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The week that was Amid playoff frenzy, football suffered a deep lossPosted: Monday January 13, 2003 10:42 AM
OAKLAND, AND MANY POINTS ELSEWHERE -- There are odd weeks, and then there was this past one. It started on a 5:55 a.m. Newark-to-Dallas flight last Monday and finished almost precisely one week later, this morning at 8:06 a.m., when I walked through the front door at home after my San Francisco-to-Newark redeye. The week included a devastating loss, for me and for a lot of people in the football business and the human business -- a loss I will feel for a long, long time. Here's how the week went:
MONDAYIRVING, Texas: Bill Parcells gets going. I was in town to interview Parcells for HBO's Inside the NFL show. I met him in his office (which was once Tom Landry's office, Jimmy Johnson's office, and Barry Switzer's bar and nap playland) beforehand, and he opened the closet in the corner to show off the white Cowboys polo shirt with the blue star on the breast. He shook his head, chuckling. I told him we had three cameras, and would take about 30 minutes of his time, and ... "Pffff," he said dismissively. "I've done TV before, you know. I know how it works. Let's go."
So we walked through a glassed-in hallway to the library, site of the interview. "Bill Parcells, Dallas Cowboys," I mused. "How weird is that?" "Unbelievable," he said, and he grinned. "Just unbelievable. It's still hard to imagine, isn't it? Tom Landry's team." I have to give kudos to my producer, the wily Bruce Cornblatt, who told me before sitting down with Parcells that he'd seen a number of the interviews Parcells had done since his stunning hire four days earlier, and so much of the ground had already been covered. "What you should do," Cornblatt said, "is have a conversation with him. Our advantage is you know him, right? If he says something you disagree with in a conversation, you'd interrupt him. Don't be afraid to just talk with him, and challenge him if he says something you want to challenge him on." Good point. I may have to nominate Cornblatt to the Sports Producer Hall of Fame, which already has one bronze bust in my personal wing: my former field producer, Jerry Klein's. But I digress. At one point in the interview (this part did not air on HBO) I reminded that Parcells some people think there are 17 million specific reasons he took this job, and I asked if this was a money thing. He said no. "I have all the money I'll ever need," Parcells said. "There've been some rumors I needed money ..." "Because of your divorce last year?" I interjected. "Yeah," he said. "Nothing is further from the truth. It's not about that at all." There were other interesting moments, including him saying he felt "pressured" into signing an agreement to coach Tampa Bay last year. Parcells also said that if he has to be the one to take the bullet for Jerry Jones by firing Emmitt Smith, then so be it, he'll do it. On Monday, Parcells also met his troops, one by one. He shook hands with one of his quarterbacks, Chad Hutchinson (not the starter next season, in my opinion; Parcells will get some veteran to play in 2003). "Hey," Hutchinson asked him, "you managed one of our games a couple of years ago, didn't you?" Hutchinson was a pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals during spring training in 2001. Parcells often sat near the St. Louis dugout in Jupiter, Fla., with manager Tony La Russa because Parcells loves baseball and wasn't exactly busy. "Sure did," Parcells told Hutchinson. "Got you three runs, too." By noon on the day of our interview, Jones had bounded into Parcells' office four times to find out what was up. "The guy cares so much," Parcells said. "I really like him." Well, we'll see how much he likes Jones when he bounds into Parcells' office four times before noon on the Monday morning following a 19-17 loss to Steve Spurrier next October. To the moon, Alice; to the moon. Near the end of my time with him, the coach flashed a bit of the old Parcells. "By the way," he told me, referring to a pal I have in the Cowboys front office, who shall remain nameless here. "You and your buddy at FOX can take your friend here off of your speed-dial. He won't be talking to you anymore. I've already told him, too. Time to shut it off, Peter." A couple of days later, I called my friend in Dallas. To say a goodbye of sorts. "It's been nice knowing you," he said.
