Archive for Detroit Lions
Maybe Bill Ford wasn’t cutthroat enough.
Pro sports ownership is unlike any other business. Some of the basic tenets of corporate life just don’t apply. Improving the bottom line often isn’t as simple as cutting costs if you can’t increase revenue. Pro sports is a crazy business, truthfully. That’s part of why some of our wackiest public figures have been team owners.
Bill Veeck. Charlie O. Finley. George Steinbrenner. Al Davis. Mark Cuban.
Only in pro sports could men of this bombastic nature have been successful.
Bill Ford, the Lions owner who passed away today at age 88, subscribed to behavior that is just fine and dandy in the conventional business world, but not always so good in the competitiveness of pro sports.
Two L-words come to mind when I think of Ford and his Lions ownership, which spanned an even 50 years.
Loyalty is one. Losing is the other.
The two are not mutually exclusive, except that Ford was never able to strike a healthy balance between loyalty and the cutthroat nature needed to be successful in the NFL.
Ford employed two of the most hated men in Detroit sports—Russ Thomas and Matt Millen—for a combined 30 years between them. Thomas served as GM from 1967-89, and Millen was team president and de facto GM from 2001-08.
Thomas was a miserly curmudgeon who was maybe just as reviled by some of the players as he was by the fan base. Millen had no real issues with the players, but was toxic among the fans.
Neither Thomas or Millen would have survived with any other NFL team for nearly as long as they did with the Lions. Their woeful won/loss records simply would not have been tolerated for that many years by other team owners.
Losing branded the Ford ownership. This is true. But let it never be said that Bill Ford didn’t want to win. He just didn’t know how.
Part of that not knowing was exhibited in his nearly blind faith and trust in Thomas and Millen.
Ford didn’t have the hardened heart of a Davis, who ran the Oakland Raiders with swagger and a mentality that matched his team’s nickname and logo.
Ford didn’t have the creativity and outside the box thinking as an Edward DeBartolo, who took the San Francisco 49ers in his ownership from losers to Super Bowl champs within five years.
Ford didn’t have the daring of a Robert Kraft, who has been winning with the New England Patriots almost from the moment he bought the Pats in 1995.
And, in his defense, Ford didn’t have the luck of an Art Rooney, who as Pittsburgh Steelers owner hired a rookie coach named Chuck Noll in 1969, watched him suffer through a 1-13 first season, and then also watched as Noll drafted incredibly well in building a four-time Super Bowl champion.
What Ford did have, was an almost fatherly kindness and unwavering faith in those he hired, for better or for worse.
That’s fine in the “normal” business world, but as has been noted, pro sports isn’t normal.
Lions fans had a problem with Ford because they felt that he put his loyalty in the wrong people and places.
Where was the loyalty to the fans, for example?
In pro sports, tough decisions need to be made—decisions that affect families, tarnish careers and leave people scrambling. But America doesn’t tolerate losing, so these decisions are necessary, more often than the decision maker would prefer. And those decisions are decisions that are made in loyalty to the paying customers, not necessarily to those on the payroll.
Bill Ford never truly understood that. Or, at the very least, he didn’t want to face it. So he didn’t, more often than not.
You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who worked for Ford who would have anything bad to say about him. A cynic would scoff and say, “Of course you wouldn’t. There wasn’t any accountability.”
I don’t think that lack of accountability was the issue. It was too many second chances.
Ford’s lineage was to a time when the auto industry was in its heyday—when a worker for the Big Three put in his 40 hours, stayed with the company for 30 years, and got his gold watch. The worker was loyal to the company—even after the advent of unions—and the company was loyal to the employee.
But that isn’t pro sports.
In Thomas’s era as GM, with Ford’s blessing, the Lions traditionally went cheap with the coach. The results weren’t good, with the exception of Joe Schmidt’s six years. To make matters worse, several assistants who worked for the Lions during Thomas’s time ended up finding success elsewhere as head coach.
Don Shula, Chuck Knox, Jerry Glanville and Bill Belichick were four assistants who used the Lions as springboards, which made Ford’s ownership look even worse.
The same thing went for players, particularly in the AFL-NFL bidding wars of the 1960s.
Fred Biletnikoff, John Hadl, Gerry Philbin and Johnny Robinson were four AFL stars who were drafted by the Lions but, because of money, opted to sign with the “other” league instead. It’s mind-boggling to think of how different the Lions’ fate would have been with those players on the roster.
As it was, the Lions fielded some pretty decent rosters in the 1960s and ’70s, but tended to underachieve, big time.
The gaping hole during Bill Ford’s ownership of the Lions was the lack of a strong, proven football man at the top. As a mostly hands-off owner (though he did talk to his head coaches every week), Ford needed that brilliant football mind to run the show on a day-to-day basis. He never found that mind, wasting 30 years on Thomas and Millen instead.
Ford took his team north to Pontiac in 1975, but returned it to Detroit proper in 2002. Both were the right moves at the time.
The Lions organization, under Ford, was first class. The facilities, the generosity and loyalty, were all regarded as top drawer by those within the NFL. The Ford family’s support of the league by way of TV advertising in the 1960s helped stabilize the league in its early days of TV contracts.
But little of that mattered to a fan base that hasn’t known a championship for 57 years now and counting.
The only bottom line that fans pay attention to is the won/loss record. They couldn’t care less if the team owner is a mean, heartless son of a bitch, as long as their guys win.
I believe Lions president Tom Lewand, who said in a prepared statement in the wake of Ford’s death this morning that “No owner loved his team more than Mr. Ford loved the Lions.”
I also don’t doubt for a moment that Ford wanted to win a Super Bowl.
But his being tone deaf to his fan base yet at the same time being loyal to the incompetent, chafed Lions followers, and with good reason.
Bill Ford was a decent, kind man in a business where that wasn’t a prerequisite for success. He lacked the meanness and dog-eat-dog mentality necessary to end up on top in February.
There is no crime in that. It just didn’t work.
In a way, Dominic Raiola is the last man standing. He’s like the ruins of Rome. He’s the remembrance of a monarchy. He just needs a tour guide and a brochure for the passing patrons.
In April, 2001, Raiola, a stubby center out of Nebraska, was the second draft pick ever made for the Lions by President Matt Millen. Doubtless that Raiola had no idea what he was being drafted into.
There is no one on the current Lions roster that better symbolizes the ruins of the Millen Era than Raiola.
Calvin Johnson, the NFL’s best receiver, dates back to Millen’s tenure, but CJ was drafted in 2007 and Millen was gone a year later.
Raiola joined the Lions organization just three months after Millen did. Millen finally got fired early in the 0-16 2008 season, but Raiola and Jeff Backus, the tackle from Michigan drafted ahead of his offensive linemate in ’01, weren’t so lucky; part of their penance was to remain behind—guilty as sin of being drafted by Millen.
Could anyone have possibly known that, 13 seasons later, Dominic Raiola would still be squatting on Sundays, gripping the football and readying it for a snap—all 13 years spent with the Lions?
Raiola plays arguably football’s most thankless position. Nothing can happen until the center does his thing, but aside from that, you hike the football and then ten second later, you pull yourself out from a pile of humanity.
The centers for the game’s greatest quarterbacks are remembered no more than the fellow who broke the four-minute mile after Roger Bannister, the second guy to climb Mt. Everest and the act that followed the Beatles on “The Ed Sullivan Show.”
Center in football is not a position played for notoriety, though Raiola has tried to be the story in the past.
There have been some ill-advised, occasionally outrageous comments. He’s gotten into it with the fans, walking off the field. There was an alleged incident with a marching band before a game, with an ugly epithet supposedly tossed around by Raiola.
And through it all there’s been one playoff game in 13 years, a monumental occasion that so overwhelmed Raiola, his comments leading up to the game indicated that he could scarcely believe it was happening. By the time he realized it was real, the Lions were being lapped by the New Orleans Saints, 45-28.
Centers don’t typically play their best football in their 13th season. Two reasons for this: 1) centers don’t typically play 13 seasons; 2) their bodies age as well as bananas.
Yet Raiola, in 2013, was ranked by Pro Football Focus as the second best center in the NFL. Not bad, considering the Lions almost didn’t bring him back after season no. 12.
There won’t be any doubt of Raiola’s coming back in 2014. Moved by perhaps his best season ever, the Lions recently rewarded their center with a one-year contract and a reportedly sizable raise—from $1 million in 2013 to $1.525 million in ’14.
Raiola captained an offensive line that, despite a 60% turnover from 2012, was among the NFL’s best and most consistent units in 2013.
“It’s humbling to me that I earned another year in the NFL, that’s first and foremost,” Raiola told the Detroit Free Press on February 7, after the Lions announced the signing.
“I’m in the same spot as I was last year, another proving ground. Can this 35-going-on-36-year-old play? And I’m going to work hard and let my play do the talking.”
Raiola, like Backus before the latter retired a year ago, is often guilty by association with the Lions when it comes to his legacy. He has never made the Pro Bowl, despite missing just four games in his 12 years as a full-time starter (all four came in 2008). Consequently, he’s often been portrayed as part of what’s wrong with the Lions instead of being lauded for his durability and solid play.
But Raiola hasn’t helped his own cause with some of his antics, usually involving his mouth.
Raiola hopes to play 15 years and hang them up. His newest contract is for one year, so like he said, it’s proving time again in 2014.
Since becoming a starter in his second season, here’s who Raiola has hiked the football to: Joey Harrington; Mike McMahon; Jeff Garcia; Jon Kitna; J.T. O’Sullivan; Dan Orlovsky; Daunte Culpepper; Drew Stanton; Shaun Hill and Matthew Stafford.
That’s 10 quarterbacks, and only Stafford was worth a hill of beans. It’s also a big reason why the Lions’ record while Raiola has been with the team is a putrid 60-148.
Hence the guilt by association thing.
It doesn’t matter that Raiola is hardly why the Lions have been so bad for so long—he’s been here, and that makes him part of the problem in the fans’ eyes.
Also, Raiola lives in his native Hawaii in the off-season, which doesn’t help. He’s not Nate Burleson, the recently released receiver whose gregarious demeanor and frequent appearances on national networks, pumping the Lions and the city of Detroit, have ingratiated him to the fan base.
Raiola leaves the mainland after the season and never makes it back unless there are OTAs to be conducted.
Plus, well, he’s a freaking center.
But the Lions aren’t bringing Raiola back for a 14th season out of pity or nostalgia. Salary cap dollars are too precious for anything silly like that. Witness the cashiering this past week of Burleson and safety Louie Delmas—two vocal leaders and proud Lions.
It’s about whether you can still play football, no matter what the birth certificate and the calendar have to say.
The Lions inked Raiola for another year because they don’t have a ready replacement, and his 2013 season was pretty damned good. And by all indications, the new deal is met with great appreciation by its recipient.
“I call (the Lions) my hometown team,” Raiola told the Free Press. “So it’s very humbling to me and I’m just thankful that they saw more gas in my tank.”
It’s funny. Raiola, the man who ends just about every play on the turf, is still standing when it comes to the Matt Millen Era.
