The Agony of Deflate

Cartoon by Gary Varvel, Indianapolis Star

SO the complete insanity in Seattle was followed up by a boring game in Foxboro that wasn’t particularly noteworthy. The New England Patriots throttled the Indianapolis Colts 45:7 and, quite honestly, there isn’t much to write about it, since the result really wasn’t that much of a surprise. The Patriots have been kryptonite to the Colts for the better part of 15 years. This result was hardly a shock. And The Lose was preparing to settle in for two weeks of anticipation – one of the juicier Super Bowl matchups since … since … well, since last year – and two weeks of irritating hype which promised to verge on silly, as players from two of the more dominant and respected NFL organizations would inevitably prattle on about how they get no respect from anyone. The most intriguing aspect to the Super Bowl buildup was going to be hearing what Marshawn Lynch has to say at Media Day, but it would otherwise be rather humdrum and nondescript.

But then a Colts beat writer broke a story that the league was looking into some irregularities with game balls supplied by the Patriots, and all hell breaks loose. Welcome to Deflategate, or Deflateghazi, or find some other ironic idiom to describe it. The most needless and ridiculous scandal imaginable breaks, and Super Bowl hype week suddenly becomes interesting.

And let me point out something here, lest you think the Colts scribe breaking this was some act of sour grapes: NFL beat writers generally don’t report on standard NFL operating procedures. They aren’t really news. For example, it’s standard practice after an NFL game for a team to submit what is essentially a list of grievances from the week before – plays where officials, in their minds, got the calls wrong. This happens all the time, and it’s actually part of quality control operations, and it’s rarely a big deal. But it becomes a big deal, for example, when the Lions appear to get jobbed, after which it is then reported, in the media, of the NFL officers going through the game tape and finding all of the instances throughout the game where the Cowboys appeared to get jobbed. All of a sudden, the machinations of the league are back under the microscope. But those sorts of reviews happen all the time, and it’s not newsworthy when one team wins 52:0 or some such thing. And it’s not necessarily anything out of the ordinary that a football has to be taken out of play, or has to be reinflated at the half, or something of that sort. Stuff happens during the game. You see all the time, in baseball, a pitcher who doesn’t like a baseball tossing it back to be taken out of play. A couple of footballs losing some air wouldn’t have been a big deal. The Colts beat writer almost certainly had something more important to write about on his deadline, something along the lines of how the Colts played like the suckiest bunch of sucks who ever sucked. He wouldn’t have followed the smoke if he didn’t think there was fire.

Sure enough, it’s been discovered that 11 of 12 New England footballs were underinflated in the range of 2 lbs. per square inch. And now all of us are attempting to dabble the black magic arts of sport science to understand this. I’m not a physicist, nor do I play one on TV, but here goes. Each team supplies a dozen footballs for their offense to use during the game. The football has to be inflated to 12.5-13.5 PSI and weigh 14-15 oz. (A third set of footballs, to be used exclusively by the placekickers, are provided by the league.) The referees inspect the footballs 2 hours before the game and approve them for play, after which they are given back to the equipment staff for each team. They are then not to be altered in any way. Now, like I say, if 1-2 footballs come back underinflated or warped or what have you during the game, it isn’t that big of a deal. But 11 of 12 is unlikely to be a coincidence. What’s far more likely the case, in fact, is that someone on the New England side of the field is doctoring the footballs during the game.

So why does this matter? Well, a football with less air in it is going to be easier to grip. It will be easier to throw and catch. It will also be easier for the running back to clutch. This effect is magnified in cold and wet weather – two prevailing conditions on Sunday night in Foxboro. NFL QBs are notoriously finicky when it comes to the football. Some like the footballs inflated to the lower end of the allowable PSI, affording them “more leather” on the ball. Aaron Rogers, meanwhile, has come out and said he likes a harder, more inflated football, since he has bigger hands and it affords him more control. All QBs agree that brand new footballs suck, since they’re slick and have no good surface area to grip. Equipment managers will massage the footballs ahead of time, rub dirt on them, bounce them against brick walls, do anything to break them in to their QB’s specs.

And yes, you can tell the difference. You can tell immediately. A lot was made of the new soccer balls used in the World Cup in South Africa, which players had a hard time making dip and spin, and which goalkeepers had a hell of a time judging the flight of. The ball is the extension of the hand (or, in the case of soccer, the foot). All it would take for me to size up a basketball was a couple of dribbles – I could see the way it bounced, hear the sound, feel the surface with my fingers and a palm – and I would then know how I needed to compensate for it, making a slight adjustment in the placement of the ball in my hand when taking a shot. It’s minutia we’re talking about here, tiny little adjustments, but such is the extent of the awareness of your environment. Pitchers know when the seams of a baseball are fractions of inches off, hitters can feel and hear the difference when the ball strikes the bat. When handed a 10 PSI football on set, former NFL QB turned TV analyst Mark Brunell seemed almost shocked at how it felt in his hand. With the added grip, he figured he could throw the ball an extra 10 yards. Sports are played with the senses far more than most people realize.

And one of the disputed footballs on Sunday night ended up in the hands of the one guy other than Andrew Luck on the Colts sideline who would be aware of the nuances of the actual football itself – after a Colts interception, which the player then carried to the sideline, he flipped it to the equipment manager, who noticed something was weird and then alerted the Indianapolis coaching staff. This occurred during the first half of the game, and all of the Patriots footballs were then inspected during the halftime break and reinflated. But as it turns out, the Colts apparently had suspicions about this sort of thing going on back in November when the two teams played in Indianapolis, and the reports which have come out further suggest the possibility that the Colts were tipped off by the Ravens, who suspected something was peculiar about the footballs a week earlier, but who were too busy griping about New England’s weird offensive formations to publicly gripe about the footballs. The Ravens apparently took it one step further and complained to the league behind the scenes, and so Sunday’s reinflation of the footballs at halftime in Foxboro constituted the NFL’s equivalent of a surprise inspection. And as I said before, finding 11 of 12 footballs to be noncompliant, having been deemed compliant two hours before the game, pretty much eliminates the possibility of a coincidence. It defies all logic and sense that a whole bunch of footballs would simply be losing air.

This stuff is awesome.

Now, no one is suggesting that the Patriots won the game because of deflated footballs. The Patriots would’ve won using a nerf ball, a medicine ball, a bowling ball, hell they could’ve played with a cinderblock or a stuffed Thanksgiving turkey and still beaten the Colts. But therein lies part of the problem: if you’re the Patriots, why are you doing this? You don’t need to do this! You can beat the Colts six ways to Sunday. Just play the game straight up, for the love of pete. Why do you need to cheat?

