaging 15.6 points a game —14th best in the ACC—while Lawson is fifth in the conference with 5.2 assists per game.

Collins has been a major contributor for Kansas of late, but fellow freshman Arthur has also played a big part in the Jayhawks’ success, averaging 11.6 points and 4.9 rebounds per game.

The Longhorns have four freshmen in their starting lineup, with player-of-the-year candidate Kevin Durant (23.7 points, 11.0 rebounds) leading the way.

And then there’s Ohio State, where Thad Matta managed to put together one of the greatest recruiting classes in recent history. Seven-foot Greg Oden has been the crown jewel thus far, averaging 14.9 points and 9.8 rebounds per game. He’s as dominant a big man the game has seen since the days of Bill Walton and Lew Alcindor—and he’s been playing with a bum shooting hand. His freshman teammates—guard Mike Conley Jr., guard Daequan Cook, and forward David Lighty —have also made a splash in the Big 10, and the four youngsters are only getting better every time they step on the court.

On one level, the abundance of contributing freshmen in men’s Division I basketball is great for a sport that has long suffered from a diluted talent pool. The young stars have performed commendably in the college spotlight, navigating the bright lights and media scrutiny as they try to deliver championships to programs with long histories of winning.

But here’s a question:

What happens in March, when the pressure of one-and-done—to say nothing of the nation’s rapt attention—lands squarely on their shoulders?

As much fun as they are to watch, the freshmen in the class of 2006 are still just that: freshmen. They’re sloppy, undisciplined, liable at any moment to heave up a 23-footer with 25 seconds left on the shot clock.

Last week, Wisconsin was able to shut down Ohio State’s offense by forcing the ball into the hands of shooters with itchy trigger fingers. Time and time again, the Buckeyes settled for one pass and a three-pointer, leaving Oden underutilized in the paint.

The result?

Wisconsin 72, Ohio State 69.

The simple truth is that a methodical offensive scheme is often a poor fit for a kid just months removed from dominating overmatched competition at the high school level. More to the point, it takes time and practice to master the nuances of a system—to the extent that even a full season may not be enough to make new players feel entirely comfortable. So it was that Wisconsin, with their experienced squad of upperclassmen, was able to hold off a far superior Ohio State team.

By March, many of these “rookie” tendencies should be resolved, and you can expect young teams to have developed a new level of fluidity on the court in time for the postseason. But it’s funny how fluidity can fall apart when the term “Sweet 16” or “Final 4” is hung on an upcoming game. Without doubt, nerves will come into play—and it’s a safe bet that nerves will cost a few teams their tournament lives. A fan can only hope that it isn’t his 18-year-old stud who buckles under the Madness.

After solidifying his stellar freshman class, Texas coach Rick Barnes said, “This is one of the better situations in the country. I know this—there are a lot of guys who would like to be sitting in my chair.”

You have to wonder, though, if Barnes will be singing the same tune come March, when he suddenly finds his seat supported by four wobbly legs. For my money, it seems like a sturdier, more experienced piece of furniture—like the one belonging to Florida coach Billy Donovan—would be more comfortable when push really comes to shove.

Kids these days, you know?—you just can't trust 'em.

An All-Nighter

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 21:26:00 +0000

The Sugar Bowl is a little over a day away and my stomach is already twisting itself in knots over what fate lies my beloved Irish. Like an alcoholic who drinks too much to forget that he has a drinking problem, I decided to indulge in the slew of January 1 games offered by our kind friends at ESPN, CBS, ABC, and Fox. Yes, Fox. Apparently Ed Goren and co. were able to gobble up nearly every BCS broadcast sans the Rose Bowl through 2010. I hope you all like those ridiculous transitional robots jumping on your screen every other minute. Personally, all I need to watch a big-time bowl game is a clear screen and Keith Jackson. Since Jackson's retirement last season, all I can ask for is a screen that doesn't include jumping robots mimicking a player's warm-up routine. All that got flushed right into the sewers when I searched my TV's digital guide for the Fiesta Bowl, which I found to be on Fox. Then I saw Chris Rose in the pre-game. Chris Rose? Isn't he supposed to be announcing some poker tournament in Podunk, Wisconsin or hosting that ridiculous sports show with Spider Sally? Nope, he's sitting right next to Barry Switzer and Jimmie Johnson, blabbing away like he knows what he's talking about. Needless to say, I wasn't happy about this Fox invasion, and it sickens me that I'm forced to watch my bowl games on the same channel that aired Temptation Island and (even worse) Temptation Island II.

But hey, at least the game was good.