The story is not apocryphal, which makes it even funnier.
“If you want a messenger, call Western Union.”
The speaker was Lions running back Joe Don Looney. The year was 1965.
The person Looney spoke those words to, incredibly, was his coach, Harry Gilmer.
Gilmer had wanted Looney to send in a play into the Lions huddle. And the free spirit from Oklahoma responded in a way that only Looney could.
Gilmer, never incredibly popular with players or fans, lasted two gut-wrenching years as Lions coach. He was the first coach hired by Bill Ford, who had taken control of the team from a group of partners in early 1964. One of Ford’s first flexing of muscle was to inform the coach he inherited, George Wilson, to fire some assistants after the ’64 season. Wilson relented, and told Bill Ford to take his job and shove it.
Gilmer’s last game as Lions coach ends on a December Sunday in 1966 at Tiger Stadium. Gilmer, wearing his trademark cowboy hat, is peppered with snowballs as he runs off the field and into the dugout.
A couple years later, Joe Schmidt sits in a bar across from Alex Karras. After a couple of seasons as coach—Schmidt was tabbed to replace Gilmer—Schmidt complains over his beer to his defensive tackle and former teammate.
“I can’t take it anymore,” Schmidt tells Karras. “I can’t take all the second guessing and the meddling.”
Schmidt was in a power struggle with GM Russ Thomas. And every Monday during the football season, Schmidt was subject to weekly meetings with Thomas and owner Ford—meetings that Schmidt derisively calls the “How come?” Sessions.
“Well,” Karras tells his coach, “if it’s that bad, why don’t you quit?”
Schmidt sneers at Karras. “That’s the stupidest f***ing idea I’ve ever heard!”
There’s a press conference in January, 1973. Schmidt tells the assembled media, “Coaching isn’t fun anymore.”
Schmidt had given himself the ziggy—a word he invented for when the coach gets fired.
He took Karras’s advice, after all—some four years later.
It is the fall of 1973. Don McCafferty, the new Lions coach, is beside himself. The Lions, struggling out of the gate, have just lost to the woeful Baltimore Colts.
“We can’t even beat the Colts,” McCafferty moans.
“(The players) don’t look like they have any pride,” the owner Ford says in anger.
McCafferty would drop dead less than a year later, during training camp.
It’s October, 1976. Someone named Rick Forzano is coaching the Lions. Forzano was a McCafferty assistant and inherited the head coaching job. He has become Lions coach much the same way that Jerry Ford became President of the United States—by default, never having an interview, never having to survive a challenge for the job.
Forzano is called into Ford’s office and is given the ziggy. Another unknown named Tommy Hudpseth—he was working in the team’s player personnel department at the time—is given Forzano’s old job.
Hudspeth coaches the Lions for a year and a half, in total obscurity. And awash in mediocrity.
It’s January, 1978. The big, bear of a man stands before the Detroit media, beaming. He learned his pro football as an offensive lineman, playing for Paul Brown in Cleveland. After retirement as a player, the offensive lineman is hired by Don Shula in Miami and guides the offensive line for Shula and the Dolphins.
The Dolphins are in their heyday, going undefeated in 1972 and winning two Super Bowls in a row. Following the success in Miami as an assistant, Monte Clark is hired by the 49ers as head coach for the 1976 season.
It starts out well for Monte, then the team tanks. He is fired in a dispute with GM Joe Thomas, after just one year on the Bay.
Now Clark has been hired to coach the Lions. He is given the additional title of Director of Football Operations. It’s an empty title, because Russ Thomas is still around, pissing people off as GM. Everyone, that is, except Bill Ford, indebted to Thomas for personal reasons that have forever gone unreported.
Clark lasts seven seasons as Lions coach, a lifetime for a football coach in Detroit. He takes the team to a couple of playoffs. He coaches the team to a 4-0 start in 1980, a start so heady that his players record a song—a bastardized version of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.”
Yet the lasting image of Monte Clark as Lions coach is that of Clark holding his hands up in prayer, prior to an Eddie Murray FG attempt in the 1983 playoffs in San Francisco.
It’s 1988. The Lions coach is staring at the roof of the Silverdome. A newspaper columnist sidles over and asks Darryl Rogers what he is looking at.
“I’m just counting the pigeons,” Rogers says.
Later, Rogers, deep into his fourth season, his team mired in bad, boring football, asks openly to some gathered reporters, “What does a guy have to do to get fired around here?”
The new Lions coach, rotund and with a big, cherubic face, smiles broadly and pulls owner Ford against his big body. He clutches the owner as if he’s still a defensive back for the New York Titans and Michigan State, making a tackle.
“I just wanna thank Mr. Ford for this opportunity,” Wayne Fontes says. Fontes took over for Rogers in that lovely “interim” basis. After five auditions, the Lions going 2-3 (both wins were over a bad Packers team), Ford decides he’s seen enough and eschews a coaching search. The owner gives Fontes, who’d never been a head coach at any level of football, a multi-year contract to be the head coach of the Lions—after five games as interim coach.
Fontes’ days, amazingly, are still today considered the apex of Lions football during the Ford ownership. Wayne takes the Lions to the playoffs four times in eight years, and manages to win a game in the post-season in the process.
“I’m the big buck,” Fontes famously says during one of the many times where he was in the fans’ crosshairs, explaining that he can take the heat.
Even after being fired in 1996, Fontes shows up during Ford’s press conference announcing the dismissal and gives the owner one more bear hug.
It is a horrible Sunday for the Lions in 1999. The coach, Bobby Ross, has tried an ill-advised two-point conversion that has indirectly cost the Lions a game against the Arizona Cardinals, on the road. Ross, ultra defensive, berates the media for daring to question the move.
Sometime later that season, Ross would lose it again, after another Sunday of foolish penalties and other sundry mistakes.
“I don’t coach that stuff!” Ross screams, a man coming unglued.
A year later, Ross quits on the Lions during the season, his team a respectable but apparently anguished 6-5.
It is January, 2001. The rookie football executive has chosen his first head coach. Both the executive and the coach will be learning on the job, because the coach is someone named Marty Mornhinweg—supposedly a hot shot offensive assistant who worked with Brett Favre in Green Bay.
“The bar is high,” Mornhinweg tells the mystified media. “We want to win Super Bowls.”
Sometime early in his first training camp, Mornhinweg, upset by something on the practice field, dramatically hops on his motorcycle and drives away. Just like that.
About 18 months later, Mornhinweg is given the ziggy, after a 5-27 record.
The Lions are introducing their new coach. It is January, 2003.
The new coach stands before the media and someone needs to pinch him.
“Wow,” the new coach says, grinning in disbelief at the pomp and circumstance surrounding his opening press conference—a real show put on by the Lions.
Steve Mariucci is the man Matt Millen wanted to hired two years prior, when Millen settled for Mornhinweg.
Mariucci is another ex-49ers coach, but one who has some playoff success under his belt, at least.
Mariucci, with northern Michigan roots, is a big name hire, given the ziggy by the 49ers a few weeks earlier. Not long before that, Millen gives Marty Mornhinweg a vote of confidence.
“Marty will be the Lions coach in 2003,” Millen tells the papers.
Then Mariucci becomes available, and Millen drops Marty like a hot potato.
It is Thanksgiving, 2005. The Lions lay another egg on national TV, a bad loss to the Atlanta Falcons.
A day after the game, Millen calls Mariucci—the man Millen wanted oh-so-badly—into his office and renders Mooch the ziggy.
The new Lions coach is a balding, ex-military man. He greets the media with, “Good morning, men,” just like a military man would.
Rod Marinelli is another assistant who has never been a head coach anywhere, at any level of football.
Marinelli talks of “pounding the rock” and of pride and of discipline.
Two years later, the Lions suffer the ignominy of being the first—and only—NFL team to go 0-16.
It’s January, 2009. The new Lions coach is another assistant coach—a defensive coordinator from Tennessee. But coming off 0-16, it’s the best the Lions can do.
“Bobby Layne doesn’t play here anymore,” Jim Schwartz tells the media who have once again been bugled to Ford Field to meet a new coach. The new coach has chosen to give a history lesson, right off the bat.
Schwartz gets his next Bobby Layne three months later, when the Lions draft Matthew Stafford, a quarterback from Georgia, with the first overall pick of the 2009 NFL Draft.
It is pointed out that Stafford attended the very same high school as Layne did, in suburban Dallas. As if.
It is October, 2011, and the Lions have suffered their first loss after five wins, to the 49ers in Detroit. Schwartz shakes the hand of 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh, but something goes terribly wrong. Within moments, the Lions coach is screaming and chasing after Harbaugh. Video replays will show that Schwartz looks like a man who is unhinged. It’s a freaking post-game handshake, and Schwartz has turned it into must-see TV.
Two years later, Schwartz is caught on camera screaming again, this time at fans at Ford Field. The fans have booed the Lions’ decision to drain out the clock in a crucial game against the Giants and take their chances in overtime.
The fans hate the decision, which is dripping in cowardice.
Schwartz doesn’t like the booing and turns and gives it to the fans.
“I was just trying to fire up my players,” Schwartz feebly explains after the game.
Eight days later, Schwartz is given the ziggy, his teams carrying a well-deserved reputation of being talented but terribly undisciplined and a bunch of hotheads. They are a reflection of their coach.
Which brings us to…
“The time is now. Not two, three years down the road. Right here, right now,” Jim Caldwell tells the media as he’s introduced as the 16th coach hired by Bill Ford, today at Ford Field.
Caldwell is a change for the Lions. He’s actually been a head coach, for starters. And he’s been to the Super Bowl.
Then again, so had Bobby Ross. And Don McCafferty, who won it with Baltimore in 1970.
But Caldwell, the perceived second choice when the Lions lost Ken Whisenhunt to Tennessee, seems to be a level-headed, smart football man who has been around some very good people, such as Tony Dungy and Peyton Manning and John Harbaugh, to name a few.
“My father worked in the auto industry for 35 years,” Caldwell tells the folks who are feverishly converting everything he says into 140-character bites. “My brother is in his 34th year of working in the auto industry. The UAW has supported my family for almost 40 years.”
Caldwell doesn’t know his history as well as Jim Schwartz, who spoke of Bobby Layne. Someone ought to tell Caldwell that his employer’s ancestors fought the formation of the UAW tooth and nail.
No matter. Caldwell is the Lions coach, fair and square.
Bill Ford has owned the Lions for 50 years, and the 15 men preceding Caldwell as coach have never been heard from again after leaving Detroit. The Lions are the Bermuda Triangle of the NFL, when it comes to head coaches.
“I have been hired to deliver a championship,” Caldwell said today.
That might be the last time the new coach and the Lions fans agree for quite some time.
Matthew Stafford has won no playoff games, no divisional titles and has a career won/lost record of 24-37 as a starter in the NFL—a winning percentage of under .400.
Yet the Lions are apparently involving their quarterback in the team’s coaching search.
Stafford reportedly sat in on the Lions’ interview of Jim Caldwell last week. This should cause great consternation among Lions fans.
