Belichick: Genius?

Three days ago, I would have been considered a madman for putting that question mark in this entry's header. Now that the Patriots have lost a game, and looked poorly doing so, suddenly everyone's questioning him again.

I'm not here to pile on. But I do think the issue of whether Belichick should have challenged Stephen Davis' apparent touchdown in the first quarter of Sunday's game is an interesting one.

The general consensus seems to be one of amazement that he didn't challenge. I don't agree. If he would have won the challenge, Carolina still would have had the ball, 2nd and goal with less than a foot to go. If I'm coach, I say at that point just give 'em the darned TD and give us the ball back.

Ruling the play a fumble was off the table because the whistle had blown, but for those of you interested in absolute justice, the fumble was recovered by an offensive lineman in the end zone, which would have been a touchdown anyway. And finally, the Pats played awful the rest of the afternoon anyway. It's pretty much a lose-lose-lose scenario for the Patriots.

So the play is ultimately inconsequential, and I don't have a problem with Belichick not challenging it. If anything, it showed to me that Belichick really is ahead of the rest of the world, because the rest of the world is screaming "Challenge!" when there's clearly no benefit to doing so.

Which is why I was surprised to read this morning that Belichick is now calling (or renewing his call) for cameras on the goal line. As if to say, the only reason he didn't challenge the Davis play is because there was a lack of cameras in the right spot. So much for my theory. And if that weren't bad enough, the article ends with this doozy from Belichick:

"The only way you're going to get a good, true evaluation of that play is to put a camera parallel to the goal line."

Parallel to the goal line? Actually, Bill, every yard line is parallel to the goal line. You could put a camera at the 50, and it would be parallel to the goal line.

(A bit nit-picky for you? Hey, I thought the man was a genius!)

Fish in a Barrel

Well, the NFL season is two weeks old, and a story has emerged which is so easy to pick apart that I almost feel guilty for doing so. But then again, nobody said my job was hard. They just said it was...oh, never mind.

Anyway, so here it is. I am going to go way out on a limb here and announce that the Colts defense is not as good as everybody thinks it is. Now, that wasn't very hard, was it? Not much of an analysis, eh?

Quick: name me two NFL teams that are known for having a good defense and a lousy offense. Baltimore and Jacksonville, right? Sure, they're good teams, but their offense stinks. So if you play those teams back-to-back, and you happen to beat them, why, it's just the perfect recipe for people getting over-excited about your defense.

"Numbers, SRAM, I need numbers!" Okay, here's your numbers. Baltimore currently sits next-to-last in the league in points per game, while Jacksonville is 24th at 14.5 ppg after their 26-14 track meet with Seattle last week. But that's not much data, obviously, and includes half their games against the Colts themselves. So let's throw in 2004 as well. Last year Jacksonville was 29th in the league with a whooping 16.3 ppg, nearly a point per game less than the mighty Miami Dolphins. Baltimore was 20th with 19.8 ppg, and that was before their star RB spent 4 months cooling his heels on the state government's dime.

Indianapolis has also benefitted from some missed FGs and bungling by opposing offenses. Sure, they lead the league with only 5.0 ppg given up, but what do you suppose their NFL rank is in yards given up per game? "Okay," you say, "it's probably a bit lower, but still maybe, say, 5th or 8th or so, right?"

Wrong. 25th. Twenty fifth in yards given up per game! 352 ypg, to be exact. This is a paltry 18 yards per game fewer than they gave up last year.

Sure, the defense is probably a little better than they were last year. They may even, in fact, actually be a lot better. But the evidence to suggest it is paper-thin, and I for one would suggest a little restraint from the commentators until more proof emerges. I remember a certain team last year that gave up 13 total points through 3 weeks. That team was the Seattle Seahawks, and their defense ended up 22nd in the league, allowing 22.3 ppg.

But get a load of all those writers jumping on the Indy D bandwagon! "There has been a sea change on Planet NFL. The Colts have allowed one garbage-time TD in eight quarters. No one is playing better than the Indy D right now," pronounces Peter King of SI.com. And Eric Allen of ESPN raves,

I'm very excited by what I'm seeing from the Colts defense. They have brought in guys who are hungry and are playing with tenacity. They have young cornerbacks who are flying around and making plays. This team looks like they are playing with an extra guy and we're just seeing the beginning of what they can do. This has the potential to be a very special team if the defense continues to play well.

