DENVER BRONCOS OFFSEASON, JANUARY: Rivers throws blocks, refuses to take a nap, stomps home after playoff failure (The Nation guffaws)

Phyllis Rivers preens and furrows as his team gives away the Divisional game

Is it still considered schadenfreude when the individual’s pain you find enjoyable is the same dude that’s been slapping you around, relentlessly, for half a decade? Is it poor form regardless to find so much happiness in another person’s commensurate misery? I guess I don’t even really care. What I do care about—and care so very deeply—is that Phyllis Rivers and his San Diego Bluehairs when down in flames on national television yesterday. Flames!

Just look at that screen grab up there … isn’t it a wonderful thing? Phyllis was poised: 11-game win streak, unstoppable passing game, serviceable defense, and after years of tough playoff exits, destiny. And yet, as an old high school coach of mine used to say: when the pressure is on, what’s inside comes out. Their offensive line couldn’t open a can of refried beans yesterday, Antonio Gates looked drugged, the defense went in at half time and rested on its 30-minute laurels, and Phyllis Rivers—the reviled, goofy, whining, spastic owner of too many Denver Bronco carcasses—pissed it all away. That’s right, he sat up, gave a yawn and a stretch, wandered on over to the chamber pot, pissed in it, then threw it out the window.

His first interception was spectacular. Through no fault of his own the gods reached down, forced Vincent Jackson to lose the handle on a well-thrown ball, nudged his feet into place as a springboard, then the incomparable Darrelle Revis put that thing in his bread basket and gained another 20 yards upfield. Oh what a treat was it to watch Phyllis stomp downfield wailing in tantrum, signaling an incompletion like a third grader, only for the 70,000-plus bluehairs in the stands and the millions at home to subsequently see that, in fact, it was rightly the Jets ball. Then on the second pick, both he and Gates went rogue, crossed signals deep in their own territory, and Jim Leonhard basically just stood there for the pick. All he had to do was catch it. Ballgame. Ballgame!

Phyllis, all of us who despise your existence and are scarred from the multiple beatings you’ve administered to the Broncos, we hope you stew on this one. We hope you spend the next four months in a blacked out southern stupor trying to forget your best shot at the Bowl. We hope you then show up to camp apathetic, listless, fat, unshaven, and go through the motions from that point to the end of your career. An early washout would be best. Take a cue from another loser Diego QB with whom you actually share a physical resemblance: Ryan Leaf. Do it Phyllis! Just “Go Leaf” on the situation. We know you have it in ya. The Nation truly dislikes you, all your pain and failure is our joy. For it has been the other way around much too long.

And could the Bluehair Beating have come at the hands of a more likable dude? Rex Ryan isn’t good for the NFL. He’s good for life, the human spirit … he’s good for the Universe. The big fella had his team fired up, pushing their opponent around. They hung in there, got the edge, then Ryan pretty much out-coached Norv Turner at the Defining Moment. (Haha, gosh that failed onside kick was fun, gosh it was great hearing it questioned during and after the game.) Ryan is about as likable as a juicy surf and turf platter, and he’s shaped like one too. Considering how many times San Diego has underperformed in the last five years, considering how much the Ravens of 2008 and the Jets of 2009 overperformed, Broncos fans should thank AJ Smith for passing Ryan over and hiring Turner back in 2007.

But should we also be wondering why Pat Bowlen did the same thing last year and instead gave us the one and only man-unto-himself … freaking, Pincers? Eh, what’s done is done. I’m just fired up the recent past now includes an embarrassing Phyllis home playoff loss. Had that squid won the Bowl, I’m just not sure how much longer I could’ve gone on. The NFL would have been dead to me.

DENVER BRONCOS AT THE END: “Some people see things that are and ask, Why? Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not? Some people have to go to work and don’t have time for all that.”

“Pffft, what a gyp.”
— Muttered while exhaling a butt drag by Vincent Vega to sweet sweet Mia Wallace when Mia wouldn’t divulge some gossip in the film Pulp Fiction (Uma Thurman, dang, easily one of the top 10 hottest most ridiculously gorgeous females ever created (it’s all about the bubble))

The Dude: We dropped off the damn money—
The Big Lebowski: —We?
The Dude: I! The Royal “we” … you know, the editorial…
— Jeffery Lebowski (another top 10 but in the category of icons, Jeff Bridges is elite) to the “other Jeffrey Lebowski, the millionaire” in the film (der) The Big Labowski. As such, I’m dropping the “we” in these pieces, as it’s really just a function of getting used to using the first person … plus it’s a ripoff of Mike Florio’s Profootballtalk.com

In Errol Morris’ documentary The Fog of War about the life of worldly executive and Vietnam-era Defense Secretary Robert S. McNamara, McNamara explains how, after receiving an MBA at Harvard Business School then becoming it’s highest paid and youngest assistant professor, the institution was contracted to procure a new officers candidate school. This was of course the early part of World War II. The new program was called the Army Air Force’s Statistical Control. Basically teaching analytical approaches used in business to the military. McNamara was an undergraduate Army ROTC (would eventually take a defining role in the wartime application of the program) and was charged with defining admission standards. Of the many tests, judgment was critical: “We were looking for the best and the brightest. The best brains. The greatest capacity to lead. The best judgment.”

The super-genius who polarized a nation

Were Josh McDaniels to be given a similar judgment test amongst other talented 33-year-olds from other elite American professions, I believe he would easily arrive in the 90th percentile. He’s basically a prodigy. Were he to be tested on judgment amongst his professional peers—NFL head coaches of any age, the average is 47—I bet he would fall to the 50th or 40th percentile.

Let’s face it, Pincers is relatively underdeveloped. Not relative to his age group, but to his professional peers. Just as we must wait for he and his staff to develop and accumulate elite players en route to a dominate roster, so too must we wait for Pincers to become a bona fide NFL coach. His foundation is sound, about as sound as any individual that ever took to building an NFL coaching skill set. In Denver, he will learn more at a faster rate (and early stage of career) than any young coach could ever dream of. But at the dawn of 2010, with just over 20 years of true, mature, football study under his belt—and I’m counting his adolescence—he’s simply not equipped for success at this level. Not yet. Any math major could tell you that.

A week removed from the meltdown finale against Kansas City, blame would be bizarre at this point. And it would be futile to dump it all on Pincers. His team simply isn’t good. They don’t even look like a contender. And that’s not entirely his fault … yet. The existing Denver talent quotient lends credence to the one firm conclusion I’ve shaped about Pincers here at the unnecessary, sloppy, blundered ending: It’s love/hate with Pincers. I love some things about him, strenuously dislike others. By extension, Pincers did some great things this year, as well as awful. It doesn’t take an industry pro to see that. Since this blog is dedicated the man himself, here is my opinion-based Pincers Love/Hate List 2009:

THE LOVE

The team he wants to build. As excited as I am for Mike Shanahan and his new gig in mega-market DC, and as grateful as I am for all he did in Denver, the look and tone of his teams wore on me. In Denver, he always ran a finesse zone running attack. On defense, he believed in a lateral, light, budget approach. Each of these tactics produced notable levels of success but at the end of the schedule, they could never intimidate. John Elway was Shanny’s intimidation factor. Once Elway was gone, they always suffered late-season or playoffs.

Pincers, however, came in and immediately transformed the linebacking corps into a bigger, angrier unit that functioned as the beating heart of his roster. Here this group would enforce defense, special teams, and an overall tone. I like that he believes in leaving an elite secondary on an island so that any number of players, and their respective levels of talent, can operate the front seven. Mike Lombardi always points out that one can see if a front office has focus during warm-ups: the position groups are the same shape and size. This is true of the Denver linebacking corps. It worked half the time in 09 and as Pincers said: “We were in damn near every game.” (All but two, to be exact.)

Offensively, I like that Pincers is shifting to a gap-blocking scheme. Again, he doesn’t want finesse, he wants to bully. It’s obvious Pincers’ guard-to-guard personnel (is Chris Kuper good?) needs an upgrade to bigger, angrier, younger players to win toe-to-toe late in the season. But he has an outstanding tackle tandem already in place. Ryan Clady and Harris can brawl. (Note: knowing Clady was drafted for Shanny’s zone scheme, the fact that Clady executes both Pincers’ style and Shanny’s at an elite level … kinda speaks volumes for that gigantic badass.) See the first Oakland game this year, when Pincers pulled the guards AND tackles and they ran all over a fresh, talented, physical Oakland front. Fast forward to the second Oakland game, with Tyler Polumbus in for Ryan Harris and the guard-to-guard trio in shambles, and, well, we all know how that went. Also, while Richard Quinn’s draft position is ludicrously baffling—Pincers traded UP to get him at the bottom of the SECOND ROUND—I like the emphasis on a another big tight end to go with The Boss that already patrols Denver’s edge: big ole DG, Daniel Graham … Denver’s own.