And let’s not kid ourselves, this is cheating. Doctoring the football is against the rules. It’s cheating. Pretending otherwise is both emotionally and intellectually dishonest. Now, gamesmanship is nothing new in sports, of course. Teams have been trying to get subtle advantages on the opposition for years. Back when the Dodgers were stealing bases all over teams in the 1960s and 1970s, the Giants would famously overwater the area around the first base bag at The Stick and turn it into a quaggy, sloppy mess in an attempt to slow the Dodgers’ running game. Legal? No. Effective? Well, yeah. Some of the accusations over the years of foul play have been pretty entertaining. The White Sox accused the Jays of stealing signs from the stands. The Seahawks have been accused of pumping in artificial crowd noise. Various dome teams in football and baseball have been accused of adjusting the air conditioning. Most of the accusations turns out to be nonsense, but gamesmanship and bending of the rules most definitely goes on. We joke around the office about the extent to which cheating occurs in auto racing, sometimes rather brazenly, and how auto teams employ one whole group of technicians to help them cheat and another whole group of technicians to help them avoid getting caught. The cynic would suggest that stripping Lance Armstrong of his Tour de France titles is hypocritical, since cycling, as a sport, is dirtier than my closet, and the idea that Armstrong won simply by cheating more efficiently than the others is nonsense. Take all of the drugs out of the sport, strip it down to the basic, and Armstrong would probably win, anyway. But, in the end, “everyone else is doing it” is not an acceptable defense, nor should it ever be.

And since this is the Patriots we are talking about, it rankles people even more. They are the closest thing to a dynasty the parity-happy NFL can muster, with three Super Bowl wins and now six Super Bowl appearances in this millennium. They are a model franchise in terms of preparation, on-field innovation, roster construction, and reinvention on the fly, seemingly never missing a beat and winning at more than a .700 clip over the past decade. There is a fair amount of envy and jealousy in the NFL about the continued success of the Patriots, to be sure. But there is also a constant spate of whispers and rumours suggesting the franchise is bending whatever rules they can find so as to gain a competitive advantage, one which dates all the way back to their first Super Bowl victory, where they were accused of secretly videotaping St. Louis Rams practices. The worst transgression of all, of course, was the so-called ‘Spygate’ episode from 2007, in which the Patriots were, in fact, caught and penalized by the league. Spygate was a clear violation of the league’s rules regarding use of technology during the game – which is prohibited, other than some basic radio communication and still photography, all of which has to meet league-specific guidelines. The league has always maintained the idea that the game should be determined by the human element (a notion baseball would do well to follow, I should add, since it’s fairly accepted, at this point, that pitchers and hitters are studying each others’ tendencies downloaded onto iPods during the games). And they are pretty adamant about that at the NFL offices. (Just recently, it was reported that Browns are being investigated for staffers illegally text messaging during the game, although I am not sure what besides ‘OUR QB IS TEH SUX’ they would possibly be saying.)

While paying the penalty for this Spygate violation, Bill Belichick also denied any willful wrongdoing and maintained his club gained no competitive advantage. His response to this particular transgression regarding footballs, meanwhile, was to express surprise and, to some extent, throw Tom Brady under the bus, although I am not sure that was truly his intent. “Ask the quarterback.” Well, apparently, the QB has no idea what’s going on, either, so now what?

Something doesn’t jibe here. A bagful of footballs don’t all mysteriously deflate. We can again attempt to apply the rule of Hanlon’s razor here, in which case whomever is in charge of the footballs is obviously incompetent and should summarily be fired, but Belichick and the Patriots, rightly or wrongly, are already perceived as cheaters by a good number of those in and around the league. And Belichick is notorious even among the coaching establishment for being a huge control freak. That this pesky little detail about the footballs could somehow accidentally slip past every single person on the Patriots sideline seems dubious. Their reputation precedes them in this case.

And now the NFL is in a really bad spot. Roger Goodell has been perceived as being something of a Patriots stooge in the past – Pats owner Bob Kraft has been one of his most adamant supporters throughout some of the league’s recent trials and tribulations – and you’ve already got the Seahawks pointing out the absurdity/stupidity of the league threatening to suspend Marshawn Lynch for wanting to wear gold shoes, implying a certain level of double-standard going on were the Patriots not dealt with harshly if found to be guilty. The league has to get this investigation right, and has to do it quickly, and it is unclear, if not outright doubtful, that the NFL is capable of doing that. Previous investigations do not exactly leave people brimming with confidence. But this sort of thing goes to the integrity of the game. You just can’t have this.

I don’t see how the league can avoid coming down hard on the Patriots for this. Failing to do so would be yet another blow to a league that really doesn’t need any more of those at the moment. Fines? Loss of draft picks? Suspensions for the Super Bowl and/or carrying over to next season? I think all of those are in play at the moment. It may, in fact, be the last one which finally convinces some folks in Foxboro, and elsewhere, that the league will not tolerate this kind of thing.

What a mess. What a needless, ridiculous mess. This promises to be an epic distraction, and it’s going to be hard for many to view a potential Patriots Super Bowl win as being anything short of tarnished. The league probably just wants this to go away, but that ain’t gonna happen. Not at this stage, it isn’t. You’ve got every sports reporter in America descending upon Phoenix next week, looking for something to write about and something to say before the camera. Any guesses what Topic #1 is going to be?

And for the Seahawks, a brash lot who do not mind being cast as the villains – which is odd in and of itself, since no one outside of the Pacific Northwest cared one way or another about the Seahawks until they suddenly got scary good – this is going to put them in an unusual position. Dare I say it, for the casual fans out there who are reading about this stuff, are the Seahawks now – gasp! – the good guys? Now I know this is getting weird.

The game last Sunday in Seattle ran the gamut. It was awful and brilliant, it was exasperating and confounding and bizarre and exciting and spectacular. It was the sort of game which goes a way in rehabilitating the tattered image of the NFL – we were reminded, for a few hours, why we like the game in the first place. And if the NFL fucks up this investigation, it just may be up to the Seahawks on Super Bowl Sunday to once again go about saving the league from itself.

