“I came across a fallen tree.
I felt the branches of it looking at me.
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing! Where have
you gone?
I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on.
So tell me when, you're gonna let me in.
I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin.
And if you have a minute?
Why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything.
So why don't we go, somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know."
----------------------
sk: I can only speak for myself.
And God knows, I'm about to. I’m
warning you up front, this is one lengthy recap. As in "16 pages in Word when I typed it" lengthy. But in all honesty? This might be the best post I've ever typed. I hope you'll take the time to read it. And if what I get into on the last three pages describes you in any way, shape, or form, PLEASE -- take my advice and call someone. Anyone. You are NOT alone in this amazing journey we call life, and nothing you do ever -- EVER! -- will make those who truly love you, completely abandon you ...
---------------------------------------
The best moment of yesterday's 27-21 Chiefs victory over the
Carolina Panthers was on the final drive of the first half. To set the scene: the Chiefs are in the red
zone. The clock is ticking closer to all
zeroes, it’s ticking fast -- :08, :07, :06.
The offense either hasn't gotten the playcall, or didn't know what to
do. In a season filled with disaster
beset by catastrophe multiplied by outright incompetence, this one was set up
to be the biggest on-field one of them yet.
And then, out of nowhere, here comes Romeo Crennel attempting to
sprint down the sidelines, to get a timeout called. I'm being generous in calling it a
"sprint" -- he was waddling, the lovable ol' big guy, waddling down
the sidelines as fast as a 65 year old man pushing 300 pounds can move, with
his playlist tucked in the front of his pants, bending perfectly into his ample
stomach. I couldn't help it -- I lost
it. I could not stop laughing at the
scene. If you re-enacted that 100 times,
it couldn't even begin to approach how ridiculous, how hilarious, that moment
was. (And yes -- the peanut gallery in
132 did attempt to re-enact it.) It
truly was the funniest thing I've seen in a while. It was truly, THE defining moment of the
Romeo Crennel era.
(pause).
For a normal Chiefs game? A
normal, routine home win over a squad going nowhere anytime soon? THAT would have been my lead into the recap.
Yesterday, sadly – tragically -- was not normal.
I’m not going to get into the events of Saturday, other than to
acknowledge that they happened. Chiefs
LB Jovan Belcher, in a blinded fit of (pick one: rage, jealousy, depression,
God only knows), grabbed his gun, and coldly fired nine shots into
the chest of his girlfriend and the mother of his daughter, Kasandra
Perkins. He then got in his car, drove
to Arrowhead, was met in the parking lot by Scott Pioli, who attempted to get
him to put things in perspective. He
could not be reasoned with. He then
requested Romeo Crennel and Gary Gibbs meet with him in the parking lot. Hey, the dude has a gun, you give the man
what he wants. Mr.’s Crennel and Gibbs
headed out, where Mr. Belcher thanked the organization, and them specifically,
for taking a chance on an undrafted linebacker from Maine. He then turned the gun on himself, and took
his own life.
The defining moment of the Romeo Crennel era? Sadly, it was NOT that moment described
to open this ridiculously long recap, although it was as fitting an image to describe this season as anything
I've seen.
No, rather, the defining
moment of the Romeo Crennel era, was every damned thing that man did from 8am
Saturday morning, through the immediate postgame scene, when a visibly relieved
Brady Quinn and an equally emotionally moved Romeo Crennel man-hugged on the
sidelines for fifteen seconds as the clock did reach all zeroes, and the
opening couple chapters of this nightmare were finished being written.
We have all experienced tough times in life. Nearly everyone reading this knew someone who
chose to take his or her own life, for whatever their reasons were. I had two friends who made that choice, and I myself have made the decision to kill myself before. I was in the car, a mile away from where I planned to plow my car into the concrete dividing the median at over 80mph, when fate intervened and saved my life. (Well, you can call it fate; even though I am not religious, I call it God.)
I describe why I reached that moment, why I made that decision ten years ago, in the last couple pages of this post, in the hopes that if my words can save one person's life, then any discomfort or embarrassment my disclosure might cause me is worth it. God gave me a second chance that night that I did not deserve, and that I didn't ask for. If just one person is given that second chance, even if its 25 years from now, long after I'm done updating this site and someone accidentally drunken Google stumbles on it, and it saves their life, then every word is worth the time it took to type.
As I mentioned, I have two very good friends who did kill themselves, within six weeks of each other, ironically enough. But neither one of them did it, in front of
other people. One did it as I had planned to. The other swallowed a boatload of pills, turned the car on in the garage with the door closed, and let nature take over.
I cannot possibly imagine
what Mr. Crennel is feeling even now. I
cannot even begin to fathom how he got this team together, how he simply held
it together, on that sideline yesterday.
And yet, he did, up to that moment his victorious quarterback collapsed
in his coach's embrace. Hell, I'm gonna
be 36 exactly one month from today, so I can say it -- I was genuinely moved by
it. I'm actually tearing up typing this.
I intentionally stayed later than most, because I purposely wanted
to see what Mr. Crennel's reaction after the game would be. And whatever I may think of Mr. Crennel's
head coaching capabilities, godd*mmit, that man was a MAN yesterday, and all
weekend long. He was the ROCK this
franchise needed, his players needed, we as fans of this team needed. This season?
