Dear Peyton, it's me, Peyton

First appeared on February 10, 2016
in The Lebanon Reporter

Dear Peyton,

It's me. Well, it's you really. You know, it's Peyton, from the future. Look, I know you’re struggling with this whole retirement thing, and I totally understand because I’ve already been there; you know, since I’m from the future and all.

Anyway, I’m writing you to let you know that it would be best for all involved if you just retired right now, I mean, I would if I were you, which of course, I am. Just hurry up and get it over with. Think of it as ripping a Band-Aid off. Sure there’ll be some immediate pain and suffering, but after a long, long, long time, you won’t even miss football. And, considering you were sacked over 300 times in your career, it won’t really matter, because by that time you won’t even remember you played anyway.

Look, I get it. Football’s been really good to you and you love it more than Papa John Schnatter and life itself. And it’s going to be hard to walk away from the crowds chanting your name and the little kids running around in your jerseys and the millions upon millions of dollars in endorsements you stand to lose by retiring and the fact you are on national television sixteen weeks out of the year and the endless line of beautiful women fawning over you and the countless babies who bear your name. From where you sit right now, this retirement thing must look extremely disappointing and, I’ll be frank, it pretty much is (though, legally, I’m not supposed to tell you that).

I get that you want to keep playing, but the reality is you can't. Football is a violent sport that has taken a massive toll on your body. It's also an incredibly fast sport and, well you and fast are two words that have never shared space in the same sentence, except for last Sunday when my wife said, “Geez, did you see how fast Peyton went to kiss Papa John?” And, diminished skills aside, drinking Budweiser and eating Papa John’s pizza isn’t exactly the best training regimen if you plan on sharing a field with some of the best athletes in the world.

See, the media blasted Cam Newton for not jumping on a fumble, and he’s young, strong, athletic, and the reigning league MVP. Can you just imagine what they’ll do to you when it’s week 8 and you’re playing with two dislocated hips, have yet to complete a forward pass, and your coaches are lobbying the league to allow you to throw the ball from a litter carted around by your offensive line?

Besides, there’s plenty of cool stuff waiting for you in the future. Like right now, they’re offering a $30 million reward for anyone who can find President Sanders after he forgot who he was and wandered out of the White House two weeks ago. They also made this really awesome new Star Wars movie where the Rebels have to try and disable the Empire’s protective shield long enough to destroy this giant machine the Dark Side has created to blow up the universe; spoiler alert, the Rebels win.

You had a good, some would say maybe even better than Tom Brady, run. You won your last game, well, really, Von Miller and the rest of the Bronco defense won your last game, but you still have two rings, which means Thanksgiving and Christmas won’t be nearly as uncomfortable for you anymore. So do your knees, hips, back, arm, neck, shoulder, brain, wife and children a favor and hang the cleats up as soon as you finish reading this.

Sincerely,

Peyton from the Future

© 2016 Eric Walker Williams

Now its Manning vs. Father Time

First appeared on January 21st, 2016
in The Lebanon Reporter


We watch the NFL Playoffs for the exhilaration of an incredible play. This mixed with the world’s strongest men trying to avoid the finality of elimination. Iron faced warriors who, in the face of a crushing defeat, are often reduced to sniveling jellyfish.

After handing the NFL’s all time leading passer a clipboard just a few weeks before, Bronco Head Coach Gary Kubiak had no choice but to bring Peyton Manning out of early retirement Sunday. Despite posting a few dazzling seasons in Denver, Manning has suddenly become nothing short of average. Gone is both the zip from his fastball and killer look in his eyes.

Somehow you expect him to be there year after year having shown absolutely no signs of aging. How soon Father Time’s undefeated record is forgotten. He’s Michael Jordan in a Wizards uniform or Joe Montana as a Chief. And yet, as with Jordan and Montana before, you can’t bring yourself to root against him.