Green in the Face

Seahawks expected win percentage last Sunday

TO CALL the Seahawks 28:22 OT victory over the Green Bay Packers an improbability would be a disservice to all things improbable. When Russell Wilson threw his 4th interception of the game with 5:13 remaining, the Seahawks expected win percentage fell to 3.8% – meaning that, according to Log5, the Seahawks chances of winning this game were lower than that of the 2007 New England Patriots losing a game to the 0-14 Tangerine Dream of 1976. In order for the Seahawks to win – down 19-7 with 5:13 to play – a few things on the order of miraculous had to occur.

Stuff like this:

Yes, that happened. And so did this:

That right there is the single weirdest 2-point conversion in the history of the NFL.

The Seahawks scored a pair of TD’s in 44 seconds to grab a 22-19 lead. If anything, they scored too quickly, since the Packers had time to mount a final drive and tie the game with a FG, sending it to OT. The turn of events in this game was confounding. And we like to do confounding here at In Play Lose, where one team’s miraculous comeback is another team’s epic choke. And my love for Seattle’s Blue Man Group aside, watching the Packers squander this game was astonishing.

The math wasn’t in Seattle’s favour, but you didn’t need to do the math to realize what the Seahawks were up against, when the simple eye test would do the trick, since your own two eyes would tell you that the Seahawks were terrible. Absolutely terrible. They had committed three turnovers and six penalties before they had even gained a first down. They had about 50 yards of offense in the first half. By all rights, it probably should’ve been 28-0 or even 35-0 at the half.

Yet given every possibility to put the defending champions to the sword early in this game, the Packers refused to seize it. They had the ball six times in Seattle’s territory in the first half, yet only managed a single TD. They converted five Seahawk turnovers in the game into only nine points. Packer fans had to feel a bit uneasy with each missed opportunity, as the Seahawks are known for strong finishes, whereas a talented yet less deep Green Bay team often tired late in close games this season. The last thing Green Bay wanted to do was let the Seahawks hang around and have more chances.

Then again, given Seattle’s ineptitude on offense, maybe letting them have the ball was a good idea. Russell Wilson pitched a 0.0 QBR in the first 30 minutes, and by the time of the aforementioned 4th interception, his QBR had eked all the way up to 7.2. The Hawks were so desperate for offense that they dusted off this bit of nuttiness when down 16-0 well into the 2nd half:

Nothing to see here, just your standard NFL TD pass from a punter to a backup offensive tackle lined up in an eligible position.

Doing something like this with the season on the line takes a certain amount of chutzpah. But much like the offensive line shenanigans the Patriots pulled a week ago, it was the right call, an idea which was born from extensive film study of the opposition. The Seahawks had apparently noticed a tendency of the outside rushers on the Packers FG defense to crash hard to the inside. If it hadn’t worked, Pete Carroll & Co. would’ve been 2nd-guessed interminably, of course, because it’s always a bad play if it doesn’t work, but then again, nothing else was working up to that point. And missing on this play wouldn’t have changed the situation much. Taking a FG to go down 16-3 wasn’t that much different than being down 16-0. Two more TD’s would be required in either of those cases, and the Seahawks were having trouble simply holding onto the football, much less sustaining a scoring drive. If anything, it was the perfect time to run this play – a time when conventional football wisdom would suggest that just getting something on the scoreboard was somehow better than coming away with nothing.

But see, that’s the sort of thing which, in a desperate situation, the really good teams aren’t afraid to try. The Seahawk rally was built upon a mix of unpredictability and an inherent trust in their best players to make plays. The Seahawks often opted to run the football in passing situations, since Marshon Lynch clearly had a hot hand and wound up running for 159 yards. When skill players get hot, you give them the ball. Also, most everything the Seahawks did at the end of the game was based on zone reads, whereby Russell Wilson makes determinations on the spot in both the running and passing games. He may have been having an awful game, but Wilson’s still their best player. The zone reads are Wilson’s forte and a devastating part of his arsenal. Were it not imperative to keep him standing upright, the Seahawks would run the zone read all the time, but you don’t want to subject your QB to so many hits over the course of the season. But there wasn’t any point in doing that any more, because there wasn’t going to be any season left. In the 4th Quarter of this game, the Seahawks trusted their best player to make plays. Meanwhile, Aaron Rogers, who is the best QB in the NFL, was entrusted by the Green Bay Packers to … hand the ball off a lot.

“The one statistic I had as far as a target to hit was 20 rushing attempts in the second half. I felt that would be a very important target to hit for our offense.” – Mike McCarthy

Uh … huh? How about an important target being to get a first down? Or maybe score? Or maybe win the game?

Packers coach Mike McCarthy has now been cast as one of the primary villains in this Greek tragedy of a season’s end for Team Cheese. The Packers had an cautious game plan, and McCarthy played it conservative, kicking four times on 4th & 1, and opting for FGs twice when they had 4th down near the Seattle goal line. Now, to be fair here, a lot of the critique of McCarthy doesn’t seem to be based on the eye test. He may not have shown much confidence in his offense to get a single yard, but the Packers offense wasn’t exactly doing much to justify that faith. Quite honestly, they weren’t very good, either. Rogers threw two bad interceptions and missed an open receiver in the end zone. Everything they did in this game was essentially gifted to them through Seahawk errors. So it’s somewhat understandable, in a game where you think points are going to come at a premium, think your defense is playing great, and think your offense is playing lousy, to take whatever points that you can get.

But … you’re not playing in Cleveland or Tampa Bay here. You’re playing the defending Super Bowl champs on their home field in the NFC Championship Game, which means they probably have a few guys capable of making plays over there on the other sideline. They have the home field advantage, in this game, because they’re probably better than you. You’re the underdog here, Packers. Take some risks! As hesitant as McCarthy was to let the momentum swing through a defensive stop on the goal line – a legit worry in a place as nuts as the Clink in Seattle – taking the easy way out time and again, taking threes instead of going for sevens, essentially left the Seahawks in the game. And I see no harm whatsoever, even when milking the clock in the 4th Quarter, to let your all-universe QB throw a pass, even if he’s having a terrible game. What set the stage for the Seahawks comeback, after that interception I mentioned ages ago, was three Packers runs for negative yards, followed by a shanked punt – the first of many Packer mistakes down the stretch.

The Seahawks started making plays, and the Packers started making mistakes. Go back and look at those two nutso gifs at the top of the page – both of them are unlikely results, but both are also Packer goofs. The onside kick itself is, in fact, almost perfectly placed by the Seahawks. (Good teams tend to have good kickers.) The usual tactic for defending the onside kick is having the front line move forward, block the oncoming kicking team, and let a designated guy behind them field the ball, but the kick is right in a place where a guy on the front line has to make a choice on whether or not to go for the ball. It’s a judgment call the kicking team wants to force the opponent to have to make. And never mind whether or not he should or shouldn’t have gone for it. Catch the football! You’re on the Hands team for a reason!