(Auxiliary point to The team he wants to build: Pincers’ was raised by a high school coach, Pincers is physically a lil fella that starred on his dad’s teams, Pincers matriculated professionally under Bill Belichick. Heart will always be foremost to Pincers. Indeed to a fault, he has said repeatedly: “We are building a team.” We all know how the latter Shanny teams tended to operate by moving in different directions. Furthermore, considering the self-inflicted shit storm that consumed Dove Valley preceding 09, Pincers had to rally his unit. And indeed he did. Looking back, he did so with unreal results. 6-0 was an aberration, but he did this with a team approach. Not only is his rhetoric based upon the team concept, but he brings in veteran thumpers to enforce it: Brian Dawkins and Andra Davis. Once he gets his guys, once he gets more talent, once he’s run off all the Shanny prima donnas, it will be interesting to see what he can do with a slightly ABOVE average team. Moreover, it will be interesting to see just how much he can do with a team that’s expected, and able, to perform late-season and contend.)

The pure emotion. Dropping the MF-bomb on national television was great. Unloading on Kyle Orton while miced-up is fun. Love the rumors he calls out and lays into players in team meetings. Even the fist pumps—though for the most part dorky—worked for me. Pincers is just under a year younger than me, he’s a millionaire, he’s at the helm of an NFL franchise, he obviously loves the game of football. How could you not be psyched out of your mind every freaking day? There is no time-clock on jobs like these. I’ve had jobs like these. When days just blend into each other. You work so much and so hard and you don’t even notice and you don’t spend your paycheck and you love every second of it. Plus, Pincers has been given carte blanche, he’s the anointed man, Pat Bowlen has made it clear he’s untouchable … for a bit. So he’s stoked to the gills! Who wouldn’t be? Perhaps some of his athletes take his cue and appreciate things and get fired up and just engage and WIN because what the fuck else is there to do?

His foundation, his legacy. Pincers was born for this. He won the ovarian lottery, as Warren Buffet would say. Also has the right wiring, as Buffet would say again. By the time he entered John Carroll University he was already miles down the road. He must’ve had to bite his tongue with some of those coaches. Add a brief Nick Saban mentorship, then a freaking recommendation from Saban to Belichick, and Pincers landed smack dab in the genesis of a New England dynasty. You really have to respect that kind of referral. Pincers must’ve made an impression. I wonder what Saban said were his most impressive qualities. His experience at such a young age, his passion, his work ethic, his pure intellect? You gotta bring this guy in, Billy. He’s smarter than both our conceited asses put together! From there he sat at the feet of masters. Well, at least one master and his successful lieutenants. Ground Zero of significant NFL history, of which he is clearly a part and, at least as a line item, has already landed him in the Hall of Fame he knows all too well. No question, Pincers is currently poised.

His general demeanor. You have to admit the guy is ice cold. When he speaks, he has some ticks—hand to the face and neck, the hech-ums—but he appears to be in control. He appears to be unintimidated. He speaks clearly, concisely, thoughtfully, and will not divulge any more than he wants with the world in his face demanding info. He can even aw-shucks a point across. One can only conclude this confidence also exists in one-on-ones with players, coaches, scouts, agents, and executives with more experience than he. The man comes across as pure. That’s really the best way to put it. Throw in some eloquence, maybe some sophisticated jargon, some comments about the wife and kids, and you can see how he made such a good impression on Joe Ellis (then Ellis had to nudge Bowlen awake to check this guy out).

The man who inspired his very own psychological classification

THE HATE

The team he wants to build. Is an immobile, tentative, average, albeit loyal and hardworking and disciplined quarterback, Pincers’ ideal form? Does Pincers want elite players that inevitably come with elite egos or just the scrappy type that will do his bidding? Again borrowing from Lombardi’s comments of body type, is Pincers serious with his preferred running back, the Bucky/Moreno type? Does he honestly think, as he said in his press conference following the Indy game, 215 pounds is big? His entire approach to the running back roster spot is simply confusing and, while I’m all for shunning conventional wisdom, there no sense in shunning wisdom itself. Pincers is just as much a spaz in this regard as Knowshon “Crazy Legs” Moreno is with the ball in his hands: flailing, several directions at once, ungathered, hits the brakes sporadically, altogether akimbo.

Pertaining to the leadership of the team he’s trying to build, it appears it’s helmed by an individual lacking A+ personal skills. Not sure if Pincers can work well and play with others just yet. Especially those that may not like him, i.e., the elite egos that Shanny left in the cupboard. My take is the assumed take: Pincers came to town doing two-handed shooters in the halls of Dove Valley to Cutty and Sheff and B-Marsh, doing his “Hey guys!” along with some high-five attempts. The trio, having just had their NFL father shipped out, their offensive coordinator fired by Pincers himself, the two guys who authored each of their monster stats since 2006 and, well, safe to say they were not exactly hook-line-and-sinker from the jump. This plus the hard-line 33-year-old coach platitudes Pincers probably shilled their way and all three were like: “Fuck you, dude.” Pincers, sensing a snub and lacking the ability—and inclination—to smooth things over like the rest of us have to do in the workplace, would soon choose to go even more hard-line. It never had a chance.

It has been written that Pincers wants to get rid of the Shanny remnants ASAP simply for the sake constructing his very own roster. Only partially true, I say. Pincers plays guys like Josh Barrett, Mario Haggan, Marcus Thomas, Ryan McBean, Spencer Larsen, and stuck with Ben Hamilton as long as he could. It’s Shanny’s “boys” that gotta go and gotta go now. Only two left. Shanny’s prized 2008 draft picks didn’t have enough time to get pedestaled and therefore rotted: see Ryan Clady and Eddie Royal. At this rate, Clady’s here for good (duh). And from one Napoleon to another small fella, Pincers obviously loves Royal. The only reason Royal didn’t produce on offense this year is because Pincers BUSTED on Alphonso Smith and Kenny McKinley is beta so 19 had to catch almost every ball kicked to Denver this year.

Of course, the wild card here is Peyton Hillis. For sure, a guy with great roots, not about to go rogue, toed the company line all season long even though Pincers decided to ignore his tape, ignore his ability, and more or less marginalize the poor bastard. Honestly, trade the guy. Get something for him, he’s too good. What’s really confusing, what really defines the Pincers enigma, were Pincers’ season-ending press conference comments when asked about Hillis:

“Again, it’s hard to give everybody a bunch of carries in a game. As a running back, you feel like you try to get somebody going into a little bit of a rhythm, and we did quite a few times this year. There were other times we didn’t, but the answer isn’t necessarily always to just yank the back out of the game and throw the next back in because that would be shallow on our part in terms of identifying what the problem is. Certainly, the backs can do better. Everybody can, but I don’t think that the answer is just to jerk them out of the game and say ‘Well, you know, it’s all his fault.’ It would be really shallow for me to do that and our team knows better. Our team knows that our success is as a group and our failures are usually as a group, also.”

See, we’re just so used to, I dunno, someone getting yanked when they don’t perform. Like at our job. See, we watch other NFL football games, too, and we know that when a back fumbles, or can’t get a first down, or is generally ineffective, he sits. Even Adrian Petersen, the most ree-dick, fearsome and physical but fumble-prone back in the NFL … even he sits when he can’t hang onto his Pez. Shallow?! Giant strobing neon lights with concentric blinking patterns leading the eye to the elephant standing in the room: Pincers features Moreno to justify his draft pick. A 12th overall investment that cost the Broncos $13 million in guarantees.

What will be interesting is to see is how Pincers handles a massive incoming ego to which he is the NFL father. 27 and Robert Ayers? Too young and unproductive. They are scratching and clawing to get away from “overrated” if not “bust” status. If and when Pincers drafts an elite player, will Pincers try to throw high fives in the halls then once he reads a snub subsequently discard the player? Or by that time will he have developed enough personal skills to not interpret every single professional situation or general human interaction as an affirmation of his manhood? (Full circle: An elite ego will most likely never set foot in Dove Valley on Pincers’ watch because Pincers will shake out that ego in a draft interview then promptly pass on the player should he fall to Pincers.)