Well, that's a huge understatement, considering the 2007 Tostitos Fiesta Bowl may have been the greatest college football game I have ever seen. I said the same thing after last year's BCS Championship game, and I stand by that. But that was USC vs Texas; 2 Heisman Trophy winners versus arguably the best player in the game; 2 legendary NCAA programs battling to a spectacular finish. It was what is was supposed to be - and more. But I never expected Boise State to capture my attention like they did, or for them to pull off one of the single most exciting victories in the history of bowl games. And why should I? They're from the WAC, and according to the BCS brass, no championship worthy teams come out of any conference other than the SEC, Big 10, Big 12, or Pac 10...and maybe the Big East, as long as it's not Southern Florida. So who expected Boise State to beat the powerhouse Oklahoma program: a program that has won 7 national championships and has boasted such legendary coaches as Bennie Owen, Bud Wilkinson, and the aforementioned Barry Switzer? How could Boise State, a school that wasn't granted Division I status until 1995, topple the mighty Sooners?

By having balls of steel, that's how.

Boise State jumped all over the Sooners and held a 28-10 lead midway through the 3rd quarter. Then, a big special teams play and a touchdown by the best running back in the country, Adrian Peterson, coupled with a chip-shot field goal brought the score to 28-20. With a little over 2 minutes to play Oklahoma quarterback Paul Thompson engineered a textbook scoring drive, completing every pass he threw, including a 5 yard touchdown pass to wide receiver Quentin Chaney. He topped it all off with another pass into the end zone for the game-tying 2-point conversion. After the ensuing kickoff, Boise State quarterback Jared Zabransky - who had played wonderfully up until that point - threw an out pattern to a receiver running a fly. The pass was intercepted by OU's Marcus Walker and returned 33 yards for a TD, giving Oklahoma a 7-point lead. With 1:05 remaining, Zabransky stood on the sidelines with a dejected look, and I wondered whether he was capable of bringing his team back from the brink. For how many times have we seen a young quarterback implode after making a costly mistake late in the game? I truly expected a few incompletions, a sack, and the final whistle on an Oklahoma win. But Zabransky wasn't having any of that.

He came onto the field and immediately began moving the ball. But after the drive stalled, Boise State found themselves with a 4th and 18 near mid-field. As I lay in bed, not willing to turn out the lights until the final whistle blew, I thought "one more play and I can go to sleep." Good thing Boise State didn't think that way.

During my junior year in high school, as I stood along the sidelines watching the seniors play, a similar scenario arose. Our team, facing the hated cross-town rivals, was down by 4 points with less than 2 minutes to play. The whole stadium held their breath as our quarterback found his receiver 20 yards down the field, and we all erupted in joy as he pitched the ball to our running back streaking down the sidelines. It's called a hook and ladder play, and is only used when all other options have been exhausted. The other team's defense never touched our lightning-fast RB and we won the game. As our running back coasted to the game-winning TD, I remember jumping up and down, up and down on the sidelines, bathing in the light of unmatched joy. I kept screaming "ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod" as I hugged anyone I could get my hands on. As Boise State's Jerard Rabb tore down the sidelines after receiving the sneaky pitch from his wide receiver, I found myself - lying supine in bed, trying not to wake my slumbering wife - saying the same thing: "ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod"...only this time in a whisper.

By the time I had finished explaining to my wife why she had just been woken up, Adrian Peterson had already scored on the first play of overtime: a 25-yard scamper off the left end. Then it was Boise State's turn. They moved the ball down to the 4 yard line, but after 2 incompletions and a run for no gain, the Broncos faced another 4th down. A simple run probably would have gotten them the 1st down, but the team ran a trick play, sending Zabransky out to split-end and letting wide receiver Vinny Perretta throw the game-tying TD to fellow receiver Derek Schouman. "So," I thought, "it looks like we're headed to double overtime."

To quote the venerable Lee Corso, "Not so fast my friend." Boise's head coach Chris Petersen had other plans.

As the Broncos lined up for their do-or-die 2-point conversion, I felt that familiar nervousness in my stomach that accompanies any tense situation involving a team I love. But I could care less about either of these teams, I was in it for the love of the game. And this game so enthralled me that I began to feel sick to my stomach. Then a quick snap, a fake pass to a bunched group of receivers split off to the right, and a behind-the-back hand off to running back Ian Johnson. The old Statue of Liberty play. Touchdown. Game over.

"ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod."

After apologizing profusely to my wife for waking her up again, I found myself out on the couch, still amazed by what I had just seen. Boise State, the ultimate David, had just knocked off Oklahoma, the ultimate Goliath. They did it with style; the did it with class; they did it with guts. As I pondered over the game in my head, in those few blissful moments before the Sandman arrives, I couldn't help thinking that something about that game just wasn't right. The players played beautifully, the weather had held up, even Fox's coverage was adequate. What then was bothering me? Then it hit me: Boise State had been playing the wrong team. They should have been playing Ohio State.

