Engage. Enrage. Enjoy.

Super Bowl Blind Squirrels.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

Yesterday part two of our Super Bowl worst, best, first, and last series rolled on.  We offered our opinion on who the worst quarterbacks were to win a Super Bowl.  Doug Williams took home first place.  Unfortunately first meant worst for the former Grambling St. hero.

Super Bowl winners come in different shapes and sizes, but they usually have two things in common.  One, they have a real good or great coach.  And two, they have a real good or great quarterback.  There are outliers of course.  So, who might be those outliers?

We continue to examine those very questions in part three of our series.  Today we examine the question “who is the worst quarterback to start and lose a Super Bowl?”  Our take from bad to worse is below.

The competition for this (dis)honor is surprisingly strong.  Honorable mentions and yellow spirit ribbons go to……..

…Billy Kilmer for being the most out of shape and for throwing more ducks than fly in south Louisiana in the fall.

…Chris Chandler for lasting 17 years in the league, but having seven different teams let him walk to the next one.

…Tony Eason who threw for a measly 11k yards in 9 years in the league and getting Super Bowl shuffled and pulverized by the 1986 Chicago Bears.

The envelopes for third to worst please.

3.  Vince Ferragamo- Ferragamo gave it his all v. Terry Bradshaw and the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1979 before losing 31-19.  The third round pick of the Rams, Ferragamo was 27-26 as a starter throwing for 11k yards in an otherwise undistinguished career.  He threw more interceptions, 91, than touchdowns, 76.  His career passer rating of 70.1 places him 151st all-time, just a hair ahead of the one and only Joey Harrington.  Whew.

2.  Rex Grossman- Grossman and the out manned Chicago Bears lost to Indianapolis in the 2006 Super Bowl.  Peyton Manning won his first of two SB’s in an otherwise forgettable contest.  For his career he was only 25-22 as a starter that somehow lasted 10 years in the league.  He too tossed more in his time to the other team, 60, than he threw for touchdowns to his own team, 56.  His career completion percentage was 55.2%.  Given that he played until 2012 when many helpful rules and protections are afforded QB’s makes that inaccuracy hard to believe.  Whew.  He must have carried a mean clipboard.

1. David Woodley-  Woodley was an 8th round pick by the Miami Dolphins in 1980 when the league still had 12 rounds.  He played for a brief 6 years in the NFL, only two as a starter, and compiled stats befitting of an 8th rounder.   A 53 percent completion percentage, 8k total passing yards, 48 tds, and 63 picks add up to a QB rating of 65.7.  Billy Joe Tolliver is two points better.  Woodley and his Dolphins lost to Joe Theisman’s Redskins in SB XVII 27-17.  Woodley, true to his NFL form,  was 4-17 for 80 yards and an interception in that contest. Whew.  Seventy six of those yards came on one pass play.  A short three years later Woodley retired from the NFL before the NFL could retire him.

As we stated yesterday, no NFL level quarterback is actually bad.  But, how these three found their way to a Super Bowl reminds us of the proverbial blind squirrel finding a runners up Super Bowl ring.   Or, something like that.

 

 

 

The Worst Finished First.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

Last week we wrote the following.

Should one or two slight upsets occur, Jared Goff and Tom Brady would lead either or both of the Rams and Patriots to the very lovely(ahem) and picturesque, beautiful Atlanta.  Therefore, regardless of the outcome of the games, a “franchise” quarterback will eventually lead his team to the podium to cherish the coveted Lombardi Trophy.  Brady and Brees are the old guard great qbs.  Goff and Mahomes are the up and coming ones.

Roger Goodell will (we hope and think) get booed loudly prior to the presentation.  But, we digress.

Super Bowl winners come in different shapes and sizes, but they usually have two things in common.  One, they have a real good or great coach.  And two, they have a real good or great quarterback.  There are outliers of course.  So, who might be those outliers?

We continue to examine those very questions in our run up to the Super Bowl features continuing today.  Today we examine the question “who is the worst quarterback to have won a Super Bowl?”  Our take from bad to worse is in reverse order below.

3.  (tie) Mark Rypien– Rypien led the Washington Redskins to a 37-24 SB win over the Buffalo Bills in 1991.  The sixth round pick by the Skins in 1986 started for only 5 years, won just 47 games, and completed a modest 56% of his career pass attempts.  His team bettered the Bills led by Jim Kelly who we selected as the third best QB to have played in but never won a Super Bowl.  His career passing rating is 78.9.  That’s 80th all-time for qb’s who have met the minimums to qualify.  He’s tied with Byron Leftwich.  Ouch.