Stafford no more belongs in the interview room as I do. Or as you do. Or as your uncle does, or as your uncle’s barber.
The inclusion of Stafford, regardless that he’s the Lions’ franchise QB, sends up more red flags than a Russian parade.
First, Stafford isn’t Tom Brady. Or Peyton Manning. Or Drew Brees—all veteran quarterbacks steeped in experience, knowledge, and championships.
And even the above guys haven’t been part of a coaching interview process, that anyone knows about.
The inclusion of Stafford makes one wonder what has been pumped into his head since becoming a Lion in 2009.
It raises questions about what level of culpability management holds Stafford regarding all the losing that’s been going on.
Stafford, more than any other player, was responsible for the Lions’ collapse this season. His turnover-prone play torpedoed the Lions’ playoff chances, when the team went 1-6 down the stretch.
A cynic could say that the Lions are merely giving Stafford hiring power to go along with the firing power he already has, as his play got Jim Schwartz canned.
But seriously, folks, this is a slippery slope the Lions are going down.
Caldwell, for his part, was well-prepared for his interview with the Lions. He supposedly watched every single pass that Stafford threw in 2013, and the former Colts head coach came armed with suggestions of how to improve Stafford’s mechanics.
That still doesn’t justify having Stafford sit in on Caldwell’s interview.
This has tail-wagging-the-dog written all over it, and raises serious questions about the treatment of Stafford versus the other 52 men on the roster.
So does this mean that Stafford will be included in every coaching interview? Why stop with Caldwell? Or better yet, why start with Caldwell?
Another disturbing thing occurred regarding Stafford. It came shortly after the 2013 season ended with a thud.
Stafford was asked about whether he’d be open to working with a “quarterback guru” or some such person in the off-season.
“It’s not something that I feel would be my style or beneficial to me,” he said.
That’s not his style? It wouldn’t be beneficial?
It’s not his style to be the best quarterback that he can be? Even Tiger Woods has a swing coach, for goodness sake.
It all makes me wonder how much Stafford is being coddled by the people upstairs. How much he isn’t being challenged.
It also makes me wonder whether the change in culture needed with the Lions should have ended with just changing the head coach.
The Lions don’t need Matthew Stafford’s approval before they hire a new coach. They don’t even need him to like the new guy.
The new coach ought to be hired based on what management thinks, and Stafford will just need to deal with it.
This inclusion of Stafford in the interview process is pretty much unprecedented, and with good reason.
The coach coaches. The players play.
How many employees get a say as to who their new boss is going to be?
And from a candidate’s perspective, it’s tough enough to impress the brass in an interview, without having to wow the quarterback as well.
It’s fair now to be concerned about how much influence Stafford has around the Lions, and whether he is being held as accountable as he should for the monkey shines that are going on.
The inclusion of the quarterback in coaching interviews and his resistance to quarterback specialists because it’s “not my style”, ought to baffle folks and make them curious as to how Stafford has been bred since the Lions drafted him no. 1 overall in 2009.
It’s that time again.
It’s time to look back at a year’s worth of columns and see how the Detroit sports landscape looked through my crossed eyes.
So, without further ado, here’s the annual “Best of/Worst of Greg Eno” for 2013.
On the Red Wings’ slippage to begin the truncated 2013 NHL season:
The Red Wings used to play a selfish brand of hockey—meaning that they never let the other team have the puck. They cycled and passed and it was like watching the Harlem Globetrotters with the basketball during “Sweet Georgia Brown.”
It’s become so hard for the Red Wings now.
No longer do teams step onto the Joe Louis Arena ice shaking in their skating boots. Gone is the intimidation factor at The Joe. The crowds are still sellouts but it’s a polite crowd nowadays—19,000+ who are sitting on their hands too often.
We knew it wasn’t going to be the same this season, but for a long time it was all conjecture, thanks to the labor lockout. The hockey season was always somewhere over there, past the horizon.
Then the labor strife was over and the NHL started playing games again, and all of Hockeytown’s fears are being realized.
The Red Wings are an ordinary team, no longer one of the league’s bullies. They win on some nights, lose on others. They are 7-7 and it befits them.
This could describe this season’s Red Wings, eh?
On then-rookie Andre Drummond being, at age 19, the Pistons’ best player—already:
In Drummond’s absence the Pistons have collapsed like a house of cards. They are shockingly inept with Drummond out of the lineup. They are pushovers in the paint, and lost everywhere else on the court defensively. The only rebounds they grab these days are the ones that fall directly into their hands.
The Pistons, with Drummond on the sidelines, have become a disinterested, wretched mess of a basketball team. They are unable, perhaps even unwilling, to play anyone tough right now.
Drummond’s absence and the Pistons’ subsequent freefall into oblivion are about as coincidental as cause and effect.
So it’s not too much to say that Drummond, at 19 years old, is the Pistons’ best player right now. It was not too much to say back in 1981 about Isiah Thomas, when the 20-year-old rookie from Indiana University became the Pistons’ best player just a few minutes into his first game.
Thomas didn’t stop there; he became the franchise’s best player of all time.
It’s way too soon to say that Drummond is a HOF player, but his impact on the team remains significant
On the Red Wings moving to the Eastern Conference for the 2013-14 season:
NBC is a winner, too. The league’s TV network surely must be busting buttons when they see all the tradition-rich games featuring the league’s top squads that they can schedule for Sunday afternoons.
Remember Detroit-Toronto in Steve Yzerman’s young years? Remember how exciting those games were? And the Maple Leafs weren’t even any good back then.
I can see the smiles on the faces of the old-timers when they see those iconic Canadiens jerseys skating up and down the JLA ice several times a season.
You missed the Bruins’ visit to Detroit? There’ll be another one next month; you won’t have to wait until the next presidential election cycle.
The Red Wings ought to be thankful, too—because had they still been in the West, they would be way out of the playoff picture this season.
On Justin Verlander’s contract situation and his possibly heading toward free agency after the 2014 season:
So I wouldn’t worry too much about Justin Verlander hitting the free market after next season. Ilitch won’t have that. There will come a time when the owner will yank DaveDombrowski by the ear into a room and ask his GM, flat out, how much it’s going to cost to keep Verlander in the Old English D. Dombrowski will tell his boss, who will fork over a check, and that will be that.
That check is likely to steamroll past $200 million.
It will be a bargain.
Verlander is nothing like we’ve ever seen on a pitching mound in Detroit. He’s 30 years old and he’s just getting started. He’s pitched in more big games already than most guys will see in a lifetime. His awards and achievements and accolades read like a 20-year veteran’s. He’s funny and good-looking and loves the media.
He also thinks free agency will be fun. Too bad he’ll never get to find out for real.
JV did, indeed, sign an extension for over $200 million—and proceeded to have a difficult year, though he turned it on in the playoffs.
On collecting baseball trading cards as a kid growing up in Livonia:
Outside the store we’d stand, our bikes between our legs, gum packing our cheeks like sunflower seeds in a hamster’s.
The first thing you tried to do was offload “doubles”—those duplicate cards that were not needed. We’d shuffle through our cards like traders on the floor of the NYSE, calling out doubles loudly in case anyone was interested, right then and there.
The checklists were always mental. Everyone seemed to know which cards they needed, cold. We didn’t have to consult with a grocery list of needed cards. And we also knew which cards we already had, so the doubles could either come in the form of two of the same card from that day’s haul, or by way of mentally connecting your collection at home with those cards being shuffled in your hands in front of the store.
Sometimes you’d end up with triples or even quadruples, usually of some bench player who rarely found his way into an actual game. No one got three or four Rod Carews.
Brings back some memories for you, I hope!
On the Lions drafting DE Ziggy Ansah:
The whole idea of the draft is volatile enough. You hardly need to add to its propensity for being tenuous.
Yet that’s what the Lions have done, by picking hugely talented but terribly raw DE Ziggy Ansah, number five off the board. This kid could become the best pass rusher to wear Honolulu Blue since Bubba Baker.
Or he may flat out stink.
Boom or bust. Star or dud. Genius or folly.
Pretty much describes the NFL Draft as a whole, I’d say.
Ansah had a decent rookie season. He is far from being a draft bust—so far.
On the Red Wings signing G Jimmy Howard to a six-year contract extension:
The wolves were out again this week, as news came to light that the Red Wings are about to outfit Howard with a six-year, $31.8 million contract. It should be signed any day now, after some final details are hammered out.
The therapists on talk radio, namely Bob Wojnowski and Jamie Samuelsen, had a bunch of apoplectics on their hands Thursday evening when the topic of discussion turned to Howard and his soon-to-be new contract.
The bridge jumpers were aghast. They didn’t like the length of the deal. They thought GM Ken Holland was “overpaying” for one of his own. They didn’t like the money, as if they were each being shaken down for a share of the payout.
Mainly, they didn’t like the idea of Jimmy Howard playing goalie for the Red Wings for the next six years.
Based on how Howie has played this season, the fans like this contract even less.
On the freefall of WR Titus Young and how it compares to that of Charlie Rogers, the team’s first round pick of 2003:
It’s not about football anymore for Titus Young. It’s about life, and his ability to survive it. It should be pointed out that Young is the father of a nine-month old baby boy, Titus Jr.
Again we smirk and shake our heads at Young’s personal life, as we did at Charlie Rogers’.
Rogers never got any help. Young’s father’s comment gives hope that Titus can get some help and support. Maybe there will be a personal posse that will gather and help Young battle his demons.
Charlie Rogers is 32, broke, and has no future. The world that was once his oyster is now his living hell.
That’s nothing to smirk about.
Let’s hope the next time we read of Young, it’s about how he’s getting his life together. Don’t hold your breath.
On the Tigers’ much-maligned utility man, Don Kelly:
He is the quintessential Jack of All Trades, Master of None. Killing him is like killing nine mediocre people. But he’s open-minded; he’ll try anything once—and he has.
Don Kelly has done it all on the baseball diamond. He just hasn’t done it all that well.
Ah, but what would baseball be without the Don Kellys of the world?
Someone has to be the 25th man on a 25-man roster. Kelly has spent his entire big league career looking over his shoulder and seeing no one behind him.
It’s been a baseball life lived on the edge—of extinction.
Kelly, the Tigers Designated Sitter, has been hanging on to a big league job by a thread for so long, it defies physics.
The Tigers drafted him in the eighth round of the 2001 amateur draft. Little did they know it would be like drafting a boomerang. Every time the Tigers tried to throw Don Kelly away, he kept flying back to them.
Kelly meandered his way through the Tigers farm system, like a rat in a maze, looking for the cheese. He started as a shortstop but that soon proved to be as significant as saying a chameleon started green.
In the minors, Kelly switched to third base, then to second, then to first, then back to third base again. He was threatening to rewrite Abbott and Costello’s act, all by himself.
Kelly will return to the Tigers in 2014, the ultimate baseball survivor
On the comparison between new Pistons coach Mo Cheeks and his predecessor, Larry Frank:
The similarities pretty much end with their both being NBA head coaches prior to coming to Detroit. Frank coached the New Jersey Nets; Cheeks steered the Portland Trailblazers and the Philadelphia 76ers. Both coaches led their teams to the playoffs, but neither went very far into the postseason.
