Grounded, With Cause

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Rex-Ryan-Calls-Season-Failure

Black Monday played out for the Jets like an inescapable two-year old prophecy cashing in.  The franchise was shoved onto the doomed path that led to Monday’s firings by its owner, corporate heir Woody Johnson, when after the 2012 season he fired GM Ben Tannenbaum and kept Rex Ryan as his head coach — not only kept, but with the dubious, nonnegotiable stipulation that the new GM would be tethered to Rex, a coach the new hire would have never worked with, never known.  This demand — impractical, absurd, and confidently made by Johnson — along with the team’s fledgling quarterbacks and the salary cap inferno leftover by Tannenbaum — guaranteed a dearth of high-tier candidates in the interview room.

Enter John Idzik.

Idzik came to the Jets after serving as Assistant GM for the Seahawks, partly in charge of navigating the salary cap and negotiating player contracts.  He was a budget man, whose credentials in areas of player development, scouting, and drafting were noticeably hypothetical.  He was brought in to help Johnson — fabulously rich by means of heritage and luck and not by means of being a qualified businessperson — correct the books.  He, Johnson, was essentially faced with two dilemmas — a decimated roster of amateurs and a franchise of weakening financial means — and because the position to head his front office was so unattractive, he couldn’t have a guy strong enough to fix both the roster and the business.  He chose a guy who could fix the business.

“Fix the Business” in professional sports vernacular means essentially to stop spending money, and that’s exactly what Idzik did.  Of course, it’s possible to spend less money and better the roster with short-term contracts with efficient but unglamorous players, but that requires a degree of scouting and personnel sense that Idzik hasn’t yet acquired.  In his first offseason, Bart Scott, Eric Smith, Jason Smith, and Sione Pouha were all gone; brought in were the likes of Mike Goodson (arrested before camp; never played a snap), David Gerrard (injured both at the time he was signed, and during his entire stint with the team, before retiring), and Willie Colon (aptly named).

In the biggest and most heavily covered move of his first offseason as a general manager, Idzik traded the best player on an already scorched-earth roster, sending a future Hall of Famer, in his prime, to Tampa for a draft pick.  The story behind this move is stratified and well-told, and now that Idzik’s gone and Revis is leading a defensive resurgence in New England, it’s reduced to one small proof of the front office’s overall failures during the latter half of Tannenbaum’s reign and the whole of Idzik’s — talent was lost and never replaced.  Tannenbaum spent money recklessly; Idzik never spent it at all.  And behind the scenes, Woody Johnson, as he all but admitted in Monday’s press conference, was blundering and confused.

Perhaps the most remarkable part of the mismatched Idzik – Ryan tenure was that it even lasted two years.  At the end of the 2013 season, we all saw video footage of Woody Johnson proving to the world, if we didn’t already know, that when confronted with levelheaded reasoning when making decisions relating to football and the team that he owns, his finger is well off the pulse, his head in another galaxy.  The 2013 Jets were 6-8, with a rookie quarterback, drafted by Idzik, who looked stupendously confounded, before rattling off a trivial two-game winning streak in meaningless games to reach 8-8.  The scene in the locker room after their Week 17 win was of utter jubilation.  Understanding football fans watched in shocked incredulity as Woody Johnson raised his arms and exulted in the return of his beloved head coach for the coming 2014 campaign.

The value placed in those final two wins was deranged and inexplicable, and it guaranteed the foul result that we saw this season.  Woody Johnson ignored the dumpster fire reality that was the 2013 Jets, looked instead at the 8-8 record, but couldn’t understand how improbably those 8 wins were attained (two meaningless wins at the end of the season, a Week 1 win against Tampa gifted by a phantom personal foul, a win against New England caused by a previously never-called penalty on a field goal, etc), was never made to realize that those 8 wins could never be duplicated and that he was overseeing what was in actuality a 3-4 win team, and decided that everything was working exactly according to plan.  Flash-forward to 2014: Geno again proving himself incompetent.  Idzik again fielding a team that no one, including a (good, not great) coach like Ryan could win with, and you get the 4 win result that the Jets deserved in 2013.

While the course toward this failure was set by Woody Johnson’s ineptitude, Idzik and Ryan still had to go.  Idzik had to go because he’s an abominable general manager, and Ryan had to go, in part, because you can’t attract a GM capable of producing the overhaul the Jets need if he’s strapped to a below .500 coach that isn’t even of his choosing.  The franchise is in need of complete reconstruction, and while it’s true that the staff currently in place needs to be recycled, it’s also clear that once Woody, with the consultation of Charley Casserly and Ron Wolf, hires reliable top-level management, he needs to step far, far back into the recesses of his bewilderment.  The corrupting miasma that has been pouring from the owners’ room has to be cut off — for the Jets to both win and overturn its reputation as a laughingstock, that’s step one.