3.  (tie) Jeff Hostetler– A real gamer Hostetler filled in for half of a season and the playoffs for Phil Simms.  He rode a dominate Bill Parcells defense to a 20-19 triumph over the Jim Kelly led Bills a year before Rypien did the same.  He won only 51 games as a starter(4 years) in his career and completed 58% of his passes.  He did get one trip to Hawaii for a Pro Bowl.  His 16k career yards ranks 136th just 100 yards ahead of one Rodney Peete. Ouch.

Ray Said Get Out of the Way!

2.  Trent Dilfer– Dilfer was a first round pick of the TB Buccaneers in 1994.  After moving to the Baltimore Ravens he won a ring with them punishing the New York Football Giants 34-7.  In the 4-0 playoff run that year he threw for only three touchdowns.  He basically stayed out-of-the-way of one of the most dominant defenses in NFL history led by Ray Lewis.  For his career Dilfer threw 129 interceptions v 113 touchdowns and completed only 56% of his attempts.  His 70.2 passer rating is 149th all time and ranks below Rex Grossman.  Ouch.

1.  Doug Williams- Williams also was a first round pick of the TB Buccaneers.  As a starter in his nine-year career he lost 42 and won only 38 games.  After TB he went to Washington and played lights out in SB XXI whipping John Elway and the Denver Broncos 42-10.  He threw 100 NFL TD’s against 93 picks.  His passer rating was a quite low 69.4.  His 49 percent career completion percentage held true to form in the 1987 playoff run to the SB as he completed 49% of those attempted as well.  It was a bit of a different era back then, but 49% is 49%.  Ouch.

No NFL level quarterback is bad.  But relatively speaking these four “bad ones” won the biggest game of them all.

Some how. Some way.

One Minute and Fifty Eight Seconds Left. Do You Make the Call to the Bullpen?

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

In baseball, managers face the decision late in a game of when to pull pitchers and replace them with relievers.  One of three outcomes are possible.  If the starter and reliever get by unscathed the manager has succeeded.  If he waits too long and the starter falters he gets seconded guessed.  Fans sound off with “he should have gone with the reliever.”   If he pulls the starter before any real damage is done, but the reliever gets lit up he gets second guessed.  Fans sound off with “he should have stayed with the starter.”  None of the three outcomes are predictable to any certainty.

Similarly, in football, a head coach decides how to attack late in the game as well.  If you can score to go ahead, the “how” and “when” to do so can determine the final score.  In yesterday’s NFC Championship Game, Sean Payton faced this very dilemma.

If you live under a rock and/or don’t recall the moment, let’s reset the big stage under the bright lights.  The N.O. Saints had a first and 10 on the LA Rams 13 yard line.  The play that got them there was whistled dead with 1:58 to go in the fourth quarter.   That’s a TV timeout for the two-minute warning.  The score stood even at 20-20.  A very coveted berth in Super Bowl LIII was there for the taking.  The Rams had two timeouts remaining.

So, what is the surest outcome to gain that berth?  The surest would be to score on the game’s final play thereby eliminating any chance of comeback by the Rams by preventing them from touching the ball again.

But, with two timeouts and 1:58 left the only way to hold the ball and score on the aforementioned final play would require a first down.  Why?  It’s because the Rams would burn their timeouts immediately after first and second down assuming the Saints didn’t stop the clock themselves. Then, on third down, the clock would run till either a play on fourth down was run or the Saints called a timeout themselves.

Assume timeout number one at 1:53 and timeout number two at 1:48.  Third down would consume another five seconds to 1:43.  The 40 second clock could run down to one second, then the Saints would call a timeout.  That would leave 1:04 remaining.  A field goal could take four seconds and that would have left exactly one minute and no timeouts for the Rams.  This would give the Saints the lead by three, but not assure victory.  If they scored a touchdown on third down about 1:43 would remain.  This would give the Saints the lead by six(pending the point after) but more time for the Rams who would now need a touchdown to tie.

All of the above screams loudly again that the only sure way to win is to score on the final play and to do so would require a first down.

So, why did the Saints pass on first down in this scenario?  Payton gave Drew Brees the option to check into the quick slant to Michael Thomas and out of the run play called if the Rams showed blitz.  The Rams went to cover zero (no safeties, man on man, and all other defenders roaring to the ball carrier) run blitz.  Brees to Thomas this year had an 80% plus completion to target rate.  That’s almost as sure as a handoff to run clock.  But against cover zero it had a much better chance to gain yards than a run.  Remember, a first down almost assuredly wins the game.