Nightmares Do Come True

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Mon, 25 Sep 2006 19:16:00 +0000

As of today, the White Sox are five and a half games out of the American League Wild Card race. There's only one week left to play, so they're pretty much done for the season. No playoffs this year, no undescribable joy will wash over the city of Chicago, just another post-season that will most likely end up in another Yankee championship. For those of you who decided not to watch last year's World Series (and there were a bunch of you, considering it was the lowest rated championship series ever) I hope this is what you wanted: Derek Jeter and A-Rod hoisting up the silver trophy, smiles spread across their faces like cream cheese, and the city of New York getting what they've had 28 times already. Yep, makes me want to puke too. But I'm sure you'll all still watch.

After another season of east-coast writers blathering on and on about the Yankees and Red Sox (seriously, if I have to hear anymore about Bill Simmons' love for the Red Sox, I may just put my fist through a computer) I wonder where the heart of the baseball loving world is. No one wanted to watch the White Sox and Astros (2 teams that never grace that stage) yet all I hear from everyone outside of New York is "I'm so sick of the Yankees." Maybe it's the fact that they win all of the time, or that they get the most press, or that no matter what happens Derek Jeter can do no wrong. Maybe it was the plethora of ESPN segments documenting, in minute detail, the slump of A-Rod, or the fact that he graced the cover of SI as soon as he crawled out of it. Maybe it's Steinbrenner and his "I don't care how many babies die as long as we win" attitude. Maybe it's the weekly paycheck you have to fork over just to see a game in that garbage dump known as Yankee Stadium. Or maybe it's the fact that every time you turned around in the 90's, New York was winning a championship. Whichever your reason, make sure you're aware of this: whatever team you support, you do so selfishly, without any thought to the good of baseball. You want to watch Desperate Housewives instead of an amazing World Series? That's fine, but get used to seeing the Yankees winning it every other year. Eat up Jeter like he's a french silk pie, becuase that's all you're going to have to eat for a long time.

You see, baseball wants the Yankees to win, and they'll do anything to make sure that the kids from the Bronx are in the playoffs every year. It's about money people, money from ratings, and with the Yankees comes those ratings. And the fat man gets richer. How much money did Steinbrenner and Bud Selig make off of last years playoffs? I couldn't say, but I bet they'll make twices as much this year. Good for them, they don't have enough as it is. Right?

My point is to show how futile an effort it is for any team to think that they can build a dynasty unless they're stationed in New York. Baseball doesn't want it, and what baseball doesn't want baseball doesn't get. Everyone outside of Houston and half of Chicago played their part in exacerbating this problem last post season. You sat on your couches and watched Big Brother 412 and not two deserving teams on baseball's grandest stage. You gave up on the game because your team wasn't involved. Selfish and damning. Good job people, I hope you fucking loooove A-Rod then.

So now I wonder: are there any true baseball fans left. When defining the true fans of a sport (and not a team) we have to consider how dedicated the people are to viewing and participating in all things pertaining to that sport. A true baseball fan watches every inning of the game he's viewing, unless his wife tells him otherwise. A true baseball fan watches that late west-coast game until he can't keep his eyes open. A true fan watches the playoffs all the way through, no matter who wins. And so, as a result of the television ratings of last year's World Series (one that didn't involve the Red Sox or Yankees) I've come to the conclusion that there are hardly any true fans left in this country. That, seriously, makes me want to cry. We all know that the players no longer play for the love of the game and we, as fans, berate them for their greediness and lack of morality. But we're all just the same as them. Only we're not millionaires, so what's our excuse? As soon as it becomes obvious that our team isn't going to win it all, we stop watching. Or, in other words, we stop filling the pockets of baseball's brass. That's when the phone call is made to Bud, "Give Steinbrenner more cash, and make sure his boys win." Excuse me while I go relieve my stomach cramps.

So the Yankees it is. Dark blue skies with pinstriped clouds, and Jeter's chiseled mug on every billboard like the face of Big Brother. He's watching you, and pretty soon, you'll have no other choice but to watch him.

Gross Inequities

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Sat, 23 Sep 2006 17:28:00 +0000

Rex Grossman is the new Terrell Owens. No, he's not riding a stationary bike, doing sit ups in his driveway, or lambasting his teammates through the media. But it seems that everywhere you look, on every ESPN segment and in every Sportsline article, Rex Grossman is being mentioned. I play a lot of fantasy football and I'm a verocious reader of everything pertaining to the game. And every day this week, on every fantasy football website, there has been an article discussing the heroics of the Bears' signal caller. So as Owens recovers from surgery and his team sits through their bye week, Rex Grossman, after 2 great games, is on the tip of everyone's tongue; normally a spot reserved for the enigmatic TO.

