Bad coaching is everywhere in the NFL, but on Sunday, one needn’t look any further than Dan Quinn and the Atlanta Falcons.
Julio Jones sounded a little bit hazy about onside kick procedures after the epic 40-39 Atlanta Falcons loss to the Dallas Cowboys in Week 2.
Jones is part of the Falcons onside kick Hands Team. Or, more appropriately, the Stands Team, since all they did on Sunday was stand around and watch CJ Goodwin of the Cowboys pounce on the spinning football.
“It’s all about communication,” Jones told reporters after the game. (Quotes via Jason Butt of the Atlanta Journal-Consititution).
Communication. Yeah. So far, so good.
“As far as myself and the ball guys, we have to be cautious if the ball gets kicked over our heads.”
Makes sense. But it was spinning at your feet, so …
“If we’re going to decide the front-line guys are going to attack the ball guys, let’s go get it. Regardless if it’s at five yards because they can’t touch us or touch the ball if it’s short. Or if it’s moving slow like that, communicate with the front-line guys to go get the ball and we’ll cover you up.”
Umm, it sounds like communication really is the problem. Can anyone on the Falcons please clarify the onside kick recovery procedures a bit?
“Get on the ball. It’s pretty much it,” linebacker Deion Jones said. Unfortunately, Jones was not in the vicinity of the ball.
Now, I’ve watched hundreds of practices run by dozens of coaching staffs in many NFL cities over the years, yet I don’t recall ever seeing a Hands Team drill. That’s not just because I scroll Twitter or lapse into a fugue state at the start of every special teams session: most coaches don’t allocate much time to special teams in the first place, let alone a situational drill that requires future Hall of Famers to line up with the gunner unit.
Jones probably went through the motions on a few Hands Team reps in August, still half-remembers the onside kick rules from before the NFL tinkered with them in 2018, and was too busy dropping easy touchdown passes on Sunday to focus on what he might be asked to do on special teams. (We’re teasing you, Julio. You’re a treasure).
That’s why it’s up to Dan Quinn and/or special teams coach Ben Kotwica to grab the troops in the timeout after the Cowboys touchdown and communicate a simple message: don’t look at it, don’t think about it, don’t count how many yards it rolled, don’t grab curling brooms and sweep it to the nearest Cowboy, just GET BALL.
“It’s one we should make an aggressive move to go get,” Quinn said after the game. That message came a little too late, coach.
Veteran teams tend to tune out longtime coaches. One of the signs is lacking attention to detail: the players are familiar with the coach’s routines and have figured out what they will let slide, just like you know what time you can slip out the side exit on Friday afternoon and I know I never have to learn whether to type “third-and-10” or “3rd-and-10” because my editors find it easier to change it than correct me. (Editor’s note: 3rd-and-10, always)
Quinn and the Falcons are in the throes of a backslide on the details. Also, the Falcons defense has played like its shoelaces are tied together for three years, which is a bit of a problem.
Sunday’s loss made the Falcons 28-3 collapse in Super Bowl LI look like a triumph of the human achievement. Quinn has a lot of things to fix, and fast, or else he’ll soon receive some very clear communication from upper management.
Blame COVID
The first NFL coach to blame the COVID-impacted offseason for his team’s slow start is [drumroll] Philadelphia Eagles coach Doug Pederson!
“I don’t care who you are throwing,” Pederson said on Monday. “I don’t care who the receivers are. Two-and-a-half weeks to prepare for your first real game; it’s not enough time.”
Mmm. Yes. Russell Wilson and his 82.5 percent completion rate sure seem to be struggling. So are Aaron Rodgers and the Packers, Lamar Jackson and the Ravens, and so forth.
The real issues in Philadelphia all point back to Pederson himself: Carson Wentz’s timing and vision have slipped, the Eagles scheme doesn’t fool anyone, and most of the best players on offense (Zach Ertz, Jason Peters, Jason Kelce, DeSean Jackson) are holdovers or returnees from pre-Pederson eras.
Since Pederson can’t blame himself without calling his whole tenure into question (which becomes more dangerous as that Super Bowl fades into history), he has no choice but to act like the Eagles were the only team in the league forced to ramp up quickly in August.
Anyway, congratulations if you took Pederson and his 10-to-1 odds in the Blame COVID stakes. Bill O’Brien would have paid out at 2-to-1 odds, Matt Patricia at 2-to-3, and Adam Gase at a rate of three pesos to every six pounds of gold bullion wagered.
This Week in Bill O’Brien Nonsense
I’ve never understood O’Brien’s fascination with Keke Coutee. Yes, Coutee is quick and elusive, but so are dozens of other 180-pound slot guys around the NFL, some of whom can actually stay healthy and deliver on their promise of big plays.