Your break up was incredibly difficult and, in many ways, Manning is that crush you just can’t shake. You’ve seen him at his best and worst and discovered multiple shortcomings, but still some part of you simply won’t let go. You no longer want your current signal caller, but you’re not a Broncos fan and you’re not a bandwagon jumper, which means you’re forced to long from afar.

Watching and wondering how perfect life would be if only he were your quarterback. You’ve tried everything short of therapy to get this crush out of your head. You ordered War and Peace off Amazon and fought your way to page 75. You signed up for a spinning class but soon decided you were getting nowhere and so you quit and joined a gardening club only to discover it’s dormant until Spring; which leaves only football.

So you wound up in front of the television Sunday as Denver met up with Pittsburgh convinced you were watching your crush playing his last game. He was the wounded wildebeest and Pittsburgh would play the swift and powerful lion. This wouldn’t take long. One quick swipe of a fore paw and Manning would be down, never to rise again.

And as one duck after another flew forth from his hands, Manning looked increasingly shell-shocked as the Broncos sputtered into the Fourth Quarter trailing. But then, just as the Steelers appeared ready to pounce and the beat writers were preparing his obit, Manning stood tall on a 3rd and 12 to deliver an absolute strike to Bennie Fowler for a 31 yard gain. To this point it marks the play that saved Denver’s season.

I still remember where I was when Kirk Gibson hobbled up to the plate and homered in the World Series against Oakland. Father time having stolen his luster and both knees. It was an ordinary moment sharing pizza with a brother who’d just returned from Germany until Gibson’s improbable home run burned it forever into my brain.

The smell of that pizza and grease on my fingers remain fresh thirty years later. That’s where we are with Manning. He’s Kirk Gibson struggling to the plate, a shell of what he was. No longer the imposing slugger, Manning still remains as good once as he ever was (thanks Toby) and he’s more than capable of offering up a forever moment.

And that’s why we watch. We hang on for those moments, be they good, bad or indifferent. Sunday has all the markings of a game that will undoubtedly provide such a moment. What remains to be seen is can Manning stave off Father Time for one more chance, or is this the end of the line for your old flame?

© 2016 Eric Walker Williams

Time for Manning to kick the Colts

First appeared on November 6th, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

So your Colts are 3-5 and one person lighter on the payroll. They are a listing ship that has strayed far, far from course. A storm is brewing on the horizon, skies of dark blue and orange threaten as a power struggle has erupted at the helm.

Suddenly Jim Irsay, Chuck Pagano and Ryan Grigson are busy trying to elbow each other out of the way. Of course the bad news for Colts fans is, at this point it really doesn’t matter who grabs the wheel because nobody seems to know where they’re going anyway.

Pep Hamilton was forced off the plank, but don’t worry he didn’t see it coming. His face was buried in his poster-sized play chart hunting up another long pass play and he simply sunk like a stone. And now Rob Chudzinski has been handed the Scotch Tape and Superglue, so as to piece together what’s left of Andrew Luck’s ego. Meanwhile Luck, the once promising and unquestioned Captain, has been relegated to the hold, where he huddles in a dark corner, shell-shocked and shivering, mumbling to himself like a half-wit.

And the storm closes in as the ship rolls uncontrollably. An undefeated team, a tremendously talented defense and the future Hall of Famer the Colts gave up on four years ago are about to swamp what’s left of Indy’s half-submerged deck.

But he was done, his arm a noodle, no feeling in his hands. He can’t throw the deep ball anymore, look at his numbers. Manning isn’t what he used to be, Bob from Quality Control says, which is true, but he has a world class defense behind him you counter, one that has led him to an undefeated start. This is a point Bob is quick to shrug off as if he was the one who invented the Jet Sweep or Nickel Defense, which of course means conceding anything football to you is therefore forever beneath him.

Still, tired as he may appear, Manning’s Broncos are not the defenseless gazelle that has strayed from the herd, the one the Colts so desperately need to pounce on right now. Instead, they are a rabid she-wolf with superhuman strength and play every down as if you just kicked one of their pups in the teeth.