Brees, shockingly, threw poorly and the ball landed at Thomas’ feet.  Bad call you say?  Remember the baseball manager?  There is no right answer to the play call because no outcome on first down unto itself determines the game.  It only tilts the odds from a bit to considerable.  If Thomas catches it and scores it’s considerably in the Saints favor.  An incomplete saves a timeout for the Rams, but little else.

Second down brought a predictable run and a timeout.  Bad call you say?  Remember the baseball manager?  If you wanted a run on first down you must have wanted a run on second down for the same reason as well.  Timeout Rams.

Third down and ten is now staring you in the face.  The run blitz on first down and the blow up of the second down run would have landed them in the same down and distance.  The difference was one saved timeout to this point for the Rams.  If you fail to get a first down now, a field goal hangs in the balance.  Would you have called a run here?  If so the Rams burn timeout number two and you kick.  That would have left them nearly 1:40 on the clock and no timeouts.  In the NFL with a kicker who was drilling warmup kicks from 65 yards(trust us on that one) 100 seconds is a long, long time.

Payton called a pass play.  Bad call you say?  Remember the baseball manager?  With the ball in the air a few outcomes were possible. A first down would have been the best.  A touchdown would have been super.  An incomplete pass would save a Ram’s timeout.  An interception was remote given the route, coverage, and ball placement.  Last but certainly not least, a pass interference penalty would have also given you a first down.  That’s the best outcome available and a sure chip shot field goal win would follow.

Payton, if asked, most assuredly would tell you that he played to win, not to not lose.  The word “conservative” is not in his dictionary.

Payton made the call.   The referee did not.

The field goal was good.  However, from that moment till overtime ended in the sudden death of the Saints, the Rams were better.

Remember the baseball manager?

 

 

 

I Have Yet Another Story and a Moral Thereof

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

In August of 1971 the third round draft pick of the New Orleans Saints, Bivian Lee, began practicing with the team that had high hopes for a breakout year.  Also in August of 1971 the high hopes of civic leaders were realized as construction finally began on the largest indoor stadium in the world, the New Orleans Superdome.

Sports visionary David Dixon (who decades later founded the United States Football League) conceptualized the Superdome while attempting to convince the NFL to award a franchise to New Orleans. After hosting exhibition games at Tulane Stadium during typical New Orleans summer thunderstorms, Dixon was told by NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle that NOLA would have no chance for an NFL expansion team without a domed stadium.

It was hoped the stadium would be ready in time for the 1972 NFL season, at the final cost of $46 million. Instead, construction did not start until August 1971, and was not finished until August 1975.   Factoring in inflation, construction delays, and the increase in transportation costs caused by the 1973 oil crisis, the final price tag of the stadium was nearly four times the estimated.  It was a bloated $165 million.

Meanwhile Bivian and the Saints stumbled along in years 1971,2,3 and 4.  The cumulative record of the team for those four seasons was 16-37-3.  Bivian was good, not great.  The Saints were bad, not good.  High hopes were not yet realized.

Yet hope springs eternal.  It was now August of 1975.  A new NFL season was four preseason games away.  And for the Saints it meant a new home, the Superdome, and a fresh start.

Preseason games are for practice and ironing out the kinks for the most part.  For the operation of the Superdome it was much the same warmup for its soon to be regular season grand opening.

On a steamy NOLA summer Saturday night 70,000 plus fans packed the dome to savor all if its grandeur for an otherwise meaningless preseason game.  Bivian Lee was entering his fifth year and was once again starting at cornerback for the franchise.  That the Saints lost was forgettable.  How they lost was forgettable too.  The stadium was the story.

Well, the why and how of the loss was forgettable until a reporter asked Bivian about getting beat for two touchdowns early in the contest.  He assured all that he would be better in the regular season.  The reporter asked if maybe Bivian had any trouble adjusting to all of the ceiling lights since it was the first game played under them.  He said yes, but again said not to worry.  When the reporter asked why the confidence, Bivian replied with confidence.  “Because this game was played at night.  And, the regular season games will be played in the day.”

The 1975 season ended as a major disappointment at 2 wins and 12 losses.   The 1975 season was also the end of Bivian Lee’s professional career.

Oh, are you wondering what the moral of the story is?  Apparently you don’t have to be too bright of a light to play under the bright lights of the world renown Superdome.

 

 

I Have Yet Another Story and a Moral Thereof

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

In a baseball crazy family I might have been the craziest of all.  Boom Boom took a train in 1966 from New Orleans to Houston to attend the first ever major league baseball game (first ever anything) played indoors.  It was and is the Astrodome, labeled back then as the Eight Wonder of the World.  The Yankees were in town and Mickey Mantle hit the first home run ever hit indoors that evening.  But I digress.