Of course the most eloquent description of these poetic Colts in motion comes from Len Pasquarelli:

He was bloodied, bowed and beaten by the belligerent Colts' pass rush. If the Colts' first games are any indication, Leftwich likely won't be the last quarterback to be swatted around like a human piñata.

The Indianapolis Colts, a team synonymous with great defense, right? As incongruous as it sounds, people might actually have to get accustomed to it.

My favorite aspect is the bucketloads of analysis that the experts are trotting out explaining to us in precise detail exactly why the Colts defense is so much better now. For example, from the Pasquarelli column:

There is much more to the Indianapolis defense now, too, than a year ago. For one thing, this is Dungy's fourth season here, and the players who have been with him during that time have become considerably more comfortable in the scheme. Dungy and Ron Meeks, the Colts' defensive coordinator, have more of the type of players they need to play a scheme predicated on speed and quickness. And the Colts possess a defensive front that loves to pin its ears back and rush the quarterback on third-and-long.

There you go, folks. The secret to 25th-place performance.

I really wish I could just hear Sean Salisbury's take on it, too. It probably goes something like this: "When I was a quarterback in the National Football League this was exactly the type of defense that I hated facing the most. They're getting in the other team's face and hitting hard and serving notice that this is a new D they're looking at now and just flat-out making plays. Tony Dungy has done a spectacular job in remaking the defense the last 4 years while everyone was watching the offense."

Not surprisingly, the team is starting to believe its own press clippings, too:

"We were fortunate today, the defense could carry the offense for a while," Colts cornerback Nick Harper said. "We showed everyone we're for real."

And even Bill Simmons, who by the way has developed a brilliant, highly complex system for delivering a 50.1% success rate picking against the spread, is getting on board the Indy D-Train early on in a cunning pre-emptive CYA move. From his Week 2 Picks article last Friday:

Was anyone else thoroughly impressed by the Colts on Sunday night? This was the first time during the Manning Era that I thought to myself, "My Go[sh], they might actually win the Super Bowl this season."

Let me translate that for you. It means, according to Bill, that for the first time, the Colts look like they might have a Super Bowl-worthy defense. Hey, welcome to the club, Simmons! So a good defense behind the QB is important, huh? Gee, who'da thunk?

But don't believe the hype just yet.

Irrational Simmons

Bill Simmons is never less rational than when he's talking about the Red Sox. These days, that's saying something. But let's take a look at the opening line from a column from this week:

With rookie Jon Papelbon standing on the mound during a tie Red Sox game Monday night, I called my buddy Hench just to tell him, "This is the single biggest moment of the season."

Oh really, Bill? I thought that that was when A-Rod hit the home run off Schilling a month ago. Didn't you say the season was over then? (It was one of those "symbolic" moments that the SG likes so much, you see.) But last time I checked, the Sox were still in first place, so now we need to move on to the next "biggest moment of the season." Which is when Papelbon firmly established himself as the next K-Rod, according to Simmons. Okay, Bill. We'll be anxious to keep an eye on that one.

On to the next genius line:

Former closer Keith Foulke pushed his body too far last October and hasn't been remotely the same since -- I wish people would remember this when they decide to rip him, but that's a whole other story.

Yes, that's right. The reason why Foulke has been lousy all year long is because he "pushed his body too far" during the 2004 playoffs. I guess I can applaud the "give the guy a break" sentiment in that sentence, but holy cow--talk about for all the wrong reasons. That's one of the stupidest things I've heard in a while.

But the line--nay, the word--that really pushed me over the edge into bloggable material was from this sentence:

Arroyo self-destructed in the seventh, blowing a five-run lead with help from Foulke (downright sad to watch) and Francona's goofy, Jamesian decision to bring in Timlin (who promptly gave up a game-tying bomb).

The key word, there, in case you missed it, was "Jamesian." As in Bill James. As in, a synonym for Moneyball (which Simmons avoided here either because it's becoming a bit hackneyed--a valid point--or possibly because the A's have made him look like such an idiot for his early season disparagement of them and the book).

The reason that this decision to bring in what you believe to be your best relief pitcher in such a critical situation (the Sox were up 5-2, 2 outs in the 7th, 2 runners on) is considered "goofy" by the all-knowing, all-Conventional-Wisdom-all-the-time Bill Simmons is because, you see, it wasn't the 9th inning. Never mind all those base runners. Never mind that it's Vernon Wells, the #3 hitter in the Jays' lineup who has 25 homers on the year. Never mind that Mr. Twenty Five Homers is the tying run. Never mind that if he retires Wells, then the Jays will be scheduled to send up their #7-9 hitters to the plate in the sacred Ninth Inning.