In the opinion of most, Grossman's torrid start should be considered an aberration and not an early glimpse of a Manningesque future. He's always hurt and has never had a game like he had in week 2. The doubters repeat the stale mantra of "we haven't seen enough" but I say, we've seen plenty. Yes, the first two games were against Green Bay and Detroit (2 defenses that no one is playing on their fantasy team) but there is a larger sample from which we can use to make an educated guess as to whether or not Grossman is for real. Two years ago, in his first season as a starter, the kid from Florida (a product of the Spurrier quarterback factory in Gainesville) broke his leg during a touchdown run in Minnesota. His season was over, but he showed flashes of competence. He was nimble in the pocket, made good decisions, and had a bazooka connected to his neck. I remember liking Rex. Then came the pre-season last year, and another injury that held him out for most of the season. What a savage ballet the Bears performed under Kyle Orton, barely keeping our heads above the water in every game he started, and we pined for someone more accurate - someone with moxy. Then, in a frigid December game at Soldier Field, Lovie made the half time call for the recently healed Grossman. The city was buzzing as he stepped on the field, and number 8 delivered. On his first pass play, Rex fired a 25 yard strike to Muhsin Muhammad. The crowd erupted, and everyone in my apartment flew off the couch in excitement, and if you looked closely you could actually see smoke trailing the ball in slow motion instant replay. All right, now we have a QB. He showed his poise in the playoffs, putting up 21 points against a tough Carolina defense - 21 points which, in almost every other game that season, would have been enough to win the game - but the prevailing mindset of everyone inolved in the pro game was "we haven't seen enough."

Fast forward to this week. Rex's numbers after 2 games: 38 for 53, 551 yards, 5 touchdowns, and 1 interception. And again, the pundits spew forth the same milk toast analysis, citing his inexperience and injury history. Listen, both of his injuries were nasty, bone breaking injuries, not a long series of hamstring issues, or finger issues, or shoulder problems that just wouldn't go away. No, they were freak incidents that caused catastrophic damage to his body. Steve McNair is injury prone, DeShaun Foster is injury prone, even Terrell Owens is injury prone. Rex Grossman is not injury prone, he's just had bad luck. So all of the talk about "he needs to stay healthy" seems extremely reduntant at this point. Of course he has to stay healthy, but so does every other quarterback.

Eric Karabell is a fantasy sports analyst for ESPN. I read his articles a lot, and I used to actually take his advice, but the past few years have taught me about how stretched his knowledge of sports is. I'm not implying that he's misinformed or just plain stupid about sports, but he's asked to know so much about so many different sports, that you can't call him an expert on any given fantasy game. This became blatantly obvious this year, when he picked the Bears to miss out on even a wild card birth in the NFC. In arguably the weakest division in football, in a watered down NFC, Karabell thought the team with the best defense in all of football last year wasn't going to make it to the playoffs. And he's still down on the Bears, picking the Vikings to win this week. He's also hopped on the Grossman bashing bandwagon. What all of this tells me is that he's never seen Grossman play. I truly believe this is the case. Because Grossman has shown that he's extremely intelligent and he's shown that he's a leader. He has the physical tools (a cannon for an arm and good legs) and he has the swagger you need as an NFL quarterback. And it even looks like he has solid weapons around him. For years, we in Chicago have waited for this moment, and we watched in awe as it actually happened. We saw a kid become a man. Too bad no one else in the country did.

The Great Dame

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Sat, 09 Sep 2006 20:40:00 +0000

Let me start off by saying this, Brady Quinn of Notre Dame has not looked sharp in his first 2 games. He doesn't look like the same QB who threw for over 3,900 yards and 32 TD's last year. What he does look like is a Notre Dame quarterback (the most high profile position on one of the most high profiled programs in the country) who has heard too many people tell him he's going to win the Heisman Trophy this year. He looks like a kid trying too hard to match his previous season. He looks like he's on the verge crumbling under the enormous pressure.

At least that's how I felt in the first quarter of the Penn State game this afternoon.

Then NBC shows you a shot of Charlie Weiss on the sidelines, arms folded across his chest, his face both calm and serious, and you think, "everything is going to be all right." And sure enough, it is. If anything can stop the astounding weight of Heisman hype (which includes preseason covers of both Sports Illustrated and ESPN the magazine) from crushing Brady Quinn, it's the flabby arms of Weiss. Has there ever been a coach in the college game that has exuded more confidence than the former New England Patriots offensive coordinator? I'll say this now, if Notre Dame doesn't win 3 or 4 championships during Weiss's tenure, it will be a huge underachievement. Lou Holtz was a legend, but you always felt he was walking a fine line between genius and insanity. With Bob Davie, there was no doubt it was insanity. And Tyrone Willingham, although smart and extremely competent, just doesn't have the game day mind to bring a program to the top level. But with coach Weiss, you get a feeling of security that only your beloved mother can otherwise provide. You know he's under control at all times, you know that he's always thinking 10 plays ahead, and you're confident in the system of the mad genius. Yes, he's mad, but in a good way.