O’Brien seems to think Coutee is an undiscovered Gale Sayers. He keeps carving out roles for Coutee, even now that the Houston Texans have acquired about a dozen better receiving targets. Coutee is like Taysom Hill without the passing chops and Scrawny White Guy Wish Fulfillment angle. He doesn’t even return kicks, which is the one job Coutee-types can usually be counted upon to handle.
It’s weird, frankly.
Anyway, Deshaun Watson scrambled and delivered a short pass to Coutee early in the second quarter of the Texans loss to the Baltimore Ravens in Week 2. Marlon Humphrey punched the ball from Coutee’s hands, L.J. Fort recovered and returned the ball to the pylon in the front corner of the end zone.
O’Brien reached for his challenge flag, eager to argue the play was a mere incomplete pass because Coutee did not really take two full strides before fumbling. The play triggered a booth review instead, not because there was any doubt about the fumble, but to determine whether Fort scored.
Sure enough, the play was ruled a Ravens touchdown. Had O’Brien gotten the chance to challenge the play and gotten the same result, it may have been the funniest thing that ever happened.
Tune in next week when Coutee runs that play where he motions 10 yards into the backfield behind Watson and catches a flair pass which fools absolutely no one. It ends with T.J. Watt picking either Coutee or Watson out of his teeth.
Down and Distance Debacle
All the 49ers wanted to do on 3rd-and-31 from their own 11-yard line against the New York Jets was hand off and then punt. They were leading 21-3, but half of their roster was hurt, and they just wanted the game to end.
Jerick McKinnon took an I-formation handoff and prepared to sacrifice himself to the Jets defense and the gods of clock management, but the Jets refused to cooperate. Have you ever faced your nephew in Madden and scored an easy touchdown because his defensive strategy is to keep switching defenders and hitting the dive stick? That was the Jets defense as McKinnon scampered 55 yards for a ridiculous first down.
I could write an entire series of books on that one play, but let’s stick to one brief observation: defensive coordinator Gregg Williams didn’t appear to realize it’s 3rd-and-31, as the Jets were not in the kind of prevent formation which should have held McKinnon to, say, 25 yards even if a dozen other things went wrong. But then, Williams has gotten used to practicing against Adam Gase’s offense, which considers 3rd-and-2 the perfect situation for a one-yard pass.
This Week in Face Shields
Yes, Andy Reid is still wearing a face shield, this time with some undisclosed defogging technology (perfect for a sunny 75 degree day in Los Angeles).
Yes, it still looks silly. And no, NFL head coaches should not really have to wear anything while on the sideline, outdoors, in a controlled setting, surrounded by the most rigorously COVID-tested members of American society. But it’s a small sacrifice to make so Cousin Jed can’t use NFL coaches as subtle debate points when red-faced screaming at a Walmart greeter.
Anyway, Carolina Panthers coach Matt Rhule wore a face shield for a portion of the loss to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. And while Reid no longer looks like he’s searching for microwave pizzas in the frozen food aisle, the bespectacled Rhule looks like a substitute teacher trying to demonstrate spot welding to a shop class.
Something Something Something Dark Side
Jon Gruden rankled sci fi fans everywhere last week by proclaiming “I don’t give a damn about Star Wars” when commenting on the fact that Allegiant Stadium (which is painted in ominous dark colors) is sometimes called the Death Star.
Actually, sci fi fans don’t care, in part because [switches to Simpsons Comic Book Guy voice] Star Wars is technically fantasy. But there’s interesting psychology behind Gruden’s need to express his distaste for what men like him perceive as nerd culture.
Back in Gruden’s formative years as a Real Football Tough Guy in the 1970s and 80s, Real Football Tough Guys liked football, pretty girls, cheeseburgers, toughness and almost nothing else.
Star Wars, computers, mathematics, comic books and video games were for meant for the underclass of pimply, tubby, pathetic dorks. That’s why guys like Gruden feel the reflexive need to vehemently disavow themselves of anything that smacks of unmanliness to them, including roughly 95 percent of our contemporary popular culture and day-to-day reality.
If Gruden caught one of the Raiders playing Animal Crossing he would probably cut him, if not recommend him for some sort of counseling.
Gruden actually tattled on himself a bit by revealing he even associated the Death Star with Star Wars: true 80’s macho man signaling required him to incorrectly say “Star Trek” to prove how totally dismissive he is of all that weirdo stuff.
Gruden may well be a closet Star Wars junkie who caught himself in the nick of time. “I don’t give a damn about Star Wars. Not since they made Rey the granddaughter of Emperor Palpatine. Didn’t J.J. Abrams read the Zeb Orellius series of novels at all? Or the Ashoka fanfic I mailed him?”
Most folks under the age of 50 have little trouble reconciling a passion for sports with a love of science fiction, video games, analytics or what-have-you. Those that fall back on “dork” tropes are trying a tad too hard and revealing their insecurities.
It’s OK to let go, Coach Gruden, as well as those who think like you: the era when “jocks” and “nerds” were separate cultures ended long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.