TUESDAY-WEDNESDAYNEWARK, N.J.: Jury duty. Twelve Angry Men it ain't. The voice over the loudspeaker in the fourth-floor Jury Room of the Essex County Justice Center interrupts The Montel Williams Show. "Good morning, jurors. If you hear your name called, please come to the front counter. If I've mispronounced it, I do apologize." I live in Essex County, N.J. Home, for the most part, of The Sopranos. Home of the most diverse populace imaginable. For two days, I was juror No. 0880. I looked around. There were about 100 people with me. I saw my friend Chris Parker from Montclair, a teacher at Montclair State. I've coached two of his daughters in softball. I saw a 65-ish white woman crocheting an afghan, a 50-ish Asian woman reading an Amy Tan book, a 40-ish Filipino man reading the paper, a 25-ish woman -- maybe Italian, maybe Italian/Latino -- reading a thick novel, a 40-ish black man in a suit perusing the Wall Street Journal, about 60 people of many ages, races and clothing types in the organized rows of the TV room, watching Channel 5 from New York -- with about 200 more in a common room with tables and chairs set up in the middle for people who wanted to try to do work. It was a bad time for me to be called, but I've gotten out of jury duty before, so, in the middle of my busy season, here went a two-day stint. At 10:15 a.m., about 100 of us were summoned up three floors to courtroom 702, the chambers of criminal judge Michael R. Casale. There were more of us than there were seats. "Just like church on Christmas," Casale said. "Squeeze in." He was obviously a football fan. When we were almost settled, he said: "All Jets fans sit down. All Giants fans stand up." Casale told us the charges in the case: Conspiracy. Possession of an automatic weapon. Murder. The time of service, he estimated, would be Tuesday through Thursday of this week, then Tuesday through -- at most -- the end of the week next week. It's the worst time of the year for me. Playoff time. I have HBO duties every Thursday. But I couldn't help it. I wanted in. I wanted in badly. The prosecutor introduced himself. The defendant's attorney introduced himself and his client, a well-dressed middle-aged man with a skullcap. White prosecutor. Black attorney. Black client. America. Casale asked whether jurors would be able to be impartial, and whether they'd give the testimony of a police officer more weight than a regular citizen, and whether anyone would undergo severe financial hardship by being on this jury. A dozen or so prospective jurors responded "yes" to one or more of his queries, including a kid who looked about 19 and was wearing a No. 27 Tennessee Titans jersey. When he stood to give his name and jury number, Casale said: "Yes, Eddie George?" I thought, I like this judge. The judge finally impaneled a jury (or impaled a jury, from the looks of several of those picked), going through about 56 of the 100 of us to seat 14. I was not one of the 14 chosen. I wasn't one the 56 who got a chance, but the buzz in the courtroom was that any quasi-professional was going to get peremptorily challenged by the defense attorney, and we'd be out anyway. As those of us not selected were filing out, the judge called out to me from the bench. "I see we have one potential juror who will be quite busy over the next couple of weeks. Who do you like in the Super Bowl, Mr. King?" he asked. "Clueless, your honor," I said. "Who do you like?" "I'm a Jets fan," he said, "but my prognosticating leaves something to be desired." "So does mine," I replied. We adjourned to the jury room. At 3:55 p.m., a voice came over the loudspeaker: "Jurors, you are dismissed for the day. Sleep a little late. Have a good breakfast. Come in with a smile on your face tomorrow!" I did. But I still didn't get a case. And just before 2 p.m., while I was watching All My Children for the first time since my junior year at Ohio University (I miss Phoebe Tyler, and you mean Adam Chandler is still on this show?) we were dismissed. I did nothing. And in two weeks, I will get a check for $10 ($5 for Tuesday, $5 for Wednesday) for my service to God and county. Ahh, the American way.