And just as we were all ready to write Brady Quinn off, the Irish QB, suddenly glowing in a confidence similar to that which constantly hovers over his coach, shows everyone why he's the favorite to win the Heisman Trophy. His maturation in his senior season is to be expected, considering his intelligence, and the fact that God created his body and arm out of the perfect quarterback cast. But would he really be at the top of everyone's player of the year list if it wasn't for Weiss? Possibly, but I don't think Brady Quinn would've been able to handle the Heisman pressure under Tyrone "Best Coach Between Sunday and Friday" Willingham. So as I watched Quinn struggle through the first quarter, I began to wonder where the stud of 2005 had gone. Then he found Samardzija in the back of the endzone, and NBC flashed a shot of a smiling coach Weiss, his arms thrust skyward, and I found myself breathing a long awaited, stress aleviating, sigh of relief. The golden boy is back...and he brought his coach with him.

Where's the Lovie?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Thu, 07 Sep 2006 19:30:00 +0000

As I scope the vast array of NFL pundits making their bold predictions for this season, I'm beginning to wonder how the Bears aren't on anyone's radar. Let's quickly rehash last year's season: Grossman goes down in the preseason, Orton steps in; Orton is awful, but the defense keeps the season alive; Grossman returns in week 15 against the Falcons and everyone starts talking Super Bowl; Bears win the division, beat Favre to a pulp; Panthers come to town for a playoff game and Steve Smith crushes the hopes of Chicagoans who haven't had a playoff victory to cheer for since the Clinton administration (weren't those the days). Then comes the draft, and while I'm not that happy with the results, I must (absolutely must) believe that Jerry Angelo and Lovie Smith know more about football than I do. So, as I watched the Bears pass on potential offensive playmakers, trade down out of their 1st round slot, and pick up a guy they probably could've had a round or two later, I told myself "They know what they're doing." Well, what they did was strengthen a defense which is returning all 11 of their starters. Now the #1 defense from last year has depth. Scary!

But everyone is hung up on the offense, and rightly so. The receivers are inexperienced, the quarterback is unproven, and no one knows who will get the bulk of the running carries this year. Yet no one talks about the offensive line. Does anyone remember that Thomas Jones ran for over 13,000 yards last year with almost no passing game to compliment him? And if you think that was based solely on Jones' talent, ala Barry Sanders, you're fooling yourself. And since when is having 2 good running backs a problem? The Panthers worked that formula all of last season, same with the Dolphins, Broncos, and the World Champion Steelers. It's a great, smart way of keeping your running backs healthy. Just ask the Packers what it means to your team when you lose your top RB (or 2 in their case). It's not a problem, it's a luxury. Enjoy it.

The biggest question revolves around the passing game. Again, whichever quarterback plays will be well protected by the offensive line. But which quarterback will it be? Does it matter? In what year did the Bears change to a high-octane, score 42 points a game, football team? Maybe in 2010 it'll happen but to my knowledge, the offense wants to grind the ball on the ground and use the passing game as a compliment. So neither QB is expected to carry a full load, they just have to be decent. Remember this: Kyle Orton, in his rookie season, with the accuracy of my half-blind grandmother, won 10 games. 10 GAMES! How? Becuase of the running game and defense, both of which will be just as good as last year. So why is everyone hung up on Grossman and Griese? Either one will be better than Orton was, so what's the worry? 150 yards and a touchdown is all that's asked of a Bears quarterback. Are we all so sure that Grossman, after a few preseason games, won't be able to put up those mediocre numbers? And the receivers will be just fine. Anyone who was paying attention last year saw Mark Bradley coming out of his shell, looking like a future star, until a leg injury ended his season. He'll be back at full strength before you know it and will be a productive #2 receiver opposite Muhammad.

Let's also not forget that, in the middle of the Patriots dynasty, a warm weather team called the Buccaneers won the Super Bowl. Before that, it was the Baltimore Ravens. Quick, name one player on either of those offenses. Ha, I knew it. You'll be lucky to remember Brad Johnson. The reason those teams won was because of their defenses. Quick, name 10 players from those 2 defenses. Not that hard is it? What Tampa and Baltimore had on defense is the same as what the Bears have now. So if they can do it, why can't we? Most of the pieces are in place for a deep run in the playoffs, no matter what you think of the passing game. Yes, there are holes in the lineup and a few injuries, but what team doesn't have those. What if Shaun Alexander goes down in week 1, or Steve Smith misses all of the season with hamstring problems, are those teams still going to be picked by the "experts" to go to the Super Bowl? I doubt it. Outside of Brian Urlacher, what single player do the Bears rely on like those teams do (and Briggs could come close to Urlacher's production if he needed to step into the middle linebacker spot)? One bad cut, late hit, or awkward landing destroys a lot of teams in this league, but not the Bears.