It was an awesome memory that lead to an awesome moment 33 years later in 1999 when my son and I saw the Astros play the last major league game ever in that very same Astrodome.  It was in a losing effort that eliminated them from the playoffs.  However, on our way out of the stadium I shared with my son that his grandfather opened it and we closed it.  But I digress, further.

My baseball love reached a fever pitch during my high school years.  I watched a lot of it and played even more of it.  So, when we left on a two-week vacation in May of 1976 I was pumped for more than one reason.  The first was that was that mom, dad, and I were going to spend seven days in Hawaii.  The second reason was that the first seven days were in San Francisco and I had checked the San Francisco Giants schedule.  Yep, and there it was.  The Giants were playing in their home, Candlestick Park, the night of our arrival.  When rain turned to fog and rain the game v. the St Louis Cardinals was cancelled.  As we said back in the day, “I was bummed out.”

One day led to one week and the morning of our departure to Hawaii arrived.  I guess Hawaii would more than offset my baseball disappointment.  My parents were avid coffee drinkers and I was dispatched early in the AM to bring back two cups from the lobby.  As the elevator opened my eyes opened wider.  There he was.  Sparky Anderson, manager of the World Series Champion Cincinnati Reds managed a slight nod as I practically tripped on my chin walking in.

I said nothing, but stared in amazement.  As the door opened to the lobby I hit the jackpot.  Pete “Charley Hustle” Rose was sitting in a lobby chair.  My mind raced as I raced to get the coffee and tell Boom Boom what was going on.  “They must haven flown in last evening to play the Giants son.  Take a look at the schedule in the newspaper.”   Sure enough.  I wanted to head back down to try to star gaze and get an autograph or ten if I could.  “Let’s carry the bags down and head to breakfast, he said.  Maybe you’ll get lucky then son.”

Time was my enemy.  But soon enough we were down and into the beautiful atrium breakfast area.  My radar was up.  As the hostess steered us to the right side I saw a table of pure gold to the left.  Sparky Anderson, Pete Rose, Johnny Bench, and a non recognizable fourth were sipping coffee.

Pen and hotel pad paper in hand I made the move.  Boom Boom always told me to ask for what I wanted.  “What’s the worst someone can tell you son?” he often asked me.

As I approached I needed a plan.  Where to start?  I decided on Johnny Bench, reigning MVP and multi-year All Star catcher.   Bench, seated, was reading the newspaper held straight out in front of him double wide with both of his massive hands clutching either side.  There I was.  Only a thin section of a newspaper separated me from his greatness.   “Mr. Bench, Mr. Bench, can I please have your autograph?”  Bench ever so slowly pulled the paper down.  We were face to face.

“No!”  And there it was.  With one word and one very unemotional word only he delivered his answer.  If I was stealing second base he had just thrown me out by 20 feet.  The paper ever so slowly rose back to its reading position.  I couldn’t even look at Rose nor Anderson.

Speechless and down trodden, I headed to our table.  “What did he say son?”  “No.”  “That’s all he said son?”  “Yes.”  “Look at the menu.  We need to order and get to the airport.”  Eggs sounded terrible.  Everything did.

What’s the moral of the story?  The worst thing someone can tell you is “no.”  Believe me, I know.

 

The Rare, but Fair, Fair Catch Kick.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

File this one under the “did you know.”   It’s a good one for around the water cooler to kickoff(see what we did there?) the New Year.  You really didn’t want to work very hard this week anyway did you?  Heck., it’s already late Hump Day or Thirsty Thursday depending on when you read this.

Four juicy NFL playoff games are looming.  Could one end in a last second touchdown pass?  Possible.  Could one end with a last second field goal?  Probable.  Could one end in a last second fair catch kick?  Say what?

Per NFL.com after a fair catch, the receiving team has the option to put the ball in play by a snap or a fair catch kick (field goal attempt), with fair catch kick lines established ten yards apart. All general rules apply as for a field goal attempt from scrimmage. The clock starts when the ball is kicked. (No tee permitted.)

Obviously, the plan can’t unfold without the right conditions. You need pin your opponent deep and force a punt with time expiring or near to expiration.

This is the time that might be right to call for a fair catch followed by a free kick.  Think of it as a kickoff formation where the receiving team must remain minimally ten yards back from the spot of the kick. But, the big difference is that if the kick goes through the uprights it’s good for three points.

After you have successfully executed the fair catch, you have the opportunity to align for a free kick. The ball can be placed anywhere along the line of scrimmage, so the kicker has the opportunity to line his kick up wherever he wants it.  The ball is live after the kick and can be returned by the opposing team if it stays in the field of play.

In high school, the kicking team is allowed to use any legal tee, including the one for kick-offs. Also, in high school if the ball goes into the end zone it’s automatically considered a touchback.

