[ I Am Bengal II – Bengal Harder (Page
9) ]
DER! Der-der-DER! Der-der-DER! Der-der-DEEEERRRR!
Deep, Resonant Voiceover: “Previously, on “I Am Bengal - Hear Me
Roar”...”
”Risin’ up, back on the street, took my time, took my chances!”
*Quick-cutting through various shots of a press-conference, cameras flashing,
reporters clamouring, all attention on a podium behind which sits Mike Brown
(played by Donald Sutherland) and Coach Rodafowa (Gary Oldman. Shut up...),
wearing an Eric Cartman “Respect My Authority!” t-shirt.*
Brown: “The Cincinnati Bengals announce their new Head Coach and General
Manager for the 2002 season... Dan Rodafowa!”
*Montage of the Bengal training facility – Brown and Rodafowa watching as
players collide with each other, drop passes then trip over the ball, run into
the goalposts, take a handoff then run the wrong way...*
Brown: *dryly* “Good luck, Coach...”
”Went the distance, now I’m back on my feet, just a man, and his will to
survive!”
*Cut to an otherwise-deserted locker-room, Coach Rodafowa talking to Akili Smith
(Will Smith).*
Rodafowa: “It doesn’t matter a funk what those other coaches called you,
son. It don’t matter a funk what the funking barstewards in the funking media
said about you... Those muddy-funsters don’t know what they’re talking about. I
know you’ve got what it funking takes, boy, you don’t have to prove anything to
me – you’ve just got to prove it to yourself...”
*Another montage... Daniel Graham (Chris Rock) taking a catch in the endzone
surrounded by Chargers, Corey Dillon (Lawrence Fishburne) bouncing off tacklers,
Justin Smith (Hugh Jackman) knifing through to sack Chris Weinke, Akili Smith
stepping up in the pocket to launch a bomb to Chad Johnson (Vin Diesel)...*
Announcer: “And the spectacular renaissance of Akili Smith and the
Cincinnati Bengals continues! With this victory the team move to 9-4, and just
need to beat Jacksonville this week to lock up their first playoff appearance in
a decade!”
*Cut to Akili getting hit hard from his blindside by a Jaguar, hitting the turf
and staying down. Cut to a silent crowd rising to its feet. Cut to players
gathering around fallen quarterback. Cut to Coach Rodafowa’s face, stoic but
with a just a hint of inner pain...*
Doctor: “It’s bad, Coach...”
*Cut to the doctor’s grim face (Christopher Walken), backlit*
Doctor: “...he’s done for the season.”
”So many times, it happens too fast, you trade your passion for glory...”
*Arial shot of the RCA Dome, cut to Corey Dillon hammering through the Colt
defensive line for a short scoring run...*
Announcer: “Ho-ly cow! And with that tying touchdown this see-saw
wildcard game’s going to overtime! The next team to score goes on to the
Divisional round... but there’s no next week for the losers...”
*Close-up of Chad Johnson’s eyes...*
Announcer: “And with less than two minutes to play in this overtime
period, the Colts are forced to punt the ball away. Chad Johnson stands deep for
the return...”
*The camera slowly moves in, the fear plain on Johnson’s face, a thumping
heartbeat the only sound, its tempo increasing...*
Announcer: “The punt’s away!”
”Don’t lose your grip – on the dreams of the past...”
*The shot widens, Johnson is looking up, watching the flight of the ball... the
heartbeat builds, ber-boom, ber-boom, ber-boom, ber-boom ber-boom ber-boom ber-boom...
then the noise cuts out, and there’s silence as the ball lands in his hands, and
silently, slow-motion, bounces out to fall inch by agonising inch to the turf,
landing with the sound of a gunshot...*
Announcer: “Fumble! Fumble!”
*Quick cuts – Johnson’s face, the crowd rising to its feet, Coach Rodafowa, his
mouth forming a slow-motion “nooooooooooo!”, the Indianapolis defenders piling
onto the ball...*
Announcer: “The Colts recover!”
*Cut to a shot of Mike Vanderjagt slotting a short field-goal, cut to Coach
Rodafowa turning away, head down, cut to Johnson, alone on the bench, face in
his hands, cut to Mike Brown, steely-eyed with cold fury...*
Announcer: “The Colts win! The Colts win! And all Cincinnati’s valiant
efforts this season have been for nothing!”
”You must fight, just to keep them alive!”