THURSDAYHEMPSTEAD, N.Y.: Reverend Edwards will see you now. "You didn't have to do this," Herman Edwards said, opening the door to the New York Jets' weight room at 5:02 a.m. "You could have come at a normal time." Well, 5 o'clock in the morning is a little nuts, but I had HBO duty that morning at 8:30 in Manhattan, and I needed some time with Edwards for a Sports Illustrated story before the Jets' playoff game in Oakland. Besides, I had the easiest drive I'd ever made in 12 years living in the New York area. I drove the 58 miles -- through suburban Jersey, across the George Washington Bridge, down the Harlem River Drive, across the Triboro Bridge, over the Grand Central Parkway and down to the Jets' offices on Long Island -- in 62 minutes. Historic trip. I've always known Edwards to be three things: kind, intelligent, evangelical. The NFL used Edwards ("use" is a bad word here, really) in up-front roles when he was an assistant coach to advance the cause of black coaches, and they couldn't have picked a better man. He gets it. He knows the right mix between teaching and button-pushing and coaching. The Jets might not have won Sunday, but I know they're in the right hands. Edwards told me how Wednesday, in practice, they worked on the special teams play that doomed the Giants the Sunday before. Maybe it's the proximity, maybe it's the fear all coaches have that something's going to happen in the last 30 seconds of the game, that they'll screw up because they didn't prepare. So punter Matt Turk, the holder on extra points and field goals, practiced taking a botched snap from center James Dearth, gathering it in his hands, and firing it at the feet of one of his two wing men, who are eligible receivers. "I tell the guys," said Edwards, "'Grasp the opportunity! It's right there! Don't ever waste a chance! You have no idea how many of them you'll get!" I sensed then that there would be quite a lot of grasping Sunday in Oakland.
FRIDAYALAMEDA, Calif.: The death of an idol. When I landed in San Francisco around 10 o'clock Pacific Time Friday morning, before picking up my rental car and heading to Raiders headquarters, I powered on my mobile phone and saw "11 VOICE MESSAGES." That's a lot, I thought. Who got fired this morning? I began to go through the messages as I exited the airplane, and the first three, two from media guys and one from an NFL scout, were variations of, "Call me AS SOON as you get this. It's important." And then came the voice mail from WEEI's Dale Arnold, the Boston radio host who has me on his show every week: "Hey, I know you're flying this morning, and I just wanted to tell you this. Hope you get it when you land. Will McDonough died last night ..." And he said a few other things, but I didn't hear them. I stopped right there, a few steps into the San Francisco airport terminal and thought: No! No! Will McDonough, the NFL beat man and NFL TV insider and Boston Globe columnist, was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was my Jackie Robinson. He made it possible for schmoes like me to be writers and TV and radio people, all at the same time. He made it possible because he was so good at his job, and so dogged, and so damn good to everyone he ever met. It didn't always stay that way; Will had his enemies, to be sure. Columnists should. But I looked up to him the way I looked up to no one else in the business, ever, for several reasons: In part because he was always there to help the young guys. He introduced me to countless people in the NFL when I was at Newsday and early in my SI days, and he'd always introduce me to new GMs and league execs by saying something like: "Hey, this is Peter King. He's one of the good ones. You've got to get to know him and talk to him whenever he calls. Okay?" I watched him do his job and wished I could be like him. When I started covering the NFL in 1984, I used to watch the pregame shows with my media friends and often shook my head at the information coming out of the TV. "They have no idea," we'd say. That changed when Will was hired by NBC. No matter where I was on Sunday afternoons, the Kingdome or Mile High or Lambeau or RFK or Foxboro, I'd be glued to the TV for McDonough's segment, half-scared he'd have a story I'd end up chasing that afternoon. It happened 10 or 12 times a year. And so the day I got my first TV job, doing a halftime thing with Brent Musburger on Monday Night Football in 1994, the very same day, I sat down and wrote a note to McDonough. I said, to the best of my recollection: "You are the Jackie Robinson for me and so many people in this business. We owe you a debt of gratitude we can never repay. You made it possible for so many of us to cross over to TV, not just because you did it but because you were the best any of us could ever be at it." Within a week, I received a hand-written letter in return. I remember his words vividly: "Your letter really meant a lot to me. You're great at your job, and you deserve everything you're getting ..." I called my CNNSI.com colleague, Don Banks, upon hearing the news, and right away he had a story. "January 1992, I'm covering the Bucs, and the press corps is gathered at One Buc Place for the press conference to announce Bill Parcells' hiring as coach. Jam-packed press conference. We're watching the pregame show on the TV, and Will comes on, and Bob Costas throws it to him, and I still remember his exact words, in that thick Boston accent: 'Bawb, I just talked to Bill Pahcells, and he's not comin.' Stunned silence. And then the press room just exploded." I called Pahcells. Al Groh had already called to tell him at about 10 Friday morning. McDonough was one of Parcells' best friends, and they'd just done their radio show the previous day, one of the last acts of Will's professional life. "It's awful, so awful," Parcells says, as down as I'd heard him in a long time. "What a great friend. I'll tell you what a great friend is: He knows everything about you and he likes you anyway. That was Will." When I get home, this is how I am going to pay tribute to Will: I am going to sit in the addition to my ridiculously nice home in the ridiculously nice suburb of Upper Montclair, N.J. It is a beautiful, high-ceilinged family room with a giant TV and the most comfortable Naugahyde easy chair in history. I will open a beer, recline in my chair, and look up and say: "Thanks, Will, for making so much of this possible."