The pure emotion. We are all products of our experience. The past shapes the future, as they say. Unfortunately, what shapes a large part of our early personal development, and how we interpret ourselves, is social stratification via an individual’s physical attributes. For example, I’ve heard ESPN radio host Colin Cowherd talk about quarterbacks, and why they are all generally well endowed in the looks department. He suggests this began on the playground, and that the big pretty boys always got the ball because of some kind of instinctual social stratification we as children naturally adhere to. While I cannot vouch for this phenomenon, I can definitely vouch for one of its relatives: the Napoleon Complex. The little guys grow up angry and mean and we assume people count us out (they do in athletics anyway) based on our unimposing physical first impressions. If you’ve happened to read “Where Men Win Glory” by John Krakauer, about the life of Pat Tillman, Tillman too had the ole “Naplex” until he physically grew out of it preceding his senior year in high school. Krakauer writes: “As a matter of principal, he fought only with kids that were bigger than he was …” (For us small kids, this may have only been a matter of percentages, as you are only small when those around you are larger.)

The point is, Pincers is pure Napoleon. (So is Shanny, by the way.) Add to this his relatively young age and rookie status, perhaps Pincers lack of gray hairs doesn’t provide him the ability to shake things off. He’s left with too much to prove when it comes to relatively trivial items that would normally bead off gray hairs. With Pincers it soaks in, and he appears abrasive, stubborn, and downright foolish at times when trying to make his point—both verbally to the press and symbolically in how he operates his team. (See Lamont Jordan in the second Raiders game following a week of heavy Hillis questions.)

His foundation, his legacy. Here we have a clear diametric to the preceding positives on this point. And something that informs the essence of Pincers’ performance. Pincers is extremely intelligent, and I can say this by virtue of his diploma, what and how he says it, and the bullet points on his CV. But he is also strictly a product of professional football. And by that I mean, a product of the football industry. He was raised in a small town in Ohio. Sure, it’s Canton, but not exactly an explosion of culture or diversity taking place there. I bet it’s a bubble, like most small towns. In fact, the state of Ohio in general seems to be a world unto itself. Second, he was raised in a football coach’s household, a legendary one at that. Pincers pursued nothing but football in his formative years and most likely graduated high school with the same kind of small mindedness all of us do. He then attends John Carroll University which is located in the town of University Heights, Ohio; the suburbs of Cleveland and an hour from Canton. 3,200 undergraduates attend John Carroll. After college he gets a gig as an assistant under (as of Thursday, two-time national champ) Nick Saban at Michigan State University in East Lansing. Though East Lansing is in the sticks, here he’s probably getting a taste of bright-lights big-city in the Big 10. Saban departs for LSU the next year and Pincers joins the real world and sells plastics for a year. I have no idea if he was soul searching or simply out of work or what town he was based in. Nonetheless, the next year, as per a recommendation from his dad’s buddy Saban, he’s hired in New England. Between here and the Broncos he gets married, wins some Super Bowls, and more or less leaves a vapor trail between the titles of special assistant and offensive coordinator. Quite impressive, and the titans who molded his development, despite poor careers as head coaches, are beyond reproach. One couldn’t script a more advantageous career path. However, herein lies the point: Pincers is sheltered. In terms of a life outside of football, he’s had none. This is probably professionally acceptable as he only deals with other individuals who’ve had nothing but a life inside football. (Though imagine how advantageous diversity would be in an in an industry as esoteric as the NFL.) And I no doubt imagine Pincers has met a TON of people, all shapes and sizes, that inform his experience daily. But where’s the rest of it? That’s it, that’s your life, Pincers? Pincers is 9 months younger than me. He’s made more money this year than I have to date. He’s rapped with the best athletes and probably some seriously powerful people. But I betya $100 I could teach him more than a handful of things about life, about relationships, about the world, about judgment and ego and how to get along. Here’s the conclusion: What we have here is basically a young, small-town Ohio kid who doesn’t know anything other than specific brands of football. The same things that have made him great, limit him.

(Auxiliary point to His foundation, his legacy: I also think pincers is beholden to his legacy. Not in the sense of expectations, but in Xs and Os. He is limited by a lack of exposure to the pro-style application of scheme. He only knows New England and what he’s seen on tape. Is that all you need to know if such a database comes with as high a quality-quotient as New England’s? Perhaps. But I also think one could make a point regarding the concept of departure. When exactly did Pincers start running his own offense? It couldn’t have been New England simply because he wasn’t the head coach. He ran versions of his predecessor’s in New England and even if or when it attempted to be distinctly Pincers it was always tempered by The Hoody. I’m sure Pincers was fine with all of this however when the time came in 2009 to go All Pincers with the Broncos, I think that’s a critical junction. As my Dad, the political science major, would say: There are the known knowns, the known unknowns; the unknown knowns, and the unknown unknowns. It seems logical that Pincers’ legacy creates a complication in this process. And, well, judging by the 2009 offensive stats, it has. Here’s my problem: I’m willing to accept certain flaws for certain skills. Meaning, I’m willing to accept all the sloppiness that comes with being a rookie Napoleon coach if the Napoleon’s Xs and Os are All-World. Yet, his Xs and Os seem to be the least of his talents.)

His general demeanor. In a desperate attempt to eliminate doubt in his ability, Pincers took the indigent approach: no one knows anything, they are just cameras, they merely serve the public, I am going to stay the course, and I am going to visibly display this to you. As I’ve said previously, it takes some age to pull this off. When Bill Parcells does it, it’s awesome. Tuna’s entire demeanor toward anyone who has the audacity to direct a question at him, the football leader, is just pure gold. However Pincers can’t get away with it. One, he’s not really that cool. And that’s something that head football coaches just HAVE to be, at least on SOME level. Two, there s no brilliant sense of humor at work that can make even the slimiest of press maggot chuckle. Pincers hears crickets. And three, he’s just too young, even if it’s only symbolic. He comes off as punk … well, let me rephrase. To me, he just comes off as a rookie toddler; stumbling between the knees of mom and dad. However, to an older generation, and I’ve heard this from my Dad and some of my buddy’s dads, he reeks of punk. The snotty, glib, conceited, new-guy kind of punk. And you know what? I know the feeling. You know that Noog at work who acts like he’s just come from an MTV etiquette class? Perhaps he’s in his 20’s and he’s just dumb enough to, when you hassle him, make a crack about how old you are. Sure he’s bright but he’s got no respect. Furthermore, he just doesn’t seem to give you, his elder, the kind of respect you remembered giving your elders, regardless of rank, when you were his age. Of course you know this guy, know why? Because all of us were, are, or will be this guy. It’s the circle of life. It’s like that line John C. McGinley’s character says to Keanu Reeves in Point Break: “You don’t know shit. You don’t even know that you don’t know shit. If you knew that you didn’t know shit you’d at least know something. But you don’t even know that.”

They dumbest and radest movie of all time

Pappas: Don’t ride him in with the black and whites like some punk, let me ride him in.
Harp: Yeah sure, Angelo, why not? That is why I put you 2 screw-ups together to begin with. You deserve each other, don’t you? You’re just as bad as he is. Though you’re a little fatter, a little slower and a little more pathetic. For Chrissake, it’s like the blind leading the blind with you two.
Pappas: Harp, I want to tell you something. I was in this bureau when you were still popping zits on your funny face and jerking off to the lingerie section of the sears catalog.
Harp: Is that right?
Pappas: That is right, Harp. And out of all these years, I have learned something that you haven’t got.
Harp: Yeah? Why don’t you astonish me, shitface?
Pappas: [punch, drop, close-up] Respect for my elders.

Aaaaaaaaaand inhale.