It’s critical that the punting team players not interfere with the fair catch.  If the team fair catching is interfered with, they will march off 15 yards and the fair catch is still awarded, which means they may attempt a free kick even if there is no time left and fifteen yards closer.

Has a fair catch free kick happened before in an NFL game? Yes.  Research is a bit sketchy, but it looks like there have only been 21 free kicks attempted in NFL history, and only three since 1990. There hasn’t been a successful attempt since Ray Wersching made a 45-yarder entering halftime in a Bills-Chargers game in 1976.

Will it happen again?  Sure.  It’s only a matter of when, not if.  With the increasing length and accuracy of kickers today the field is stretched further, increasing the possibility.  With no oncoming rush allowed, isn’t a 70 yarder soon in the cards?

It’s an obscure rule for sure.  One wonders how many NFL coaches are even aware.  But it might come in very handy one day soon.  Oh, and you can drop kick a free kick too.  Never heard of a drop kick?  Drop back in soon and we will examine that obscure, but not lost opportunity, as well.

It’s rare, but it’s fair.  And, it’s free.  It’s the fair catch free kick.

 

Teófilo-There Was Only One.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

Cuba.  What do we know about it?  Well, for one, great “stuff” comes from there.  Cuban sandwiches and awesome cigars are but two examples.  Famous people have too.  The high profile list is too long to list actually.  There are many musicians (Pitbull, Gloria Esteban, Xavier Cugat), loads of actors(Andy Garcia, Desi Arnaz, Jr.), and countless baseball players (Aroldis Chapman, Reynaldo Ordóñez, Yasiel Puig, Jose Canseco) who have left the island to achieve fame and fortune.

But one who chose to stay(or was told to stay) may have become the most famous of all.  Does the name Teófilo Stevenson ring a bell?  Rest assured that when the bell rung Stevenson rung a few bells himself.

Teófilo Stevenson Lawrence was born in 1952 and passed away in 2012 at the age of 60.   He was a Cuban amateur boxer and engineer.  Stevenson is one of only three boxers to win three Olympic gold medals.  Impressive.

The British Broadcasting Corporation(BBC) once called Stevenson “Cuba’s greatest boxer, and its most famous figure after Fidel Castro.”

It began when his father boxed a bit and Stevenson followed in his footsteps sparring more accomplished fighters when he was but nine. Cuba was all but controlled then by the Soviet Union.  In the state controlled boxing system he quickly rose through the junior and then senior ranks.  In 1970 he turned 18 and was considered Cuba’s best heavyweight.  He weighed in at 225 lbs and stood 6 feet and 5 inches (or 196 centimeters if you prefer).

Stevenson was little known outside of a few on the Moscow controlled island.  That all changed in a flurry and a hurry in 1972 at the Munich Olympics.  Duane Bobick, the USA heavyweight, was fully expected to take home the gold medal continuing the US dominance of that division.  Smokin’ Joe Frazier won gold in 1964, and George Foreman grilled all competitors to do the same in 1968.

Bobick did not get out of the quarterfinals.  Stevenson knocked him down three times in the third and final round. His ferocious display made the boxing world pause and take notice.  In the finals German Peter Hussing, the Munich crowd’s favorite child, got knocked out by the Cuban machine in the second round.  Gold was his and one of several that the Cubans brought back to their island that Olympics.

The 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal was Stevenson’s second gold medal and made him a national hero in Cuba.  At this point the natural next step was to accept $5 million from promoters to debut as a pro vs. one Muhammad Ali.  This dream fight had the promoters salivating.  Communist Cuba vs. Free America.  Challenger v. Champ.  The Bay of Pigs was still quite fresh in minds of many millions.

Stevenson, shockingly, passed.  Or, did Fidel Castro help him to make up his mind to pass?  Professional boxing was banned in Cuba in 1962.  Fidel Castro wanted, according to the socialist phraseology, to fight against the exploitation of man by man. “What is five million compared to the love of eight million Cubans,” Stevenson famously wondered.

The 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow was his third consecutive gold medal coronation ball.  That feat is unprecedented to this day in the heavyweight class.  America boycotted Moscow.

In 1984 the Soviet Union counterpunched, boycotting the Summer Games in Los Angeles.  Cuba followed the Soviet lead and stayed home also.  Stevenson was ready for a fourth gold, but a Cold War got in the way of the war he would wage between the ropes.  He retired from boxing after the 1988 Olympics, which Cuba boycotted yet again.