*The physio’s office in the RCA Dome, straight after the game, Mike Brown and
Rodafowa standing on either side of a treatment table, both leaning forward,
angry body-language.*
Brown: “That kid cost us the funking game! I want his funking asset the
funk out of my funking team!”
Rodafowa: “Without that kid we’d never have been in the funking
playoffs! If he goes, I go!”
*Shot of Rodafowa storming from the office into the locker-room – the whole team
sitting silent, dejected, having heard the whole thing. Johnson, leaning against
a wall looks up as Rodafowa enters.*
Johnson: “Sorry, Coach. Guess I really funked up...”
Rodafowa: “You can stow that funking poppycock, son. We’ll be back. We’ll
all be back. They haven’t heard the last of us, boys, I funking promise you
that...”
”It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the cream of the fight...”
*Another quick-cutting training montage... this one, in contrast to the first,
looks incredibly slick and incredibly focussed, catches being taken crisply,
defenders smacking into tackle-bags with ferocity, shuttle-sprints being run
flat-out...*
”Risin’ up to the challenge of our rivals!”
Announcer: “And who woulda thunk it? Dismissed as a one-season wonder,
written off before a game was played this year, given up on again when star
tight-end Daniel Graham was lost with a season-ending injury, the Cincinnati
Bengals have once again surprised everyone with their charge to become the top
seed in the AFC playoff race. With the help of comeback player of the year Akili
Smith...”
”And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night...”
*Cut to Smith dancing through tackles...*
Announcer: “...and Corey Dillon, the NFL’s most valuable player...”
*CD, roaring a challenge as he shouldercharges a tackler out of his path and
smashes into the endzone...*
Announcer: “...Coach Rodafowa has brought this franchise back from the
pit of despair to within touching distance of the greatest prize in world team
sports... well, other than the World Cup, that goes without saying. And maybe
the Copa America, with all those Brazilian and Argentinean fans, that’s pretty
wild... but definitely, definitely, he’s given them a shot at one of the top 3
prizes in world sport, yeah, that’s the ticket. And now, with a massively
improved defence, spearheaded by Brian Simmons and Takeo Spikes...”
*Simmons (Lawrence Taylor) and Spikes (Wesley Snipes) combining for a
bone-crunching tackle...*
Announcer: “...and with the added threat of rookie Jonathon Crane, the
league’s top return-specialist...”
*Crane (Mark Wahlberg) sidestepping a tackler in a Cleveland uniform, sprinting
through a gap and streaking into the open field...*
Announcer: “...is it really possible that the Bengals might go all the
way this year? Who can say? But one thing is certain...”
”And he’s watchin’ us all...”
*Quick-cutting close-ups of pairs of eyes, all hard and set and determined –
Akili Smith, Dillon, Chad Johnson, Spikes, Simmons, Crane, Mike Brown, and,
finally, lingering on Rodafowa...*
Announcer: “The 2003 Cincinnati Bengals have the eye of the tiger, and
the road to the Super Bowl this year runs right through the Paul Brown Stadium!”
”With the eeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyeee... of the tiger!”
Now – read on...
-
I’m going to feel a bit of a muppet if I’ve just written all of that and then
we get knocked out in our first game. Ho hum... ;)
The science, for newcomers who are, by now, completely confused – this is the
story of the post-season of my second year in charge of the Cincinnati Bengals.
We finished the regular season with a mark of 13-3, enough for home field
advantage throughout the playoffs. My first two seasons are recounted in the
topics I Am Bengal – Hear Me Roar, which has dropped
off the board by now, and I Am Bengal II – Bengal Harder,
which I’d go and read now before it does the same. ;) For those who might
be interested (why? WHY?) I play on All-Pro with 6-minute quarters using a
slightly-tweaked-for-personal-taste version of RockBottom’s sliders.
And that’s about it for matter-of-fact. We now return you to your regularly
scheduled gibberish...
-
Ah, the joy, the pure, simple joy of having a week off.
As some will recall, the seedings in this year’s playoffs looks a little like
this:
AFC
1 - BENGALS, 2 - Phins, 3 – Bolts, 4 – Colts, 5 – Jets, 6 – Goths.
NFC
1 - Rams, 2 – Eagles, 3 – Pack, 4 – Bucs, 5 – Seahawks, 6 – Bears.