Welp, no matter how much opinion I spray all over the binary place, the fact remains it’s all done. Yeah, I worry the Broncos franchise is in shambles and that—and Woody (freaking Woody) pointed out last week—there was a Bowl in the 70s, three in the 80s, and two in the 90s, but zero in the Zeros. (As Happy Gilmore muttered between clenched teeth: “God I hate that Bob Barker.”) The most difficult part of the 09 debacle is that the Broncos represent my hometown, my state, my region, my zone. (My shit-talking ability to my out-of-state friends!) I’m from and live in Denver, and with the exception of about 2 years combined, have been based in the mountain west region. So when the Broncos become Donkeys and they go down like chumps and fools and dummies, I find it annoying. Furthermore, football, in general, is in a state of decline in Colorado (save the Air Force Academy). Yet it flourishes in other mountain west states like Utah and Idaho. So we’re even more dependent in Colorado for the Broncos to be our paragon of the sport. I love the sport, loved it my whole life whether I aspired to play it, was playing it, or was playing other sports. It’s pretty freaking cool on so many levels: team, intangibles, heart, athleticism, strategy, tactics, discipline, human drama, achievement, adversity, ambition, leadership, business, bright lights, grass, et al. Lest we forget, it’s also an awesome social catalyst. In as far as socializing around the Broncos is concerned, the gameday magic is dormant for the time being. Unfortunately it lies dormant in the GAG category again. Nonetheless, whomever you are, remember football is a special thing, an American thing, something that so clearly marks our entire culture. It really is the most remarkable sport ever invented. Even better than skiing. Or golf. Or bikes. Or gasoline. As football pertains to the NFL—a style of football, one of many leagues of football, an expression unique unto itself, one that pays—remember that tonight, a guy like Brandon Marshal doesn’t have to worry about eating or paying his bills or reading a classified ad. Remember that a guy like Jay Cutler is probably the wealthiest dummy on planet earth. Remember that Pincers himself made, and will continue to escalate in salary, millions of freaking dollars a year. Plural. Don’t feel sorry for them, nor scorn negative words hurled at them. They accept this risk, accept it gladly, and will always have their gated communities in which to find well-endowed refuge. This isn’t the high school squad or your college alma mater. On the pro level, it’s 100% give and take: we both built that stadium, we continue to fill it, a responsibility exists to provide a compelling product. We both bankroll each other. In the end, for people like us, all is fair in fun and games.

Before the fall

DENVER BRONCOS WEEK 15/16 … The bloom is off the rose: Josh McDaniels is an obstinate numbskull

“It’s not the back.”
– Pincers’ terse post-game response to a question on why the running game isn’t working

It was another GEICO Caveman Moment at Invesco on Sunday. As soon as it looked all good, as soon as it felt like we could enjoy ourselves and just live happily in the moment … the Raiders put up a “So easy a caveman can do it” kind of effort and the smile slowly but surely slinked off our faces. We are all just dumb cavemen living in a world of zero playoff appearances. We may be able to fool ourselves when we’re hanging out with one another, but in the end … so easy even a Bronco team can’t do it.

"I'll have the roast duck with the mango salsa." ... "I don't have much of an appetite, thank you."

6-0 bought Pincers some time, may have even bought him some leeway on the 2-5 run that followed, but after the sixth loss in eight games, due primarily to an offense that is so inept, so strangely operated, so clearly predictable, and under the sole command of the precocious Pincers himself, it’s time to place Pincers back in the realm of rookie suspect.

It was a shameless gag on Sunday. They sauntered into a game with everything to play for and got slapped around, at home. Let a bad team have the last drive by failing to convert; didn’t stop that team when three of its quarterbacks wandered onto the field like hatchlings trying execute it. The Denver rushing attack was so weak, so light beer, just a watery puddle that is symbolic at best right now. Pincers timing, scheme, and personnel in the run game is so awful, so disfigured, watching him operate it is like watching the torture scene in Syriana when George Clooney gets his fingernails ripped out one at a time with a pair of pliers by a CIA turncoat.

It’s true, the defense gave up the touchdown to perennially tubby and disconnected Jamarcus Russel. It’s true, they were gashed for over 200 yards on the ground. It’s true, Charlie Fry diced them a bit until Andra Davis silenced him on a crushing stunt. But in this game, it could also be said the defense gave the offense every opportunity to put the game on ice. And it couldn’t. It couldn’t in such a … well, disgusting manner. We reserve the right to use that word for home gags against the Raiders: disgusting. When Tony Scheffler lay on his back just across midfield as time expired, we were thoroughly disgusted.

Question: Is Knowshon Moreno beyond reproach?

Crazy Legs Moreno has played sub-terrible the past two weeks. Looks like he’s completely out of energy and totally void of eyesight. Lanes develop right in front of his very eyes and after 14 games he still doesn’t have enough sense to react to them. Furthermore, he pumps his breaks at the second level CONSTANTLY. As if this will somehow cause the four defenders corralling him to do the same. Instead, he forgoes an extra 2-3 yards gained if he would only just pound it in there. He’s lost his shimmy, his legs flail sideways, he doesn’t initiate contact in the second half, he’s a spaz in general. And lest we forget, the guy cannot get short yardage. Crazy Legs single handedly whiffed on the last touchdown opportunity; insisting on moving laterally until the inevitable takedown came behind the line of scrimmage, yards from the goal line.

"I get it ... I QUIT, but I get it."

At this point it’s useless questioning the lack of Peyton Hillis. Especially in a week where Correll Buckhalter didn’t even dress. Pincers wont play Hillis based on principal now. It’s his point to prove. Instead, he chose to spell Crazy Legs with Lamont freaking Jordan. He of Raider descent and long teeth, a player who hasn’t even dressed for the last ten weeks. And not only did Pincers run him, he threw to him out of the backfield! It’s a joke, Pincers. Whatever your reason for not playing Hillis is such a farce of a joke it’s really quite tragic. Your stubbornness is tragic; talent wasted on the sideline is tragic. Seriously, are you saving him for the 2010 trading bloc, trying to keep him healthy? Just give us some kind of straight answer because right now you are making zero sense. Did Mike Shanahan get you a backchannel message that made it clear he would offer a lopsided deal to get his hands back on Hillis once he found a new team? Because Shanny would feature this guy, and at this point, a bizarre conspiracy theory is as good an explanation as any compared to your whims.

Did you seriously go for two third and (relatively long) shorts with a quarterback sneak? Did you seriously just do that on your own 9-yard-line and come up short because you you don’t trust any of your backs (including one you don’t play) in short yardage? As the fellas on Monday Night Football might say: C’MON MAN!!!

So, just so we have this straight, you put your potential All Pro tackle out on a reverse screen … as the receiver? You’re really gonna do that? In the red zone? As All World corner Nnamdi Asomugha spears his helmet into Ryan Clady’s knees and an entire region subsequently gasps in abject horror.

And Pincers, you do know Eddie Royal plays wide receiver, right? You know he’s out on the field, don’t you? You do know you have a big pass catching tight end in Tony Sheffler that is available for more plays than just the very last one? Brandon Stokely still plays the game of football, right?

"A little loyalty would be nice." ... "Tina's here, we're getting back together!" ... "Hey, give us a minute!"

And what have you done to the offensive line, Pincers? You got your little pincer hands on them and now they stink. Somehow you’ve totally neutralized them. Perhaps the vaunted stats from 2008 were due in large part to Jay Cutler’s mobility and a constant three- or four-man rush (because as we all know Cutler can’t operate against a crowded secondary). But when they ran the ball in 2008, when they handed it off to the various slappies that started at running back all year, they did so effectively. This year, even with coaches Rick Dennison and Bobby Turner in tact, they flop. It’s a veritable certainty on Pincers’ watch. Could this be because he’s trying to make them something they are not? Well, they still run plenty of zone block, but they also gap block this year whereas in Shanny’s era (the architect of this offensive line) that wasn’t remotely part of the program. Force it in there Pincers, transmute reality, make it so Number One … conjure up an existence that only takes place in a math-major’s theories.

The most unfortunate aspect of this offensive Hindenburg is that on paper it really shouldn’t be in flames. Pincers is the boy genius, Crazy Legs was the top back in the draft, and at the very least Kyle Orton was a lateral move. For all intents and purposes the losses from 2008 were filled and supposedly yielded a net gain, it’s at least a push. Four halfbacks (two big ones, two lighter ones), a destructive fullback, two outstanding tackles (yes we know Ryan Harris has been out), a pro bowl center and an awesome right guard, two insane tight ends, four upper tier receivers including a freak of nature Pincers wont pay. Could we say this about the defense? No. Offense is where the talent is—bona fide talent, big name talent, proven talent—yet it gets outperformed by the presumed patchwork defense every … single … week.

If the Broncos had won ... "I wouldn't be having an existential meltdown right now."

Moreover, this is Pincers’ unit. This is his room. This is the unit that would apply the voluminous playbook he couldn’t stop bragging on in the offseason. The unit that would do all the things he (“we”) did during the New England tenure that he cant stop talking about. This is the opposite of 2008, when the defense was responsible for hemorrhaging points in bunches of 40. These days, the offense cant get out of its own way and appears to adhere to only one principal: Pincers’ ego. Even in failure, he’ll continue to jam that square peg in a round hole just to prove to the world and himself he’s the jammer.

