[ I Am Bengal II – Bengal Harder (Page
10) ]
The Dolphins, then, are heading for the Paul Brown off the back of giving a
strong San Diego side a damned good thrashing. Despite our home-field advantage,
we’re still seen as huge underdogs, the media unanimous in their belief that the
Marine-Mammals’ quick linebackers will shut down our running game, while better
passing teams than us have come unstuck courtesy of Sam Madison and Patrick
Surtain... Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s one thing trousering the Bolts in the balmy
warmth of Florida... it’s another coming to play the team with the best record
in the AFC in Ohio in January...
“You keep telling yourself that.”
I hope that you don’t turn out to be just another aspect of my own
twisted psyche. Because I really, really want to hunt you down and hurt you.
“Life’s full of little disappointments. This game will probably be another
one. We’ll start with what little good news there is – the Miami offensive line
is pretty beaten-up, particularly on the edges. If we’re to be in with a chance
of stopping their offence, we need a big day from our ends and outside
linebackers. Quarterback Jay Fiedler, like Akili Smith, is a caretaker, not a
gamebreaker, but he’s got as good a set of weapons around him as he’s had at any
point in his career. Chris Chambers and James McKnight have the speed to stretch
our defence, while Oronde Gadsen is a wily old pro who finds the seams and will
be a factor, particularly on 3rd down. It goes without saying that tight end
Randy McMicheal will get a few passes lobbed in his direction. And I haven’t
even gotten to the good news yet...”
Here it comes...
“If you were to sit down and specifically design A Halfback That Will Give
Our Defence Problems, what you’d come up with would look an awful lot like Ricky
Williams. He’s big. He’s strong. He’s quick to the outside, and quick through
the hole... If he gets rolling, they’ll control time of possession, and if that
happens we’ve got no chance. The game-plan has to be to gamble everything on
stopping the run, and challenge Fiedler to beat us with his arm. Admittedly,
worse quarterbacks than Jay Fiedler have had big games against us this year, but
hey.”
And on the other side of the ball?
“On the other side of the ball is where things get
really ugly for us.”
Great.
“This is the best pass defence in the league. Madison and Surtain have 25
interceptions this year between them, and they’re supported by an outstanding
pass-rush defensive line, led by RE Jason Taylor. Free safety Brock Marion is
yet another Pro-Bowler, and rookie SS Chuckie Collins is a weak link only in
relative terms – watch for him making big hits in the running game. If there’s
anything approaching a weakness in this team, it’s their run-defence – their
linebackers are small and quick, and so may have problems against a bruising
power-back like Corey Dillon.”
So, the bottom line is that we can’t afford to fall behind?
“Exactly. It’s almost impossible to score quickly on that secondary, and the
Miami offence is well set-up to control the ball and the clock – if we end up
trailing, it's more than likely that we’ll never catch up. Don’t fancy your
chances much, I have to say.”
Bah.
-
The AFC Championship game, then, and the Bengalville faithful are edgy.
Everyone is wondering whether this might be a game too far for the plucky lads
in the orange-and-black, whether this is where the clock strikes midnight and
our fairytale carriage turns back into a pumpkin. So many years of failure, of
humiliation, of being the punchline to a bad joke, has left the Cincinnati fans
afraid to believe, in case they get let down yet again...
Still, we win the toss and get the ball to start the game, so that’s
alright.
The plan is to keep the ball on the ground early, and only go to the air once
we’ve worn this impressive Miami defence down a little. The drawback with that,
though, is that if you have to pick up yards with every single rush – the first
time a run gets stuffed, you’re facing a 2nd or 3rd-and-long, with the defence
sitting there just waiting for the pass. Our initial drive stalls out at halfway
when a wide-open Matt Schobel simply drops a ball that hits him in the hands,
then a nervous Akili Smith overthrows Peter Warrick on 3rd down. The punt’s a
good ‘un, though, angled out at the Miami 13.