SATURDAYSAN FRANCISCO: On the sixth day, I rested. Saw Rod Woodson over at the Raiders practice facility at 10:45, chatted up some Jets that afternoon. Watched both playoff games on TV. Veg-ville. Life was good at the W Hotel San Francisco. I just wish Will McDonough were still with us.
SUNDAYOakland: Surprise! No surprises. The 25-ish woman who takes my $20 at the parking gate is dressed in black from head to toe. She wears a skull-and-crossbones necklace. "You're a Raiders fan," I say. "Born on a Raiders gameday," she replies. The Raiders. One game from the Super Bowl, which would be their first since 1983, back when the predictable happened all the time. We thought that was the way this playoff season would go down, too, but apparently not. All of a sudden the NFL became sane again. The four No. 1 seeds held. The four No. 2 seeds held. Through eight games in this season's Super Bowl tournament, seven favorites have won. Following a regular season that had no form, there couldn't have been a more predictable week than this past one. We all thought Philadelphia and Tampa Bay would win handily. I thought Pittsburgh would give Tennessee a game. All three of those things happened. None of us figured the Jets would die such an easy death here in Oakland, but we knew they were living by the magic of Chad Pennington's arm. Four Pennington turnovers later, they died by Pennington's arm. There's something compelling about this Raiders team right now, something that will be hard to beat in the next two weeks. "It's Bill Callahan," Rich Gannon told me in a hallway outside the Raiders locker room. "He's been so consistent this year, so specific about everything he wants from every player. He won't tolerate anything less than your best. And the players we acquired this year -- Rod Woodson, Bill Romanowski, John Parrella -- are such pros. They bring the right attitude to work every day."
OFFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE WEEK Philadelphia QB Donovan McNabb, for his 20-of-30, 247-yard performance -- and for showing early that he would not be cowed by the condition of his right ankle. Playing for the first time since breaking a bone in his right leg 55 days ago, McNabb sprinted nimbly out of the pocket and up the right sideline for 19 yards in the first series of the game. And while he didn't leave the pocket often enough after that, he still exhibited no ill effects of the break, and he showed why coach Andy Reid made the right decision by inserting McNabb back into the lineup. DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE WEEK Oakland CB Tory James, who had a tour-de-force game in the Raiders' 30-10 AFC divisional playoff win. He knocked two Chad Pennington passes away in the end zone, and he made the first interception of a Pennington pass in five weeks; two plays later, the Raiders took the lead for good, 17-10, on a Rich Gannon-to-Jerry Porter touchdown pass. James played a tenacious cover corner all day, and the respective returns to form of him and Charles Woodson gave the Raiders a strong secondary for the first time in weeks. COACH OF THE WEEK Philadelphia's Andy Reid. On the day he won the NFL coach of the year vote, Reid made the kind of gutsy call that demonstrated why players want to play for him. Eagles were up 13-6, mid-fourth-quarter, fourth-and-1 at the Falcons' 35. Atlanta loaded up to stop the run. Reid called for a pass. McNabb threw a quick strike over the middle to speedy James Thrash, who took it to the house. Touchdown. Eagles led 20-6. Eagles won 20-6. It was a smart, comfortable call; Reid knew the worst thing that could happen if McNabb threw incomplete was that the Falcons had to drive 65 yards against his superb defense to tie the game. So even if the play hadn't worked, it was a great, great decision. QUOTE OF THE WEEK I
"He loved afflicting the comfortable and comforting the afflicted."