After that, Cheeks and Frank part ways.
Frank never played pro basketball. Not even close. He was a pipsqueak gym rat who started his coaching career as an errand boy for legendary Indiana University coach Bob Knight. After Indiana, Frank lived a hard scrabble basketball life, taking very unglamorous jobs before finally getting his break. Still, he became an NBA head coach at age 33.
Cheeks not only played in the NBA, he was one of the game’s star point guards in the 1980s. He was manning the point when the 76ers won the league championship in 1983. His career was filled with assists and points and both individual and team success.
Mo Cheeks can never be accused of not knowing what it’s like to play in the NBA.
But Cheeks, so far, has presided over a terribly inconsistent basketball team in Detroit. But it’s still early.
On the breakout year of Max Scherzer’s:
The Tigers soon discovered that the scouting report on Scherzer was dead solid perfect—he was the human roller coaster.
It was Cy Young one day, and Sigh Young five days later.
Scherzer’s arm was alive, alright, but it was like what a scout once said about a young Sandy Koufax.
“Koufax would be a great pitcher,” the scout said, “if the plate was high and outside.”
Scherzer was installed in the Tigers rotation in 2010 and not having seen him pitch before, I thought the young man was trying to throw his arm to home plate, along with the baseball.
Scherzer, at the time, had what is known as a “violent” delivery. His windup was designed to gain power from his legs, which he then used to whip-snap the baseball from his right hand like it had cut him off in traffic.
It was anyone’s guess as to where the baseball was going at that point.
It wasn’t that Scherzer was ridiculously wild. In his only full season with the Diamondbacks, he averaged about 3.5 walks per nine innings.
He just threw a lot of pitches. Like, a ton of them. He was about as efficient as the government.
The Tigers presumably knew what they were getting in Scherzer, which was a big arm who could be a fixture in their rotation, as long as he could be refined. They hoped that he could, one day, be a nice complement to their ace, Justin Verlander.
Some say that Max has supplanted Verlander as the Tigers’ ace. I say give it at least one more year before you make such a declaration. Besides, Max may be gone after 2014, anyway.
On Chris Chelios’ being voted into the HHOF, and his unexpected turn as a Red Wing:
I’ll never forget where I was when I heard the news that the Red Wings had acquired Chelios in March, 1999 at the trading deadline. I was in my car, and nearly ran it into a ditch.
Chris Chelios, a Red Wing?
It was Ted Williams to the Yankees. Larry Bird to the Lakers. A Hatfield to the McCoys.
Chelios was 37 when the trade was made, and it looked like so many the Red Wings were famous for making—a wily veteran on his last legs, for a prospect that would never find serious ice time in Detroit anyhow.
Chelios was traded for a defenseman named Anders Eriksson, who was 24 at the time and who would play in the NHL for another 11 years, but whose career reads more like a travelogue. Eriksson played for six more teams after being traded to Chicago, never carving out much of a niche anywhere he went.
But a funny thing happened with this Chelios-for-Eriksson deal. Despite being 13 years Eriksson’s senior, Chelly nearly played in the NHL for as long as Eriksson would last.
Chelios became a Red Wing, and eventually the Winged Wheel was tattooed emotionally on his heart. Detroit slowly replaced Chicago as Chelios’ home. He opened restaurants in metro Detroit, got involved in charity work and won two more Stanley Cups along the way (2002 and 2008). He played in Detroit until he was 46 years old, beating Gordie Howe in that category by three years in the age department.
Last week, Chelios—along with fellow Red Wing Brendan Shanahan—was voted into the Hockey Hall of Fame.
Chelly deserves it, but did anyone thing he’d play for the Red Wings for as long as he did?
On the idea of the Pistons moving back downtown:
Move the Pistons back downtown, the romanticists say. The crowds will return.
The Red Wings’ recent announcement of plans to build a brand new hockey arena in the area near Comerica Park and Ford Field has fueled the Pistons-to-downtown rallying cries.
Luckily, the Pistons have an owner now who won’t take the bait.
Tom Gores didn’t find his money in a satchel somewhere. He wasn’t born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He didn’t win the Lotto, nor sue for negligence. He wasn’t left a fortune by a rich uncle.
Gores got his money fair and square—by earning it and turning profits into bigger profits. He navigated choppy financial waters to build his portfolio into something pretty amazing for a guy who has yet to reach his 50th birthday.
Gores is smart enough to know that the only thing that will bring fans back to see the Pistons in droves is winning.
Gores knows that you can move the Pistons downtown all you want—put them right smack next to the RenCen if you please—but it won’t mean a hill of beans if the team keeps turning in 29-victory seasons, like the one just passed.
I have a hunch that Gores is perfectly happy to have his team remain in Auburn Hills—for now.
On MLB’s desire to use instant replay for more than just HR calls, starting in 2014:
Major League Baseball is on the verge of expanding its relatively limited use of instant replay for the 2014 season. Taking its cue from the NFL, MLB will allow managers to use challenges—one prior to the seventh inning and two afterward, until the game ends.
Pallone, in a Facebook comment to me, wrote simply, “Why don’t we just use robots!!”
I understand Pallone’s stance (he absolutely detests FSD’s so-called FoxTrax, which supposedly determines electronically if a pitch was a ball or a strike), especially given that he is a former big league umpire.
But there’s also something to be said for getting the call right, and for returning good umpires back to anonymity.
I say use the damn thing already.
Looks that way!
On the return of Red Wings RW Dan Cleary:
The Red Wings didn’t have to say yes to Cleary just because he drove up to Traverse City to ask for his old job back—especially not after it was reported that he was on the verge of signing with another team.
This one’s for loyalty and for not always chasing the money. This is for everyone who doubts that pro sports teams and players really will scratch each other’s backs—when push comes to shove.
Dan Cleary said no to the money, and yes to being a Red Wing. The team said no to convenience and yes to rewarding past performance.
How about that?
Yeah, how about that? And how about Cleary’s awful performance thus far?
On the Lions’ ineptitude in Washington, written on the eve of their game against the Redskins:
They’re going to fly to Washington, land, de-board, take a bus to their hotel and spend Saturday night dreaming of touchdowns and defensive stops. They’re going to imagine themselves walking off the field on Sunday as victors.
Dutch Clark couldn’t do it. Neither could Bobby Layne or Joe Schmidt. Lem Barney was never a winner in Washington, nor was Charlie Sanders.
Sorry, Chuck Long. Scott Mitchell, you couldn’t win there either (Mitchell was the one who threw the game-winning pick-six in overtime to Darrell Green in 1995).
So you have to give this 2013 group of Lions an “A” for guts and gall. They fancy themselves as the squad that can fly home from Washington as winners. That the Redskins are 0-2 and not exactly one of the league’s best teams perhaps buoys them. But the quality of the two teams has meant diddlysquat in years past. It’s always been Goliath beating David, no matter what.
Detroit at Washington, NFL style. Forget the spread; take the ‘Skins. It’s the lock of the century, every time. The house always wins. It’s been the biggest waste of three hours on a Sunday for eight decades and counting.
The Lions WON. Go figure.
On SS Jose Iglesias making Tigers fans forget—already—Jhonny Peralta
But Peralta is the 2013 Pipp, whose place in the Yankees lineup at first base was taken by one Louis Gehrig in 1923 as Pipp infamously nursed a headache. Pipp was a pretty good player, too, but he was no Gehrig, as it turned out.
Iglesias is already making people think of Peralta as a distant memory, and Jhonny has only been gone for a little more than a month.
Iglesias plays shortstop as if he tumbled out of the womb wearing a mitt. It wouldn’t surprise me if his first words were seis-cuatro-tres.
Brooks Robinson was dropped on Earth by God to play third base. Iglesias is a shortstop the way Brooks was a third baseman. In just seven weeks as a Tiger, Iglesias has made plays that you only see on video games, or in dreams.
There isn’t a baseball that Iglesias can’t get to. He has the range of a nuclear bomb, and an arm like an ICBM missile.
We have never seen shortstop play in Detroit like we’re seeing it now with Iglesias. With all due respect to Alan Trammell and Steady Eddie Brinkman, Iglesias combines competence with flair. He’s an acrobat playing baseball, and part gymnast, too.
What’s Spanish for vacuum cleaner?
The Tigers have Iglesias sucking up ground balls at SS for several years to come. Should be fun to watch.
On the amazing comeback of Victor Martinez, especially after his slower-than-molasses start to the season:
I remember watching a game on television in June, when Martinez started to perk up a little bit. Still, his average was below .250. FSD analyst Rod Allen said, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Martinez was back around .300 by the end of the year.”
I thought Allen to be merely spewing out propaganda as a homer shill.
Well, look who was right, after all.
Martinez has lifted his batting average, which was like an anchor, all the way to “around .300,” just as Rod Allen prophesized.
Martinez’s recovery from an awful first two months, at age 34, especially considering that the resurrection came after losing an entire year to injury, when there were calls for his head in May, is nothing short of amazing.
Martinez is on pace to hit .300, drive in 80+ runs, and his bat is considered so valuable to the Tigers’ cause that the team is seriously considering playing him at catcher in World Series road games, where the designated hitter doesn’t exist.
This isn’t a comeback, it’s a reincarnation.
They shouldn’t call it the AL Comeback Player of the Year Award. It should be renamed the Victor Martinez Trophy.
Mariano Rivera won it, in his final year before retirement. V-Mart fell victim to sentiment.
On the Red Wings’ struggles:
These are tough times for Babcock’s bunch, just 12 games into the season. He has some guys he badly would like on the ice but just can’t be, due to injury—like Darren Helm, who is exactly what the Red Wings need right now. Patrick Eaves will be dressing for the first time, Wednesday in Vancouver.
Babcock also has guys who are new and who were supposed to be a big deal but who haven’t been yet—Stephen Weiss, for starters. Daniel Alfredsson, to a lesser degree.
Babcock has a defenseman, Brendan Smith, who is confused and prickly for being scratched. He has had to split up Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg, which the coach is loathe to do, because when he does so, it usually means that something is wrong.
And something is wrong with the Red Wings right now. This time, Babcock doesn’t need to give us a hard sell on it.
“Right now, with the way we’re playing, we have no chance,” he said after the Rangers game.
No eye rolling from anyone this time.
And the struggles continue…
On the Tigers’ search for a new manager:
Now, as to who might get the job?
Keep these guys in the mix for now.
McClendon. Dusty Baker. Brad Ausmus. Jim Tracy. Ozzie Guillen. Tony Pena.
The reasons are as follows, for each man respectively.
Already interviewed. Past success. Mike Matheny redux. Dark horse but brilliant mind. Crazy enough to work. Experience, can relate to the plethora of Latin-American Tigers.
Dombrowski, it’s been reported, will likely wait no longer than the first 10 days of November before choosing his new manager. This gives us about two weeks or so to see the focus shift to the finalists, as news of interviews comes to light.