Stop the run, I don’t care how, just stop the fricking run... And it looks good
on the first play from scrimmage, when Ricky Williams piles into a posse of
tacklers, goes down hard and has to limp from the field, clutching at his
knee... that’s a bit of an unexpected bonus. Or possibly not, when on the next
play his backup, Travis Minor, breaks 3 tackles on his way to a 26 yard gain
that negates all the hard-won field-position we’d built up on our first
possession. Damn. Brian Simmons, the emotional leader of our D, has a few curt
words in the huddle, and the front seven pull themselves together, square their
shoulders and stuff three consecutive runs for minimal gain, the subsequent punt
sailing into our endzone. Going to be a tense one, this.
Our gameplan has budged not an inch, though, and we come out with 5 straight
runs - CD and Lorenzo Neal getting 23 yards between them. The increasingly
shaky-looking Schobel drops another one on 2nd and 10, so Akili goes back to Old
Faithful, Corey Dillon, with a screen pass that the league MVP takes 18 yards to
convert the 3rd down and end the first quarter of play. On the following snap,
we look to surprise them with another pass – Akili looks for Warrick on the
post, nothing doing – then Chad Johnson on the cross, but finds the zone too
crowded... But there’s CD again, drifting down the sideline. Akili lets go a
perfect touch-pass, floated over the head of a lurking linebacker into Dillon’s
waiting arms – 25 yards, 1st and goal. Flushed with success, we set up in the
I-form and try for the quick-slant to Chad Johnson – but the ball’s tipped at
the line of scrimmage... and picked off by Sam Madison.
Christ.
He returns it all the way to inside our territory, then three plays later on 3rd
and inches, Fiedler hits Oronde Gadsden on the hitch, Gadsden spins away from a
tackler and we can’t catch him all the way home... Damn and blast. 7-0.
Things don’t get better in a hurry. Their defence looks energised by the big
play, and we splutter 3-and-out. Out goes Harris for the punt, and that
perennial Bengal bugbear, kick return coverage, comes back to bite us yet again
- a long runback giving the Marine-Mammals 1st and 10 at our 32. For the second
consecutive pass-play, our secondary falls asleep - Chris Chambers takes the
pass on a quick-out, turns upfield and just outruns our entire defence to the
endzone... 2:40 to play in the first half and we’re 14-0 down, with nothing
whatsoever working for us on offence.
Do I remember someone saying that falling behind this Miami team might be a bad
idea? God’s sake...
Well, it’s good in one way – no more soul-searching about committing to the run.
We’re out of time, we’ve got to pass, so we might as well knuckle down and get
to it. Akili connects with Chad Johnson, streaking across the field on a
crossing-route, and the big speedster cuts upfield and turns the pass into a big
gain – 25 yards, to the Phish 40. 2 plays later, though, Lorenzo Neal is knocked
backwards on a 3rd and 2, and with the crowd howling, we go for it... only for
Neal to be cut down behind the line a second time.
Christ. We’re now officially at the bottom of a very deep hole, looking up to
try and see daylight. For all our fallibility against the pass, though, we’re
still playing defending the run really, really well, and faced with a 3rd and 10
with just over a minute to play, Dave Wannstadt is forced to try and throw,
since we still have a brace of timeouts to stop the clock should he try to grind
time out on the ground... This time the coverage is tight as you like, and
Fiedler’s forced to look for his escape-valve, Ricky Williams over the middle.
He –looks- for Williams, but what he finds is Takeo Spikes, and suddenly the
crowd are back in it – 1st down at the Marine-Mammal 32, 59 ticks left.
Throwing caution to the freezing Ohio winds, we come out in a four-wide set...
and it’s a blitz! Akili hangs on and hangs on ‘till he can see the reds of their
eyes – then just as he’s hit, he releases another perfect rainbow pass that arcs
down into Corey Dillon’s grasp... there’s an upsurge of noise from the crowd,
and CD’s off like a gazelle over the veldt, hurdling one tackler, stiff-arming
the strong safety... alright, I admit I haven’t seen too many gazelle doing
that... and powering into the endzone! MIA 14-7 CIN, and we’re not out of
this game yet!
