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Monday, January 22, 2007
Friendly advice for Mike Vick
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Mark Bradley
I’m putting this out for public consumption, but it’s really directed toward one man. I’m saying this to you, Michael, and I’m saying this not as your agent or your publicist but as someone who knows a little about sports and, having hung around Flowery Branch since the day you were drafted, a little about you.
You need to take control of your life. You need to harness every molecule and minute and make this your most productive offseason. You need to give yourself the chance to experience, 12 or 24 months from now, your own Peyton Manning Moment. You need to work harder than you’ve ever worked to show everyone who’s saying you can’t take a team to the Super Bowl that you can.
This isn’t so much about the infamous water bottle and what might or might not have happened in Miami. This is about the bigger picture. From being hailed as the Michael Jordan of your sport, you’re now viewed in ever-expanding circles as a coach-killer or worse. Your wildly lucrative (and once carefully cultivated) career is being cheapened with every headline. When you entered the league you worked hard to say and do the right things, but increasingly you’ve become entangled in bizarre incidents that don’t reflect well on you or your employer.
As the saying goes: You can’t be framed if you don’t put yourself in the picture. I’m fairly certain Tom Brady — likewise single and good-looking — enjoys his social life, but I’ve never heard of Brady getting into a scrape in an airport security line. (For you, this makes twice.) You need to step back and remember your place in the sporting firmament, to recall who you are and what you represent. You once made it easy to believe in Michael Vick. You need to stop making it hard.
For all that, you still have a grand opportunity. This head coach arrives with the express mission of making you better. When Bobby Petrino was with Jacksonville, he’d sit with fellow assistant Dom Capers, ticketed to be the first coach of the expansion Texans, on charter flights and they’d talk about how it would be to have the draft’s No. 1 pick and for that No. 1 pick to be you. Way back then, Petrino was thinking of the plays he’d draw up to utilize your skill set. Lo and behold, here he is.
And what was your first face-to-face encounter with the new man? A “stressful” (Rich McKay’s word) meeting regarding the water bottle. Even the usually understanding front office sounds as if it has lost patience: The Falcons’ three-sentence release Monday didn’t mention you by name. And still missing from all the water-bottle blather is any explanation from you.
For someone so famous, it isn’t enough to be technically innocent. You have to be above suspicion. From this day forward, you need to do everything within your power — and ultimately everything remains within your power — to preclude external stress. If that means staying home six nights out of seven, then stay home. While you’re there, try watching game film. Better yet, call Petrino and ask if he’ll watch with you. I bet he’ll even spring for the pizza.
You’re 26, about to enter your seventh NFL season, and you’ve arrived at a crossroads. You can continue to be the uncertain player you became under Mora/Knapp, a runner one week and a thrower the next, and soon you’ll be 31 and looking to resurrect yourself the way all last-chances do - as an Oakland Raider. Or you can work with this clever coach and immerse yourself in detail and bring your fundamentals to the level of your immense gifts, and then (assuming the rest of the roster holds up its end) you’ll be what you’ve said you dream of being: A great quarterback, a Super Bowl quarterback.
You have the time. You have, goodness knows, the talent. You can get where Peyton Manning is going, but you have to apply yourself. These last few months have made us wonder if you’re as serious about your job as you need to be. Show us you are. Shut us all up. Take this team to the Super Bowl.
Permalink | Comments (66) | Categories: Falcons / NFL, Mark Bradley
Manning makes amends for chokes in college, NFL
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Terence Moore
Indianapolis — He almost isn’t a loser anymore. You become a complete winner with a Super Bowl ring. Still, courtesy of Peyton Manning conquering the New England Patriots, an 18-point deficit and himself on Sunday at the RCA Dome, this was for all of those times (four, to be exact) that he kept throwing with one hand while using the other to clutch his throat at the sight of a Gator.
This was for all of those times that Manning couldn’t do what his successor, Tee Martin, did in a hurry. That is, the guy without the Knoxville street named after him actually beat Florida along the way to actually winning a national championship for the Rocky Top people.
This was for all of those times that Manning went from operating as an absolutely magnificent quarterback during the NFL regular season to an absolutely miserable one during the playoffs, especially when his pro version of a Gator was a Patriot.
This was the Manning that you never see, because this was the Manning that we’ve never seen. Not at Tennessee, not in Indianapolis, not ever.
“I’m so proud of the way our guys fought, but I’m really happy for Peyton,” said coach Tony Dungy after his suddenly clutch quarterback did the most to push the Colts to an improbable 38-34 victory. “He was very, very calm. He had to bring us from behind three or four times, and he had that great drive at the end. It was just fitting.”
Fitting because in order for Manning to prove that he really is great, he had to do something in a situation that calls for greatness. So here were his Colts, starting at their own 20-yard line, and trailing the mighty Tom Brady and his three Super Bowl rings 34-31 with barely two minutes left, and Manning forgot all of those ugly numbers. There was “5-6,” his record during the playoffs despite going “92-52” in the regular season. There was “5” and “1,” representing the interceptions to touchdowns he had accumulated during playoff games against the Patriots despite ranking as one of the most accurate passers of all-time. There was “0-2,” his record against those same Patriots.
There also was the horror of the Colts’ previous offensive series. Again, they began at their 20 with a four-point deficit, and, again, the bad Manning showed up. His first pass landed at his receiver’s feet. His second pass went left when his receiver went right. His third pass was so soft and wobbly that it was knocked away with ease.
The Colts punted. Not only the ball, but maybe a chance to capture the American Football Conference. That was before their defense gave Manning another chance with barely two minutes remaining.
This time, the good Manning was completing an 11-yard pass, and then another one for 32 yards. Before long, Joseph Addai was giving the Colts their four-point lead with 60 seconds left and with the undisputed comeback king of this era taking the field for the Patriots. As Brady moved his team from its 21 to the Colts’ 45 in search of a miracle, Manning sat on the sideline with his head buried in his hands. He was attempting to keep divine guidance wearing a horseshoe.
“Yeah, I said a little prayer,” said Manning, chuckling about his fib. All you need to know is that his prayer nearly was as long as Ben Hur. He chuckled some more, adding, “I don’t know if you’re supposed to pray for things like that.”
You’re Manning, though, and you’re desperate. You spent the early part of the night embarrassing yourself by becoming the anti-Brady by doing much to help your team trail 21-3. You had that interception that was returned for a touchdown, and you kept looking as if you’d rather be in a bathrobe doing another MasterCard commercial or something.
Then, in a flash, you begin shocking reality by playing out of your mind with brutal thoughts of the Patriots sprinting toward Miami instead of your Colts.
Reality says that Manning always, well, chokes in these situations. Reality lost this time, along with the Patriots.
Permalink | Comments (91) | Categories: Falcons / NFL, Terence Moore
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