Cowardly Lions: Fourth Quarter Failure At Goal Line Typical

Watching the Lions’ futile fourth quarter trip to the Green Bay Packers’ goal line, trying to break a 13-13 tie last night, it dawned on me that their coming up empty was an apt metaphor for their entire run under the ownership of Bill Ford. And, to a smaller degree, a microcosm of this wretched season.

The Lions had made some nice plays to get themselves into position to snap the deadlock and, in the process, move one step closer to exorcising the demons of Lambeau Field, where they haven’t won since 1991 B.F. (Before Favre). They had first and goal inside the five yard line. Optimism was acceptable. Kind of like during the Lions’ offseason and training camp days.

But then the Lions, showing absolutely no imagination or creativity in their playcalling, rammed into the Packers’ defensive line with no success. That left fourth down, and while Joe Theismann and Paul Maguire lauded them in the broadcast booth for going for the touchdown, the Lions took timeout. What happened next was the perfect metaphor for the 2005 season, and for the franchise in general in 41 years of Ford ownership.

After calling timeout, after having nearly two minutes to talk strategy and determine what they should do to move the ball the needed two feet to paydirt, keeping in mind that two previous rams into the line produced zilch, the Lions broke their huddle. As Jeff Garcia led the team to the line of scrimmage, it was impossible not to think of how the team had turned the playcalling over to quarterbacks coach Greg Olson. It was hard to ignore all the bland, dull, punchless offensive calls in the Steve Mariucci era. It was natural to almost beg for something other than another drive into the belly of the Packers defense.

The ball was snapped, and after all their brainstorming on the sidelines, after all their analysis of the recent data, after a presumed scan of all plays available to them in such a situation, the Lions ran a quarterback sneak. Straight into the Packers’ absorbent gut. It didn’t come close to working.

"Horrible call," Theismann complained in the booth.

And that, you see, was the Detroit Lions in a nutshell.

They knocked on the door, provided their fans with hope, and then frittered opportunity away like sands through an hourglass. They got to within three yards of taking the lead, with four downs in front of them in which to do it, and revealed a set of play calls that lacked imagination and execution. But most of all, in the biggest inidictment, they lacked courage.

Former Tampa Bay coach John McKay once said of his team, "Half of our players are brainless; the other half are gutless." That would be an appropriate description of the Lions’ play calls whenever they find themselves in a first-and-goal situation.

Watching the Lions trying to punch it in from short range is like watching a small child play miniature golf: the ball goes everywhere but in the hole, even from inches away. You just want to scream sometimes.

Why, oh why, is it so hard for our football team to score touchdowns, especially when the football is placed within ten feet of the goal line? The offensive line gets absolutely no push, the plays that are called never involve the quarterback rolling out, or even any run outside of the tackles. They are boring, predictable, and fearful. Like McKay said of his Bucs, half the plays are brainless, and the other half are gutless.

I watched the Cowboys beat the Chiefs in this manner: with the ball at the Kansas City one yard line and the clock ticking away in the fourth quarter, quarterback Drew Bledsoe faked a handoff, calmly stood in the pocket, and threw a pass to a third string tight end. The play worked -- easily. The third string tight end was so wide open, it caused Chiefs defensive coordinator Gunther Cunningham to go ballistic on one of his assistants on the sidelines, caught by the CBS cameras. Regardless, it just served to show what can happen if you think outside of the box -- literally. The Lions love stuffing the ball into the opponent’s box, as if they have this All-NFL offensive line that can make the other guys look like swiss cheese.

So instead of using Jeff Garcia’s supposed athleticism and mobility, the Lions thrust him -- a 185 pound QB -- into the line. They may as well have covered him with blood and fed him to sharks.

I won’t even get into the rest of the game, except to say the Lions got rooked by the officials when they ruled the Packers did NOT hold in the endzone in the possession immediately after the goal line sham. It should have been 15-13 Lions thanks to the safety that ensues when anyone commits holding in the endzone. But the officials somehow ruled that the hold occurred outside the endzone, which is curious since the line of scrimmage was the two-foot line and the offensive lineman was moving backwards when he committed the foul. Maybe he held at the one-inch line.

Regardless, that’s not why the Lions lost. They lost -- for the 15th straight time in Green Bay, including playoffs -- because of that sad display near the Packers’ goal line. They couldn’t even beat the Packers in Green Bay in a year when the Pack is 2-10 going into the game.

It takes most teams a couple plays to bang it in from the one yard line. It has taken the Lions 48 years to bang it in -- a franchise for whom every year falls short of paydirt. If you want a capsule of the Lions’ monotonous futility, you will find it right here: Jeff Garcia, on a quarterback sneak.

Gutless.