QUOTE OF THE WEEK II
"When I'm done playing football, I might try acting."
In the Wrong Business/Scales of Justice Dept.: Loud adjudicator Judge Judy, who just signed a four-year TV deal worth an estimated $100 million, will make more money doing TV this year than Rich Gannon, Brett Favre and Steve McNair -- the top three finishers in this season's Most Valuable Player award voting for the most popular sport in America -- will make, combined, playing football.
Flight attendant announcement 34 minutes into United Flight 81 from Newark to San Francisco Friday morning: "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It will be our pleasure once we reach a comfortable cruising altitude to serve you breakfast this morning. Our choices are a cheese omelet and a Belgian waffle. Because it is not possible for us to board exactly as many of each meal as we may need, we apologize in advance if your first choice is not available. Please do not be upset, however, as both entrees taste exactly the same."
Lots of railing this week on my choice of writing last week. Here goes: PEYTON MANNING STINKS. From Tom of Mill Valley, Calif.: "You're right about Peyton Manning, and you're one of the only scribes I've seen take him to task. He looked positively ludicrous against the Jets. No urgency, horrible passes, befuddled looks. Manning not only hasn't won the big game, he positively falls apart in them. Downright bizarre. Any further insights?" Yes. Until the Colts get a defense, Manning will never be considered one of the real great ones. DON'T ELEVATE CHAD PENNINGTON YET. From Jon Garro of Mattapoisett, Mass.: "Last year, while the Patriots were making their Super Bowl run, comparisons were being made between Tom Brady and Joe Montana. Now, less than a year later, nobody mentions Brady and Montana in the same sentence, but the media is making Pennington and Montana comparisons. I am not just blaming you; I have heard others make the same Pennington/Montana statements. Why is the media so quick to make comparisons between some young quarterback and Joe Montana? It takes away from what Montana accomplished and puts unnecessary pressure on the young quarterbacks to live up to those comparisons." Good question. I've thought about it a lot. And here's what I think: Pennington is a very bright guy, very cool under pressure, and he led the NFL in completion percentage. I said last week in this space that I would mention Pennington in the same sentence as Montana. He is worthy. Now, is he going to have Montana's career? Probably not. Almost certainly not. But he is tremendously clutch. If you ask me if Pennington reminds me of Montana, the way he was playing going into Sunday's game, I would have to say yes. That doesn't mean I think he is going to be Montana. DON'T MAKE JUNKIN THE ONLY GOAT. From Bob Hynes of Edmonton, Alberta: "I'd just like to point out that the Trey Junkin snap should be kept in perspective. He made a big error, for sure, but he wasn't alone. For the last 20 minutes of the game, the Giants made error after error and blew a 24-point lead. This loss was caused by a total team collapse and is shared by every Giants player. You felt that Junkin might need protection on the plane ride home. My question is: Which Giant would throw the first stone?" Point very, very well made. FROM ACROSS THE POND, I GET RIPPED FOR THE LACK OF STEELERS COVERAGE. From John O'Connor of London, England: "Love your column, mate. However, I simply have to take you to task over my beloved Steelers. Two very measly mentions after such an amazing comeback on Sunday?" I plead guilty to ignoring the Steelers last week, with four small asterisks: stomach flu in Green Bay, Falcons-Packers story for SI, Parcells story for SI, dawn flight Monday morning to Dallas. But they did deserve better in this column. YOU NEED TO APPLY THE SAME STANDARD TO SHOCKEY AS YOU DO TO OWENS. From Richard of Washington, D.C.: "I love your column but I cannot believe you are quick to call Terrell Owens' acts shameful while at the same time looking the other way on the extremely shameful way Jeremy Shockey acted in the Giants-49ers game. He gave the finger to the entire crowd, threw a drink into the crowd behind him, and continuously taunted the crowd as well as other 49ers players. Now if Owens had done that, you all would have his head. I would hate to believe that you are also one of the writers who has a double-standard based on race." I have to be honest with you: I missed the finger. I blew that, because I was going back and forth between writing and watching the game, and I didn't realize Shockey had given the crowd the finger until Monday afternoon. I really like the energy and the attitude that Shockey brings to the game, but I agree with you that it's pathetic he goes over the top like that. My feelings about Owens have nothing to do with race, but I understand why you'd think that way after I missed some of Shockey's antics.