And so the greatest mind ever to play the sport sails in to town at the same time one of the games brightest young minds appears to have lost his. In the world of the NFL, the quarterback discussion will begin and end with Peyton until we are all dust in the wind, or Brett Favre attempts yet another comeback, whichever happens first.

So come on in Denver, everything else has gone wrong. Colts nation should embrace their impending beat down. They should open their arms and welcome the absolute skull-rattling thrashing their team will take Sunday. Here’s hoping the skies open up and it rains touchdowns. After all, the storybook years Peyton gave us deserve a Hollywood ending. One that includes his vanquishing the team that quit on him. And we all know a good vanquishing is not a true vanquishing without complete and utter domination.

Somehow it seems fitting that, for once, we should realize the fate so many suffered at the hands of Manning’s Colts for lo those many years. Don’t let the firing of Pep Hamilton fool you, this season is lost. With that in mind, let’s go out and set a new NFL record for points allowed. Let’s send Peyton out with more than a bang. Let’s send him out with an eruption of Krakatoan proportions.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

Can we take the 'Super' out of this Bowl Please?

First appeared on January 28th
in The Lebanon Reporter

The beat down the Indianapolis Colts suffered in the AFC Championship came as a public service reminder to Colts fans everywhere that the New England Patriots remain evil personified. The long faces, missed opportunities and inability run, throw, catch or even stop the football seemed strangely familiar. Perhaps more maddening than the Colts performance was knowing the eternally perplexed Bill Belichick had found yet another slimy way to push NFL rules to their limit.

Colts fans found solace in the fact Belichick appeared so miserable that surely he, along with every other person who’s ever worn clothing since the dawn of time, had decided his old friend the hooded sweatshirt was in fact a bad choice. This epiphany arrived only after a torrential rainstorm swept over Gillette Stadium during the third quarter of the AFC title game. Of course a rainstorm on a January night in New England also served to prove to a national television audience that global warming is in fact real and that, after all these years, the Colts still can’t run the football.

So as the Colt equipment managers were busy collecting the stray pieces of their team’s pride from the field, you found yourself attempting to shatter the awkward silence that had consumed your viewing party by asking if anyone wanted more nachos or felt like driving the fourteen hours to Foxboro in order to crush Belichick’s kneecaps. But in the end you realized, that as a Midwesterner, violence just isn’t in your blood so you microwaved another corndog before chewing on the same question fans of 29 other professional football teams are asking themselves; “What do we do now?”

What do you do when the Super Bowl offers a completely unpalatable match-up? New England will be playing in the sixth Super Bowl of the Belichick Era while Seattle will seek to become the first team to repeat as World Champion since Belichick’s Patriots a decade ago. For most, choosing between the Seahawks and Patriots will be like choosing between a punch in the stomach and a kick to that one place your Third Grade teacher told you was very special and only for you.

This leaves the average fan conflicted. For when you’re dog is out of the fight, it’s human nature to back the scrappiest one remaining, to root for the man in the white hat to ride in swiftly on his trusty steed and overcome evil in a generically non-violent, yet oddly believable way. The problem with Super Bowl XLIX is that it will be played indoors; therefore the forecast calls for a 100% chance of no scrappy dogs or white hats.

The Hoodie and Seahawks front man Pete Carroll both arrive with unwanted baggage (see Reggie Bush, Spygate and the proper inflation of a football per NFL rules). Furthermore its widely known the Patriots torture unwanted kittens in their free time and the Seahawks are in essence the same guy who stole your girlfriend in seventh grade and then again in high school; twice. In short, these two deserve each other.

So we as fans are left to wonder if it’s in fact possible for both teams to lose the Super Bowl. And while it may seem unlikely nobody will win, it remains a hope many Americans will cling to come Super Bowl Sunday; 100% according to one unpublished and highly unscientific poll conducted minutes before writing this column.