And I have no earthly idea what the safety is doing on that 2-point conversion – 2 points for Seattle which turned out to be absolutely critical. He takes about the worst route to the ball imaginable. It’s almost like he lost it in the sun or something, except it’s Seattle and there is no sun there.

And once the Seahawks had to chance to go for the kill shot in OT, they went for it. The Packers crept their entire defense up to the line on the last two plays, playing the run after having been beaten on by Lynch the entire second half. The safeties were caught cheating, and the Seahawks simply threw over the top:

It’s hard to believe this happened. I’ve watched the NFL replay twice, knowing the end result, and still can’t believe it. While I think most clichés in sports about heart and effort and working harder are bullshit, there is something to be said for the notion of finding a way to win. Good teams figure it out and have the players to make it happen. No, actually, great teams figure it out. And good teams often lose to great ones who do it.

And make no mistake, the Packers are a very, very good team. But you just can’t lose this game. You just can’t. They’ve got to be sick over this one. They really were the better team on Sunday, but the Packers wound up giving it away after having been five minutes away from going to the Super Bowl. It’s the most inexplicable sort of defeat, one which they’re never really going to get over.

Quick Misses

WE WILL start with some roundball today. It's been pointed out to me on several occasions that we don't talk enough roundball here at In Play Lose. The Lose loves me some roundball, of course, and the local club is certainly making it easy to love the NBA again. The Golden State Warriors are 29-5, possess the league's best offense and the league's best defense, to boot. They are dynamic and exciting and the O-rena has become the sort of electric madhouse of a home court everyone knew it could.

The Dubs have been good the last couple of seasons, of course, and their only significant change in the offseason was, of all things, to replace the head coach, which didn't seem to make much sense when it happened. But new head coach Steve Kerr came in, looked at the talent amassed, thanked his lucky stars, and then said something along the lines of, "um, hey, guys, here's an idea: let's pass the basketball." For all of his motivational prowess, deposed head coach Mark Jackson ran a prehistoric, isolation-heavy offense which negated one the W's greatest strengths – they have excellent passers at every position on the floor. With Kerr's more open flow offense, the Warriors are a terror. They're a matchup nightmare because they can adapt to seemingly any situation – they have the best backcourt in the NBA, they have slashers and transition players, they have role players, they have instant offense on the bench, they have shutdown 1-on-1 defenders. The challenge will be to keep their big men, David Lee and Andrew Bogut, healthy for the entire season, because those two can clean the glass and because Bogut is an elite defender, and Kerr has to balance the need to grab homecourt advantage in the loaded West with the need to ration minutes.

But it's interesting to note how a change in coaching and a simple philosophical shift catapulted this team into the stratosphere. The team flirted with trades and the like in the offseason, but then came to realize it wasn't necessary. The end result is a team that's pretty dazzling to watch, and has the look of being special – a term, in sports, which has enormous connotations.

Anyway, let's lace up the sneakers here and hit the hardwood first. To the buzzard points!

• I think they have reached the threshold of misery at Madison Square Garden after Saturday, when the Knicks lost their 15th in a row, getting blown out by 28 by a bad Charlotte Bobcats Hornets team. I don't think any more losses, at this point, really matter. It can't any worse than that, can it?

The Knicks are 5-35 and possess the worst record in the NBA, and new Knicks president Phil Jackson (sort of) had to fall on his sword after this one:

"This is a mea culpa. I take responsibility for it."

The reason he only sort of falls on the sword is that he then says this:

"Obviously I didn't do the right thing in picking the group of guys that were here. A lot of it was etched in stone, we had guys with guaranteed contracts... There was something going on there that didn't click toward making winning necessary or a possibility for us."

So, in other words, the players suck, and the previous administration was stupid for signing them. This is classic coach speak, of course, whereby you shift the blame at the same time you admit your culpability.

Carmelo Anthony missing 10 games with a bad knee certainly hasn't helped, nor the absence for 12 games by what remains of Amar'e Stoudemire, but the Knicks were already awful with them in the lineup, and I don't think there is much point in having them hurry back from the injuries. In trading away two players and getting nothing in return of value last week, the Knicks signaled they had given up on the season. The lineup for Saturday's 28-point debacle v. Charlotte was maybe as bad as I've ever seen in the NBA. The Knicks will hope to rebuild through the draft and also free agency in the offseason, but the Zen Master did, in fact, offer up a nugget of truth in that regard which almost no pro sports execs will care to admit:

"We're all worried about the fact that money is not going to just be able to buy you necessary talent. You're going to have to have places where people want to come and play ... "

Read more here: http://www.newsobserver.com/2015/01/10/4465550/jackson-now-its-up-to-me-to-build.html#storylink=cpy

In other words, there is a legit danger of Edmonton Disease creeping in. And see, it's that kind of stuff which I've always appreciated from Phil Jackson. He's someone who generally isn't afraid to speak to broader issues in a team or the game as a whole. He also then ripped the silly, bright-shiny-object mentality which has hindered the franchise for decades:

"We're going through this period of time and for some of the people that have been fans of this team have told me many times that there's been this impression that maybe the team should blow it up and should start over again and it's never happened. It's always been going after the next big star. We kept searching for the big star to change our fortunes which has never happened in the last 45 years or so, so reality is that this is probably the best way to go about the business and to begin and to restart and do it the right way and put it together in a way that really makes sense."

So even though I dock him for some coach speak there earlier, I gotta give him some props for this. He needs all the props he can get right about now, since that team is even worse than the 76ers at the moment – and speaking of which, they must be really aggravated at the Philly nerve center, since this is the second year in a row where their concerted efforts at being the worst team in the NBA are being actively thwarted. Last year's awful team was done in by the Milwaukee Bucks and their refusal to play together in any sort of an arrangement looking like a team. This year, it's the Knicks. The 76ers will have to try harder, or try easier, as the case may be, and it won't matter anyway, since Cleveland will win the draft lottery again even if they make the playoffs, since it's the only thing Cleveland ever wins.