And actually, since it has become more acceptable of late to use closers in the 8th inning (Saint Rivera does this occasionally), I'm guessing that Simmons would even have been okay with Francona bringing in Timlin at the start of the 8th. But that is the absolute limit! Apparently. It's okay, that is, to bring in your closer in the 8th inning, but two outs in the 7th? Never! Outrageous! "Goofy"!

But getting to the point. Two outs in the 7th, tying run at the plate. Our friend Mr. Simmons does not offer an alternative suggestion concerning what Francona should have done. Should Francona have put in Papelbon? If so, why? Because Papelbon is a better pitcher than Timlin? But wait--if Papelbon is a better pitcher than Timlin, then shouldn't he be annointed The Closer and hence only available for The Ninth Inning? Or had the Red Sox not had time to do the official annointing ceremony yet? That must be it.

You see, Bill, what your column is missing here is an argument for not sending your best pitcher in that particular situation with two outs in the 7th inning. But no. Bill takes it as self-evident, because the decision backfired on Francona and Timlin gave up the game-tying home run. But this is 20/20 hindsight. Would Simmons have been okay with the decision, no criticism to offer, if the Inning box in the scoreboard behind Timlin had read "9" rather than "7" when he gave up the home run? Or does he really think that that "9" would have somehow inspired Timlin to throw better pitches? I'm not prepared to put that past him.

By the way, if anything, a more intelligent argument against Francona would have been to leave in the "sad to watch" Foulke. Because in that inning, Foulke "s!" faced three batters and gave up a single, a sac. fly, and struck out the 3rd guy. That's not exactly a brilliant outing, but it's not "sad to watch" in my book, either. Regardless, with Timlin clearly pitching better than Foulke these days (1.99 ERA to 5.91), it's ultimately not that hard to defend bringing Timlin in there.

Yippee Skippy

Skip Bayless has published enough stupid things that I've long since stopped reading him. However, my brother Craig supplied me this morning with such a ridiculously easy smackdown of a ridiculous point on a topic near and dear to my heart, that I had to comment on it.

Full disclosure: I still haven't actually read the column. But here is the relevant passage that Craig supplied for me (the column is about Michael Vick):

Why was another left-handed scatback of a quarterback recently inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame? Because Steve Young finally realized that the only way to the Super Bowl -- to lasting fame -- was through the air.

In 1992 and '93, the Dallas Cowboys viewed Young as by far the 49ers' best running back. Yet they also believed Young's happy feet would make the Cowboys happy in playoff games. In those years, Young's mentality was to run first, which made him frantic and impatient in the pocket, which meant he threw too many indecisive, out-of-rhythm interceptions.

But in '94, Young shocked the Cowboys by becoming a quarterback. Scrambling became an afterthought. Passing once again became a beautifully timed and often unstoppable weapon for the 49ers.

Young threw two touchdown passes as the 49ers beat Dallas in the NFC championship game. Young threw six touchdown passes as the 49ers demolished San Diego in the Super Bowl. Without those two performances, would Young already be in the Hall of Fame? No way.

This whole passage positively reeks of Conventional Wisdom, of the Lazy Reporter commenting on history where he hasn't bothered to actually look up the numbers. The whole "Steve Young used to just run for a living, then he figured out how to pass" fable is just way too convenient for the Lazy Reporter to be able to pass up.

Well, let's look at those games against the Cowboys, shall we? As we all know, the Niners played the Cowboys 3 straight years in the playoffs, 1992-94, losing the first two times and winning the third. Did Young suddenly discover how to stay in the pocket in 1994? Let's look at his rushing statistics for those 3 games:

1992: 8 attempts for 33 yards.
1993: 7/38
1994: 10/47.

Hm. He actually had more rushing attempts in 1994 than the other two years! And for more yards. Interesting.

In the meantime, what were his passing statistics for those games?

1992: 25/35 313 yds 1 TD 2 INT
1993: 27/45 287 yds 1 TD 1 INT
1994: 13/29 155 yds 2 TD 0 INT

If you take away the interceptions, Young clearly had his poorest passing game in the 1994 game. But according to Bayless, it was precisely that 1994 game which formed one of the two biggest arguments for his Hall of Fame case. Bayless seems to think that the 2 TDs makes up for an otherwise fairly subpar outing for Young, and also that the 2 INTs in 1992 completely overshadow what was otherwise an outstanding game.

