Glorious Day
As the dust settles and Monday morning arrives, for the first time at season’s end – it’s great to be a Colts fan. For years MFG has been adamant in claiming he’d prefer to lose with the Colts than win with anyone else - which is, in essence, fandom. Above all, however, the organization is professional, from the owner down through the kicker, and the players are classy – if a bit snakebitten, previously.
Now, however, the Colts are champions.
A team derided as ‘soft.’ A defense classified as ‘abysmal,’ (When is the NFL and all statistical media going to quit using yards given up as the sole measure of a defense?) and a forgotten powerhouse in the beginnings of a century. The champion Colts. How sweet it is - legitimately, they’re one of the teams of the decade, with more wins, division titles, and now a championship. Not quite the Patriots’ resume, but, well, you can’t have everything.
Sure, the detractors will be out in full force. Manning didn’t play great. Doesn’t matter – Joseph Addai and Dominic Rhodes did.
Marvin Harrison didn’t step up (though 5 catches for 59 yards were all big grabs). The Bears sat back in the nickel all game – seriously, didn’t they watch the Ravens tape? Good job taking away Harrison and Wayne. You forgot the running attack.
It was an ugly, awful Super Bowl. Actually, it wasn’t a very attractive game. But even after the opening kick return, I didn’t panic. We’d seen that before. And the Colts are too good to let one touchdown diminish their spirit. They slogged through the downpour, a ferocious defense, and, honestly, just beat the snot out of the supposedly outdoor Monsters of the Midway. Even with a slim two-point lead and a boatload of mistakes, I was barely swayed – the Bears went three-and-out so many times, I simply didn’t worry they could come back. What a horrific gameplan. They looked like the Chiefs. No wrinkles on offense or defense. Chalk them up as the latest Colts victim who thought their size, will, and statistics skewed against the Colts would foretell a victory.
(And, on Tuesday, I expect Rex Grossman’s abysmal interception, returned for a touchdown by Kelvin Hayden, to be named Gregg Easterbrook’s single worst play of the year. The interception was bad enough – to Hayden’s credit, he didn’t bite on Muhsin Muhammad’s glacial move – but after the catch, Grossman jogged after the cornerback, en route to the end zone.
I’ve defended Rex Grossman. But he’s a spoiled rich kid, and Lovie Smith is about to learn what Steve Spurrier already knew – he’ll put up his numbers, but you can’t win with him. Period. And seriously, the pick-six slammed the door. Five points to the Bears was like four touchdowns at that point - when it swung to 12, Jim Nantz went into full-soliloquy mode.)
But none of it matters – not the weather, not the boring fourth quarter, not the abysmal announcing, not Phil Simms‘ apparent insanity, not the ineptitude of the Bears on both sides of the ball. Because the Colts are champs.
They knocked off the team of the decade on January 21’s game of the decade, and gained the Super Bowl. By game’s end, this Super Bowl looks like the 2004 World Series – destiny preordained.
And it means all things – redemption for an embattled head coach, Tony Dungy. The only reason media wolfpacks don’t attack Dungy is because of his personal tragedy of 2005. Previous to that, he was known as a ’softie,’ who ‘couldn’t win,’ who ‘didn’t care enough,’ or ‘wasn’t fiery enough.’ You can take your loudmouthed Jon Gruden, or egomaniacal Bill Parcells. I’ll take Dungy.
But let it be known, Dungy’s schemes and ultimate faith in his players worked. Who would have thought – you can build a defense around a short, maniacal free safety. When the dust settled, at the podium receiving the trophy were Jim Irsay, head coach Dungy, his wife, Peyton Manning – and Bob Sanders. The two quarterbacks of the Colts.
Indianapolis Star photo
It means, also, that professionalism can triumph in the National Football League. The Colts are almost entirely self-built and cultivated through the draft and a scant few shrewd signings. It’s a tribute to Bill Polian’s progressivism and evaluation, and also to Tony Dungy’s execution. In six years, these guys have been right much more than they’ve been wrong. In fact, they were correct about lettingJames walk– had Edgerrin put up numbers similar to either Addai or Rhodes last night, he would have been MVP. Worth noting.
For Reggie Wayne and Marvin Harrison, it means they can lay claim to best receiving duo ever. Similar to Rice and Taylor, Irvin and Harper, Swann and Stallworth – Harrison (the second-greatest receiver of all time), and Wayne (the best current wideout in the NFL), are now in that discussion. It’s satisfying.
There’s champagne and caviar to go around. Rob Morris – the maligned 2000 draft pick, who turned in a great season at outside linebacker. Anthony MacFarland – a perenially underappreciated defensive tackle. Robert Mathis – the cat-quick yin to Dwight Freeney’s yang. (That sounds gross.) Gary Brackett, captain of the “undersized” defense. The entire secondary, who can cover just about anyone, especially as Bob Sanders flies all over the field. Say this about them - they’re in position, more often than not, and Antoine Bethea never gets beaten deep. Even safety No. 5, Matt Giordano, delivered the hit of the night - a beatdown on Bears tight end Desmond Clark.
The offensive line – one of the game’s best, most patient, most efficient, and most effective units. Last night even their replacements blew Bears linemen off the ball, and even found Lance Briggs and Brian Urlacher at the second level. A heady, smart, disciplined group – Tarik Glenn, Jeff Saturday, and Ryan Lilja (among others) played masterful during the postseason.
And, finally, of course, the postscript for Manning. He’s goofy, but professional, polished, and make no mistake – he’s a great player. Mister Faded Glory was often hard on Manning early in his career – he forced a lot of passes, and for a supposed genius, he audibled into coverage way too much, and he grew up on the job in Indianapolis. Sometimes it was painful.
But MFG has always acknowledged the Colts live and die with Manning. And this season, as Dungy, Tom Moore, and Manning finally simplified the offense fully – it’s paid off. Manning’s Super Bowl is eerily similar to Steve Young’s 1994 title more than anyone else’s; more than a comparison to the 2006 St. Louis Cardinals, or 2004 Boston Red Sox.
After Joe Montana departed San Francisco, 49er fans and the media were vicious toward Young – he put up great numbers, but could never quite get past the early-1990s Cowboys in the playoffs. When he finally did, it was monumental. No more upset hacks, sportswriters instead forced to throw out their Montana-legend template and Young-sucks templates. The Super Bowl in 1994, however, was one of the worst ever – the Niners cruised over a hapless Chargers squad.
A carbon copy occurred last night. No Manning heroics, though he did play well - come to think of it, Steve Young, Brett Favre, John Elway — none of them played the best game of their career in the biggest games of their career. And you know what? Maybe it’s supposed to work out that way. Maybe it is.