Considering the tools he’s working with, considering who’s responsible for the application of those tools, Pincers’ 2009 unit is a catastrophe.

There will be much more calmer voices than this column this week. The supposed analysts will explain things away so as to come off like the football coaches they never became. All the speed bump reporters that face Pincers in his weekly press conferences will send up gossamer questions or veiled assumptive assertions and let him off the hook with kid gloves. The doting fans will be happy enough with the absence of a season-o-debasement and they will press on to Philadelphia with faces painted and a casserole in the oven. Pincers has it so easy in a small market with only one paper doing business thousands of miles from the next burg that even halfway cares about his team.

But the fact remains, to use calmer language, Pincers is being out-coached weekly. From our armchair, he’s currently camped out on a distant star. Light years away, peering at Earth through a telescope, he explains what he sees coming through his lens as if it’s currently taking place on our world. The questions he fields regarding “rookie walls” could just as well be directed at himself. It’s December and he’s fading fast and he needs to reel it in. Pincers’ response on Monday to whether or not Moreno has hit his rookie wall:

“I understand that this is a different experience for all of the rookies. I also think that we have other players that play every position that those rookies play. Those are the guys that take a lot of snaps for them. I’m not saying it’s not a challenge for them mentally or physically to focus and to be able to maintain a certain level of play, but there are a lot of other things that go into winning and losing, good plays and bad plays. It’s not just a one-player type of thing. We all have got to do better.”

Won't you one time, just let me be myself ...

DENVER BRONCOS WEEK 13/14: Peyton Manning the Talented Cracker (Sci-Fi Version)

Scorched earth in Kansas City at the top of the week. Not that the Denver Broncos have reached juggernaut status yet. The Chiefs are just that bad, and by playing a bad game, the outcome hung nowhere near a balance. It was a Death Star game from the jump: you forced your neighborhood Midwestern friends to come over, they saw what Denver was going to do, vainly but passionately protested as reality held them back like Darth Vader, then Coach Pincers did his best Grand Moff Tarkin and with a short sequence of orders destroyed their world as if it was Alderaan. Aside from a Payton Hillis appearance where he singlehandedly chewed up six minutes of clock, the best thing that could be said about the win is that Denver annihilated KC by a wider margin than the San Diego Bluehairs did a week prior. The victory also brought a very special, very tenuous, and very fleeting word to the forefront: the playoffs.

Grand Moff Tarkin: "You would prefer another target, a military target? Then name the system! I grow tired of asking this so it will be the last time: WHERE is the rebel base?"

Oh what a slippery delicate bastard, those playoffs. Like holding up a pig brown trout for a snapshot. We love em. The playoffs are a blast regardless of Denver outcome or presence. As slack jawed as we were in 2005, going Looney Toons on the situation, our jaws drooping to the deck over the course of four quarters as Jake Plummer contritely wandered over to the Pittsburgh sideline and handed them Denver’s best Super Bowl shot of the decade like it was a diplomatic gesture of kindness. So unfortunate in 2006 when a concussed Jay Cutler and indifferent racquetball-fantasizing Plummer couldn’t get it done at home on New Years Eve. Confused in 2007 when it was all such an epic cluster of blunder and misidentity from the day Shanny yelled Toro! Toro! in Buffalo. Then the pièce de résistance in 2008, when the most reviled man this side of Maslow’s Pyramid, Phyllis freaking Rivers and his Chargers collectively bored a holed into Denver’s collective skull on national television in Week 17 … all we needed was Michael Ironside from Starship Troopers to personally wandered amongst the carcass ridden aftermath and muttered to his platoon: “They sucked their brains out.”

It’s been tragic playoff existence this decade. Denver is THIS CLOSE to being featured on The Simpsons again: floundering and tripping over their animated selves as Homer rues his windfall. (It would be Family Guy these days.) With an 8-4 record and a final 10-6 record looking like baby food, we are reluctant to take a turn to Negative Town but … if these Pincer-led Broncos yardsale steps from the finish line again … well, they could be on Houston Status (formerly Buffalo Status … which was formerly Denver Status … which was formerly Minnesota Status).

But we’d rather light a candle then curse your darkness. That bastard schedule has clearly loosened up and 10 wins looks like a dunk shot. It’s best to explain Denver’s current positioning with a song set to motion pictures of a bunch of goobers from that awkward and obscure culture-gap between the 70’s and 80’s:

* Awful W13/14 column admission: Denver Post writer Jim Armstrong inspired the whole “Drivers Seat” thing with his Monday postgame column. Jim Armstrong, people.

Which brings us to the teeth of the last quarter of the season: Week 14 and the Indianapolis Colts. The “Other Horse Team” led by a man who has mastered the sport of football. It’s easy for Peyton Manning, especially when he flicks his wrist and belts out audibles against the Broncos. It all appears so very basic for ole number 18. Dressed in white, like Colonel Sanders, this uber white man takes the field and starts making southern fried chicken. Eleven secret herbs and spices with which to bum you out. Such a master, such an annoying cracker.

Indianapolis Colts quarterback Payton Manning reflects on his life and times

Not much could be said analysis-wise that hasn’t been said already. Gotta run. Gotta defend the pass. But a look at how Pincers approaches his weekly matchups might elicit a couple cues to the outcome. We all the know the “What makes Bill Belichick so good?” cliché answer: he supposedly eliminates a strength and creates the advantageous matchup. He surveys his opposition’s personnel, finds the weak one, then culls them from the play via scheme. One can be sure this is also true of Pincers. To quote him from Monday’s presser:

“It’s week by week, I think. Our identity, I am not big on saying what our identity is, but we try to do whatever we think is in the best interest of beating the opponent we have on the schedule this week, which changes quite a lot. A few weeks ago, it was more four-wide receiver (sets), and yesterday, it was none of that. It might be a bunch of blitzing one week and not much the next week depending on who you’re playing and what you think you have to do to beat them or what you think you can be successful with. That goes back to the players being able to handle those adjustments. Sometimes the swing is huge from one week to the next. Sometimes it’s not. We just try to put them in a good position to be successful and hope that we can execute our plan against whoever we play.”

Just like in The Matrix saga when the billions of Octopus-type machines probe Zion’s defenses for weakness deep beneath the Earth’s surface, so does one team to another in football. Here’s where we feel two weak spots will be on Sunday:

• Denver’s right tackle Tyler Polumbus. Sheesh, a Creek kid. Nah, nah, just a joke from one Southern ‘Burb kid to another, totally irrelevant. What’s relevant is his level of pro experience versus a guy this week who has a ton: 6’ 2” 245-pound Robert Mathis and his 9.5 sacks. We’ve heard all week about the success of he and Dwight Freeney in 09. Best believe defensive coordinator Larry Coyer will be sending Mathis hard against Polumbus. He will be trying to confuse him, as well, with looks and numbers. Hopefully Polumbus can look to his right and see a tight end most of the day. The 6’ 8” 300 pounder got semi schooled against Pittsburgh five weeks ago but has settled in since. If Coyer probes and finds entrée against Polumbus, it could be very disruptive. (Because as good as Freeney is, Coyer is going to find Denver’s left edge shored up nicely by Ryan Clady.) If Polumbus can hold his edge, both in the pass rush and running game, perhaps Coyer will try to disrupt through the middle with his linebackers. Coyer runs freaky stunts. Very creative much like Denver’s Mike Nolan. But Coyer doesn’t have the same level of talent and size at linebacker that Nolan does. This rationale seems to further draw Coyer’s eye to Polumbus. Good luck, big fella. Us Denver ‘burb kids will be pulling for you
• Indianapolis’ guards Ryan Litja and Kyle DeVan. Indy has not seen a Defense like Denver’s this year: heavy dose of run stopping, blitzing, good-sized, athletic linebackers. Specifically, we feel middle pressure can get to Manning through the guards. Center Jeff Saturday is quite capable but he cannot save both guards on the same play. Denver backers Andra Davis and DJ Williams should find entrée to Indy’s backfield. Furthermore, if they establish entrée, they could open up the edge to Mario Haggan, Elvis Dumervil, and Robert Ayers. We’re not sure if pressure can BEGIN on the edge with Indy tackles Charlie Johnson and Gijon Robinson keeping 18 predominantly upright through 13 weeks. No matter how many talented 30-somethings are doing their job in the Denver secondary, if 18 has time it will be a clinic.