The pendulum’s swinging our way, and we don’t want halftime to come and break
our flow... The interception, CD’s majesty, the crowd’s sudden enthusiasm has
lifted our defence, and they stop Miami cold yet again, and with 13 seconds to
play we burn our last timeout to force the ‘Phins to punt from their 40, looking
for a block or a decent return and quick field-goal. It’s a short kick, and Jon
Crane gathers it in at our 26 with nickelback Jabar Fletcher barely a step away.
Crane’s moving almost before he’s caught the ball, though, a sharp sidestep that
sees Fletcher go sailing past and a thunderous “OLE!” from the Bengalville
fans... and then Crane disappears beneath a three-way pile-up, Leon Searcy and
Jermaine Wiggins getting in on the act. Oh well. That’s the end of that, then.
Oh, hang on...
Somehow, Lord alone knows how, Jon comes bursting out the other side of the
gang-tackle, legs pumping like pistons, and when Fletcher’s last-gasp dive
doesn’t get him, it suddenly becomes obvious that nothing’s going to! He strides
into the endzone, arms spread wide in acceptance of the crowd’s astonished
approval, and launches the ball high up into the top-tier of the stadium –
unbelievable. From looking dead and buried, three big plays have gotten us right
back where we needed to be – and that’s all square at half-time. MIA 14-14 CIN.
-
God, we can’t lose it from here, we mustn’t lose it from here... it’s a game
of one half, now, whoever wants it more is going to come out on top. We’re
reaping what we’ve sown with our short-sighted receive-the-kickoff policy,
though, because Miami are going to get the ball at the start of the second half,
giving them a chance to set the tempo. The Bengalville faithful have become
believers, and we head out for the kick to the sort of ovation that’s normally
reserved for characters at the end of action movies.
The Marine Mammals obviously intend to establish the run, coming out of the
blocks with Ricky, Ricky and Ricky... but establishing the run is easier said
than done on our defence - on 3rd and 2 Williams and Brian Simmons hit the same
hole at the same time from opposite directions... and it’s the be-dreaded one
who ends up going backwards, to the shrieking delirium of the crowd. The Phish
punt away, and a decent return sees us with a 1st and 10 at our own 41. CD’s
champing at the bit, and we give him his head – following Neal up the middle
then cutting outside as Peter Warrick cleans out his corner. Zach Thomas gets
there, but only after a 19 yard pickup. This is a defence you have to respect,
though, and we’re soon in trouble, facing 3rd and 10 at the Miami 40. We go to
the shotgun and a four-wide set, starting with two receivers on each side then
putting Chad Johnson in motion to give us trips right – Peter Warrick, Johnson
and Jason Harris on one side, Willie Jackson the other. The ball’s snapped, and
Warrick draws Sam Madison away with a post-corner, while Harris runs a Z-out and
Johnson a Z-in. The pair cross, freezing the safety, Brock Marion, for a second
as he tries to decide who to follow, and that moment’s hesitation is enough to
give Chad Johnson a step... Akili puts the ball right into his path, and Johnno
barely breaks stride as he takes the catch, makes a wide, sweeping turn upfield
and just goes, Patrick Surtain finally putting him on the deck with a
last, despairing tackle – 1st and Goal at the 2. Dillon lowers his head and gets
stopped just short, then lowers his head again and bulls over to give us the
lead for the first time all afternoon – MIA 14-21 CIN.