So fear not disgruntled Colt fans for you still have time to lobby the NFL to enact a rule change that will allow each team to lose this game. It shouldn’t be all that controversial really, considering the Shield has a history of ignoring their own rules anyway.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Pep Hamilton, Meet Andrew Luck

First appeared on November 6, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

As Joe Colt Fan watched his team destroy the Giants on Monday Night Football, there were many positives for him to dote on. The offense was clicking, the defense ground up the Giants and Pat "boomstick" McAfee continued his stellar special teams play. Lost in the shuffle however, was one small U-turn that has completely transformed the Colt offense.

When Pep Hamilton was asked to write the Colt offensive playbook, his declaration they would become a “power running team” caught many off guard (and by many here, we mean everyone but Pep Hamilton). And while most first time NFL coordinators would tailor their offense around the strongest pieces they have, like say maybe a 6’4 lumberjack of a quarterback who happens to be a number one overall pick blessed with an uncommon natural play-making ability, Hamilton shocked the world by choosing to go against the grain.

It’s true we as red, white and blue blooded Americans love celebrating those who find success in unconventional ways, but in this case success and the Colts as a “power running team” are mutually exclusive. Coming in to play Monday night, the Colts rushing attack was ranked 15th in the NFL; a position that doesn’t warrant the descriptors “power” or “running team”.

Then, somewhere along the way to Monday night, Hamilton’s approach changed. We may never know if his recent revelation, the one better known as the decision to focus the offense around Andrew Luck instead of an ill-conceived vision for becoming a “power running team”, came because Hamilton realized Luck is a rare talent, or he simply wanted to keep his job.

For all Joe Colts Fan knows Hamilton woke up one day, still fully committed to developing his “power running team”, only to slip on the bathroom floor and hit his head on the tub. Perhaps it was the ensuing case of amnesia that led Hamilton to call Chuck Pagano for advice on the Colt Offense. It’s quite possible Pagano told a foggy Hamilton, “Well, Pep, I don’t know much about coaching that side of the football, but seems to me the ball should be in Andrew’s hands 90-95% of the time.”

Or maybe Hamilton woke up one night, clad in striped one piece PJ’s complete with long sleeping cap, only to find the ghost of terrible first halves past had jangled his way to the foot of his bed to remind Pep how many times the Colts had been down double digits at halftime only to abandon the power running game and storm back on the arm and legs of Andrew Luck.

It’s of little consequence to Joe Colts Fan what predicated the switch because his life is now far too exciting to waste time on conjecture. Suddenly Joe Colts Fan’s phone is blowing up because Luck is an MVP candidate and the Colts are Super Bowl favorites. Let us not forget, they’re also the gold standard in the AFC South (OK, so maybe it’s entirely possible their position in the AFC South would remain unchanged even if Roy Rogers’ stuffed horse Trigger were taking snaps).

The moral is Joe Colts Fan shouldn’t get lost in the semantics of varying offensive philosophies. He’s always been a give me the facts kind of guy. And, as of this week anyway, the facts remain Luck is doing what Luck does best, making plays with the ball in his hands. So fear not Joe Colt Fan, for it seems your team has finally realized what you and those in your inner circle, including that one brother in law who says he played in high school but you suspect doesn’t know a football from a coconut, knew all along. Andrew Luck is a rare talent and a horse that should be ridden for four quarters.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

The Colts must win it all and they must win it all now.