Jean Rasczak: "I need a corporal. You're it, until you're dead or I find someone better."

Now at the bottom of the week, we are a bit late with the latest posting. Odd because it’s such a huge week. It’s Saturday night and game time is less than 24 hours away. Without question, this is the game of the year. Not so much in terms of importance, but entertainment and litmus. If Denver can avoid a blowout, it should be an awesome game to watch. If Denver can avoid a blowout, it will say a lot about how they matchup against elite teams. There is also an interesting side note to this game: how it will affect a potential second game at Lucas Oil Stadium in the playoffs. We all know that’s where things begin and end in the AFC playoffs this year. Statistics tell us it’s much more likely that teams will split two games over the course of a season rather than one team sweeping. If that’s true, a Denver loss could actually be interpreted as a positive. Furthermore, we think this team plays better from behind. The four games after the bye week (specifically, the San Diego slap) speak to that. This team just isn’t elite enough to forsake its emotions and intangibles on game day. We feel the underdog status heightens those emotions and intangibles.

But all this hemming and hawing obfuscates the real point here: Denver could win. They compare well and Indy is ripe for the home upset. But what’s most likely going to happen is abuse at the hands of one crawfish-fed Peyton Manning.

He’s going to destroy Denver tomorrow.

Like he always does.

While for the most part very entertaining, The Matrix trilogy’s plot tied itself in knots and, in the end, made absolutely no sense

DENVER BRONCOS WEEK 12/13: “All we’re trying to do is win a mother [scratching] game!”

Super candid blue-streak thrashing on behalf of Pincers. Even included this air punch/swim thing in his freak out. After the F-word there was something about “three straight” and it kind of trailed off from there. (The audio guy in the truck either spit up coffee on his monitors or the director slapped him upside the head.) “Three straight” of course referred to the three false starts committed by his big fellas up front before slinking off the field for a Matt Prater field goal. The second in as many red zone trips. When it first happened, the NFL Network aired it, showed the kickoff, then went to commercial. And we were thinking: “Wow, that’s actually pretty cool. The NFLN is kinda pushing a progressive production here. Like the FX Network or something.” Then they come back with profuse apologies and it was clear it was just another production blunder. Did you see the shot of a cameraman’s foot next to some cable? How about those glitching bumps in and out of commercials? These combined with Matt Millen’s nonsensical ramblings and Madden-posing, whatever that goober’s name is who rolls with Millen in the booth, and the production wasn’t exactly on its game Thursday night. As for Pincers’ spaz? Rad. Pure radness. Love it when these Napoleon types hit Rage Factor. Especially when it’s finally associated with the until-this-year Orange Ponies. Love these signals of aggressive football that continue to percolate from the entire Broncos 09 presentation, win or lose. Pincers is decidedly New School with his emotions in the pro game. But above all there is still plenty of Old School in there. And he might even be a tough lil bastard himself. He led his streaking squad off the schnide on Turkey Day with a 20-point blowout of Big Blue.

Machine Shop Ear-Bender: So we were doin’ paramedical work in affiliation with the state highway system. Not actual practice, you understand. And me & Bill were patrolling down Nine Miles.H.I.: Bill Roberts? Machine Shop Ear-Bender: No, not that mother-scratcher. Bill Parker. Anyway, we’re approaching the wreck, and there’s this spherical object a restin’ in the highway. And it’s not a piece of the car.

(Too bandwagony? Sure, we called them a team of slappies two weeks ago. Which is true. Name us an All-World front seven player on D. Kay. We said watching them play last was like having the swine flu. It was. We are still pissed about that San Diego game. Still confused how you can play at home for first place in the division and deliver such a stinky wad of cheese. But c’mon! Doesn’t mean the love isn’t there. We bleed it, bitches. Two words: born, raised. Nuff said ball in.)

After the game, when asked about the MFer, Pincers sorta shrugged, said “doesn’t surprise me, it’s the NFL network,” then annoyingly turned away from the questioner. A shot at the Network? We’re not sure. We think he was most likely confused by the question since he wasn’t sure what had happened at that point (and he explained as much in other moments of the presser). His mind was processing the question, expecting a game Q, then when he realized it was a trivial matter, he simply brushed it off … Or … Maybe he does hold a bit of a grudge because of the way the Network portrayed him during the Cutler Fiasco, then his draft, then Brandon Marshall, then the parade of Bronco hate Jamie Dukes and crew marched onto the set on a daily basis preceding the season. So much so that national media random Rod Smith was put on-set to defend his franchise during the same timeframe. (Whereupon he of course had to rebuke a deluge of Duke’s exasperation when suggesting the Broncos were an inept franchise and Pincers was to blame.) Pincers has all but admitted he reads the writers and watches the coverage. He snapped about a couple things during OTA’s and camp. Have you ever heard him on Rome? He knows. And in those early days of spring and through the preseason, the Network had him on a spit with the flame turned to HIGH.

Pincers’ national unleashing was fitting during a week in which Brian Dawkins called a Three Mile Island. A Three Mile Island is the requisite “players only meeting” amidst a complete meltdown. Post Sand Diego definitely qualified. In fact, we even wondered about it. After the Redskins slap we figured it would be any day now. It always happens, every sport, and it always makes headlines. That’s right, Bob, I am standing outside the very auditorium where Brian Dawkins, today, called a Three Mile Island. Players would not comment on what exactly was said, however. Saying only: It was a meeting, it was for players, we spoke to and amongst one another for an extended period of time. If the outcome of the game is any kind of metric, it worked this week for Denver.

Three Mile Island accident: On March 29, 1979, there was a cooling system malfunction that caused a partial meltdown of the reactor core. This loss of coolant accident resulted in the release of a significant amount of radioactivity. The nuclear power industry claims that there were no deaths, injuries or adverse health effects from the accident, but a peer-reviewed study by Steven Wing of the University of North Carolina found that lung cancer and leukemia rates were 2 to 10 times higher downwind of TMI than upwind, and also showed that there was plant and animal chromosomal damage, but without considering the effects of stress or improved screening. In addition, the Radiation and Public Health Project reported a spike in infant mortality in the downwind communities two years after the accident.

To anyone with eyes and ears, Denver’s Pig Warfare was obviously back in form. Both lines were outstanding. Denver rushed 40 times, New York 16. Nuff said. But was it Denver’s dominance or the Giants’ indifference that defined the outcome? The Giants finished playing last Sunday afternoon (early game) at home with an overtime win against Atlanta. They traveled on Wednesday. It’s a lengthy flight, it was a holiday, they were paved over from the first snap. It was abuse. Generally speaking, they don’t suck that bad. Generally speaking, the Broncos aren’t that good. Transit and turkey aren’t worth the entire 20 points, but they’re worth a chunk of it. The Giants weren’t all there. They checked out when they checked their bags.

The Denver run game was fairly explanatory: pound the edge so as to avoid the teeth of the Giant D, the front-four. They ran zone block for the most part but were pulling the guard on a lot of inside runs. Lots of fullback in there, too, and the backs seemed very patient in following Spencer Larson to the hole. Whatever the method, they were moving at will. (The obligatory penalties of course disrupted their share of drives. Were we the only ones a bit frustrated with the one-sidedness and outright jobs with which the refs officiated? Came off a bit intrusive at times. Like an NBA game. After a decade-plus of Shanny’s cut-blocking zone schemes, seems like Denver’s offensive line is still a target.)

Knowshon Moreno had a good game but we could feel 70,000-plus people shudder whenever he wrapped his unaccountable arms around the ball. 2.4% of the time, he fumbles every time. Four fumbles on 161 carries. Dude has a way to go before he earns our trust (or a belief in his open field running ability). Ran over a safety, though. Exploded through Michael Johnson for a first down in the first quarter. Seems to have a better sense of the marker these days, too. Nonetheless, still pure rookie. (Fine, he’s rad. It’s clear he’s rad. He might even be really good some day. As our friend JJ explains about gambling: “Winning is like a chocolate mousse. But then it’s gone. Losing burns a hole deep inside you. And it stays.” Those four fumbles, especially the goal line fail … still burns.)