1. I think if I'm an NFL general manager, the one lesson I take from the past month is this: Spend money on special teams. The Giants are home now, in part, because they can't snap for a field goal, can't hold for a field goal and can't kick a field goal. The Steelers are home now, in part, because they ran into the kicker on the biggest field-goal attempt against them all year. These games are so close, so incredibly close, that you can't risk losing them by not paying for the better kickers and/or special-teams players. A couple of years ago, the Patriots paid Larry Izzo near the minimum for four years, but landed him because they gave him a $250,000 signing bonus. Well worth it. The Giants, this year, scrimped and saved by not paying for a reliable kicker. I daresay they'd like to have the decision not to sign Morten Andersen back. You can't make special teams your third priority when building a team, even during a salary-cap crisis. 2. I think these are my quick-hit football thoughts of the weekend: a. The more I watch Tennessee, the more confused I get. It seems that on every other series -- on both sides of the ball -- the team is a steamroller. I especially like the havoc the front seven can wreak. If the Titans can do it for 60 minutes, they're going to the Super Bowl. They just haven't been able to do that very often this year. b. The more I watched Pittsburgh this year, the more I believed the Steelers' late-second-round selection of Antwaan Randle El was the best pick for the value they've made in a long time, and that's saying something, considering the franchise's excellent track record in the draft. Randle El can make plays in the return game, the passing game and the running game. How much more can you ask of one small offensive player? c. You might have found it strange -- I did -- that the Lions permitted Maurice Carthon to leave and make a lateral move to become Dallas' offensive coordinator last week. I don't know this for a fact, but what I believe is that when the Cowboys called the Lions to ask permission, Lions coach Marty Mornhinweg gave it, in part because he felt threatened by the strong presence of Carthon. Not a good idea, Marty. Carthon's really good. d. Has Cowher ever met a pregame or halftime network interviewer he didn't like? e. Love you, Jerome Bettis. But you're just too big. f. Amos Zereoue is the AFC's budding Tiki Barber. g. I thought for a while Saturday that Frank Wycheck might have a Kellen Winslow game in him. h. Sean Payton to the Cowboys. Interesting. My first thought: Parcells has his own personal NFC East expert on both sides of the ball -- Mike Zimmer on defense, Payton on offense. When you're building a staff and you haven't been in the division for a long time, knowledge is a good thing to have. i. Have you ever noticed -- when listening to ex-football player Darryl Johnston doing a football broadcast of a football game -- that Johnson likes to use the word "football" in almost every football-related sentence of the football game, so that by the end of the football game you're so sick of the word "football" that you hope you never hear the word "football" again? j. I noticed last week the Falcons distributed a Q&A with owner Arthur Blank to the press. The first topic in the release: "How he's sleeping in this intense time for his football club." Blank revealed exclusively: "Actually, not too well. My wife's ready to evict me from the house. She says I'm getting like a player: I'm getting a little more testy by the week and by the day. But I'm sleeping fine. I am." I see. He's not sleeping well, and he's sleeping fine. k. Ray Rhodes, history. In my opinion, the Raiders hanging 34 and 28 on the Rhodes-led Broncos D told the tale. l. Why did Jim Johnson stop blitzing for so long? m. You're a gutsy team, Falcons. You'll have a very good 2003. n. My favorite player Saturday: Hines Ward. He caught the touchdown pass to bring Pittsburgh within two, at 28-26. He pulled in a backward pass from Tommy Maddox on the two-point conversion try, shook off a Samari Rolle sack, then threw the conversion pass complete through Keith Bulluck and Lance Schulters. Seven catches, 82 yards, two touchdowns. o. Hey, ESPN Sports Reporters: You had