And yes, I am a Bears fan, so I'm biased. But come on, where's the love?

Lefty You Say?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Wed, 03 May 2006 17:31:00 +0000

In response to a reporter's inquiry last night, Dusty Baker let it be known that the Cubs are in need of a lefty pitcher to throw batting practice. Apparently Dusty is trying to shift the focus of his team's lackluster play away from the mounting injuries to their best players and on to their southpaw problems in the pre-game. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what the problem is with the Cubs this year: they just don't have enough healthy talent. If you plug Prior and Wood into their normal slots in the rotation and Mr. Miyagi Derrick Lee's wrist so he can suit up daily at 1st base, you'd have a playoff caliber team. With the additions of Juan Pierre, Bob Howry, and Scott Eyre, along with the shockingly stellar play of Matt Murton, the Cubs would have been able to win almost as many games as the White Sox this year. But sadly, the horses that the Cubs rode in on all died on their way through the pass. Now they're forced to clear those rotting carcasses off the path with a host of rookie pitchers, and Neifi Perez.

Every year it's the same thing coming from Cubs fans: This is our year. Some years these obligatory statements hold more merit than others, and this year was one of those years. That was until spring training started, when Wood and Prior crumbled like animal crackers in the sweaty palm of hungry fat man. Then came another all too common Cubs fan mantra: Not again. These injuries were bad enough, stung like the wetted end of a snapping towel, but Derrick Lee going down...that was more like getting rocked in the groin by a size 12. He was carrying the team, bringing the Cubs to a more than respectable record, among the top teams in the division. And then came Los Angeles two weeks ago, and that ill-fated bunt by Rafael Furcal.

Isn't it ironic? Don't you think? Jim Hendry of the Cubs courted Furcal in the off season like a silver back monkey in the heart of the mating season. But Furcal relented, pushed away his suitor, and chose a much sunnier option on the west coast. As the speedy shortstop dropped his bunt down the first base line, as Eyre dove and flipped the ball a mile over Lee's head, as Lee stepped into Furcal's path causing a collision that left Lee sprawling in pain on the infield dirt, do you think Hendry heard the waning notes of a famous Alanis Morrisette song in the back of his balding dome? If not, I'm sure he felt a strong distate in his mouth and a sickening feeling in his stomach. Maybe it was Mick Jagger belting out an early 60's "It's All Over Now." Either way, the message was as clear to him as it was to all of Cubs nation watching: your season is over. Which leads to another perrenial phrase that I've heard floated from the lips of Cubs fans: Wait until next year.

But hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the Cubs do have a shot at winning it all this year and that their main problem, one whose reclamation will solve a lot of their on field problems, is that the team cannot find a lefty to throw batting practice. "It's hard to find someone who's off work," Dusty said, "If we played night games, maybe they could come over after work." Yet every day game ever played at Wrigley Field has been sold out. If the stadium holds 41,000 people and we say only half are men, and only 10% of those men are lefties, and maybe 1% of those lefties aren't drunk by the time they enter the stadium, that still leaves 20 available options to pitch batting practice every game. If just one of those men can get a ball over the plate, well then, problem solved. So for all of you southpaw Cubs fans, I beseech you to curb your raging alcoholism and get to the ball park. You never know, you just might be able to save this year's season.

Oh My, Omar

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Fri, 14 Apr 2006 17:56:00 +0000

Has anyone seen the Mets play recently? If not, then you obviously missed the old fashioned beat down they delivered to the Nats last night. New York's second team may now have a team that can compete against the elderly pitching staff and monster lineup of the crosstown Yankees. Is this a team that has gelled instantly like the White Sox of last year, or is this a result of the talent that Met's GM Omar Minaya has assembled over the past two seasons?

This past off-season I stopped hearing those annoying questions of whether or not Kenny Williams knew what he was doing. No one questions the man's baseball mind and savvyness on the trading blocks anymore after assembling one of the most coherent teams in recent memory. Since Minaya took over in 2003, he has spent money like Dan Snyder after a 5-11 season, acquiring almost every sought after free agent on the market. And now the Mets are 9-1, pounding teams down in their pursuit of disrupting (their appetite for destruction) the Braves improbable hunt for a 14th straight division championship.

Two years ago it was Pedro and Carlos Beltran. Last year it was Billy Wagner, Carlos Delgado, and Paul LoDuca. You add those all-stars, each one of them at their respective positions, with the homegrown talent they've stirred up (David Wright and Jose Reyes) and you've got the makings of an NL pennant winner. Now not all of Minaya's moves have been as slick as Pat Riley's hair (see Kris Benson and Kaz Matsui) but no one's perfect. Even the salient Billy Beane makes a false move every once in a while. But after seeing this team beat up on almost everyone they have played so far, I'd say his GM report card looks better than Lindsey Lohan did two years ago.