First appeared on December 23rd, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

All this talk about 16 and 0 has more heads spinning than the County Fair Tilt-a-Whirl. Go for it or don’t. It means everything or it means nothing. What will they do? Is Jim Caldwell really willing to sacrifice a 14-0 start?
With all this undefeated noise clogging our airways it would once again seem we are unable to see the forest for the trees. Forget staying undefeated in the regular season, it is the looming playoff run that will ultimately define the year as well as likely determine the fate of the Colts franchise. What are they? Are they truly champions? Perhaps they are merely just a team built to dominate the regular season. Are they truly the best or are they simply the ones who wanted it more when the games meant less?
Sure they have won the AFC South (like every year since the NFL created it). But what does that really get you? We also know how the NFL regular season works. Some teams get everybody’s best shot. Defending champions (Pittsburgh), the media darlings (Dallas), public enemy #1 (New England) and then there are those who fly beneath the radar gobbling up wins like a champion Hungry-Hungry-Hippo player. A small market traveling medicine show piloted by arguably the greatest football mind ever to lace them up. Is this an accurate description of the Indianapolis Colts or are they truly the best?
A Super Bowl trophy is the only thing that can prove once and for all that the Colts are the class franchise of the NFL. Without it they are all merely deckhands on the S.S. Manning charting a path towards the land where the Buffalo Bills roam. As great as this season has been and as amazing as Manning has played, history won’t remember 16-0 without a championship (see the Patriots). History is far kinder to champions. That’s why Emmitt Smith is doing Just For Men Hair Gel commercials and Thurman Thomas is, well we don’t really know what Thurman Thomas is doing now do we?
The point is the Colts have come too far not to finish this thing. Would anyone really care about Christopher Columbus had he almost made the Caribbean only to turn back home because he forgot to DVR “Desperate Housewives”? Not securing a Lombardi Trophy this season would be like the Allies successfully invading Normandy only to go on and lose to the Axis powers. We’re talking about history now and history is bigger than any sprained toe or sore knee. History is forever.
The answer is simple. The Colts need to play their last 5 games like they are the last games they will ever play. They need to play like caged lions turned loose in a Turkey pen on Thanksgiving morning. They need to play like they are foot soldiers marching to the sea with General Sherman. They need to play like they are all stunt doubles acting in the last five minutes of any Bruce Willis movie ever made (except Blind Date of course). They need to play with the reckless abandon Olive Oyl would show in a steel cage death match with a female East German Olympic athlete sporting thighs the size of an elephant’s neck. Well, you get the idea.
The time is now. The accomplishments of this season to date mean little. The gaudy statistics are nice, but without the luster of a championship trophy records tend to tarnish with age. Everything that matters lies on the horizon; the question is whether the Colts will make it that far or not.

Tales from Jim O'Brien's Christmas Stocking

First appeared on December 16th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

As Colts coach Jim Caldwell struggles with how best to play out his schedule, he has not been at a loss for advice. To the surprise of nobody, Peyton Manning and Dwight Freeney both say they want to play but will accept Caldwell’s decision. Most understand the pressures of mainstream society require that all card-carrying members of “The Former Coaches of America Club” weigh in on such unclear issues. Former Bears Coach Mike Ditka says play your starters till the end while Tony Dungy sticks by his decision to rest guys when there is nothing left to play for. While Caldwell wrestles with his decision, across town another professional coach is struggling with issues of his own. At the time of writing this the Pacers, despite winning two straight, were still 5 games under .500 and had just lost Danny Granger for a month.
While the Pacers struggles can’t be hung solely on one player, they likely will wind up hanging one man. It’s probably safe to say Pacer Coach Jim O’Brien’s season isn’t off to the start he’d hoped for. Though off season acquisitions Dahntay Jones and Tyler Hansbrough have brought excitement the Pacers still find themselves one game away from slipping into the Central Division basement; and taking up permanent residence here is likely not the best career move O’Brien could make right now.
According to the numbers the Pacers are better defensively. This comes as a relief after a long off-season that saw the front office wear the word defense out just as the mass media have drummed the Tiger Woods story to death. What then is the explanation?
One issue is Danny Granger. As good as he has been on the offensive end the Pacers need more from him defensively. Bird needs to rig the Pacer Secret Santa draw so he can gift Granger a DVD of Michael Jordan’s Greatest Hits. The idea is to understand how Mike dominated BOTH ends of the floor. To take his game to the next level, and win more games, Granger needs to welcome the match up with the opponent’s best offensive player (translation: stop making Jones guard LeBron). Granger’s athletic 6’8 frame should be enough to help him lock down the top scorers in the league.
The second hint Santa would stick in Jim O’Brien’s stocking if he were a Pacers fan is that its time to sit TJ Ford. In virtually every Pacer loss the team has suffered though dry spells where they’ve made scoring points look like a third grader trying to do Calculus. This falls on the point guard. It took Jarrett Jack about two months to put some doubt in O’Brien’s mind last year as to who should be starting. With Jack gone to Toronto, the same has now happened with Earl Watson.
The point is clear. When Watson is on the floor, the Pacers are stronger defensively and the ball moves better. Open shots are just one direct result of good ball movement and, with the shooters the Pacers have, finding more open shots should be enough to avoid those dreaded dry spells that have plagued them all season.
The point is not to give up on Ford. He can be a nice change of pace off the bench and provide your second five with some offense. If he doesn’t want this however, then the point is to give up on Ford.