Epic dunce

And of course the D shelved the about-to-explode look if only for a week. Just as it’s painful to watch bad defense, it’s so much fun to watch good defense. Three-and-outs, fumbles, interceptions, sacks, 27 yards on the ground for big boy back Brandon Jacobs. That was fun. Millen was beside himself explaining Denver’s tight coverage. Eli was 100% confused cracker all night. Elvis Dumervil’s monster strip sack—steps into it, both arms cocked back like a bear, ball comes rifling out—was an impressive moment. Secondary was 1/3 on pick-opps and Dawkins made those young receivers think twice about coming into his world. (Still can’t believe how he clubs his opponent after initial contact on the way to the ground. We love it. A lot! But … yikes, dog.)

Who knows why Denver’s D was able to do this at home against the New York Football Giants and not against the Bolts and Steelers, or on the road against those crappy Maryland teams. It cannot simply lie in the balance of talent. If that were the case Baltimore and Washington would have fallen easily. The intangible matrix counts for so much and it’s tenuous. It can disappear for 4/5ths of an entire month. Perhaps the Three Mile Island has them hooked back in for the final five weeks.

All things being equal, it should be a cakewalk in Kansas City next week. A good ole fashioned Midwest contest set to music with a cake as a prize for executing the most elaborate or amusing walking steps. Should be. But we Broncos aficionados are all too familiar with the Bermuda Triangle wasteland of lameness that is western Missouri in December. Really dislike that town. Really think Chiefs fans are dorks with good BBQ recipes. There’s no reason to view last week’s game as a precedent. Pittsburgh had that game locked up in so many ways yet lost due to injuries and a bit of bad luck at the end … wait, that’s not the precedent, is it?

Kansas City is like the sniper at the end of Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket. A passionate threatened peasant, possessing homefield advantage, outmatched in every other facet. In other strategic circumstances she’d be harmless, yet she continues to pick off victims.

Private Cowboy: I’ve seen this before, that sniper is just trying to suck us in one at a time!

After getting sucked into her trap and sustaining losses, Private Cowboy’s platoon eventually overcomes her with sheer firepower. Yet even in the end, almost dead, she continues to take victims and was booby-trapped when they found her. Moments from death, looking up at her enemy, she pleads for mercy: Shoot… me, sh-oooot… me… Private Joker, the inwardly conflicted man of duality, obliges.

Private Rafterman: Hey Joker, we ought to put you up for the congressional medal of… ugly! Haha!
Donlon: Hard core, man. Hard core.

Kansas City is that wounded cornered sniper in her last moments. Sh-oooot… me… At 3-7 her primary objective is drawing in the enemy by showing her mortality then taking them with her as she goes. Denver has the firepower to overcome and there is no way the mere fact they are playing on a frozen llano in the middle of nowhere in December should make any difference whatsoever. Yet it almost always does. Pincers would be advised not to let his men rush in like Cowboy did, and he will need to do his best Private Joker and put her out of her misery when he has the chance. Otherwise he could take on more losses. With Indy and Philly still to go, and with 10 wins most likely needed for the fabled berth, that can’t happen.

Private Joker: Graduation is only a few days away, and the recruits of Platoon 3092 are salty. They are ready to eat their own guts and ask for seconds. The drill instructors are proud to see that we are growing beyond their control. The Marine Corps does not want robots. The Marine Corps wants killers. The Marine Corps wants to build indestructible men, men without fear.

DENVER BRONCOS WEEK 11/12: The Knowshon Moreno Show (or the K1M1 Virus)

Swine flu is an infection by any one of several types of swine influenza virus. It is common in pig populations worldwide. Transmission from pigs to humans is uncommon. If transmission does occur, it is called zoonotic swine flu. The 2009 pandemic is a swine origin influenza, a virus subtype H1N1. Existing vaccines against seasonal flu provide no protection. Symptoms of zoonotic swine flu in humans are similar to those of influenza: chills, fever, sore throat, muscle pains, severe headache, coughing, weakness, vomiting, diarrhea, general discomfort.

Kind of what it’s like to watch the Broncos these days.

So discomforting, such weakness and pain. So easy to explain one half of football in a single paragraph: Milky Simms gets the ball first and hands it off seven straight times behind outstanding zone blocking for gains of 9, 8, 8, 4, 3, 8, and 2 yards. Only to have Tyler Polumbus, on second down from San Diego’s 17, let linebacker Sean Phillips into Milky’s backside and force a fumble. Phyllis Rivers promptly drives 69 yards for a touchdown. Denver then does the following on its second possession: pass for 7 yards, on second and three called for illegal motion, on second and eight pass for 3 yards, on third and five called for false start, on third and eight Milky is sacked for 7 yards. Punt, San Diego gets it at their own 43. Denver then holds on first and second down. On third and eight a familiar foe hampers Denver further: Jarvis Moss. He jumps offside. Phyllis of course converts, drives it another 34 yards, gets a field goal. Milky then goes three and out. Phyllis then drives for another field goal. Then, lo and behold … Kyle Orton, glowing with cortisone, enters the game with Zeusian effort. He laces passes for –2, 22, and 38 yards to get Denver to the four. Whereupon Knowshon Moreno of course fumbles at the goal line. Challenging the fumble costs Denver its last time out so when the defense stops Phyllis on his ensuing possession, the clock had sufficiently bled and precluded a realistic Denver scoring attempt.

13-0 at halftime.

The second half was more of the same. Including some sweet open field falling by Moreno. (How did he not score on that run? There are only so many opportunities against Phyllis & Co.)

Self inflicted wounds. A ton of bad breaks. Phyllis Rivers. Moreno the Rookie shoving Brandon Marshall in a sideline scuffle. San Diego punching it in on fourth down for its seventh score with under a minute left. Plenty of CBS score-commercial-kick-commercial combos. Doesn’t really get more sickening.

Pincers is Pincers: confusing, brilliant, weird, gutsy, maddening, capable, green, obstinate. For the amount of talent Pincers keeps standing on the sidelines while Moreno blows games on the field, these two coach and player rookies are in it together.

We’re gonna go barf.

Maybe they can figure it out while we’re away.

Feeling the symptoms? Don’t panic. You may have just watched the Denver Broncos offense bumble around a football field.

DENVER BRONCOS WEEK 10/11: “You’re about to jump out a perfectly good airplane, Jonny. How do you feel about that?”

Terminal velocity refers to a falling object that is in equilibrium. In its plummet, at a particular speed, the drag force will equal the object’s weight. At this point, the object ceases its downward acceleration and continues falling at a constant speed. The downward force of gravity equals the upward force of drag.

After losing to Baltimore and Pittsburgh, the Denver Broncos were most certainly in freefall. Now, after gagging in DC to Daniel Snyder’s dysfunctional and discombobulated Redskins, and doing so mostly at the defensive line of scrimmage, gravity now equals the drag of a freefalling franchise. In skydiving, terminal velocity can be slowed by extending ones limbs. And of course, deploying a parachute creates a larger projected area, with a dramatically reduced terminal velocity, and lands its passenger to safety. Looking ahead, the question now becomes: Is Denver capable of pulling the ripcord and piloting itself to some kind of landing zone, or did it jump out of a perfectly good airplane without a canopy strapped to its back in the first place?

Coach Pincers and Chris Simms try to stay positive as they prepare for San Diego

Defensively, the about-to-explode look is back. A shame, really. Such heart, such effort the first third of the season. Against Baltimore and Pittsburgh, the offense failed its defense. Things just broke loose in the fourth quarter with a complete lack of what Pincers would call “complimentary football.” This time around, with DC’s pieced-together offensive line opening up holes and really bad tackling on Denver’s behalf, Ladell Betts and Rock Cartwright just gutted them. All day. Couldn’t even get Jason Campbell, an atrocious quarterback, to make many mistakes. Looked oh so familiar. As we’ve said before, Denverites can keenly identify an about-to-explode defense. It’s what we’ve dealt with since about this time 2006. That look, that bending, absorbing, would-be more explosions were it not for opponent mistakes, was back in effect. Now, why is this?

This is where “slapdick” or “slappy” comes from. It’s what Brian Billick calls beta players. Profootballtalk.com uses this, too. But we read this book back in 2006 and our buddies adopted it into vernacular shortly thereafter. Way before Florio poached it.