a half-hour Sunday, and you gave Will McDonough 30 or 40 seconds? For maybe the best sports reporter of our lifetime? p. I think, and I've said this since the beginning of December, that Joe Jurevicius is going to be a great player for the Bucs. This season. Watch for him Sunday, Iggles. q. You missed the most underwhelming two-song halftime concert in NFL history here on Oakland. The Wallflowers sang. The crowd is still asleep. r. Heads up, Chad Pennington. You'll come back from this fine. You're going to be good for a long time. One piece of advice: Run more instead of throwing those hanging chads into double-coverage. s. That Bucs defense is so ferocious, I think I'm watching the '85 Bears. 3. I think I was ready to put the NFC crown on the Eagles' head until I saw how stifling and scary Tampa Bay's defense looked against a pretty good offense. Now I'm not sure. The Bucs overwhelmed the 49ers at every turn. The game would have been closer had Ahmed Plummer not been injured right away, but it wouldn't have been close. No way. The Bucs were in a class by themselves in their final home game of the year. 4. I think the Raiders have three or four defensive linemen -- guys like DeLawrence Grant and Rod Coleman -- whom no one has heard much about, but boy, do those guys get after the quarterback. It'll be an interesting race between McNair and those quicker-than-you-think front men. 5. I think these are my non-football thoughts of the week: a. I caught 25th Hour, the new Spike Lee movie, on Friday night. I highly recommend it. "That's the one Tony Siragusa's in, right?" Rod Woodson asked me Saturday. Right. Siragusa's a Russian mob tough guy, and I think he does a very good job, with a pretty significant role in a movie that will get some Oscar acclaim. "He always wanted to be in The Sopranos," Woodson said. By the way, what does it mean when Spike Lee calls a movie a "joint"? I might be last in the league in hipness, but I've never gotten that. b. I was writing on my laptop during my cross-country flight Friday. The in-flight flick was Simone, and I think I have an idea why it is not a great movie. I looked up at the small screen 16 times, for a total of 3 minutes and 24 seconds, during Simone, and I can tell you everything that happened. I mean everything. Including the fact that one of the cops honing in on Al Pacino was George Costanza's goofy boss on Seinfeld. c. Coffeenerdness: I have created a monster. Mary Beth King is hooked on Grande Toffee Nut Lattes. Imagine: You're 17, and you spend your allowance on Toffee Nut Lattes. d. Coffeenerdness II: Saturday evening, in the Starbucks at Fourth and Ellis in San Francisco, the man in front of me had just ordered his drink. They like to write names on cups out here, and when the drink is ready, they call out a name. The cashier said: "Your name?" He replied, "Jim." The cashier asked, and I'm not lying, "Is that G-Y-M?" Stunned, he said, "J-I-M." She repeated, "J-I-M?" He said yes. Wow. d. I am officially sick. I'd like to see Kangaroo Jack. 6. I think it's hard not to like the home teams right now. There will be tons of emotion at the Vet Sunday. Same goes for Oakland. But the visiting teams' quarterbacks make things happen. Brad Johnson should have received MVP votes, I think. Steve McNair is riding a magic wave. I can't see the Titans venturing West and winning, though they won't be afraid of the place. But the Bucs ... that's another subject. Give me a few days on this one. And let me see the weather report. 7. I think I am so tired of hearing media people -- CBS' Deion Sanders was the latest -- ask Steve McNair with such empathy, in effect, about what an injustice it is that McNair was not voted to the Pro Bowl. And Deion made it worse by also asking McNair about the "insult" of being third in the MVP voting. Deion, are you high? Without denigrating McNair, which would be idiotic because of his clutch season, let's analyze both: a. THE PRO BOWL. NFL players vote with two weeks remaining in the regular season. After 14 weeks, here were the AFC's top candidates, ranked by quarterback rating:
All six quarterbacks, by the way, had led their teams to between seven and nine wins. McNair, among these candidates, was fourth in completion percentage, sixth in passing yards, fifth in touchdown-to-interception ratio, sixth in rating. Where's the injustice? If you're an AFC player, sitting there with a vote with two weeks to go, I understand if you nominate McNair. But it's absolutely no slap at him if you don't. He finished fourth in the voting, and is the first alternate -- ahead of both Tom Brady and Trent Green, who were better than him by every statistical measure -- if Gannon, Manning or Bledsoe don't go. b. MVP. This is a totally subjective judgment. Gannon was first in the voting, with 19 votes from a nationwide media panel. Brett Favre was second, with 15, and McNair third with 11. Gannon's Raiders won 11 games, Favre's Packers 12, and McNair's Titans 11. A wash. In production, there has to be a big edge for Gannon. He had roughly 1,000 more passing yards than Favre, and 1,300 more than McNair. Gannon was plus-16 in touchdown-to-interception ratio, McNair plus-7. And Gannon was 13 rating points higher than McNair. Favre did the most with the least. McNair and Favre probably had more clutch, late wins, with McNair notching the best one of the season, the overtime win at the Giants. McNair, obviously, deserves significant consideration for MVP. But to be insulted to not have won it? That's the silliest thing I've ever heard. Let's keep one thing in mind: There are about 1,696 active players on the NFL's 32 teams. McNair was judged more valuable than 99.8 percent of them in voting for the MVP. What is insulting about that? 8. I think it is utterly preposterous that the New York Post costs 25 cents. Niblets from the Friday Post: a. A gossip item headlined "Cat Attack" reported that, "Gwyneth Paltrow is still making digs at the expense of Jennifer Lopez. Paltrow -- who likely isn't thrilled Lopez snagged her ex, Ben Affleck -- has made snarky remarks before, but her latest in Britain's B magazine are the most pointed. 'Marriage shouldn't be taken lightly,' Paltrow said. Then, in a clear shot at J. Lo's brief union with Cris Judd, she hissed, 'I don't want to be married for six months and then say, 'Oh well, never mind. Let's go on to No. 2.' Saucer of milk, anyone?" Rrrrreeeeer. Snarky? b. Rosie Perez appears naked onstage in the Broadway play Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune. She said: "Don't get too excited. It's been a couple of years since Do the Right Thing, and gravity's taken its toll. Know what I mean?" c. A news story was headlined: "Porn king pulled off Florida flight." The crux of the piece: "Porn publisher Al Goldstein was yanked off a commercial flight after asking an airport screener if she was a real blonde, authorities said. Kelly Nobles, a screener at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport, burst into tears when Goldstein allegedly told her that if he were to have sex with her, he'd want her to keep her uniform on, police said." d. "Weird But True" column item: "A Mafia hitman charged with a double murder came up with a novel alibi. 'I am not the murderer ... because that day I was killing someone else,' Salvator Torre told Italy's Crown Court." I would pay at least 30 cents for all that knowledge, wouldn't you? 9. I think Tom Coughlin asked for too much in Cincinnati. Which is why it's Marvin Lewis or Mike Mularkey heading into the home stretch of the Bengals coaching derby. I won't know whether to congratulate the winner of that job or send funeral flowers. 10. I think, not to be prudish, the one thing that bothers me about Raiders Nation can be encapsulated by one scene I saw in the parking lot while I was walking into the stadium Sunday morning: Pulsating speakers with expletive-laden rap songs, and a group of Raiders fans, all dressed in Raiders stuff, some younger than 10, soaking it in as they tailgated. I mean, f-bombs are flying, and the fans in their 20s and 30s don't care that their kids are getting this pounded into their heads. Sports Illustrated senior writer Peter King covers the NFL beat for the magazine and is a regular contributor to CNNSI.com. Monday Morning Quarterback appears in this space -- no kidding -- on Monday mornings. Click here to send him a comment.
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