Now it’s Miami playing catchup, but all credit to them, they don’t panic,
sticking with the ground game and letting Ricky Williams rumble for two quick
first-downs... then they get all clever, and a combination of pressure and good,
good coverage forces three incompletions and a punt deep into our territory. We
nurse the game through to the end of the 3rd quarter with a series of runs and
safer-than-Fort-Knox-type passes that bring us to halfway. The Marine Mammals
sense that this might be a game-icing score, and tighten up, getting us to a 3rd
and 9 on their 30. We come out with just CD lined up in the backfield and three
wideouts, Chad Johnson in the slot – he and tight-end Matt Schobel run ten yard
square-outs, while flankers Jason Harris and Peter Warrick slant straight across
the field from either side... Akili sees the rush coming, and waits, and
waits... Warrick comes open between the hashmarks, and Smith bullets the pass in
a split-second before Jason Taylor arrives with extreme prejudice. The ball’s
right on target... but Warrick drops it, looking upfield before he’s secured the
catch. Damn. And to add injury to injury, Akili’s clutching at his throwing
hand, obviously in an awful lot of pain. Damn. In a fit of purest optimism, we
fake the field-goal – Lord knows why, it’s not like we’ve had any success with
that play all season – and it’s no surprise to anyone when a stone-cold Jon
Kitna overthrows backup tight end Sean Brewer to turn the ball over on downs.
Damn.
The Dolphins smell blood (or is that sharks that do that?) and kick us while
we’re down (not a bad trick, if all you’ve got is flippers) driving sixty-five
yards, teasing us by letting us get them to 3rd and goal at the 5, then hitting
Chris Chambers in the back corner of the endzone to lock the game up at 21, 2:36
to play. Damn. And the news comes up from the head of my medical team, a man who
bears a freakish resemblance to Christopher Walken – whatever we’re going to do
in the last two-and-a-half minutes, we’re going to do it without our Pro-Bowl
quarterback. Akili’s broken a finger, putting him out for at least the rest of
the game.
To coin a phrase - Damn.
It comes down to this, then. One drive for the Big Show. Just like the games
on the school playground - next team to score wins. No Graham, no Akili, the
AFC’s best defence... As a wise man once said - this ain’t like dustin’ crops,
boy!
Let’s get.
It.
On.
Jon Crane does his bit, taking the kick return out to our 27, and Jon Kitna
leads the offence out, calm and cool, every inch the seasoned veteran. We’ve
still got time, and two runs by Corey Dillon and a little hitch-pass to Willie
Jackson get us to our 45 as we reach the 2-minute warning, still with all three
timeouts in our locker. CD plunges into the tiring defence once again, then we
find Lorenzo Neal on the screen, and it’s 1st and 10 at the Marine-Mammal 43.
The clock’s ticking now, though, and we need to start picking up the pace. Four
wide receivers come in, but this Miami pass-defence is rated the best in the
league for a reason... Johnno puts a pass on the ground, then on the following
play no-one can get so much as half a yard open, Kitna hangs onto the ball too
long waiting, and takes the sack... Damn. 3nd and 18 at our 48, 1:30 left. I
smack my fingers together in a T-shape, the zebras blow the whistle, and we’ve a
few seconds to think. Okay. Okay. Out we come in my favourite, single-back set,
lining up Peter Warrick and Chad Johnson, our two most dangerous receivers, on
the strong-side, rookie Jason Harris holding the fort on the other flank.
Johnson starts back toward the weakside, no defender making any move to go with
him, then trots back into his original starting position. The ball’s snapped,
and Johnson takes off downfield on a straightforward fly-pattern, first the
nickelback, then the safety, Brock Marion, haring off after him. Warrick,
meanwhile, looks initially like he’s doing the same, like this is an all-streaks
play, Sam Madison with him every step of the way... then Warrick abruptly
changes direction, posting in, and Madison breaks off to cover Corey Dillon,
handing Warrick on as the receiver enters Marion’s zone... Or, at least, the
zone where Marion would be, had he not just sprinted ten yards downfield to try
and cover Johnno. Warrick’s suddenly as open as he’s been all day... Kitna steps
up and launches the bomb, trying to lead Pete away from the strong safety who’s
scrabbling back to try and get into the play... But leads him too far. There’s
an audible groan from the crowd as a beautifully-designed play messes up because
of lousy execution, the pass falling a good three yards from Peter Warrick’s
grasp and...