By the way, the Niners lost those first two games by a score of 30-20 and 38-21. A loss is a loss, but 20 and 21 points is a respectable amount, and it's hard to win when your defense is giving up 30-plus points.

What about the bigger picture? Did Young suddenly learn how to pass in 1994? Well, I am tempted to start some long-winded story about Young's footwork and arm strength development over the years, but actually, why don't we just look at his stats? There's an idea!

In 1993, the year before Young's miraculous discovery of the virtues of staying in the pocket (according to Skip), Steve Young won his record third consecutive passing efficiency title, becoming the first QB in league history to have an efficiency rating of over 100 three straight years. He also was the first Forty-Niner QB in history to throw for over 4,000 yards in a season (okay, maybe that's not that impressive, given the franchise and its history). He also set a franchise record by throwing 183 consecutive passes without an interception. So much for all those bad passes that his happy feet were forcing him to throw.

Of course, it is true that he broke the NFL passing efficiency record during his supposed transformation year of 1994, but that's like saying that Wayne Gretzky stunk before his best season.

I'm sorry, Skip. It does make for a nice story. Particularly in light of Michael Vick's emerging story. But your story is simply not true. Not that that would ever stop the Lazy Reporter from making his case.

Fantasy time

I'm actually not a big-time fantasy sports guy, although I do play one on TV. No, wait. I'm actually not on TV, either, but I do work for a fantasy sports internet company. Oh no, wait. I don't work for them any more, either. But I did work for them, and that, my friends, makes me qualified to comment on fantasy sports. Period!

The great thing about fantasy sports is that it is so rational. None of this "Jeter is a winner" or "Brady is a winner" or "Vick has great leadership" business. Nobody cares about leadership in fantasy sports. They just care about your stats. Lots of people would say that that takes away the soul of sports. In my mind, sports could use a little less soul these days and more focus on measurable on-the-field performance that you can't weasel out of.

Nonetheless, fantasy sports still has its share of idiotic commentary. Hard to believe, when that commentary can be so easily and quantitatively refuted, but nonetheless, there it is. And my all-time pet peeve of fantasy sports commentary is the myth that Running Back Is King in Fantasy Football. Every, every, every single time you ever hear a so-called "fantasy expert" talking about fantasy football, they tell you that you have to get a running back in the first round. They used to say two running backs in the first two rounds at all costs, but after Manning and Culpepper's historic 2004, they now say two RBs in your first three rounds. This is still rubbish.

I was reading a column on Yahoo the other day (sorry, I can't find the link now; Yahoo doesn't seem all that anxious for people to be able to read their fantasy experts' archives) where the guy talked about the draft they just had in his "experts" league, and he was practically bragging about the fact that Culpepper wasn't taken until #28! Ridiculous!

Finally today I just couldn't take it any more, and I composed the following email to Eric Karabell, resident fantasy expert for espn.com. There's not a snowball's chance that he'll actually see this, but I'll post it here so that at least (maybe) somebody will see it:

I don't mean this as an insult, I really don't. But do you experts ever run the numbers in a reasonably intelligent manner before proclaiming year after year after year that "Running Back is King in fantasy football!"?

The number that you're really interested in for a given player is points above the average for his position. Am I wrong? Please explain to me why I'm wrong, if I am. I'm open to suggestions.

Anyway, I ran the numbers for my own FF league over the last two years. Based on the points-above-average-for-position criterion, here are the most valuable players:

1. Peyton Manning
2. LaDainian Tomlinson
3. Daunte Culpepper
4. Priest Holmes
5. Shaun Alexander
6. Tony Gonzalez
7. Torry Holt
8. Ahman Green
9. Randy Moss
10. BAL Defense

Four running backs. That's it.

I think it's great that you got Jake Plummer in the 9th round. Heck, so did I this year. But guess what: the people who had Peyton and Daunte on their teams last year are the ones who won my leagues.

At the very least, I would think that rather than just spout the same old conventional wisdom every year, one of you experts would eventually at least throw out the idea that, hey, if there's a run on a certain position, that might actually, possibly maybe, create an opportunity for an opening at another position. Worth thinking about, no?