So how to explain events of late? Why first San Diego, coming off a bye, gets poleaxed by a visiting Jets team that had previously appeared hapless. Then Denver, off a bye, is shredded by an Oakland team that had not only lost four straight but was coming off a deflating overtime defeat to cross-bay rival San Francisco. Of course, Denver had already whipped the Patriots, the defending Super Bowl champions, off their bye week and playing at home in Foxboro.
The explanation is simple: there is no explanation, not for those postbye flops. Nor for preseason Super Bowl favorite St. Louis’ back-to-back, five-game-losing, five-game-winning streaks, nor for the four-game slides of putative powerhouse Patriots and Raiders, nor for how Indy gave Philly’s boo-birds a field day by shellacking the Eagles, nor for how Atlanta, New England and St. Louis held off what appeared to be certain defeat with dramatic fourth-quarter comebacks last week.
Oh, the losing coaches step up to the microphone, mortification etched on their faces and go through the motions and, of course, all the cliches. How many times will I have to hear, “I obviously didn’t get them ready to play.” Well, why not? What were these guys prepared for? A charity raffle? A recipe swap? The midterm election? SATs? “We came out flat.” Excuse me? How is this possible? Is there a set of emotional irons in the locker room? Did they forget what day it was? Did the priest deliver a dud of a prayer? Were the players wearing earplugs?
Much has been made of NFL parity over the past several years. How any team–witness the last three seasons–can rise from mediocrity or even pathos (Patsthos?) and wind up Super Bowl champions. But those were surprises season to season. Once the Rams, Ravens and Patriots geared up and started rolling, they were recognizable as championship timbre and pretty much unbeatable. And once you, the average five-and-dimer or office-pool slave, sorted out the new ups and downs, the season played out with a discernible logic.
But all that is a remnant of the past, consigned to the NFL trash heap along with leather helmets, two-way players and hitting the quarterback. This season has gone far beyond parity and is now bordering on outright insanity. It marks the beginning of a brand new NFL, one in which there is no rhyme or reason. Or at the very least none yet identified by philosophers, scientists or sportswriters to explain the seemingly random events that occur weekly on the gridiron. The NFL is about as easy to understand–and explain–as the movie “Memento.” It now boasts even fewer certainties than life itself; death and taxes is the motherlode compared with knowing only that the Bengals will lose.
Now, don’t confuse this with a gambler’s lament. That’s a perennial whine and something of a bore. This isn’t about Cleveland botching an extra point at the end of the game to produce a push with Pittsburgh. Or Plaxico Burress coming up one yard short of a win both on the field and in the pocketbook. Or Rodney Peete fumbling on the final play of the game, transforming a Carolina cover against New Orleans into a tearful harangue that threatened the well-being of my TV screen and two or three pretty vases in the vicinity.
No, this is the lament of a writer who can’t risk the most modest, the most innocent opinion on pro football without looking a fool by weekend’s end. Indeed every week is virtually a new NFL incarnation, where reality is reinvented and new stars are born. Who needs an MVP like Kurt Warner when you have Marc Bulger, on his third team in three seasons, ready on the bench? Why stick with Daunte Culpepper when St. Cloud States’ own Todd Bouman is well rested, having played just six games in six seasons? Who cares when Edgerrin James can ramble again when you can hand the ball to James Mungro, a 5-foot-9 undrafted rookie? Why ride the “Bus” in Pittsburgh when Amos Zereoue has the sleekest set of wheels in town? About the only thing that hasn’t happened yet this season is Manute Bol throwing a TD pass, but that seems inevitable once he finishes his minor-league hockey stint.
The Warner scenario is particularly fascinating, given how it seems at least vaguely familiar. A Pro Bowl quarterback on a team sliding into oblivion goes down with an injury. When he’s ready to play again, his team is on a roll behind the backup. We learned the answer to that problem last season. But of course coach Mike Martz comes up with a totally different answer. While Bill Belichick consigned his star, Drew Bledsoe, to the bench from where he got to contribute one dramatic cameo in the playoffs, Martz says, “Welcome back Warner,” planning to sub the winless one for a guy who might possibly sport a 6-0 record as a starter this year.
One frequently hears regrets (mostly from Cowboys fans) about the passing of the great dynasties, just as in our world gone mad, there is all too much warmhearted nostalgia about the virtues of the cold war. Dynasties, be they sports or political, are vastly overrated. Football’s new offering of magic, mystery and mayhem is an unsurpassed entertainment. The NFL’s longtime boast–and longtime lie–that “on any given Sunday …” has finally been realized. And a true fan can’t ask for anything more.