For those of you unfamiliar with the way the playoffs work (what are you doing
on a Madden 2003 message board?) the upshot of these rankings is that we, the
Marine-Mammals, the Sheep and the Birdies#1 get to sit home and watch the other
eight teams go at it – in our half of the draw, the Baltimore Goths travelling
to San Diego while God’s Own Team, Gang Green got to pay a visit to the Ponies,
and in the NFC there’s a divisional matchup with the Bears making the trip to
Lambeau Field, and the Buccaneers play host to the Birdies#2.
Hard to know who to root for, really. On the one hand, the Ravens have already
beaten us once this year, on the other that was in Week 1, since when we’ve
given them a comprehensive trousering. Then there’s the Jets, who again we’ve
beaten this season, but then again... I don’t like playing them because, you
know, it feels a bit disloyal...
All this speculation doesn’t matter, of course, because it’s not like I can
change the result. Let the chips fall where they may...
Chicago Bears 31-34 Green Bay Packers
Ooh, that must have been a nailbiter...
Baltimore Goths 10-23 San Diego Bolts
That one’s gone to form, and it means that we’ll be hosting whoever wins the
second AFC wildcard game.
Seattle Birdies#2 6-17 Tampa Bay Buccaneers
The Bucs get just enough offence to win it, that seems strangely familiar...
And finally...
New York Jets 10-20 Indianapolis Ponies.
Oh, wow.
For the second year in succession, we get Harrison, Edge and the Peytonator in
the playoffs - only this time, it’s in our damn house...
History repeating, or revenge is sweet?
...
Indianapolis. India-frickin’-apolis. Too long have you haunted my dreams, too
long! The pain, the humiliation, the endless nights seeing that play over
and over again... It ends here. It ends now. Hear me, Indianapolis, and tremble!
The Paul Brown Stadium is where the tables are turned, where YOU will learn the
Hell I’ve lived through these past twelve months! Wet yourselves in fear,
Indianapolis... for CINCINNATI WILL BE YOUR WATERLOO!
“A railway station?”
Now, you see, what’s the point of that? Most of the people on the board are
Americans, they can’t be expected to know that Waterloo is a tube station in
London, can they?
“Whatever. And, anyway, you’ve already beaten the Colts once this year, so
you can’t really do the eternal-vengeance bit, can you?”
Just shut up and do the fricking scout report, will you?
“Oooh, get her... Well, you already
know about the Cyberdyne Industries T-1200, codename Peyton Manning, don’t you?”
Oh, yes, we remember the Peytonator. Where’s the ‘Hit Opposing Quarterback With
A Truckful Of Liquid Nitrogen Then Drop Him Into A Vat Of Molten Steel’ button
on this controller?
“That’ll be a new feature in Madden ’04. It’s not all bad news, though. Did
you stop to wonder why Peter Warrick got the nod as the best wide receiver in a
conference that’s got Marvin Harrison in it?”
It does seem fishy, when you put it like that.
“Well, that’ll be because Marv broke his collarbone six weeks ago, and is
gone for the rest of the year. Alright, alright, stop the victory dance... in
his absence, you’re facing Reggie Wayne, a possession-type receiver, while
Quadry Ismael and the rookie, Herman Daniel, are both speedsters. Oh, and Marcus
Pollard, of course, who’ll kill you. But that’s not all.”
He won’t only kill us?
“Fool. Good news - Edgerrin James, he who consistently slaughters your run
defence, is also done for the year having torn a shoulder. Bad news – Dominic
Rhodes, his replacement, is basically Edge but not so gimpy. On defence, watch
out for Idrees Bashir, the free safety – he’s basically the glue that holds this
unit together. The right side of their front 7 is quick and strong, but that
almost doesn’t matter when the players around them are so mediocre. Leon Avery’s
been promoted to top-spot cornerback – he’s a big, rough-and-tumble corner with
good burst, but the bottom line is that he’s not got the pace to live with
either of our starting wide receivers. Pick on him early, pick on him often. You
spanked this lot earlier in the season and, to be honest, it’ll be a surprise if
you don’t beat them again this week.”
A vote of confidence? Are you ill?
“Yeah, yeah. Talk to me again when you play a proper team in the Conference
Championship – you know, one with an offence
and a defence? That’s assuming you don’t screw it up against
these goons, of course...”