• Speaking of the Cavs, their attempt at creating an instant championship contender hasn't gone very well so far. In spite of signing LeBron, and trading those two top NBA draft picks they've had to Minnesota for Kevin Love, the Cavs are only 19-19 and can't seem to figure out how to play together. This has led to a certain amount of disquiet in Cleveland, of course, who are desperate for a winner. But the Cavs made a couple of decent trades last week, acquiring some pieces without giving up much of anything, and they basically have the whole season to use as a chemistry experiment, because the East stinks and .500 ball will work just fine for getting into the playoffs. And come April, they still have the best player on the planet on their team.

• The Knicks have now filled out their depleted roster with a couple of guys signed to 10-day contracts. The Lose is a big fan of the 10-day, which is the sports world's equivalent of being a temp. I always enjoyed being a temp, actually. I liked it far more than most of my fulltime jobs. You don't get paid as much, sure, but you're also genuinely appreciated because the organization you're working for desperately needs some stuff done, so you're helping them out in a bind. Likewise, NBA clubs don't bother signing guys to 10-day contracts for the purposes of sitting them at the end of the bench. There are plenty of 7'0" stiffs who can do that. In fact, I've never understand what value the Chuck Nevitts of the world offered in the first place, since you wouldn't be caught dead with them on the floor at a meaningful time. (At least those guys have a sense of humour about it, the funniest of which was Scott Hastings, who once said he was always spoken of in the same sentence as Michael Jordan – "that Scott Hastings, he's no Michael Jordan" – and who responded to his usual box score line of 1 minute of play, 0-0 from the floor, 0-0 from three, 0-0 from the FT line, 0 offensive rebounds, 0 total rebounds, 0 assists, 0 blocked shots, 0 turnovers, and 0 fouls, by saying such a statline was called a "trillion" and that he led the league in trillions.) When you sign a 10-day contract, they usually actually need you to play. (One of the Knicks temps got 18 minutes the other night.) You can sign two 10-days in a season with the same club, but after that, they have to sign you for the whole season. It's kind of a cool audition, and a few guys have managed to stick going this route over the years. And as an inherent fan of the underdogs, I always want to see these kinds of guys do well.

• One other bit of Knicks news here, which actually segues nicely into talking about the NFL playoffs. This is what Phil Jackson said about Knicks head coach Derek Fisher:

"The fans, I want them to leave Derek alone in this regard. He's doing the best job possible. It's not his fault."

Now, Phil Jackson and Derek Fisher have brought to New York with them the famous triangle offense which was a staple of Jackson's teams in Chicago and L.A. What they've come to discover, of course, is that it was a whole lot easier to run a triangle offense with Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen and Shaq and Kobe and Pau Gasol. (In New York, the natives are skeptical.) It's been a belief among many, in fact, that Jackson's genius as a coach actually involved little more than having some of the best players in the history of the game be on his teams, and that this foray into management with New York is an attempt, on his part, to prove the naysayers wrong. Frankly, you can probably run any offense with Shaq and be successful, so long as "throw the ball to the huge guy" is the first option. It's also been insinuated that the Knicks, as constructed this season, don't have 'the right kind of players' to run the triangle effectively, to which I say, "THEN WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO RUN IT?!?!?!" As a coach, you have to give your players the best chance to win the game. Stubbornly sticking with something that doesn't work is absolutely stupid.

Juxtapose that attitude with what we saw in Foxboro on Saturday, where the New England Patriots were in a tough matchup with the Ravens. I said to Phonerz J. Magratheazaphod, the Official Sad Broncos Fan of In Play Lose, that New England would probably have to throw for 450 yards in order to win this game, because the Ravens were decimated by injuries in the secondary this season but were strong at every other position. They threw for 418, so I wasn't too far off. In fact, Tom Brady didn't hand the ball off once the entire second half. The Pats ran the ball only 13 times for 14 yards, with a QB sneak being the only designed running play of the second half. The Pats have striven for more balance in the offense recently, of course, but sometimes you have to stop trying to establish the run, and start trying to win the game. The best coaches adapt and adjust to the situation.
And New England has maybe the best of all time in that regard with Bill Belichick at the helm. Belichick pulled out all the stops in the Pats' 35:31 win, including one of the most ingenious things I've ever seen on a football field when down 14 pts. in the 3rd Quarter:

OK, so at first glance, that doesn't look like much. That's just a seam route to the tight end, right? Well, no. Take a look at the five guys in the offense line again in that gif and you'll see #47 Michael Hoomanawanui, who caught the pass, lined up at the usual left tackle position:

The rules require seven men on the line – five linemen, who are ineligible to catch a pass, and two guys on the end who can. You generally bunch up the five linemen together in a tight row ... but you don't have to. The rules also stipulate that players with numbers 51-79 on offense are designated as lineman by default, but you can use them as receivers if you report to the referee, which is what you see all the time in short yardage, when a lineman will come in and line up as a tight end or blocking back. But the reverse case is true as well: you can take a receiver and declare him to be a lineman, which is what the Patriots did with a running back, #34 Shane Vereen, lined up in the slot:

The referee announced that #34 was 'ineligible' and can't go out for a pass, but the Ravens didn't pay attention. They just looked at the formation, saw five guys bunched together and assumed they were linemen, assumed #34 was a receiver, and then promptly let the #47 masquerading as a left tackle run uncovered down the center of the field for a big gain. The Patriots then ran this same sort of formation twice more before the Ravens staff finally figured out what the hell was going on, but by that point the Pats were down at the 10-yard line, and New England promptly scored to make it 28-21 and get back in the game.
In keeping with being the whiniest franchise in all of sports, the Ravens bitched about it afterwards, but the fact is that it was a legal play. It was within the rules. If anything, I wondered why no one had thought of this before. (Apparently, Alabama ran something like this against L.S.U., but I'd never seen it in the pros.) And this is maybe one of the ballsiest moves ever, if you think about it. You're down 2 TDs in the 3rd Quarter of a playoff game, you desperately need to score this drive, and you go with a gimmick formation to save your season? Absolutely brilliant. The Pats then tied the score at 28-28 on another trick play – a backward pass across the field from Tom Brady to WR Julian Edelman – a former college QB – who then threw a 51-yard TD pass over top of a befuddled Ravens defense. A play the Pats have never run, and no amount of film study of an opponent can prepare you for a play they've never run before.
Now, football has lots more leeway than most any other sport when it comes to the creative sorts of things you can do on the field, of course. But the point is that, in any sport, you need other ideas sometimes. The Royals were so far behind the A's in the AL wild card playoff that they abandoned all conventionality and just start stealing bases in any situation imaginable, which helped turn the tide. Going by the book makes no sense when you have to win now. And going back to the Knicks, if your team can't make sense of the book, then throw the damn thing away and try something else.