You may be saying, "It's a long season. Wait and see." If I were a Mets fan, I would probably be skeptical too. But things are looking pretty good in the Big Apple right now. If you're a lover of baseball and live anywhere near New York you probably feel better than a massage from a girl named Fingers. Your lineup is going to score a ton of runs and your bullpen is solid. For those two reasons alone you'll probably end up winning near 80 games. I would take that. So pack that tinder box stadium, crack open a few cold ones for me, and pray that your starting pitching holds up. This could be as special a season for you as last year's was for me.

The Fight For The 8th Spot

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Fri, 14 Apr 2006 01:49:00 +0000

As of today the Bulls are tied with Philadelphia for the 8th and final playoff spot in the Eastern Conference. Our airwaves and plasma screens are currently bombarded with the hype, and hope, of a second year of playoff basketball. Our "experts" talk about the fight for that coveted final spot and dangle that carrot, the one filled with thoughts of our Jordan era teams, in front of Bulls fan's eager faces. I've seen eyes light up in conversations, smiles spread over the idea of the playoffs, even momentary lapses in depression at the mere chance that the Bulls might win their 7th championship. I too dream of the days when the championship trophy is once more hoisted in a triumphant Grant Park ceremony, but the fact is, even if we do make the playoffs, this season will be a failure.

There are 2 reasons for this line of thought. The first being that even if the Bulls do make it to the playoffs, they will be destroyed by the Detroit Pistons. Anyone who thinks that our Chicago team has a chance at defeating the top team in the East, the one that has made it to the finals two years in a row, the team that dominates opponents with their stifling defense and amazingly efficient offense, is painfully kidding themselves. It's a waste of time to dream of something that you know can never happen, think of Guns n' Roses' Chinese Democracy album, for inevitably, and irrevocably, those dreams will be shattered.

The second reason applies to next year's draft. The Bulls have New York's pick this year, and thanks to Isiah Thomas that will be a damn good draft slot, plus our own. Making the playoffs drops our draft position down between one and two places. In an NBA draft that last two rounds and, even then, ends up being more watered down than a Miller Lite, those two positions are big. The difference between the 10th pick in the draft and the 12th pick in the draft could mean the difference between a powerhouse big guy, to complement the front court player we're sure to take with the Knick's pick, and a role player who will probably be traded in two years.

So I say, flush this season down the toilet and look to the future. I mean, is a losing record really considered a positive just because we made the over-stocked NBA playoffs? Our back court is loaded. Heinrich, Gordon, Duhon - they're the reasons we're even in this hunt. The Bulls' big guys, oh Sweetney you big oaf, have offered nothing to help out the stellar play of our guards. If we had one dominant player inside, and I love Chandler but he's far from dominant, we wouldn't even be having these discussions about the 8th spot, we'd be talking about playoff tickets for game one of the first round. And that's exactly what we'll be doing next year, after a monster draft that should propel us into the elite of the East. Then, and only then, will our desire at another championship be a realistic possiblity. Otherwise, get used to talking about that 8th spot.

To Pull Or Not To Pull

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Sat, 08 Apr 2006 15:00:00 +0000

When the White Sox went up by six runs last night I felt pretty damn good. I figured that the two straight losses to the Indians were an aberration, that the World Champs just needed to break off a bit of rust, and that Ozzie's maddening pitching moves in the finale of that series were just him having a bad day. Then I watched Jon Garland give up a few runs in the fifth, then a few more in that same inning, and by the third out he had given up five. I yelled at the screen, "Get him out of there Ozzie," and one of my viewing partners followed with, "There's no way he'll leave him in there for the fifth." Not only did Ozzie leave him in for the fifth, but he left him in for the sixth too, at which time he gave up his eighth run, and the White Sox lead. Finally, Ozzie took the towel from around his neck and walked to the mound in need of a reliever. At the same time I walked to the toilet, in dire need of some relief.

Having watched The Blizzard of Oz for over two years now, I understand - slightly - what he's trying to do out there on the diamond. Yes, he wants to let his pitchers know he has confidence in them, raise there levels of self-assurance so that he can once again pull four straight complete playoff games out of his black and silver hat. These things I do understand. What I don't understand is how Ozzie could basically give that game to the Royals, one of the worst teams in the league. Let's say he pulls Garland after his horrendous fourth inning, and we go in to the bottom of the fifth with a two run lead (the Sox scored a run in the top of the inning). Politte, Cotts, and Jenks, all of whom had a day off on Thursday and were at no risk of injury or burn out, couldn't have done worse than Garland did the next two innings. Most likely, they would have held that lead and given the White Sox that oh-so-important win in the first game of an away series. But Ozzie waited until Garland handed over that large lead, after the Royals had plated their 8th run, before sending in Thornton (who proceded to give up a few more runs in a 10-7 Royals win). Why did Guillen do this?

