But now he was a Lion, and he hadn’t traded the Ohio State scarlet in for Honolulu Blue for very long before he began to impress his teammates and coaches.
Chris Spielman was a beast in the weight room. He brought the art of the curls and the bench pressing to a level never before seen in Lions Land. His tireless work ethic had the veterans of perpetual losing raving.
“I didn’t come here to lose,” Spielman said then, in spring, 1988 – shortly after the Lions nabbed him in the second round of the draft, 29th off the board. He was very much used to winning as a Buckeye, and before that, as a high schooler in Massillon, Ohio. He was born, so appropriately, in Canton, Ohio – home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. You half-wondered if his was pigskin.
One by one, those in the Lions’ inner sanctum grew wide-eyed when speaking of Spielman’s maniacal behavior in the sweaty, stuffy rooms in the bowels of the Silverdome.
Surely, they thought, this ethic has to rub off. And if it does, winning football will probably follow.
By the time Chris Spielman fled the Lions in disgust after an embarrassing playoff loss in 1995, his pro career had included five postseason games in eight years and one victory in those five.
“The wheels are coming off here,” he said on his way out of town.
Weight Room Football had failed, after all.
Spielman as a Buckeye, before the losing consumed him and spit him out
More fun in the mid-1990s. Bill Ford Jr. announces he and some of his minions are going to spend some springtime with the San Francisco 49ers, to see how winning football franchises go about their business. Never mind that the 49ers joined the NFL some 15 years after the Lions did. Team Ford comes back with their notepads full, awash with ideas that they feel confident can be implemented with the Lions. And maybe they, too, will be a model of success, as the 49ers were.
The note-taking must not have been too good.
I’ll give the Lions this, though: they’re an awfully good football team in May and June, when the players wear nothing but helmets and jerseys, and when the physical contact is limited to high-fives after a successful play run against phantom defenders. They have, perhaps, led the league in unbridled optimism in the year’s fifth and sixth month over the past 15 years or so. There’s been nothing that can stop them, until the pads are put on and the phantom defenders become real, live opponents.
Another May of mini-camps and “voluntary” workouts has come and gone, and now we’re midway through June. And again the Lions are up to their springtime tricks.
The wide receiver Calvin Johnson, the #2 overall draft pick in this year’s draft, is making his quarterback, his head coach, his offensive coordinator, and even some hypnotized members of the media ready to size him up for a bronze bust in Canton.
“He’s everything I thought he’d be, and then some,” quarterback Jon Kitna said last week after watching Johnson catch some passes without the annoyance of pads or defenders who were trying hard to stop him.
The quotes from those watching these contact-free exhibitions were auspicious in their exuberance for the rookie wide receiver.
Well, what did you expect them to say?
“This kid Johnson – what a waste of a draft pick!”
That’s my line, after all – and not until October, at the very latest.
Johnson CAN catch with defenders draped over him -- but just not in May
Actually, Calvin Johnson has the goods to be everything we thought he’d be, and then some. And then some more. He is, in my mind, the closest thing to a sure bet for stardom as a Lions draft pick since the team picked the jitterbug Barry Sanders in 1989.
And that’s not just the giddiness of spring football talking.
But in years past, the Lions have pulled this act time and again. They speak of team harmony and attitude adjustments and how everyone is “on the same page,” all said while the footballs are rolled out before Memorial Day.
Unfortunately, the NFL doesn’t allow mini-camp touchdowns to count for real.
Yes, it all seemed to be the same old springtime bleatings, until the news broke that threatened to disrupt the smooth sailing of June football.
Shaun Rogers, the hulking, sulking defensive tackle, was accused this week of unwanted groping by a local exotic dancer. This is the same Rogers who attended one of head coach Rod Marinelli’s mini-workouts last month and spoke to the media while wearing some rose-colored glasses that surely were custom-made for his growing head.
“Their (the coaches’) expectations are high, and I plan on fulfilling those expectations,” Rogers said in May, before the unexpected groping.
Rogers: somebody should have told him "no contact drills" applies to strange women, too
Rogers’ nickname is “Big Baby.” There are so many jokes in there, it’s like one of those puzzles where you have to come up with 32 words from one.
Just how much Rogers’ alleged misbehavior – apparently designed to remind us that “no contact drills” only applies to the springtime football field – will affect the Lions’ springtime harmony is anyone’s guess. But some of those who write about the team are encouraging the Lions to jettison Big Baby. How can you, they ask, build a team around a player who’s talented but devoid of character?
Football, the Lions have proven every year on schedule, is an easy game to participate in during the barbecue and fireworks seasons. The offense looks sharp when there are no defenders. The esprit de corps rises. The glass is always half full.
Then that damn regular season comes along. Better find someone to grope – with their consent, of course.
No comments:
Post a Comment