• Dez Bryant didn't make the catch:

OK, well, in my opinion, he did make the catch. But by the letter of the rule, this was an incomplete pass. Is it a dumb rule? Yes, very much so, but that's not the referees' problem. Much like the infamous tuck rule of snowy NFL days of lore and yore, the rules were properly applied in the case of this pass, a spectacular play on 4th down by Dez Bryant of the Dallas Cowboys which was overturned on review, giving the Packers the ball back, after which they ran out the clock.
This particular rule about catching the football is referred to as the 'Calvin Johnson rule' in the NFL, since the Lions lost a TD, and a game, due to a catch their super receiver made being determined to be an incomplete pass. And the Lions, of course, who lost in controversial fashion to Dallas a week ago, couldn't help but troll the Cowboys a bit:

But that's a stupid rule. Seriously, that's a stupid, stupid rule that never needed to be written. Common sense dictates that Bryant caught the football against Green Bay – he has the ball, he comes down with both feet down and in bounds, he lunges for the goal line and loses it then. In attempting to write the rules as airtight as possible, it simply has made the whole scenario more murky and taken common sense out of the equation. You don't need more rules most of the time. You need less rules and competent persons doing the officiating empowered to make decisions. This is true in football, in baseball, and most every game. *cough cough scrabble cough cough*

• On a happy note, this guy is a new hero of mine, because that is hard core. That is about the most terrifyingly awesome thing I have ever heard of.

• And as a final note, I will be curious to watch the NCAA Championship Game tonight. Personally, I think Oregon wins, and probably not by a small margin, but let's hope the first go at this sort of game turns out to be a good one. And one great piece of Lose related trivia: Ezekiel Elliott, the Buckeyes' star running back, is the son of Stacy Elliott, who played football at Missouri and was on the field for the worst piece of officiating in sports history. Remember Hanlon's razor, folks, and always assume incompetence. You're usually right in doing so, and sometimes depressingly so.

Quick Misses

Always a fan of the work of David Maiki !     http://wondermark.com/1k67/

LOTS to talk about. To the buzzard points!

• It was somewhat fitting, in the season we can christen The Year The NFL Couldn’t Do Anything Right, that the only thing anyone talked about after the first week of the playoffs was an officiating controversy in Dallas. Instead of talking about the games themselves, and the players making plays on the field, everyone was talking about how the arbiters and administrators of the game should’ve all been fitted with clown shoes.
To be fair here, after the play in question, which came with about 8½ remaining in the game, with the Lions leading 20-17 and possessing the ball on Dallas' 46 yard line, it wasn’t the officials’ fault that a) the Lions wimped out and didn’t go for it 4th-and-1; b) their punter shanked a 10-yard punt; c) they aided and abetted the Cowboys scoring drive with two defensive penalties, both of which were obvious infractions; d) the defense couldn't get a stop on 4th-and-6 when every single person who has watched a Dallas Cowboys game in the past decade knew that Jason Witten would be the primary target of the pass [miss of the blatant holding penalty aside since, you know, it was only right in the middle of field where everyone was looking, and thus was hard to see]; and e) Matt Stafford fumbled twice on the Lions’ final possession after Dallas had taken the lead. That right there is enough mistakes for two games, let alone 6½ minutes. The Lions still had their chances, and basically beat themselves down the stretch.
Having said all of that:

Picking up the flag on this play is terrible. Absolutely terrible. The defender makes contact and makes no effort to play the ball. That’s a penalty. Tack on another 15 for Dez Bryant screaming on the field of play (which should’ve been called, but the dysfunctional group of zeebs were too busy making a mess of things and didn’t throw a flag), and the Lions would’ve had the ball inside the Dallas 20, primed to score again and possibly put the game out of reach. Now, given that it’s the Detroit Lions we’re talking about here, the potential for them to screw it up was still there, but this play very much changed the tone of the game. It definitely shifted momentum (well, the shank punt did probably more so). Dallas caught a break and, given a second life, made the most of it, which is what good teams do.
 Which is saying something, because Dallas looked comically awful in their first game of the year against the 49ers, and somehow have figured it out on the fly this season and become a pretty good team. This particular game was the best of the playoff weekend in terms of on-field talent, and The Lose was curious to see whether the 2013 TLOTY Award Winners or the 1st ballot inductee into the Hall of Lose be the one(s) to mess it up. Turns out, everyone involved had help in messing it up for them from the guys in the stripes.

• The Lions and their fans were livid about this, of course, and the frustration led to an abundant number of clever memes online, which I approve of, but enough with the conspiracy theories already. The game wasn’t fixed. That mess in Dallas doesn’t even come close to seeming malicious, unlike this debacle, where the fix was clearly in, nor this, nor this, nor this curious run, nor the granddaddy of them all. The Lose inherently subscribes to the theory of Hanlons razor when it comes to officials, and I never assume malice if incompetence is in the neighbourhood. (And my faith in this concept has already been tested to the extreme, but I still believe it to be true.) The NFL has a ways to go when it comes to on-field corruption. This is certainly one area they could use some work on.

• The NFL is planning on floating a proposal at their upcoming league meetings to add two playoff teams in 2015, but the game last Saturday in Charlotte was an advertisement for playoff contraction if there ever was one. The 7-8-1 Carolina Panthers, who were counted among this sad lot before ‘miraculously’ winning their last four games and the NFC South title (‘miraculously’ meaning they beat four really terrible teams and won an awful division), won 27:16 over an Arizona Cardinals team QB’d by Ryan Lindley, who put up a 6.1 QBR in the game, but what can you expect from what is basically their 4th-string QB? The Cardinals gained 78 yards in the game, which is a playoff record low. The Panthers, dominating the stats and outgaining the Cardinals by over 300 yards, negated these advantages by turning the ball over routinely. Had the Cardinals not coughed it up twice in the 2nd half – a half where they gained all of 13 total yards – they actually stood a chance to win the game. The two teams combined for six turnovers and any aspect in the game involving kicking the football was fraught with disaster on either side. It was an astonishingly bad football game which made you wonder if it was really the best the league had to offer.
What a strange end to the season for the Cardinals, who started the season 9-1 and finished the season losing to a sub-.500 team in the first round of the playoffs. It was a shell of the team that had started the season 9-1 and had a 3-game lead in the NFC West. (A team which, truth be told, was pretty fortunate to be 9-1). Between using a QB who they had cut and then resigned off the Chargers practice squad, and having a revolving door at the running back position due to injuries, the Cardinals essentially attempted to try and play the game without a functioning offense. Their defense then wore out and started getting gashed at season’s end. They looked more like a 5-11 team than an 11-5 one, and there were almost certainly a few homebound teams in the NFC watching that performance by the Cardinals, who looked truly terrible, and wondering why it was that the Cardinals were in the playoffs instead of them.