Regardless, this is a great job for the right person. But the right person must know that if the 2014 season isn’t capped with a parade down Woodward Avenue, there will be hell to pay.
Ausmus got the job, and let’s hope he dialed Matheny and thanked him.
On retiring manager Jim Leyland:
Leyland didn’t always push the right buttons, but what manager does? He was slave to pitch counts. He wasn’t particularly aggressive or creative. The move of Jhonny Peralta to left field, when it comes to Leyland, was almost off the charts. It was Mickey Stanley to shortstop-ish.
But the players adored him. And when players like the manager, they tend to play better. That’s a fact.
It still stands alone. Leyland wasn’t able to rip that year from the wall. It’s 29 years and counting. That gap makes the 1968-84 wait seem like nothing.
Leyland, thanks to the emergence of the Internet and talk radio, was nitpicked and criticized more than any Tigers manager prior to him, combined.
But would we have nitpicked and criticized, if the team was dreadful?
Isiah Thomas, the great Pistons point guard, once said that fans don’t boo nobodies.
Translated: only the irrelevant escape feeling the heat.
The very fact that Jim Leyland, in his eight years managing the Tigers, faced so much criticism, is actually a testament to the man.
Here’s wishing the Marlboro Man all the best in retirement—though it is a soft retirement of sorts. Leyland will still advise President/GM Dave Dombrowski.
On the trials and tribulations of Michigan football this season:
Hoke, while not the popular first choice, at least had some Ann Arbor pedigree.
He was a Michigan Man—a term that is beginning to be more laughable than serious these days.
Hoke, frankly, looked more like he belonged at Michigan, coaching football, than his predecessor. His name even sounded more like Michigan than his predecessor, if you want to be even more superficial.
To Rodriguez’s muscular build, good looks and Latino last name, Hoke offered a squishy body, a moon face and a name of a left tackle.
To Rodriguez’s mild manner and soft voice, Hoke’s demeanor conjured humorous comparisons to the late comedian Chris Farley’s satirical motivational speaker.
Then they started to play the football games.
And here, near the end of Year Three under Hoke, the Michigan football program is in no better shape now than when Rodriguez was given the ziggy.
It may actually be worse.
Hoke’s most critical year as U-M football coach will certainly be 2014.
On the legacy left in Detroit by 1B Prince Fielder, traded to Texas for 2B Ian Kinsler:
Detroit sports fans are simple folk, and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. In fact, far from it.
Here’s what they want, and it’s very simple.
The Detroit sports fan only asks that you, as one of their athletes, show that you’re just as torn up as the fans are about failure.
They want to know that you feel their pain.
Fielder, in two post-seasons as a Tiger, not only failed miserably on the field, he failed miserably in the court of public opinion. He never really made us feel like that he was “one of us.”
Not once in either playoff did Fielder say, “I stink. I know a lot is expected of me and I’m just not getting it done.”
That’s all he had to say. And the forgiveness would have been plenty.
Instead, after the 2012 World Series sweep at the hands of the San Francisco Giants, Fielder deflected criticism, essentially saying that fans better not look at him cross-eyed, because he’s one of 25 guys.
Those comments didn’t get too much play. They were spoken almost in a vacuum. But he said them.
Fielder will always remain an enigma in the Old English D.
On the Tigers’ new manager, Brad Ausmus:
Ausmus is 44—just a few years removed as a player. He was one of the best defensive catchers of his time. He has worn the Old English D, as then-GM Randy Smith kept trading Ausmus, and trading for him. But to Leyland’s resume as a manager, Ausmus offers a big baseball brain and not much else.
Ausmus has yet to be second guessed. He has yet to hear his name besmirched on sports talk radio. Nobody wants to fire him—yet.
It’s the cleanest of clean slates—a manager with not a speck of big league managing experience.
It’s also a hell of a risk.
The Tigers aren’t a team in development. They’re not in rebuilding mode. This isn’t a situation where a manager and his players can learn on the job, together. This job isn’t warm and fuzzy. It’s win or else.
The Tigers expected to win in 2011. They expected it again in 2012. The pressure to do so in 2013 was off the charts. So what do you think expectations will be in 2014—Ausmus’ rookie year as a big league skipper?
GM Dave Dombrowski apparently feels that Brad Ausmus, all 44 years of him, has what it takes to enter this win-or-else pressure cooker and come out without being so much as scalded.
I still maintain that Ausmus’ hiring is a risk, but I believe it is less so, after some thought and Ausmus’ answers to the questions put forth to him since he was hired.
On the Lions’ plummet from division leaders to being on the verge of missing the playoffs:
The Lions should be cruising, on their way to the playoffs.
They could still get there, of course, but if they don’t, there ought to be repercussions.
The infamous winless Lions season, in which they became the only team in NFL history to go 0-16, was five years ago. That is ancient history when you’re talking about a league in which teams’ records go up and down like an EKG reading.
Head coach Jim Schwartz is in his fifth season. He has a losing record in four of those years. The Lions did seem to be trending upward after Year 3, when their games won went from two to six to ten. But last year the Lions regressed badly, to the tune of 4-12. If the charge was that they got too full of themselves after a 10-6 record and going one-and-done in the playoffs, then shame on them—and on Schwartz.
This year’s team started 6-3 but has become as wobbly as a Weeble.
If the Lions don’t win the division this year, they will have no one to blame but themselves. And the apologists who would tell you that this somehow still shows improvement are part of the problem.
The Lions must not only make the playoffs, but must win a playoff game for Schwartz to earn trust back that has been lost since the 2011 season.
If owner Bill Ford can shake himself free from the yoke of blind trust and loyalty, and let his football people—and his son—make some decisions that may be difficult but necessary, then the Lions will finally show the football world that they are through with moral victories and settling.
The Lions blew it, Schwartz lost his job, and the gag job was complete.
On EMU football:
A few weeks ago, longtime pro and college coach Jerry Glanville let it be known that he was tossing his cowboy hat into the ring to be Eastern’s next football coach. His interest isn’t a joke. Glanville is dead serious.
EMU should be dead serious about Glanville, by the way. Hiring a big name guy is about the only thing the school hasn’t tried. Glanville’s hiring would put EMU football on some people’s radars again—and that by itself is a great start to resuscitating the program.
Besides, Glanville is the only big name coach who appears willing to come to Ypsilanti. I’d hire him in a heartbeat.
EMU didn’t listen to me (big surprise) and hired former Drake coach Chris Creighton. Frankly, the university did the right thing. Now, if they’d only return Hurons as the school’s nickname…
There it is—2013 at a glance. As usual, I was right a little, wrong a bit more, and that trend will probably always be the case.
Happy New Year!
Joe Schmidt introduced two things to the NFL: the middle linebacker position, and the ziggy.
The former put Schmidt into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, and the latter became an iconic term for a coach getting fired. The ziggy is as Detroit as Vernor’s, Stroh’s, Uniroyal and Better Made potato chips.
Ironically, even though he coined the term, Schmidt himself rendered a self-ziggy, when he quit as coach of the Lions in January, 1973—the loser in a power struggle with GM Russ Thomas.
“Coaching is not fun anymore,” Schmidt declared on the day he gave himself the ziggy.
To this day, almost 41 years later, Joe Schmidt remains the only head coach of the Lions to leave the job with a winning record in Detroit (43-34-7, plus a playoff loss).
Since Schmidt, the Lions have tried 13 men as coach—a baker’s dozen—and none have been able to get the team over the “hump.” The word is Tom Lewand’s.
Lions President Lewand mentioned the insurmountable (so far) hump several times as he spoke to the media today. explaining away the firing of Jim Schwartz after five rough and tumble seasons.
The hump, according to Lewand, is what needs to be gotten over, and the Lions under Schwartz just couldn’t quite do it.
I won’t speculate as to who the next coach will be. I’ll leave that to Twitter, Facebook and the area around the water cooler.
I do know this. The Lions job is as attractive as it’s ever been under the Ford ownership, which just completed its 50th year.
Never before on the Ford family’s watch—including when Schmidt resigned after leading some pretty good Lions teams of the early-1970s—has the Lions roster been as rich with talent for a new coach as it is right now.
So no wonder that Lewand and GM Marty Mayhew’s phones were ringing constantly (Lewand said) with interested agents and coaches after the news broke that Schwartz had been given the ziggy, around noon today.
Oh, to have access to those men’s caller IDs, eh?
Schwartz is gone because after five years, the Lions were still shooting themselves in the foot with dumb penalties, ill-timed turnovers and bad decisions—some of them the coach’s. More disturbing is that, in the last two second halves of seasons, the Lions are 2-14 under Schwartz. That is maybe the most damning indictment.
Pay no heed to Schwartz’s players. They spouted the usual tripe after the coach gets the ziggy.
It was the usual stuff.
He’s a great guy. He’s a good coach. It wasn’t his fault. We loved playing for him.
NFL players are the last people to know what’s good for them when it comes to coaching. The so-called “player’s coaches” are beloved, sure. You’d like a guy, too, if he rarely held you accountable for your actions.
Listen carefully next time you hear of former players talk about Lombardi, Noll, Walsh, Belichik and Parcells.
You won’t hear a lot of warm and fuzzies. Respect? You bet. Actual “like”? Not so much.
I once asked former Lion Ron Rice what it was like playing for Wayne Fontes.
“Loved it” he gushed. “Wayne was a great guy.”
Well, yeah—nobody is denying that.
You think the Red Wings felt close and friendly with Scotty Bowman? Did any of his players, wherever Scotty coached?
“With Scotty, you hated his guts for 364 days and on the 365th, you held up the Stanley Cup,” one of his players once said.
Now, the Lions don’t have to hire a jerk. And nice guys can win. Tony Dungy comes to mind.
But the Lions of today don’t need someone they’d have a beer with after the game. They need a leader—and not someone who can turn a post-game handshake into must-see TV or one who will hold the fans more accountable than his players. They don’t need someone who constantly thinks that he’s the smartest guy in the room.
Jim Schwartz, in the end, was the Lions’ transitional guy. Lots of championship teams have had them.
Let’s take Detroit. Might as well.
Alan Trammell. Rick Carlisle. Jacques Demers.
Those are just three examples of coaches who took over the dregs of their respective leagues, with the Tigers, Pistons and Red Wings respectively, and who brought their teams to relevancy and a level of competitiveness that was respectable.
Each of them was succeeded by someone who took it to the next level, that ancient term.
There’s no shame in being the Lions’ transitional guy. The trouble is, the Lions haven’t transitioned to anything in 56 years and counting.
Schwartz took over a team that went 0-16 in 2008. He was, in many ways, the Lions’ Scotty Robertson.
Robertson was the Pistons coach from 1980-83. The roster he inherited from the destruction of predecessor Dick Vitale was expansion-like in quality. Along with new GM Jack McCloskey, Robertson lifted the Pistons to respectability, taking a team that won 16 games in 1979-80 to win totals of 21, 39 and 37 before being given the ziggy in 1983.
Chuck Daly took over and carved a Hall of Fame coaching career in Detroit.