Spoiler Alert

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As we circle the drain on an NFL season whose headlines have been dominated by off-field controversies, which at times have yielded events on-the-field to a pedestrian and mostly unremarkable position by comparison, it’s fitting that, at the onset of the playoffs, we seem to be merely killing time to a premeditated, Pats-Seahawks Super Bowl.  The games this year have felt a lot like a casual distraction — a reminder for followers and lovers of the NFL of what the sport actually is as we grapple with how its governing body presents itself to society.  We’ve spent Sundays this fall trying to reconcile our love for football with its abysmal, culturally destructive governance — it’s been a gloomy experience, and that the games have seemed mostly unspectacular hasn’t helped to abate the struggle.

It’s possible that this season — the games, anyway — haven’t been as mediocre as they’ve seemed.  Maybe the noxious cloud that has surrounded the commissioner’s office this year — for longer than that, really — has dulled our perception of the play itself.  Maybe our senses are tricking us into to feeling that this football season has been tedious and flat simply because it’s been really tough this year to get excited about a league that has spent 9 consecutive months behaving deplorably, one in whose every public statement can be found a single, consistent underlying message: “We think you’re all idiots, and we’re untouchable.”  It feels all right to sit back for the next few weeks and let the bracket play out exactly the way we all think it will, and let this season come to a formulaic and uninspiring end, one wholly reflective of the entire 2014 season.

Although…not so fast?  Maybe?

One team may be able to break from procedure.  One team has a chance to spit all over the equation that’s been laid out for us and spin a bleary and bleak season into chaos.  One team:

Ladies and gentleman, your 2014 Dallas Cowboys.

The very idea makes me want to weep into my pillow and also it’s perfect.  In a season as depressing as this one has been, what better way to punctuate it, what better kick in the collective football fan’s groin, than a Dallas Cowboys Super Bowl?  What could possibly make you hate yourself more, make you feel worse to be a football fan than Roger Goodell has made you feel over the last year, than to have the final image of this putrid season be Jerry Jones hoisting the Lombardi Trophy?  The symbolism is so glorious that I can’t tell whether I should root for it or throw up into my shoes.

The best/most horrible part is: it’s remarkably plausible.

The commentary surrounding the league’s transition to a vertical passing offense, and the ease with which teams can throw the ball, has become ubiquitous and boring (and just about all of it, obviously, absolutely true), but still overlooked is the cliched importance of rushing and defense in the playoffs, when the measure of success is winning one game against one opponent, and moving on to do it again.  Super Bowl champions of the last five years have had notoriously atrocious rushing attacks, with one exception — last year’s Seahawks, who also happen to be the Cowboys biggest challenger in the NFC this year.  It’s absolutely true that teams in recent history have been able to win Super Bowls with nothing better than a Brandon Jackson/John Kuhn (read: sack of potatoes) tag-team running game, but DeMarco Murray’s presence equips the Cowboys to outmatch this year’s competition.  It’s reductive to say that the one of the easiest ways to beat the Packers is to keep the ball out of Aaron Rodgers’ hands, but it’s also a pretty certain truth.  In Green Bay’s four losses this season, they’ve lost TOP by an average of 9 minutes/game.  DeMarco Murray’s roughly eight thousand rushing attempts have helped Dallas top the league in overall and average time of possession, controlling an average of 55% of each game.  In their Week 6 victory against Seattle, Dallas dominated TOP — 37 / 22, they shut down Russell Wilson, and DeMarco had 115 and a touchdown against the league’s 3rd-ranked rushing defense.  More than Detroit, with its frequently-injured offensive superstars and its easily-imploded defensive personalities; more than Arizona, with its Wednesday Night Taco League quarterbacks; maybe even more than Green Bay, with its in this case notable inability to defend the rush; this Dallas team is equipped for a literal and figurative run.

The biggest fear that Cowboys fans probably have, at this point, is that they miss the NFC Championship Game by some very Cowboys-y Romo-y catastrophe, and the front office in early February sounds something like this:

Team Exec: Hey, Jerry, whatcha got in that box there?

Jerry Jones: Nothing.

Team Exec: Are you sure?  It looks pretty heavy.  What’s your face doing?  You look like a pickled six hundred year old radish.

Jerry Jones: I am winking at you furtively so that you will leave right now and ask no further questions.  Who sent you here?  Was it Johnson?

Team Exec: It’s addressed to Minnesota…what the hell–

Jerry Jones: Get out of here!  Leave this place!!

Team Exec: Dammit Jerry this is every first round pick for the next eleven years-

Jerry Jones: Adrian!!!!

Team Exec: NOOOOOOO!!!

Jerry jones: ADRIAAAAN!!!!!!

Anything can happen, of course, but among the uncertainty lies two looming possibilities — we put this dismal season to bed with a long Cowboys run that will make us all hate ourselves for being football fans, or it comes to a colorless, predictable on-field end followed by Jerry fire-saling his team’s future in an extravagant display that will make us all hate ourselves for being football fans.  Sort of like the 2014 NFL season, this column has felt like a failed exercise in optimism.