• One such team would have to be the 49ers, who fired ‘mutually agreed to part ways’ with head coach Jim Harbaugh. All Harbaugh did in four seasons was compile a 49-22-1 record and take the 49ers to three straight NFC Championship Games and a Super Bowl two seasons ago. The 49ers had gone almost a decade without being relevant, then Harbaugh rises and they suddenly become a power, and now he’s gone and why, you ask? Well, he was ‘fired’ for one of the most common of reasons in the workplace: his bosses thought he was a pain in the ass.
There were rumblings about this last off-season, of course, when weird reports started surfacing about the possibility of Harbaugh winding up coaching the Cleveland Browns. Which, on the surface, made no sense, given that the 49ers were less than 10 yards away from winning the Super Bowl two seasons ago, and the length of Richard Sherman’s fingertips away from going back to the Super Bowl a season ago. They were on a terrific run of success. Why fix what ain’t broke?
Well, what was broke, obviously, was the working relationship between Harbaugh and the 49ers front office. We forget, sometimes, amid the flurry of statistics and the immediacy of the results, that sports are, like any other enterprise on earth, about people. People have to find a way to work together. (Viewing the game exclusively as a bunch of numbers, and forgetting that these are actual human beings prone to mistakes and irrationality, is one of the reasons why rotisserie league sports are stupid.) In the case of the 49ers, that apparently was no longer possible.
But shouldn’t it matter that Harbaugh was such a successful coach and the team thrived spectacularly? Of course it should. This is some proof that the business of sports isn’t much different from businesses of every other sort, many of which are run badly and a good number of which fail to live up to their potential, often times for the stupidest of reasons. Reading the financial news these days is a lot like reading a Hollywood gossip column. It’s all about corporate politics and in-fighting and bickering and everything else. A couple truths I’ve come to discover in business, however, are that 1) if you’re boss thinks your a pain in the ass, (s)he will find a way to get rid of you; and 2) that (s)he will do that in spite of how well things may or may not be going in the organization as a whole. Bosses willingly make bad decisions if, in the immediate, it gets rid of the pain in the ass. Foolish? Of course it is, but we’re talking about petty personality conflicts here, and no one – no one – seems to be above them.
There were rumblings for months about ‘friction’ and ‘tension’ among the 49ers collective inner circle, and that sort of stuff gets reflected in the on-field performance. The 49ers always seemed distracted out there. They were constantly doing things – taking delay penalties, burning timeouts needlessly, jumping offsides – that indicated a lack of focus. The 49ers played a great first half in Dallas, and then proceeded to play about 15½ games of mediocre football. Toss in a few bad injuries, and they never looked like a serious contender this year.
Now, Harbaugh made out of this deal pretty well – receiving a 7-year, $40 million contract to coach at Michigan, his alma mater – and the 49ers, meanwhile, have now contined their yearlong trend of looking stupid. Their new stadium in Santa Clara hasn’t exactly garnered great reviews, the team grossly underperformed at 8-8, there were off-field conduct issues and an abundance of self-created drama. Now they have to find a coach who will be willing to take over a team that isn’t aging terribly well, that lacks speed on the outsides, lacked continuity in the trenches, and whose $126m QB, Colin Kaepernick, horribly regressed during the season. Oh yeah, and he has to replace a guy who was wildly successful, and also genuinely popular with players and fans alike. Good luck with that.

• And I wondered, at the time, just how much the 49ers would come to rue losing the Super Bowl two seasons ago to the Ravens. The 49ers had a better team than the Ravens, in my opinion, but they were nervous and fidgety and made mistakes, had defensive breakdowns and let it get away from them. This after essentially fumbling away, to the New York Giants, the NFC Championship Game the season before. Those are the sorts of games that really get to you, after a while. It’s one thing to be terrible at something. It’s quite another to be really, really good at it, but never be quite good enough.

32,000 pts. means the guy should go 1-on-5. Of course it should.

• Having lost 14 in a row, plummeting to an overall record of 5-34, and actually supplanting the 76ers in the dog house of the Atlantic Division, the New York Knicks have now signaled their intent to throw in the towel, as they made a trade this week which sent J.R. Smith and Iman Shumpert packing in exchange for three guys they promptly waived. The trade done simply to make people go away is a telltale sign your NBA team is tanking ... no, don’t call it tanking, it’s clearing cap space so as to pave the way for a brighter future! Pfft. Whatever. NBA trades are always astoundingly, hilariously and deliberately lopsided, the idea behind them being that if you’re losing with a guy on your team, you can go on losing without him. Easily the most hilarious trade of the year is the continuing Andrei Kirilenko saga in Philadelphia – or not in Philadelphia, as the case may be, since he has refused to report and has now been suspended, which isn’t any big deal to him since he doesn’t want to be in Philly to begin with. He was acquired by the Sixers to prop up the salary cap numbers and be dealt at the trade deadline, and for no other reason than that. They couldn’t give a shit whether he can actually still play or not. Being well aware of what the Sixers think of him, he doesn’t want to go there. He’s on a personal leave from the Nets, hasn’t reported to Philly and has no intention of doing so. So now the Sixers have no trade piece to dangle, in their ever widening attempts to create so much cap space that they can then foolishly throw at free agents who wouldn’t want to be caught dead with that team. Other teams who might want Kirilenko can simply wait it out. Why make a deal? Why give up anything for a player whose trade value is now essentially nothing? It’s dumb moves like this make me question the though process of the entire 76ers organization. The whole “be bad until you’re good” line of NBA reasoning, in the end, rarely pans out. Far more often, you’re just bad ad infinitum. About the only business that’s good for is the business of writing this blog.

• Finally this week, this thought: If you do not like the way that you are being portrayed, and your response to it is to promptly behave in that very way, all you have managed to do is prove their point. The joke is on you.