Some people call it the Law of Diminishing Returns, others might say the cream always rises to the top, we call it Slapdick vs. Reality. Coming into the season it was presumed the Denver secondary, even with a well-aged veteran in Brian Dawkins, was elite. The front seven questions were of course loud and clear. It’s probably safe to characterize DJ Williams and Elvis Dumervil as upper tier players, however still not that “upper.” Outside of that the front seven is a collection of hand picked slappies and a rookie. We mean that in a conventional wisdom sense: they are slappies, journeymen, none are elite. Until November came along, these slappies, these castoffs, nobodies from everywhere, had been playing above their presumed abilities in a brilliant and innovative Mike Nolan scheme. Andra Davis, Mario Haggan, Ronald Fields, Darrell Reid, Kenny Petersen, Ryan McBean, La Kevin Smith, Marcus Thomas, not exactly top 10%. The Law of Diminishing Returns says that in contrast to increased expectations when outstanding results occur at Square One, returns actually start to progressively decrease. The cream always rises to the top might suggest statistically better teams, or presumed to be better teams, will eventually get theirs. Slapdick vs. Reality says that no matter how much heart, no matter how many Dawkins “take it” frenzies, no mater how committed and accountable and willing and heartfelt, in the end, you’re still a slapdick.

Again, as we’ve said all year, at least they care, at least they try, at least they are not a bed of flowers like the last 2.5 years of Denver Defense. It remains to be seen what the duration will reveal. In terms of what kind of rhetoric is maintained in this column, we are not condemning them to failure and actually believe slapdicks can come together like some kind of slapdick Voltron and find success. We’re simply pointing out that, at their core, they are mostly slapdicks. There’s really no question about that.

(Furthermore, we shudder, but Champ Bailey looks horrible right now. As Phylis Rivers comes to town this week, a guy who enjoys and has been successful throwing on 24, this creates some uneasiness. In addition, after Heinz Ward literally stepped over him then skipped into the end zone last week, then on a third and three late in the Washington game Champ whiffed huge on what is normally an open field lock, one wonders … one certainly begins to wonder.)

Offensively, we return to last week’s comments about the running game: What exactly is Pincers getting at here? So you’re telling us, Pincers, that with Albert Haynesworth out of the game; with Russ Hochstein limiting him pretty much all day; with a slow, dim, hesitant Chris “Milky” Simms under center; having just completed runs of 3 and 11 yards and with Knowshon Moreno at 97 yards total on the day; and with nine minutes left in the fourth quarter of a 17-17 ball game, you have Milky* hoist up a deep ball prayer? It wasn’t even close. There were four red jerseys by the time the ball arrived. This of course led to Washington’s 10-play drive that took over six minutes off the clock and resulted in a go-ahead touchdown.

Ironic too, in a week where “long ball” media brays could be heard above the wind. That’s not only what Kyle Orton attempted but nailed. Too bad Pincers thought Milky could do the same. Two things are clear now, right Denverites? Orton has plenty of arm and he unquestionably belongs under center. (Does Milky bend over as he brings back his delivery? Is his hand on the top of the ball as he releases? Is that the slowest release in the NFL? At least Pincers booted him, rolled him out, that was good to see again. Didn’t really matter, though.) Looking ahead to this weekend, c’mohhn Greek. We need ya to get 8 healthy otherwise we might not even turn on the game. Also, Eddie Royal quit running on Orton’s third deep ball. That’s on 19 not 8. Also, Hochstein is sick.

(Oh and, 8, Rocky McIntosh wanted to thank you for teeing up Brandon Marshall over the middle. Guy’s name is “Rocky McIntosh.” He plays linebacker. He’s that gigantic fella who drops back into coverage when he reads pass.)

(A special DER goes out to Woody Paige this week. Woody, so baseless, so dependant upon conjecture, so otherworldly in his analysis. Actually advocated, then defended, a Simms start in DC.)

Chris Simms dresses the part now that he lives in Colorado

Special teams, or “the kicking game” as Pincers would say, looks like Ryan Seacrest just wandered onto the set of a Charlie Rose taping and attempted an intellectual conversation. So out of place, so related by medium only. Aside from Eddie Royal’s returns in San Diego and the occasional big hit delivered by coverage teams, this third of the overall Denver attack is a fail. Mitch Berger for Brett Kern was haste in its purest form. We actually enjoyed seeing free loader Lamont Jordan get wasted by Lorenzo Alexander on the kick following the sloppiest touchdown in the NFL this year. Did you know we had enough time to flip over to a WB broadcast of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, laugh at a couple crude jokes, then flip back to the game in the time it took punter Hunter Smith to heave a “500” ball from one sideline to the other … for a touchdown. There are bona fide disgusting things in this world—Dick Cheney, Europeans, a higher yield on US Treasury Notes—and we don’t want to sports-hyperbolize too much. But that was truly a disgusting play. Our buddy C-Po told us he kicked over his three-year-old son’s “block tower” when that classic piece of horse manure actually played out before his eyes. Yep, that … just … happened.

Another fun note in the Washington game was watching Brian Orakpo in action. (Not as much fun as watching Rey Maualuga enforce the middle in Week One, but close.) Let’s summarize Orakpo’s tackles, shall we: Moreno for no gain on a swing pass, Moreno for a 1-yard loss on the edge, Moreno for a 3-yard loss up the middle, credited for wrecking Ortons’s ankle at the end of the first half, half of a 7-yard Milky sack, sacked Milky on his own for 10 yards. Wow, so stoked to revisit Pincers’ draft here.

It looks like Pincers has a very clear idea of how he balances his defensive roster spots. He will play a 3-4, or 5-2 base but it can morph into anything it wants. There is a lot of 4-3 in there and his edge players pull double duty. Also, linebackers are huge in the kicking game. He’s loaded up his defensive roster with big linebackers and has stayed lean with the classic lineman body types (300 pounds plus). Check the roster here. He keeps nine linebackers, all roughly the same size and, weather it be inside or outside, versatility. He keeps seven linemen-only types. Orakpo was touted as a classic outside pass rusher but Washington plays him as an outside linebacker in its 4-3. Considering the versatility Pincers wants in his edge defenders, considering what he wants them to look like, Orakpo (6’-3 260 pounds) seems like he would’ve been an outstanding fit. Plus, he’s pissed, his coaches (according to Dan Dierdorf) rave about him, and he’s currently wrecking shop. Such a treat knowing Denver could’ve had both him and Robert Ayers (6’-3 274 pounds) in the first round.

Instead, Pincers is so scattershot and so scatterbrained when it comes to the run game and the players he chooses to execute it that, when the 12th spot came around in April, he just couldn’t resist 27. If he was still on the board, would he have chosen Orakpo at the 18th instead of Ayers? Who’s to say. And were not saying Ayers is a stinker, either. A conclusion is years off. It may have been marginal and temporary, but Orakpo quietly pantsed Pincers’ draft on Sunday.

(We should also point out that, after a horrifying game last week, Moreno looked pretty good this week. The shimmy was back and he only tripped a couple times. No fumbles, either, and he was back to initiating contact at the end of his runs.)

San Diego slapped Philly around on Sunday so, guess what Broncos Fans?! We get to relive the end of 2008 in the middle of 2009! Love these three-game swings. Let’s hope the third turns out differently this time. We’ve previously said Denver whips San Diego in this game. However we also said barring significant injury. Orton qualifies as significant.

As we all know, the NFL is weird, trending teams mean nothing. Philly goes down, Dallas gets worked, DC wins, Carolina wins, Tennessee is on fire and so is Arizona. At least we can always count on Jay Cutler throwing multiple interceptions. The Bolts come to town on a roll and with the same record as Denver. Denver is in freefall. Something has to increase the drag on this descent and slow Denver’s downward velocity. Maybe Denver’s defense uses Phylis’s carcass to do so. Gets upset, gets healthy, proves to themselves and the world they are not slappies. Milky Simms, well, let’s hope that was rust. He actually maintained a semi decent pocket presence considering he’s barely gone live in three years and Washington went after him. San Diego is still the same group of softies Denver saw in Week Six. But Phylis is still the same gangly, head-snapping, accurate, resilient bastard he’s always been. Beyond San Diego, broadly speaking, at some point Denver is going to have to deploy a chute before it splatters on the ground. Dead as disco.

The most annoying … person … ever

* Gotta give credit to our fantasy football commissioner, Dave, for “Milky.” We didn’t even hear him say it we just read it on our FFB smack board. Laughed pretty hard. Dave is the kind of commissioner that tweaks the scoring rules because he knows the other owners wont check it. This gives him a draft advantage. He’s a gangster about league fees, too. Dave also throws an epic Super Bowl party each year. On a related note, stay tuned for our forthcoming memoir column: “$100 and 0-13: Confessions of a Fantasy Football Failure.” Fantasy sucks. It’s for tools.