-
We lose the toss, something that’s becoming a bit of a recurring theme of
late, and have to boot it away. The weather’s not “nice” so much as “typical”, a
strong westerly wind coupled with a sprinkling of freezing rain. Mmmmm. Freezing
raaaaaain... It’s a good welcome to the Great Outdoors for the Indianapolis
dome-team nancy-boys, anyway. Of course, it’ll take colder temperatures than
this to freeze the engine-oil that runs in the Peytonator’s veins, and he starts
where he left off last January, i.e. displaying a near-mystical ability to throw
inch-perfect passes despite having defenders in his face, hanging off him or
trying to break him in half. The familiar sinking feeling sets in when he hits
Reggie Wayne for a big gain despite having the pocket collapsing quicker than an
MFI wardrobe put together by Mr. Bean and Wayne standing in a crowd of four -
count ‘em, four! – defenders. That gives the Colts a 1st-and-goal on our 6, and
even though we know damn well what’s coming next we can do exactly nothing about
it, tight end Marcus Pollard bringing the ball in to give the Ponies an early
7-0 lead. Damn and blast.
The crowd gently encourage us not to take this lying down, and we don’t – Corey
Dillon coming off the right tackle to discover the defence absent, presumed
missing. A safety ambles over to politely enquire about the possibility of
making a tackle, and gets a smack in the mouth for his trouble. A group of Colts
argue a bit about who’s going to be next to give it a try and eventually decide
that there’s safety in numbers, bringing CD down by committee after a gain of
29. “Cor-ey! Cor-ey! Cor-ey!” chant the crowd, showing more enthusiasm than
imagination, but the defence is plainly determined not to be embarrassed again
and on the next snap they hit Dillon from about four different directions as he
charges through the line of scrimmage... a ploy that, it has to be said, would
be more impressive if he had the ball. As it is, the fake buys Peter Warrick all
the space a boy could ask for and a 25-yard pickup puts us into the red-zone.
Good blocking and quick feet get CD 14 more yards on a scamper straight up the
middle, and an impressive drive is capped off when Akili Smith fakes a handoff
then takes off on a naked bootleg run that sees him stroll untouched over the
goal-line. 7-7. Game on!
The crowd are into it now... for one play. Peytonator to Quadry Ismael who, in
an almost unheard-of event, steps out of a Crane tackle and takes off. No-one
else gets close to him in the 65 yards to the endzone, and it’s like we’re
holding a throwback day in tribute to the Bengal defences of the 90s. The
defensive co-ordinator sees I’ve a barbequing look in my eye, and wisely calls
his charges together for a little heart-to-heart while Mike “Idiot Kicker”
Vanderjagt makes the extra point and puts his team up 14-7 at the end of the
first quarter, the light rain now becoming a full-blown thunderstorm.
There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.
Thank God the offence is holding its end up. On 3rd and 5 just inside our half,
the Ponies inexplicably lose track of Peter Warrick who makes a catch between
the hash-marks for a gain of 22. 2 plays later, Mike Peterson isn’t quick enough
through his hole to cut CD off from getting to the outside, Chad Johnson makes
himself big and seals his corner off from making a play, and Dillon goes 25
yards for the score in just a fraction over no time at all. We’re all square
again, 14-14.
Whatever we’ve threatened the defence with, it’s done the job. Dominic Rhodes
gets stuffed on first down and the rookie Daniel puts a pass on the ground on
second, putting the Ponies into 3rd and 10 on their own 20. Not for the first
time today, Manning’s flushed out of the pocket, for all the good it’s done
us... He looks up and sees Ismael in a millimetre of space, but has to throw on
the run, back across his body to make the connection. No problem for the best
Skynet has to offer, you might think – but you’d be wrong. Nickelback Kevin
Dyson dives in front for his first interception of the season, setting us up at
the Indianapolis 32, 2:36 to play in the half. We use Dillon to grind the clock
down then, with 15 seconds to go, Akili Smith gets the first post-season TD pass
of his career, hitting fullback Lorenzo Neal for 7 yards and giving us the lead
for the first time all day. We retreat to the locker-room with the rapturous
cheers of the Bengalville faithful ringing in our ears - Half time, then, IND
14-21 CIN.