It should be noted that when Daly took the coaching reins with the Pistons, the franchise had won nothing of note since moving to Detroit from Fort Wayne in 1957.
The Lions haven’t won anything since 1957, either.
Schwartz took a winless team and improved it (with GM Mayhew’s help, of course), but he plateaued. Four of the five years were losing ones. The 10-6 playoff year of 2011 turned out to be the exception, not the rule.
“Our unwavering commitment is to bring a consistently winning football team to Detroit, immediately,” Lewand said at today’s presser.
The word “immediately” ought to make Lions fans’ hearts warm. Ownership isn’t interested in a rebuilding project, and neither are the paying customers—the ones who Schwartz immaturely and foolishly (and brazenly) called out after the loss to the Giants on December 22.
Schwartz had never been a head coach in the NFL before taking the Lions’ gig, which isn’t new for a franchise that’s hired guys like Rick Forzano, Tommy Hudspeth, Darryl Rogers, Marty Mornhinweg and Rod Marinelli.
But this time, the Lions coaching job isn’t a dog. This time, the organization ought not to settle for a coordinator looking for his big break.
Hearing Lewand and Mayhew speak to the media today, it sounded a lot like they were interested in a man with a head coaching resume. We’ll see.
The Green Bay Packers, despite losing QB Aaron Rodgers for extended time and going 0-4-1 in November, are the NFC North champs—with a hardly impressive record of 8-7-1.
The fact that the Pack was able to pull that off, when the Lions were 6-3 at one point and in firm control of the division after throttling Green Bay, 40-10 on Thanksgiving Day, gave the Ford family great consternation. Opportunities like the one the Lions had this year don’t grow on trees. They fall from the sky and if you fumble it, you can pay for years.
The Lions let the Packers off the hook, and it disgusted the Fords.
“The fact that we’re not hosting a playoff game this weekend, if not having a bye, is why we’re having this discussion today,” Lewand said at today’s presser.
The next coach will walk into this history: 56 years with one playoff victory and no appearances in the Super Bowl, which is XLVIII years old.
But he’ll also inherit a crazy loyal fan base, talent at key positions and stable, albeit unsuccessful thus far, ownership.
It’s a plum of a job, frankly.
It was clear after this season’s disaster that Jim Schwartz had taken the Lions as far as he could, which was far from good enough.
It’s the epitaph of every Lions coach that Bill Ford has hired.
The owner is 88 years old. His time is running out, and he knows it.
The next coach the Ford family hires might be the last one before the patriarch passes.
No wonder Lewand invoked the word “immediately.”
It’s become an annual tradition. Look back at 12 months of tripe and pick out the stuff that I either got very wrong, very right, or that makes one think I might be onto something (or on something, whichever).
So without further ado, here’s the Best (and Worst) of Greg Eno for 2012.
On the state of the Lions after their 45-28 playoff loss in New Orleans:
“There needs to be more roster massaging before the Lions can truly call themselves Super Bowl contenders. No one gets bumped out of the playoffs in the first round, as soundly as the Lions did, and comes back with the same cast and crew and expects to make progress.”
Yet that’s exactly what GM Marty Mayhew did, for the most part, as his draft was less than spectacular. And you saw what happened.
On what the Tigers should do in the wake of the Victor Martinez knee injury:
“Is there a Martinez on the list?
The closest is Prince Fielder, and while it’s intriguing to imagine Cecil’s kid accepting a one-year deal in Detroit before testing the market again for 2013 and beyond, it’ll take a boatload of cash and quite a payroll hit to make that happen. Not likely to transpire, but fun to think about.
The next closest, perhaps, is Vlad Guerrero, coming off a so-so season in Baltimore.
The rest of the list contains some acceptable names, but not all of them would one consider to be enough protection behind Miguel Cabrera. In fact, few of them would be.
So the Tigers have to realize that they just won’t go out and pluck another V-Mart from the tree.
Guerrero would be a fine addition. He is strictly a DH at this stage of his career, so in that way he’s a tit-for-tat replacement for Martinez, who even before this latest injury wasn’t going to play in the field anymore—not with the Tigers signing Gerald Laird to be catcher Alex Avila’s backup.
But Vlad won’t hit .330, and he’s not a switch-hitter, another thing that Victor has over the available free agents.
Still, a Guerrero who can hit for power but not threaten .300 would make opposing managers at least think twice before issuing Cabrera the four-finger pass.
My money is on the Tigers signing Guerrero for a year.”
They didn’t sign Guerrero for a year. They signed Fielder for nine.
On the Red Wings’ Tomas Holmstrom playing in his 1,000th career game:
“Holmstrom is the crazy guy in the war movies who tosses himself onto a grenade in a fox hole. Only the fox hole, in this case, is the goal crease. The grenade is the puck. And Holmstrom has allowed his body to be battered and bruised all in the name of moving said puck across the red line—for 1,000 games.
You figure that if Holmstrom plays about 15 minutes a night, then his 1,000 games represents 250 hours of punishment in front of the net. Can you imagine being slashed and cross-checked and making yourself a target for shooting pucks for over 10 days straight?”
Sadly, Holmstrom hasn’t been able to add to his total, thanks to the lockout. And it’s no sure bet that he’ll be back, anyhow.
On the status of Austin Jackson and Brennan Boesch:
“Jackson shouldn’t be batting leadoff any more than Ben Wallace should be the Pistons’ new starting point guard.
Why not make Boesch the new leadoff hitter?
Dump Jackson down to ninth, where he belongs.
Boesch IV, the leadoff version, will likely hit .270-plus, start the occasional game with a home run, and—most importantly—he won’t strike out 175 times. He’s got some speed, is a competent base runner and he won’t strike out 175 times. He’ll get on base with surprising frequency. Did I mention that he won’t strike out 175 times?”
Jackson had a breakout year of sorts, and Boesch…didn’t. Shows you how much I know.
On the off-season (up to that point) of Lions GM Mayhew:
“Martin Mayhew seems to be the guy that can take this thing from 0-16 to the Super Bowl. He has done a marvelous job of drafting, trading, signing and re-signing.
The latter—re-signing—has been far more important to the Lions’ future than any free agent from outside the organization they’ve signed in recent years.
Mayhew wanted to keep his own free agents in the fold, and rework the contracts of some of his star players to create the financial space in which to do all that re-signing.
His off-season, thus far, has been A+.”
That was BEFORE the draft, which wasn’t very good, to say the least. And Mayhew is suddenly on the hot seat, perhaps.
On Pistons (then) rookie point guard Brandon Knight:
“Coach Frank, speaking basketball-ese, put it this way to the Free Press the other day.
“I think a big part of it is when Brandon is playing north-to-south and not east-to-west. He has those, we call them ‘rack attacks,’” Frank said in that East Coast dialect that all pro-basketball coaches seem to have.
“That’s vital, especially for a primary ball handler, you have to be on the attack and put pressure on a defense,” Frank continued. “When you do that, it might not be your shot, but you’re going to collapse (the defense) and force help.”
There you have it. The Pistons are better off when Mr. Little makes those big rack attacks.
Only time will tell if those rack attacks, and his growing chemistry with Greg Monroe, will put Brandon Knight on the path of Dave Bing and Isiah Thomas-like greatness.”
Knight this season, at times, appears to be regressing, or at the very least, not progressing as much as hoped.
On the dreaded retirement of Red Wings defenseman Nicklas Lidstrom, after it was made official:
“You don’t replace Nick Lidstrom. Let’s get that straight right now.
All the Red Wings can do is cobble together as much talent as they can on defense and hope for the best, really. They’re a much worse team now than they were yesterday, no question.
But all is not lost. Plenty of teams have won the Stanley Cup without the greatest defenseman in NHL history on their roster. I mean, look who’s playing for the Cup right now (LA and New Jersey).
The sun will rise tomorrow. It’s just hard to imagine that it will, after it set on Nick Lidstrom’s career today.”
And there STILL haven’t been any games played since, to see what life post-Lidstrom is like.
On Pistons big man Greg Monroe, as said by frequent “Knee Jerks” guest and former Pistons player and coach, Ray Scott:
“It was then when Scott said something that would have caused me to bop the speaker in the mouth—had the speaker not been Ray Scott.
“With Greg Monroe, we finally have a big man in Detroit who we can throw the ball into for all four quarters and make something happen and we haven’t had that since Bob Lanier,” Scott said of the kid from Georgetown who just finished his second season for a bad Pistons team, which Scott and Lanier know all about.
For full disclosure, Ray wanted us to know that he serves on the board of Monroe’s charity foundation. That’s OK; what he said didn’t smack of shilling. Ray doesn’t roll like that.
Monroe, to hear Scott say it, might become the best NBA center from Georgetown since Patrick Ewing. No less.”
Nothing that Monroe has done this season indicates that Coach is wrong.
On the Lions’ consistency:
“So far, the lack of football heads rolling in Detroit since 2008 seems to be working. The Lions seem to be getting better. Schwartz is on the last year of his contract, but that will soon be ripped up and an extension signed, I would imagine.
All of a sudden, the Lions are a model of consistency in today’s NFL. An improved won/lost record has been concurrent with that consistency.”
On the hype over Quintin Berry:
“Jackson, one of the premier center fielders in baseball, went down, and here came Berry, riding in from Toledo on what some people thought was a white horse.
Berry did his best at being Jackson’s stand-in. For a few games the Tigers got a lift from the journeyman. It didn’t hurt his standing that, at the time of his promotion, Boesch and Young were terrible.
But let’s not get carried away. Berry may not even be with the team come September. He might be long forgotten by then, as the Tigers, it is hoped, scramble for a playoff spot. Or, his speed alone may keep him on the roster. We’ll see.
Who will not be forgotten, who will not be a footnote to this season, is Jackson. And, I submit, Boesch and Young, when all is said and done.
Jackson has the potential to be the best all-around center fielder the Tigers have had since Al Kaline roamed there in the late-1950s.”
Berry faltered, as I expected, though his spot on the 2013 roster seems secure, for now.
On Tommy Hearns’ induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame:
“Hearns fought all the big names: Sugar Ray Leonard (twice), Roberto Duran, Wilfred Benitez and Marvin Hagler. The opponents were always the best that boxing had to offer at the time. Tommy didn’t always win, but even in defeat, he fought a hell of a fight. The Hagler bout is legendary for its fury.
He did all this mostly in the first half of the 1980s, at a time when Detroit needed a champion and a figure of respect in the worst way. The 1979 depression, which hit the Big Three automakers hard, had sapped a lot of the spirit out of Detroiters.
But then came Tommy Hearns with his long arms and his wicked right, and in a way, when Tommy kicked the ass of Duran (in 1984 with the hardest punch I’ve ever seen thrown, by the way), we felt like we were kicking ass, too. And when Tommy lost, most famously to Leonard and Hagler, we felt like we got slugged in the gut as well.
Tommy Hearns was more than a boxer. He bridged some of the gap between team champions (1968 to 1984) and made Detroiters proud again.
For that alone, he should be in the International Boxing Hall of Fame.”
I think we can all agree that this was long overdue.