...and....
...and Warrick stretches, his arm seeming to extend like he’s a member of the
Fantastic Four...
...and he gets the fingertips of one hand to the falling pigskin, bouncing it
back up into the air like he’s playing volleyball...
...and somehow, somehow, Warrick snags it out of the air, still one-handed,
pulling the ball into his chest, and the groan becomes a roar, disbelief and
exultation, as he breaks away for a first down and more, downed at the Miami 21,
1:07 left, clock ticking. No more chances – I look over my shoulder and shout at
Lawrence Stills, the rookie kicker, to get himself warmed up, because we’re not
going to throw and risk leaving this mob with any time or timeouts left to get
back at us. Three straight runs burn Miami’s final two timeouts and leave the
clock ticking when Neal’s run straight up the gut on 3rd and 2 leaves us at the
12, still a yard shy of the first, but right smack in the middle of the
hashmarks. We let the time run right down, calling timeout with two seconds left
on the playclock and 20 ticks remaining in the game – and out come Stills and
the kicking team to attempt a 29 yard field-goal... an eerie silence has fallen
over the Paul Brown, sixty-six thousand people holding their breath.
The snap’s good.
The hold’s perfect.
The kick’s up...
and straight...
and true.
The silence is swallowed by deafening white-noise, Stills is mobbed, but an
anxious look at the clock tells me there's sixteen ticks left, and the fat
lady’s still only clearing her throat...
If this season’s taught me anything, it’s that a game ain’t over ‘till you’re
looking at triple-zeroes. Miami are all out of timeouts, but it just takes a
lucky kickoff return to take us to overtime or, worse, to steal the game from us
altogether. The Bengalville faithful are going bananas, like this is done and
dusted already, but it isn’t, I know it isn’t... Up goes the kick, and it’s a
bad one, long, but sliced, angling alarmingly toward the right sideline... it
lands less than a yard from going out of bounds, then the Football Gods smile,
blessing us with an incredibly lucky bounce that sends the ball back into play
and out the back of the endzone for a touchback.
God damn. This game’s taken ten years off my life already...
Nothing fancy, here, we don’t get clever, it’s three down-linemen, Takeo Spikes
and seven DBs, all sat back in the prevent. Fiedler takes the snap, and gets the
ball off just before Sam Adams arrives for a meet-and-greet, hitting James
McKnight in-bounds... and Willie Middlebrooks is right there to bring him down,
there’s no way they can get to the line of scrimmage in time, and that’s ga...
wait... flag? Facemasking. 5 yards, but more importantly, the clock stops with 9
seconds to go and the ball at the Miami 40, and I’m expressing my feelings with
words that would get this post deleted on GameFAQs. So “damn” will have to do.
Time and distance is still on our side, and we stick in the prevent, which
allows McKnight another catch, and this time he skips out of bounds. Damn, damn,
damn...
4 seconds. Ball at our 40, the wind against the Dolphins... Wannstadt eschews
the tying 55 yard field-goal attempt, and lines up in the five-wide spread for
one last, desperate, potentially game-winning heave. The ball’s snapped, the
Phins race downfield, the clock runs out, Fiedler puts up the prayer... Surely
not... not now we’ve come so far...
No. Chambers makes the catch at our 20, Jon Crane and several close personal
friends pile on top of him, the zebras blow the whistle, no flags... game over.
GAME OVER! Mmmm, icy Gatorade down the back in Ohio in January – though I barely
notice, truth be told, being too busy running around the field, arms aloft,
screaming “WHO’S THE DADDY?!” at anyone and everyone within earshot.
Stick a fork in this one, she’s all done! Final score Miami 21 - Cincinnati
24, and the AFC Champion Bengals – AFC Champion Bengals! - advance to
Reliant Stadium in Houston, and Super Bowl XXXVIII...
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(c) daniel roe 2003