On Wednesday, when Brandon McCarthy had had two days rest, Ozzie pulled the toothpick hurler after only an inning, only to watch Boone Logan give up a game tying homerun to Travis Hafner. Now last I checked, Hafner is a powerhouse hitter who hits lefty pitchers just as well as righties, so why take out your best arm in the pen, your long reliever, just to play the lefty-righty matchup with a rookie pitcher. As I sat in the stands watching that white ball clear the green fence in right-center, I thought to myself, "This didn't need to happen." Those words rang the next day, like a song you can't get out of your head, as the Royals pounded Garland well into the six.

"This didn't need to happen." I can only imagine that every Cub fan in the state has been reciting those words since the final out of last year's World Series, and if that is the case, then Ozzie has now brought me down to their level. In four games I've watched Ozzie make mistake after mistake and I can only hope that it is Ozzie's twin brother in the dugout making these calls, not the lightning rod that took this city to the World Series last year. If it is Fozzie (as I assume his twin brother would be named) then please, call your brother and get him back with the team. We need the Ozzie of last year, the fireball that pulled no punches with the media or his players, the AL Manager of the Year, the savior of the south side. Please, Ozzie, come back from whatever your planet you're on right now and win some damn games.

Break Out The Asterisks

noreply@blogger.com (Jeremy Stoltz) — Fri, 07 Apr 2006 00:46:00 +0000

Fans in San Diego's Petco Park greeted Barry Bonds on opening day with a sereis of white cardboard statements, none of them of the 'We Love You Barry' variety. Some of southern California's finest questioned Bonds' perilous chase at Aaron's home run record, others questioned his sexuality, the size of his head, and the length and width of that which resides in the front sling of his banana hammock. But like coconut on a German chocolate roundcake, the icing having a strong flavor that doesn't appeal to most, one fan took it up a notch by throwing a plastic syringe at Barry's feet. Hours later Jesse Jackson lost his shit, attacking everyone from the tosser of said syringe to security inside the stadium. Now, does anyone really think Bonds wants Jesse Jackson on his side? Come to think of it, does anyone want Jesse Jackson on their side? His arrival on the scene, and not Game of Shadows, means things in BarryLand have gotten serious. All brought on, one way or another, by one single syringe.

I can hear my mom now, "Oh, that poor man." And if I were an outsider, with no emotional attachement to the game, I would agree with her. But as a lifelong baseball fan, one who has lived and died with every White Sox pitch over the past 29 years, I say the behavior of that syringe tosser was spot-on. As Peter Gammons said, "(the syringe) did not present any danger to Bonds or to any othe player," so we can throw out the Jackson diatribe, which was focused solely on the safety of the juiced beast, and instead explore the intentions of that infamous needle-thrower. Let's face it, the guy was pissed at Bonds - either that or he wanted to show the guys in San Francisco's front office what an arm he has. Assuming the former is correct, I believe he had every right to hurl that needle-less missile.

If Barry Bonds felt he had the right to turn himself into an early twenties Hulk Hogan just because he was pissed that McGuire and Sosa were getting the attention he deserved, and in doing so breaking one of the most respected records in all of sports, one synonymous with the greatness of a drunk named Ruth and the drive of a man known to his mom as Henry, then Mr. Needle Thrower had the right to land that plastic syringe at the tip of Barry's left toe (an egregiously large left toe, if it fits with the rest of his freakish frame). The fact is he cheated. He cheated the game, the fans, the record books, the players, and, most of all, himself. Yes, Barry cheated Barry. How? Look at the hoopla surrounding him now. We'll all look back at this season and say to our kids "Boy, you should have seen the disgusting mess that was Bonds' exit from the game." He's tarnished his legacy with a thick soot that no amount of Oxyclean could rub off. And for what? Fame and glory? Where's the fame and glory now? We're talking about asterisks on his record for pete's sake. Is that the way Bonds wanted to go out? Was 72 homeruns really worth it?

And when Barry breaks Ruth's record, and I cringe at the thought, what do you think will come flying from the stands then? There will probably be a bunch of hotdog wrappers, a few bottles, and if anyone can sneak one in, a bowling ball. And even if, to the horror of Jesse Jackson, that bowling ball hits Bonds point blank in the head, IT WON'T HURT HIM. His head is now bigger than that ball by a long shot, a shot longer than one of his swats into McCovey Cove, and even a sixteen pound ball couldn't split that inflated - in more than one way - melon. I can see the marble ball dribbling down his shoulder, a spiderweb crack in its curved side, and a fully conscious Barry looking down at it wondering, "How did it all come to this?" Then he'll see the anger and disgust on the faces of those he tried so hard to impress and in that moment maybe, just maybe, he might regret what he's done.