You can put lipstick on a bad decision and it's still a bad decision

First appeared on November 18th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

Sunday Night’s Colts-Patriots match up had it all. The bright lights of primetime, the drama that comes with two of the games biggest stars locking horns and, not to mention, all the excitement that comes with “Bring your own mousetrap night” at Lucas Oil Stadium.
With NBC’s Chris Collinsworth dubbing it the “greatest rivalry of all time”, this game had hype too. In fact when was the last time we saw so much hype surrounding anything? OK, obviously not counting Oprah’s interview with Sarah Palin. Patriot fans waited patiently and, this is just a guess, were probably disappointed (in both instances).
After the Pacers beat the Celtics Friday night, the weekend started very well for those who harbor a genuine dislike for professional sports franchises based in the New England area. And just when it seemed the Patriots would even the score Sunday Night, Patriots Head Coach Bill Belichick finally rolled the dice one too many times.
Chapter 1 of the “Idiot’s Guide to Beating the Colts” says load the line of scrimmage up and run the ball down their throats. In true Belichick style however, the Patriots threw the book out the window. New England appeared more interested in going after an Indianapolis secondary filled with so many new faces that even season ticket holders were busy scrambling for their programs.
It was quintessential Belichick, flying in the face of conventionality. Genius he may be, he still is as nontraditional as they come. Clad in a ratty sweatshirt and mousy hair, the Patriot’s head coach looks more like the volunteer assistant for a high school team rather than the leader of a three time World Champion. Despite this, all the guy does is generate game plans capable of stopping football’s version of Albert Einstein (Peyton Manning) in his tracks. Belichick is the image of the guy you’d see dipping snuff on the sidelines of a varsity game while telling 17 year olds to “check the tape” to prove he once scored five touchdowns against a county rival.
Looking back there were so many decisions that went wrong for Indianapolis. Poor choices that should have sunk them starting with the indoor fireworks that ignited the turf and almost caused the mass evacuation of 65,000 people. Then there was Peyton’s intercepted pass to Pierre Garcon in the 3rd quarter which became a poor choice considering it followed a momentum stealing pick by Antoine Bethea. And let us not forget the game time decision to keep the roof closed on the Luke; which one can only surmise was made to protect Al Michaels’ new hair hat from springing to life in the stirring Midwestern winds.
Of course the “Worst Decision of the Night” award goes to Belichick for not punting on 4th and 2 from his own 30 yard line with two minutes left in the game. In making the call so much was lost. The game, probably any hope for homefield advantage and perhaps even Belichick’s status as “Greatest Modern Football Mind”.
Forget the inability of the Colts to stop the run, the real story of this game was their inability to run the ball. Youth was another factor. All season long the Colts have leaned on a group of rookies for production. Sunday night this crew, who had previously been nothing but solid, finally looked like the rookies they are. All this together should have been enough to seal the fate of the men in blue, but then Belichick happened. Simply put, Indy’s the better team; and the good news for Belichick is we’ve got the tape to prove it.