Friday, February 8, 2013

Humilation and Vindication: Frey's Super Bowl Wrap Up

I’m not even quite sure where to begin.  I’ve had better results predicting things I don’t even understand like cricket or whether or not that dude from the office is faking his neck injury.
I nearly broke into tears for the safety of my children when I realized that I had told a friend that I agreed with scientists that the big-assed asteroid that is going to buzz earth wouldn’t hit us.
If I had picked the Globetrotters to win straight up the Washington generals would have beat the #$%& out of them.
It was a bad postseason.  2-7-2.  A very bad post-season.
But from the ashes of my self-respect, one aspect of my post-season writings and rants ascends like a phoenix.  In nearly every game of this post-season (it would have been every game if the Falcon-Seahawks contest hadn’t been played at like 3:30 AM Pacific), the team that exhibited the spirit of attack, concocting creative and generally balsy ways to assault their foes, won the day.
Week upon infuriating week, superior teams strutted through their respective tunnels like a spry 52 year-old woman into a bingo parlor and only to get dropped by the guys who did not hand it to the fullback on 3rd and 8 or refuse to blitz a guy who takes 7-step drops.
The Super Bowl was no exception to this rule.  Until I caused the power outage in one last dying effort to get one of my picks right, the game was crap.  In fact, the first 31 minutes of game time sullied the good name of crap.
Baltimore threw it deep, blitzed, changed up formations, and even faked a field goal down on their opponent’s 14 yard line.
Until forced to sack up by a 22 point deficit, San Francisco displayed such gems as a halfback dive on 3 and 14 on the first drive of the game, a consistently vanilla pass-rush, and a punt inside the Raven’s 40.
For the 3rd straight game, the Raven’s coaching staff (unlike their contemporaries) acted like they thought they might be kncked out of the playoffs if they lost.  Just why this possibility did not occur to other franchises is anyone's guess but for the 3rd straight game, Baltimore defeated a team that, on paper, they had no business defeating.  Fortune favors the bold.
 I loved the fake field goal call.  When you are an older team that is inferior in athleticism and dynamism, you must go for the throat when you can.  An 18 point lead at that point in the game and the fat lady would have started belting out a few test notes. 
The fact that it didn’t work was almost immaterial.  The very audacity of that call signaled to the Niners that they were in for a brouhaha, trapped them down on their own end, and kept anyone wearing gold from the couch to the bench from settling into anything approximating a comfort zone. 
However, the most telling play, for me at least, came late in the game with the Ravens facing a 3rd and long  (6,7,8 yards I cannot now recall).
Just as the Ravens did to the Broncos 3 weeks prior, the 49ers loaded the box with anyone that could be spared, leaving the receivers with 1 on 1 coverage. 
Did the Ravens obligingly plunge into the line, conceding the series in the interest of a few more ticks off the clock?  Nay!  They noted the single coverage and chucked the ball to a large and talented Anquan Bolden (kind of like a slow Demarius Thomas) and let their play-makers actually make plays.
In retrospect, this intelligent, confident, and courageous play call did not directly impact the result, but put on display the stark contrast between John Harbaugh and John Foxenheimer/Old Lady Belichick.
In order to bring home Vince’s trophy, an entire organization must bring their best each and every week in the playoffs.  The players, the coaches, the water boys, the ball dryers, the equipment managers, everyone. 
To the Ravens’ credit, a combination of lady luck, execution, PED’s (there is no way a 37 year-old Ray Lewis gets back from a 6-month injury in 2 months and then has 17 tackles in a double OT game with a -2 degree wind chill), and aggressiveness earned them their championship rings and bestowed upon me the ignominious title of “worst playoff prognosticator of 2013.” 
Screw you Baltimore.
Go Broncos!
This has been Frey.

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