Duck, Duck, Lose

THE ADVENT of a college playoff has already paid dividends, in that the championship game will now pit two teams – Oregon and Ohio State – who actually somewhat played their way into it as opposed to winning a beauty contest. Given the dog-and-pony show of tradition and self-interest which passed before it, I have no doubt that Alabama and Florida State would’ve been christened the two best teams in the country a year ago while the Ducks and the Buckeyes pled their cases from the sidelines. The new system has detractors (most of whom currently reside in the state of Texas), but it’s pretty hard to argue after the two games on Jan. 1 that Oregon and Ohio State are unworthy finalists.

It took until well into football season to find the worst play of the year for 2014, and all it took was about 16 hours to find a worthy candidate for 2015. Behold the exploits of Florida State QB Jameis Winston in the Rose Bowl against the Oregon, a comical 8 seconds of folly resulting in a gift-wrapped TD for the Ducks:

Psst ... yer doin' it wrong ...

The Seminoles completely melted down in the 3rd Quarter of the National Semifinal, turning the ball over five times en route to getting destroyed 59:20 by the Quacks, which ended FSU’s 29-game winning streak and, most likely, the collegiate career of their QB, who was defiant in defeat, if not in complete denial:

“If everybody in this room just want to be real with themselves, this game could have went either way. We turned the ball over a lot. We beat ourself. Just be real with yourself right now. We beat ourself.”
– Jameis Winston

I’m not exactly sure in what sport a 39-pt. defeat could be considered to have been close – 5-day Test cricket, perhaps – but football sure ain’t it. And I cannot recall an athlete – and, by proxy, a team – more worthy of being rooted against than Winston and the Seminoles in recent memory.

Winston, of course, has had a seemingly endless series of legal and off-field troubles, the majority of them stemming from an alleged sexual assault. Now, it’s not The Lose’s place to cast judgment in such a case, but the broader narrative which has come to pass through all of that is of an athlete feeling a sense of entitlement and that they can get away with anything – a notion fortified by the behaviours of those involved in the program, the university, and the town where the university is located. All of the flawed processes involved in that particular case – from the investigation by the Tallahassee P.D. to the FSU disciplinary hearings – gave off the impression that it was far more important to make sure the Heisman Trophy-winning QB would be out on the field the following Saturday than it was to make sure actual justice and due process were followed.

I have no doubt that Florida State is a serviceable university where you can get a decent education, but the fact of the matter is that success on the football field has given the school a stature and national profile it could never otherwise hope to attain. In attempting to explain the bizarro culture of college athletics to The Official Wife of In Play Lose, I’ve found the best way to do so is liken the athletic department to an arm of the marketing wing. When the football team wins, the alumni are happy and the donations go up. As such, no one should ever be surprised if/when athletes and, more notably, coaches wind up being treated like BMOCs who feel free to run about the place and do whatever they like with little or no consequences attached.

And Florida State is such a place, to be sure. It’s instances like the Winston caper which leads to the term “football school” being thrown about with particular disdain. The Seminoles have been named national champions three times, and everyone even peripherally involved in the program has obviously gotten too big for their britches. F.S.U. football has a largesse to it that makes Tallahassee’s other notable residents – the politicos who govern the weirdest state in America – pale in comparison. By giving off the impression through all of this that criminal behaviour is somehow condoned, it makes it pretty clear that the university has lost its way. No place was this more evident in recent years than at Penn State, where a series of unspeakable crimes occurred on the watch of iconic football coach Joe Paterno. It was a common refrain that JoPa had ‘built Penn State,’ and it wasn’t necessarily hyperbole, as the Nittany Lions’ success on the gridiron over JoPa’s 50 years gave the university a profile and a stamp of legitimacy from which it grew to be a major research institution. But at what cost? No one should ever be above the law, and no one whomever enabled such disgusting acts should ever be above reproach – not even an icon. Especially not an icon, in fact. I have always found the virulent support for Paterno in the aftermath of that scandal, which took him and much of his legacy down with it, to be completely misguided and somewhat disturbing.  Because for all the good that may have come to the university over the years, if a school reaches a point where it cannot even guarantee the safety of young people, it has fundamentally failed as an institution.

And in the case of the Rose Bowl, most everyone wanted to see Florida State fail. Now, to be fair, Oregon has ‘employed’ its share of knuckleheads at times as well during its 20-year ascent to the peak of college athletics. No school has a greater sense of entitlement attached to it these days than one whose growth has been almost entirely funded by Phil Knight, the founder of Nike and college athletics’ single greatest sugar daddy. And anyone well versed in Pac-12 history, and the ways fans would get on players at the dubious Mac Court, knows that the Oregons are not always well-versed in the ways of good taste. But the Ducks definitely took on the role of the guys in the white hats in Pasadena. Florida State won a national championship and 27 games in a row with Jameis Winston as a starting QB, many of them were games where the Seminoles had to rally late to pull off improbable wins. Both on the field and off, he’s always found a way to wriggle off the hook. (Or, occasionally, had one found for him.) With a teflon-coated leader and a propensity for pulling the great escape, Florida State’s aura and mystique (along with its opinion of itself) got bigger and bigger. The impression their play gave off was that they weren’t that good, but no one could seem to prove otherwise on the field.

Until the Rose Bowl, that is, when the bubble finally burst and did so in the most comical, most embarrassing, and most emphatic of ways.

“No one likes to lose, man. I mean, losing is really not in my vocabulary, to be honest with you.”
– Jameis Winston

Given where he’s going to wind up next season, it probably should be. Winston will now duck out of town (pun intended) and likely find himself a top draft pick come April, placed upon a terrible team with terrible talent that is desperate for any sort of good news. He certainly has the talent to play at that level, but if you’re the Bucs or the Titans or some other downtrodden franchise, do you really want to give the keys to a guy who’s shown so little maturity? And I’m not just talking about kids-doing-stupid-things-that-kids-do kind of stuff here when I talk about immaturity. I’m talking about deviant behaviour verging on criminality. Being an NFL QB is the single toughest job in all of sports, and along with it comes an inevitable leadership role both on the field and off of it as well. You are, in fact, a role model and you are, in fact, something of a civic leader when you go under center on Sundays for a living, whether you like it or not. You have to grow up in a hurry, because no one is going to hold your hand anymore. If you can’t hack it, they get rid of you and find someone who can. Such is the nature of such a competitive business.

As for Florida State, well, universities are inherently transitory. The student body turns over completely on a regular basis, it shifts and moves on. Given how much sweeping under the rug went on the past couple of years in Tallahassee, there will probably be a palpable sense of relief if and when it all just goes away.

And somehow, I just managed to get through an entire article about Florida State without mentioning that stupid tomahawk chop … d’oh! …