Below are the final Olympic results of Cuban heavyweight boxer Teofilo Stevenson:

Munich 1972

Montreal 1976

  • Round of 32: bye
  • Round of 16: Defeated Mamadou Drame (Senegal) KO 2
  • Quarterfinal: Defeated Pekka Ruokola (Finland) KO 1
  • Semifinal: Defeated John Tate (United States) KO 1
  • Final: Defeated Mircea Şimon (Romania) TKO 3 (won gold medal)

Moscow 1980

His body of work (the link is worth your time) shows that he won 12 and lost zero Olympic matches.  Eight of the 12 ended in knockouts.  He won three Olympic golds, three World Championships, three World Amateur Championships, and two Pan American Games.   Complete and accurate records beyond that are difficult to discern for obvious reasons.  It is believed that this human machine fought 302 times all as an amateur.

Teófilo Stevenson Lawrence’s story is about what could have been.  But, it’s also a story about what it was.  And, it was very impressive.

 

 

I Have Yet Another Story and a Moral Thereof

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

In the seasons leading up to and in the seasons after Tom Dempsey’s miracle kick there were plenty of other home Saints games that Boom Boom and I attended.  There were seven a year(14 game seasons) in fact, and nine including preseason games.

We went to all of them, and I mean all of them.  And we got there early and always stayed till the (often bitter) end.  And, I mean we got there early.  The gates opened at 10 AM for noon kickoffs.  We were in the car by 9:40 latest.  It wasn’t uncommon for us to arrive by 10:00 AM.  Why?  Well, for one, we beat the traffic.  We got a great parking spot too.  We always parked a mile away in a high school lot.  We always had the first spot closest to the exit.

I never asked why we got there so early, but it sure seemed fine to me.  Once I counted seven fans sitting on their old Tulane Stadium wooden bench seats in the entire 84,000 seat capacity stadium.  Seven.  And that count included the two of us.  Back then you could bring most anything in to the stadium.  We brought sandwiches, a canned soft drink for me, a thermos of coffee, and a flask of what dad called “snake bite medicine.”  There was something calming and exciting at the same time about sitting there, eating an early lunch, and chatting about the upcoming NFL football with dad.

Just about the time the sandwich was gone a few Saints would trickle out of the locker room.  This always included Tom Dempsey or the kickers that competed before and after him.   I would run from where ever our seats were to the end zone.  My goal was to catch one of the warm up field goal attempts that soared into the bench seats one after the other and then throw it back.  There were no nets back then.  I wasn’t alone.  The competition for a youngster was taller and older.  And, the football flew high, far, and fast.  I never caught one.  I did get my fingers on one once.   I actually dislocated a finger in fact.   It looked crooked and hurt much.  Around the stadium I went.   Dad gave it one good pull in spite of my protestations and it was back in place.  I started to ask if the “snake bite medicine” might soothe the pain.  Then I thought it better not to.

On one particular sunny Sunday morning we departed, as always, on time for the game.  I was looking forward to the sandwich, the chat, the opportunity to finally catch a ball, and the kickoff.  Surely this was the week that the Saints would break their losing streak.    After parking and walking we approached the ticket taker at our gate.  Boom Boom rooted around in his coat pocket (a sport coat and a tie were standard attire then) then his pants pockets.  His eyes got bigger with each empty pocket.  “Son, I think I forgot the tickets.”  “What do we do, Daddy?”  “Let’s run back home and get them,” he said.  His voice tone spoke volumes of the disappointment in himself.  “But, we will miss the kickoff,” I selfishly said.  “Maybe not” came the retort.

From the entrance we spun our heels and walked the mile back to the car.   Like salmon we wove our way back home.  Mom, being mom, heard the car and ambled outside worried about our arrival.

“What’s wrong?”  Boom Boom slowed down to a jog while passing her.  It was just long enough to admit that he forgot the tickets.

“Get back in.  Let’s go.”  And off we went.   Traffic had built, but not too badly.  Boom Boom had slipped the attendant a couple of bucks to save our parking spot.

One mile of brisk walk later we were in the stadium and headed to our seats.    We sat down for only a minute or so before we were asked to stand up as Al Hirt blasted the national anthem through his seasoned trumpet.

As the brass horn hit the last notes Boom Boom lamented, “Son, that’s the latest that I’ve ever arrived for any game. We almost missed the Star Spangled Banner.”   “ We made it before kickoff, Dad.”  “You never want to be late for anything,” he said.  Hmm.

By the end of the third quarter the Saints had done plenty enough wrong to insure another loss was well in hand.   We stayed until the final seconds though.   We always did.  Always.

During the game and then on the walk back to the car I thought about asking him why being in our seats before the Anthem was so important.   Then I thought it better not to.