On the worry over the Lions’ lack of a bona fide running attack:
The Lions’ fortunes, make no question, will ride on Stafford’s golden arm and Johnson’s Velcro hands. They are the best QB/receiver tandem in the NFL, bar none.
Why force-feed a cache of questionable running backs the football, just for the sake of laying claim to running and passing balance?
It makes no sense.”
I stand behind this, despite 2012′s 4-12 record.
On the MVP race between Miguel Cabrera and the Angels’ Mike Trout:
“Cabrera is having a season that would be a runaway MVP year in just about any other, except for the kid Trout and his highlight-reel play in center field, which has combined with the power and cunning batting eye to give Cabrera a run for his money.
Trout has dropped off, however, at the bat in recent weeks. He hit .284 in August and is at .257 in September. His team is still in the playoff hunt, as is Cabrera’s, so that’s mostly a wash.
It would be easy for MVP voters to become enamored of Trout’s position of glamour, to recall the feats of derring-do he’s accomplished in center field, look at his total offensive numbers (not just the ones since August), and award him not only the Rookie of the Year, but the big enchilada, too.
Those voters will try to justify their vote by pointing to Cabrera and his sometimes uneven play at third base, which isn’t as sexy as center field to begin with, and offer that up as a reason to go with Trout as MVP.
If a man can win the Triple Crown, or come so damn close to it that we’re still wondering if he can do it on Sept. 22, his defense would have to be a combination of Dave Kingman and Dick Stuart’s to cancel it out enough to take him out of the MVP race.”
Thankfully the right decision was made!
On the future of Lions RB Jahvid Best, and his role in today’s NFL, when it comes to concussions:
“Some have suggested that Best hang up his spikes and call it a career, despite his tender age and this being just his third pro season. The brain is nothing to be trifled with, they say. Maybe because of Best’s youth, he should consider retirement.
Best has given no indication that he will retire. Lions fans, eager to see what Best can do for an extended period of time, haven’t exactly blown the horn for retirement, either.
No matter what Best’s fate turns out to be—short-lived career or full recovery and longevity—the NFL has a problem on its hands.”
The NFL needs to work on better helmets, among other things. Best won’t be the last player imperiled.
On the Pistons using big men Greg Monroe and rookie Andre Drummond at the same time:
“Two years ago, GM Joe Dumars selected Greg Monroe, a scoring big man, from Georgetown University, which has been known to produce a good NBA big or two.
Monroe has developed to the point where, heading into his third season, he is considered a team leader and on the verge of stardom. He’s the first scoring big man on the Pistons since Rasheed Wallace, only Monroe doesn’t treat the key as if there was a force field around it.
Neither does Andre Drummond, the Pistons’ rookie center from Connecticut, a seven-foot, shot blocking kangaroo who, at 19 years, is tender in age but loaded with skills, some of which still need to be harnessed, and refined.
Pistons fans are daft. They are beside themselves in wonderment of what they could be seeing on the floor, with Monroe and Drummond running side-by-side. Never before have the Pistons possessed two athletic men of this size, at the same time.
It’s enough to make one dare murmur those two words.
About time the Pistons tried it.”
Coach Lawrence Frank has been trying it more, with success, and to the pleasure of the fans.
On Lions coach Jim Schwartz, who I obviously soured on after the beginning of 2012:
“But Schwartz, acting as impulsively and with the same lack of discipline and brains that his team frequently shows, whipped out his red challenge flag and slammed it into the Ford Field turf, a move as illegal as going through a red light, according to the NFL rule book, which states that attempts to challenge a touchdown play are as against the rules as they are unnecessary.
Now, you can say that the rule is silly. You can say that it would be nice if the referee, Walt Coleman, would have sidled up to Schwartz and said, “Jim, put the flag away. The guys in the booth will take a look at it.”
But Schwartz should know the rules. Of all the boneheaded moves the Lions (and their coaches) have made over the years, Schwartz’s blunder might be at the top of the list. It’s right up there with Marty Mornhinweg taking the wind and Bobby Ross going for two.
“I was just so mad, I had the flag out before (Forsett) got to the end zone,” Schwartz told the media after the game.
The Lions are undisciplined, mouthy and in a freefall.
Just like their coach.”
It’s been reported that Schwartz’s job is “under review” by the Ford family, largely because of this kind of stuff.
On Matthew Stafford’s inconsistency:
“The concern, and it’s a valid one, is that Matthew Stafford this season has been too erratic. His once accurate arm has betrayed him too often, and not just with difficult throws. Basic tosses are going astray. High, just out of the reach of wanton fingertips. Wide, too far for even the longest of arms to grab. Low, skipping off the turf into the receiver’s belly.
Too many errant throws.
It doesn’t matter how much the Lions run the football. They are, not yet, a team that is going to ram the ball down anyone’s throats with any consistency. The Jacksonville Jaguars, it should be noted, are not exactly a league powerhouse.
The Lions will only go as far as Matthew Stafford’s golden arm will take them. That arm, so far this season, has been puzzling in its too-often inaccuracy.”
Though I certainly didn’t foresee an 0-8 second half.
On the Tigers’ signing of pitcher Anibal Sanchez, and the future of Rick Porcello:
“High profile, expensive free agent pitchers, as soon as the ink dries on their signature, become as unpredictable as tomorrow’s weather. Their arms get fragile. They need a GPS to find home plate. They spend more time on the disabled list than eggs on a grocery list.
But if you’re going to have an embarrassment of riches anywhere on your roster, then it may as well be in your starting rotation. You could do worse.
The Tigers can now trot out, weekly, Justin Verlander, Max Scherzer, Doug Fister, Sanchez, and a pitcher to be named later, who might as well be Dontrelle Willis. The critique is that they’re all right-handed (except for Willis). But that’s like saying the one thing wrong with Roger Staubach, Terry Bradshaw, Aaron Rodgers and Tom Brady is that they all wear number 12.
In a business where teams struggle to even name four starting pitchers, the Tigers have four who could lead many rotations in baseball. The Tigers are so rich in starting pitchers that they actually have six of them.
Ricky Porcello, the oldest 23-year-old pitcher in baseball, will apparently battle it out with lefty Drew Smyly for the fifth spot in the rotation. But there should be no battle here. Keep the southpaw Smyly, whose ceiling is ridiculously high (witness what he did in Game 1 of the ALCS in Yankee Stadium, after the Tigers were waylaid by Jose Valverde in the ninth inning), and trade Porcello.”
Time will tell, but I maintain that Porcello is more valuable as trade bait than as a long reliever.
On the city’s two octogenarian sports owners—Mike Ilitch and Bill Ford:
“The two octogenarian owners in town, Bill Ford and Mike Ilitch, each have white whales. One is bereft of a Super Bowl, the other a World Series.
Both are proud, loyal and considered to be very nice men who are respected within their respective circles.
But when compared, side by side, it just isn’t close when it comes to rendering a verdict as to which man has the stronger sense of urgency to win.
Does Bill Ford want to win a Super Bowl before he dies? Of course he does.
Mike Ilitch just seems to want to win a World Series more.”
Anyone want to disagree with that?
So there you have it. The highlights (and lowlights) of another year of scribbling.
Hope you have a great 2013!
It was done with a wink—a victimless act perpetrated at a rather harmless time. The boys in blue were all over the place, but not one of them sounded the alarm.
The specter of competition took a back seat for the moment, as the Hall of Fame-bound slugger strode to the plate at Tiger Stadium. It was a Thursday afternoon—September 19, 1968—and the Tigers had wrapped up the league pennant a couple of days prior. They led this game over the New York Yankees, 6-1, in the eighth inning.
A quick bit of Internet research says a paltry gathering of 9,063 attended the contest. Given the score, the inning and the relative unimportance of the game, it’s likely just a few thousand remained when Denny McLain, already with his 30 wins for the season, grooved one in to Mickey Mantle.
McLain has come clean. The story isn’t apocryphal. As Stengel would say, “You can look it up.”
It’s a tale in Detroit sports lore that sounds like urban legend, like the one about AlexKarras throwing his helmet at Milt Plum in the Lions locker room after a tough loss.
The Karras tidbit is true, and so is this one about Denny and The Mick.
Yeah, McLain has said, I served up a fat ball to Mantle on that overcast September afternoon in 1968. Yeah, I hoped he would drive it out of the ballpark for a home run. It was his 535th career dinger, after all.
Mantle, a boyhood idol of McLain’s, came into the game—his last ever in Detroit—tied with Jimmie Foxx for third in all-time home runs, with 534. Only Babe Ruth and Willie Mays had clubbed more.
McLain wanted Mantle to break the tie, and shoot into third place all by his lonesome, on McLain’s watch.
So yeah, McLain grooved it, after Mantle told catcher Jim Price that a belt-high batting practice pitch would be lovely, in response to McLain’s query as to where Mantle would like the next pitch.
Mantle clubbed McLain’s offering into the green seats, which were barely dotted with paying customers.
McLain was among those applauding as Mantle rounded the bases on his gimpy, almost 37-year-old legs. The Mick nodded McLain’s way, a subtle act of respectful thanks.
The victimless crime had been perpetrated.
Twenty-six years and some change later, the gauntlet was again temporarily picked up, like a wayward penalty flag. But this instance was hardly victimless. Shameless, yes.
Here’s former Lions offensive tackle Lomas Brown, crowing on ESPN Radio last week, about a 1994 game quarterbacked by (then) newly-signed free agent Scott Mitchell:
“We were playing Green Bay in Milwaukee. We were getting beat, 24-3, at that time and (Mitchell) just stunk up the place. He’s throwing interceptions, just everything. So I looked at Kevin Glover, our All-Pro center and I said, “Glove, that is it.” I said, “I’m getting him out the game.” … So I got the gator arms on the guy at the last minute, he got around me, he hit Scott Mitchell, he did something to his finger … and he came out the game. Dave Kriegcame in the game. We ended up losing that game, 27-24. ”
Or, the Reader’s Digest version: “I purposely let my quarterback get waylaid, so he’d get hurt.”
No shame. No honor. No class.
Brown played for the Lions from 1985 to ’95. He was the team’s starting left tackle for every one of those seasons. Mitchell, a lefty thrower, didn’t need Brown to protect his blind side; that job was fulfilled by the right tackle.
Brown’s self-revelation of his blatant disregard for his own quarterback’s health should be a bigger story than it is. Maybe it was the timing, coming right before Christmas, today’s Lions out of the playoff picture.
Denny McLain’s fat pitch to Mickey Mantle, while done on purpose, caused no one any physical harm. It didn’t imperil the game; Mantle’s knock (in the eighth inning) made the score 6-2, which turned out to be final. The only thing McLain’s act hurt was one of the old green, wooden seats that Mantle’s home run ball nicked.
Lomas Brown’s recollection of his “gator arms,” a clever way of saying that he let his man beat him and have a free shot at the quarterback, is one of the darkest admissions I’ve ever read in sports.