-
Just like last year, we may not be able to stop the pass, but they can’t stop
the run. We start the 2nd half in a two tight-end set and, fearing the
off-tackle run that’s been carving them up all day, Indianapolis’ front seven
spreads right out. Akili barks out an audible, and CD picks up 10 yards on a
charge right into the sparsely-populated guts of the Colt defence, putting him
over the century mark 1 play into the third quarter. Heh heh heh. Indianapolis
are bamboozled, which is a word that doesn’t get as much use as it really
should. Despite the fact that they’ve only got one-and-a-half legitimate
receiving threats to keep tabs on, the Colts somehow manage to blow the coverage
on Peter Warrick again, for 20 yards this time, then follow up by embarrassingly
giving 23 more to Matt Schobel, the utterly inadequate replacement for Dan
Graham at tight end. From the Colt 24, Dillon takes over, 5 straight running
plays leaving the Ponies’ D begging for mercy and giving us daylight. Lawrence
Stills misses the PAT, but it’s still IND 14-27 CIN.
For the first time in... well, ever, really, Manning looks a bit rattled. He’s
lucky not to get picked off again when he tries to force the ball through
double-coverage into Reggie Wayne, then is forced into a dump-off to the same
player on third down, the Bengal Secondary Collective taking Wayne down way
before he can get to the marker. The Colts angle their punt out-of-bounds, and
we set up at our own 27.
We start up where we left off – Corey Dillon vs.
a-defence-increasingly-sick-of-the-sight-of-number-28. CD gets us to halfway,
then we go play-pass, Peter Warrick grabbing a yard on the crossing-pattern, but
Akili’s forced from the pocket and has to throw off-balance, back ac... you’re
way ahead of me here, aren’t you? Idrees Bashir makes the interception and
returns it into Bengal territory as time expires in the third.
It’s asking a bit much for our defence to stop the Peytonator with that short a
field, but we give it our best shot. On 3rd and 3 at our 8, Willie Middlebrooks
bats down a pass intended for Reggie Wayne to give Herman Edwards a quandary...
They go for it, and all our hard work’s undone when we let Marcus Pollard get
free a-fricking-gain and Manning fires the ball in to bring his side back within
6. IND 21-27 CIN. Oooh-er...
Things are getting nervous now, particularly with that missed extra point
meaning that one more Pony touchdown might be enough to beat us... The edginess
seems to have transferred to the players, too, Akili missing the perpetually
wide-open Peter Warrick on a post-pattern to put us at 3rd and 10 deep in our
own half. Nadgers. With the momentum just starting to shift, this looks a little
bit do-or-die... thank God for the Indianapolis secondary, eh? Taking time off
from ignoring Warrick, they instead try their collective hand at ignoring
fullback Lorenzo Neal. Akili floats the touch-pass into Neal’s hands for the
first down, then just to rub it in the fullback breaks a tackle and trundles
downfield, making 46 yards before the Ponies can muster enough defenders to make
him fall over, at their 28. The rain’s really coming down now, so we take it out
of the slippery hands of our receivers and go back to our ever-reliable ground
game, CD getting us into the shadow of the goalposts before Chad Johnson gets
his moment of personal redemption for game-breaking fumble last year, running a
crisp slant and making sure of the catch for the score. We don’t mess about on
the conversion, either, CD taking the ball straight up the middle for the deuce
and putting us up by fourteen clear points with just over two minutes to play in
the game... surely that’s enough? Surely? IND 21-34 CIN.
The Peytonator’s not done yet, though, and he drives and drives through the wind
and the storm and the thunderous crowd noise, and he’s still got a minute and a
half on the clock as the Colts reach our 30. 1st down, and Sam Adams, who’s been
getting good penetration through the line all game, once again forces Manning to
throw before he really wants to, going to his outlet option, Marcus Pollard on
the short out. The pass isn’t perfect, and Pollard has to turn to adjust,
getting his hands up just a fraction late... the wet ball squirts from between
his palms, and Kevin Dyson is Johnny-On-The-Spot yet again for his second
interception of the game. Rookie halfback Adam Smith goes in and runs out the
clock without fuss or drama, I find myself wearing Gatorade and by the Hammer Of
Grabthar, we are avenged! Final score IND 21-34 CIN.
The players are out celebrating with the crowd, and they've earned it, they
really have - particularly Corey Dillon, the workhorse and the big-play threat,
who's gotten 154 yards and a pair of scores from 26 carries. But we haven't won
anything yet, not really.
"Winning this game wasn't the destination," I say in the locker-room. "It's just
another stop on the journey..."
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(c) daniel roe 2003