“Thanks for taking me to the game Dad,” I chose instead.   “You bet,” came the quick reply.

So, what’s the moral of the story?  If you’re not early, you’re late.  And, don’t ask why.

 

 

The Targeting Punishment Misses the Target!

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

Targeting, as you know, is a rules infraction in college football that has gained a lot of attention this season.  It actually became its own rule 10 years ago.  However, the ejection of the offending player was added in 2013.  It’s intent is worthy.  It’s intent simply is to reduce head injuries.  Who could be opposed to that?  No one.

However, for a few weeks now we’ve been vigorously debating what exactly defines targeting and the subsequent punishment.  Our disdain for its gross inconsistency reached 212 degrees when Devin White got the heave-ho with five minutes remaining before he and his LSU Tiger brethren could celebrate a 19-3 homecoming victory over Mississippi State a few weeks back.

We definitely advise that if you haven’t, you read the excellent SBNation article that explains the crime quite well.  In fact, it does it so well that we will only further their thoughts by diving a bit deeper with our comments on the inconsistencies of the punishment.  We believe that the only thing worse in how the rule is written and called is how the penalty is assessed.

Targeting is a 15 yard penalty in college football and an automatic first down.  It’s identical to a personal foul penalty in its punishment in that sense.  However,  it also is subject to immediate review.  If the infraction called on the field is upheld, the player guilty of the targeting is ejected for the remainder of the game if the play took place in the first half of the game.  If the act occurs in the second half of the game, the player also is forced to miss the first half of the next game his team plays.  Below are some very plausible examples of how grossly inconsistent that doled out sentence can be.

  1. If you are ejected for targeting in the first half of a game, you might be out a total of 59 minutes if you illegally contact your opponent in the first minute of the game.  If you hit him with a minute to go in the half, you miss a total of 31 minutes.
  2. If you are ejected for targeting in the second half of a game, you might be out 29 minutes of the remainder of that game and the first 30 of the next for a total of 59 minutes.  If you hit him with a minute to go in the game you miss only 31 total minutes inclusive of the first half of the next game.
  3.  If you apply opposition team strength to point one above you could miss 59 minutes down to 31 minutes against a weaker or stronger opponent than you might face the next week.
  4.  But if the next game’s opponent was much stronger than the game you were tossed from you don’t miss any of it if you are guilty in the first half against a weaker opponent.  Yet, you miss 30 minutes of it if you are guilty in the second half.

The above four scenarios might be a bit confusing.  But suffice it to say when you get thrown out, who you are facing when you get thrown out, and who you will face next week all factor into how severe the loss of playing time is to you and your teammates.  One might say that referees are blind to who is playing now and who is playing next week.  That likely is correct which makes the inequity all the more real.

The targeting rule and it’s penalties(yards, auto first down, and ejection)are the most severe on the college rule books today.  Yet, if you pass interfere on defense 50 yards down the field, unlike the spot foul in the NFL, you only are penalized 10 yards and an auto first down.  This seems like the exact opposite of the harshness of the targeting infraction, though we recognize they differ from a safety point of view.  But, where is the middle ground?

What about a 20 yard penalty(that would be a first) for targeting and an automatic first down.  Any other personal foul by the same player of any sort results in a suspension of the next 60 consecutive minutes of football from that moment.  It’s but one suggestion.

The NCAA rules committee needs to take a long look this offseason.

We may not have the answers, but we do have the questions.

 

 

I’ve Got Another Story, and a Moral Thereof.

Posted on by thependulumswings staff

In the spring of 1983 I was 23 years old, one year out of college, clean-shaven after my bearded line up episode, and one year into the work world.  I knew so much.  I knew so little.  The south Louisiana outside sales territory that I gleefully covered was growing nicely.  Selling Duracell batteries to 23 different classes of trade offered a great work education, modest money(though it seemed like a lot then), and a bit of freedom and fun.  Some days beckoned to bring more freedom and fun than others.

On a particularly sunny Friday I decided that a half day of work and a half day of play was just what was needed to begin my decadent slide into the weekend.  But, as I went from one sales call to the next in the early AM one hour outside of New Orleans, I wondered what the half day play part of the equation should be.

Around the near turn they go at the old Fair Grounds.

I stopped to get a newspaper and a soda.  As I read the sports page the proverbial light bulb turned on.  My favorite over raced racehorse was running in the second race at the oldest race track in America, the New Orleans Fair Grounds.  Post time for race one was 1:15.

As thoughts of beers, cigars, horses, and gambling swirled through my head I knew that I needed an accomplice to share the winnings, swill, and smoke.  Hmm.  The pay phone swallowed my dime and the call went out.  On the other side of the line was one Joseph Roy Miller, aka Joey, aka Jojo.  Joey and I were high school buddies prior, four-year college roommates then, and are best friends to this day.