Don’t snicker. Don’t chortle because the victim was Mitchell, who was hardly beloved in this town. I wasn’t a fan of Mitchell’s, either. The last image of him that I have is of Mitchell lying face down on the turf in Tampa during a playoff game in 1997, acting as if he’d been shot, when he was apparently injured during a quarterback sneak, of all things. You can question Mitchell’s toughness (and it was questioned a lot while he was the quarterback in Detroit from 1994 to ’98); that’s fine.
But Mitchell should no more have been the victim of Brown’s friendly fire than Bobby Layne. Brown wanted Dave Krieg in the game. So what if Krieg had stunk up the joint?
Pro football is a brutal game, and that’s not hyperbole. In fact, that’s a statement that should stand along with “water is wet” and “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.”
Pro football is locomotives crashing into each other every Sunday afternoon. It’s the perfect storm of size, speed and crossing paths. There’s a reason why the average length of an NFL career is less than three years. Too often, players walk onto the field as rookies and their careers are ended by being carted off it.
It’s a dangerous enough sport without being double-crossed by your teammates.
Mitchell was lucky that all he hurt that day was his finger. Damn lucky.
“Detroit was actually down, 24-0, in the second quarter and never trailed 24-3, as Brown said,” Crawford wrote, putting facts front and center. “Mitchell suffered a broken bone in his right hand when he was hit by Green Bay’s Sean Jones. At the time, the Lions were only down, 10-0, and Mitchell was 5-for-15 for 63 yards and two picks.”
Oh, and the Lions lost the game, 38-30—not 27-24 as Brown “recalled.”
Brown not only inexplicably confessed to his shameful act, he made it into a fish story. You know who does that? A braggart.
Mitchell, understandably, was appalled. “Reprehensible” was the word he used when he responded on Wednesday. He recalled of having Brown over to his house for dinner when they were teammates, with the other O-linemen.
It matters not that Brown, several days later, backed off and showed some remorse. The deed was done.
“You get frustrated during the course of the game,” Brown told ESPN2’s First Take a couple of days ago. “You do things that, a lot of the time, you think about later in life—you don’t think about right there, because it’s in the heat of the moment…
“The one thing I can say is I should have been more tactful at how I said that. That was wrong on my part. I should have humbly said that. It came off as boastful. I shouldn’t have said it that way.”
No, Lomas, you shouldn’t have done it that way.
Wax up the sleigh. Check it for flight. Shine St. Nick’s boots. Make sure Rudy’s nose is bright and squeaky clean.
Test the GPS. Gather the weather reports. Check the sack for rips. Tell Mrs. C not to wait up.
It’s gonna be another long night, but then it always is on December 24.
The jolly, old, fat man is set to make his annual trek. Chimneys the world over wait. Fireplaces are about to be pounced on.
Santa has something for everyone, or so they say. Keeping the faith, I’m going to accept that statement as fact. So, with that in mind, let’s see if he can find room in his big, red pack, upon his back—as Andy Williams sang—for these goodies.
For Calvin Johnson, a new NFL record, but more importantly, a football team worthy of his gargantuan talent.
For Matthew Stafford, highlight reels of Slinging Sammy Baugh and Fran Tarkenton, so the kid knows that you don’t have to have perfect “mechanics” to be a winner in this league.
For Jim Schwartz, a general manager who will draft him some defense.
For Rick Porcello, a team who wants him.
For Jhonny Peralta, a new nickname: The Kitchenette, because they say he has no range.
For Torii Hunter, nothing—because he already had his Christmas when he signed with the Tigers.
For traffic lights throughout Metro Detroit, Anibal Sanchez’s timing.
For Alex Avila, health and happiness—and for him, they’re one and the same.
For Miguel Cabrera, the abolition of sabermetrics.
For Tigers fans, also nothing—because they already have their new third base coach.
For Tommy Brookens, the new third base coach, the best of luck.
For the NHL, coal in its hockey boot.
For Mark Dantonio, a quarterback.
For Brady Hoke, a headset.
For Joe Dumars, a slashing, scoring small forward in the draft, because it sure isn’t on his current roster.
For Lawrence Frank, a book on the Pistons of the 1960s—oh, wait, he’s already writing the remake.
For Andre Drummond, the career of Shaquille O’Neal, because Ray Scott told me that Andre reminds him of a young Shaq.
For Greg Monroe, the career of Bob Lanier, because (see above).
For Pistons fans, a new RV, because you can all fit in one.
For George Blaha, some recognition (finally) as a damn good football play-by-play guy.
For Charlie Villanueva, no regrets.
For Tayshaun Prince, a nice twilight so his career will be properly book-ended.
For all of us working stiffs, the longevity of Jim Brandstatter.
For all of us husbands, Brandy’s marriage, too.
For Cecil Fielder, Prince Fielder’s smile at the next Thanksgiving table.
For Notre Dame football fans, you don’t get anything—your prayers were already answered.
For NHL fans, never Fehr.
For Alex Karras’ legacy, a diabolical plan to gain induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
For Miguel Cabrera, whatever he wants.
For Dominic Raiola, a seven-second delay.
For Ndamukong Suh, peace.
For Louis Delmas, two good knees.
For the two Vs, Vinnie Goodwill and Vince Ellis (Pistons beat writers), a thesaurus to help them describe what they are forced to watch nightly.
For Jerry Green, many more Super Bowls.
For Rob Parker, see Dominic Raiola.
For Mark Sanchez, the hell out of New York.
For Toronto Blue Jays fans, somebody to pinch them.
For Chicago Cubs and Lions fans, a support group.
For Billy Crystal, the only known celebrity Los Angeles Clippers fan, a winner.
For Billy Crystal’s movie career, the same, for it’s as overdue as are the Clippers.
For Magic Johnson, all the success with the Dodgers as he had on the basketball court.
For the San Francisco Giants, the antithesis for Magic.
For Linda McCoy-Murray, happiness with her new man. But he’ll never write like Jim.
For Jim Leyland, we folks off his back already.
For our daughter, anything she wants, because she tamed Oakland University as a freshman like she had ice water in her veins.
For my wife, see Charlie Villanueva.
For all of you who read me every week, a year’s supply of Zantac.
There was a time, believe it or not, when Bill Ford wasn’t a very patient man.
There was a time when coaches of his football team were held accountable for their records, for their incompetence. There was a time when he showed some urgency to win.
There was a time when he acted as if he was in his 80s.
It was when he was in his 40s.
Ford, the Lions owner, used to know a bad pony when he saw one.
And he saw one, big time, in the form of Harry Gilmer, the cowboy hat-wearing former quarterback from Alabama who Ford hired as Lions coach for the 1965 season.
The job became available because the coach for 1964, and for seven years before that, George Wilson, was the first to fall victim to Ford’s long ago impetuousness.
Not long after Ford bought out his partners to become Lions sole owner in 1964, he rolled up his sleeves and went after Wilson, ordering the coach to fire some of his assistants. Wilson told the owner to shove it and resigned.
Enter Gilmer, and after two lousy seasons, Ford had seen enough, rendering the dreaded ziggy.
Gilmer’s records in those two seasons were 6-7-1 and 4-9-1. You have records like that now, and you get a contract extension.
When last seen in Detroit, Gilmer and his cowboy hat were the targets of snowballs being heaved by the fans at Tiger Stadium after a loss to the Minnesota Vikings, his last home game as Lions coach.
After Gilmer came Joe Schmidt, who coached the Lions for six seasons before becoming mystified and frustrated, the loser in a power struggle with GM Russ Thomas.
Enter Don McCafferty, and in his only season as Lions coach (1973), he felt the wrath of Ford’s impatience. There were public grumblings from the owner after an embarrassing home loss to the putrid Baltimore Colts, in which Ford questioned the players’ will to win.
Ford was 48 years old when he levied that disgusted review of his football team.
That was a long time ago.
McCafferty died the following summer. Assistant Rick Forzano became the head coach. Ford, still showing a tendency to be impatient, fired Forzano after a little more than two full seasons.
Tommy Hudspeth was next. Ford gave Tommy a season-and-a-half before canning him and bringing in Monte Clark.
It was then that Ford, for whatever reason, seemed to lose his zeal to hold his coaches’ feet to the fire.
Clark stayed on for seven seasons, perhaps one year too long. Darryl Rogers—the hires were starting to become really inexplicable at this point—was brought in. Rogers was so bad that he openly asked reporters, “What does a guy have to do to get fired around here?”
Rogers stayed on too long. His defensive coordinator, Wayne Fontes, replaced Rogers in 1988. Fontes coached for eight full seasons, which was also too long.
Bobby Ross, brought in to replace Fontes, committed a self-ziggy in 2000, in his fourth season as Lions coach. Had he not canned himself, who knows how much more rope he would have been given.
Then there’s Matt Millen, perhaps the most hated man in Detroit sports. Ever.
Look what it took for Ford to fire Millen, after nearly eight years of slapstick.
The older Bill Ford has gotten, the more passive he’s become.
Now compare this to Mike Ilitch.
Ilitch is 83. You could make a case that he looks physically gaunt—frail, even. His appearance at the trophy ceremony when the Tigers captured the 2012 American League pennant caused some stage whispers about the owner’s health. At times, it looked as if Ilitch was being propped up, literally, by GM Dave Dombrowski on the mini-stage as the league trophy was being presented.
Yet as the autumn of his life is upon him, Mike Ilitch—owner of two teams, a pizza empire and other holdings—seems to be just getting started.
There’s urgency with his baseball team. It envelopes the organization.
“Win one for Mr. I” seems to be the mantra.
There’s always urgency with his hockey team. The Red Wings have been a Stanley Cup contender for about 20 years and don’t show any proclivity to being tired of that stature.
There’s urgency with Ilitch’s city, too. Just this week, grandiose plans were revealed for a new hockey arena for the Red Wings surrounded by an entertainment district, reportedly not far from Ilitch’s Fox Theatre.
Ilitch’s hockey brain trust of VP Jimmy Devellano, GM Kenny Holland, assistant GM JimNill and coach Mike Babcock have been together forever, but it’s a good forever. There’s been no real reason to change, so why do so?
Dombrowski and manager Jim Leyland have been Tigers since 2001 and 2006, respectively, but there is a feeling of urgency. There’s a feeling of accountability. Their still being with the Tigers doesn’t smack of complacency, nor of passivity.
Win one for Mr. I—that’s the marching order, up and down the Tigers organization. And it’s not a phony, Knute Rockne kind of thing.
Ilitch, at 83, frail or not, burns with the desire to slay his white whale—a World Series championship. Just ask new Tiger Torii Hunter, signed last month.
Hunter couldn’t wait to sign on the dotted line after seeing that fire in Ilitch’s eyes.
The two octogenarian owners in town, Bill Ford and Mike Ilitch, each have white whales. One is bereft of a Super Bowl, the other a World Series.
Both are proud, loyal and considered to be very nice men who are respected within their respective circles.
But when compared, side by side, it just isn’t close when it comes to rendering a verdict as to which man has the stronger sense of urgency to win.
Does Bill Ford want to win a Super Bowl before he dies? Of course he does.
Mike Ilitch just seems to want to win a World Series more.