Ring. Ring.  Joey was finishing his studies at University of New Orleans at that point.  After school he worked at a laboratory to pay for it as well.  “JoJo, Dump Truck is running in the second race today.  He’s always in the money. I’ll pick you up in front of the Life Sciences building in an hour.”  “No, No!” said JoJo.  “I’ve got a Microbiology class at noon and have to work after that.”

Anyone in sales knows that “no” means “yes.”  “I’ll pick you up by 12:30 latest,” I said as I hung up the phone before he could respond.  There were but two problems with this.  And, they soon reared their ugly heads.  The first was that my last appointment of the morning, day, and week wanted to talk too much and buy too little.   I was now late.  The second problem is that I had no way of alerting Joseph of the tardiness.  Cell phones, like Al Gore’s internet, were not yet invented.

The company car, a beauty of an olive-green Chevy Malibu, rolled onto campus.  There stood furious Joey.  “Get in, we are going to be late,” I offered in a self depreciating attempt to defuse the fuse.  He said a few PG-13 or worse things back to me.  It sounded like he didn’t appreciate standing there while missing class and also calling in sick for work, only for me to be 30 minutes late.

I attempted to shift the conversation to the ponies and the day.  “I’ll get the parking, the programs, the tip sheets, and the first cold Dixie beers.” “Big deal,” he smashed back.  “We are going to miss the second race too.”  “We’ll still make it,” I confidently responded.   The Malibu may have run through a few orange (somewhere between yellow and red) lights getting there.  Once parked we race-walked to the bowels of the grandstand.  He was still filling my ear with hatred.  The more he howled the more I laughed.  “Two programs please.”  “Ah, Dump Truck is the five horse today.”

With the first race long gone, we heard the track announcer loud and clear as we stepped through the turnstile. “The horses have reached the starting gate.”  Jeez.  This is a last call of sorts for placing bets.  One quick glance at the lines and we knew getting down on Dump Truck would be dicey.  I jumped in one line, and he in the very next.  I got to the window and wagered a huge, for then, $10/10/10 win, place and show bet on the 5 horse.  “They’re all in line.”  That means “and they’re off” is soon to follow.  Joseph got his w/p/s bet ticket a scant few seconds before the ring, signaling the gate opening, echoed across the grounds.

We hustled outside and joined the rail birds track side.  It was a dollar to gain entry to stand.  It was two bucks to sit in the outdoor grandstand.  It was a steep three dollars to sit inside.  We stood.

The race announcer chirped about the horse’s positions as they roared past us at the start.  Nary a mention of the old and over worked Dump Truck was heard.  We saw the five on the jockey’s silks trailing the field.  The race is long we said.   He’ll make up ground we assured each other.  He continued to languish in dead last at each quarter pole.

As they turned for home on the longest stretch run in America the five horse was saving so much ground we couldn’t even see him.  The announcer clearly had given up on him too.  Still no mention of the old boy.  “And down the stretch they come,” he bellowed.  And there suddenly, like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, was the five climbing past his competition one by one.   “A sixteenth of a mile to go.”  We were hopeful.  The five blew past the second place horse as it cruised by us and hit the wire.  “WINNER, the five.”

As we waited for the tote board to make it official we high-fived in joy.  We also wondered aloud how he came from nowhere, won the race, and yet we never heard his name.  It was weird, fun, and soon to be financially rewarding we hoped.

“The results of the third race are official.  The winner is the five horse, Royal Flush.”  Royal Flush pays $12 to win(on a two dollar bet).”  Royal Flush?  Royal Flush???  We looked at each other and pulled the bet tickets from our pockets.

And there it was.  We had missed the second race.  We had raced in to bet what we thought was the second race.  It was, however, the third race that we had blindly bet on.  We won.  We won over $120 each!  Huge!  We bet the five horse in the third race and had no idea about his chances.  Dump Truck had gone off in the second.  Dump Truck was hosed down and back in the barn eating some hay 20 minutes before we bounced blindly to the betting booth.

“As we cashed our tickets laughing out loud before LOL was even LOL, we went over to the board where the previous race finishes were posted.  And, there it was.  Dump Truck finished a distant fourth, and out of the money, in the second race.  I mentioned to Joey it was obviously better to be late than never.  He mentioned to me that my arm was going to hurt after he punched me.  “Want another Dixie, Joey?”  Cigars never tasted nor smelled better than they did on that afternoon.

What’s the moral of the story?  Easy.  It’s better to be lucky later than good never.  And, it’s fun to have great memories with a great friend.