No longer a waste. Not after
yesterday.
In hindsight, it's apparent that this season was destined to
be a total disaster from the start.
Let's just all be thankful that the PERFECT person to lead this team
through the darkest days in its history, was in place.
(Sweet merciful Jesus, can you imagine Todd Haley trying
to react to THIS?)
So let me open (readers voice: wait, he hasn't OPENED
yet?!?!?!?!) by saying what I thought yesterday was about, because unlike just
about every other Chiefs game played this season, yesterday did have lasting
value, it did have a true meaning. It
WILL be worth remembering.
Sometimes, things happen that make no sense in the here and
now. The Romeo Crennel hiring made no
sense to me in January, and for the first three months of this season, my
doubts about it have proven to be true.
But perhaps, and I hate to invoke religion here, if only because I’m not
a religious person, but like it or not, it's getting invoked today. Perhaps, in his infinite wisdom, God knew this was
going to happen. God knew the ONLY
person who could hold this together, was Romeo Crennel.
Romeo Crennel was born for yesterday. Sam Mellinger nailed it in the Star today. If he accomplishes nothing else in life, he
literally saved a franchise yesterday.
He healed this team. He healed
this fanbase – there may have only been 45,000 some odd of us there yesterday,
but us 45,000 are the die-hards. We’re
the ones who care enough to still show up, to wear black to announce to the world
our outrage over what our team has become.
Romeo Crennel is a horrible head coach. He needs to be replaced in that capacity in
22 days. But he may be the finest human
being the Kansas City Chiefs have ever employed, and his only competition for
that title is the late Joe Delaney, and I will use this platform to once again register my OUTRAGE over the fact that number 37 is not officially retired.
When
this team, this fanbase, this city, this community needed someone to step up
and heal us, Romeo Crennel did it yesterday, with one of the most inspirational
coaching performances we will ever be privileged enough to witness. I PRAY you watched that game yesterday. Because like Romeo and Brady Quinn after the
final gun sounded, I too had tears in my eyes.
Yesterday was not about Jovan Belcher. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated that
the Chiefs PA guy did not mention Jovan Belcher once yesterday. There were no "59" decals on the
jerseys. The flags flew at full
mast. The only acknowledgement of the
proverbial "elephant in the room" was a request for a moment of
silence before the National Anthem, for "all the victims of yesterday's
tragedy". Hats off as well to Scott
Pioli. I cannot fathom what he has to be
feeling right now. Len Dawson spoke to
him as he left Arrowhead on Saturday, and noted in his comments on the
encounter that Pioli couldn't speak, he was so shook up. Sir, you are a horrific failure of a general
manager, but not even I would wish this on you, nor anyone. Noone deserves what happened to Mr. Pioli and
Mr. Crennel early Saturday morning.
Noone.
Yesterday was also not about Kasandra Perkins, Mr. Belcher's
victim, nor their three month old child.
Again, hats off to Mr. Pioli, Clark Hunt, and everyone and anything
affiliated with the Chiefs organization.
From their initial reactions to this unbelievable tragedy, it appears the Chiefs
are going to go well above and beyond the call of duty to ensure Mr. Belcher's
child will never want in life for material things. An incredible gesture and show of
understanding and support to the real victim(s) of what happened Saturday. I applaud them, and I urge everyone else to
as well.
Yesterday was not about what happened ON the field. Yes, a win is nice, and (sadly) completely
unexpected. Yes, scoring a touchdown on
our opening drive for the first time since before Chuck Weis announced he was
leaving to become the University of Florida's offensive coordinator was
refreshing. Yes, seeing a severely
outmanned defense stand when it had to was beautiful. Everything on the field that the Chiefs did
yesterday was by their standards a masterpiece, right down to scoring a
touchdown as time expired in the first half to take the lead at the half
17-14. But nothing that happened on that
field yesterday matters at all. Again --
not one damned thing that the Chiefs did on the field yesterday, has any
meaning or consequence.
It's what happened OFF the field yesterday, that matters. Yesterday was about healing, and not the
sexual kind that Marvin Gaye famously sang about. Yesterday was about healing. About a fractured, angered fanbase setting
aside any and all issues with the organization for seven amazing hours,
standing as one with OUR team in its darkest hour. My dad has a saying that who your true
friends are, is revealed when you're in a fight, because they're the ones still
throwing punches for you after you're laying unconscious on the floor. Yesterday, we Chiefs fans who showed up, did
so not because we already had tickets, or because we had nothing better to
do. We were there yesterday for a
purpose, and it was this: that no matter what this franchise has done this
year, no matter how much we hate what this season has devolved into, this is
OUR team, and we've got it's back.
Always.
But it was about more than just that. It was about far more than standing strong
with a sports team, because if we're being honest here, we all know sports is
simply an escape. It's an enjoyment,
nothing more, nothing less.
Yesterday was about you.
Yesterday was the day when stupid sh*t was dropped and buried 29 feet
under the ground, deep enough to ensure even a zombie attack can't resurrect it. Yesterday was about shaking hands with those
you despise, being respectful to those you don't respect, and hugging each and
every person you love until both parties in the hug are crying from the emotion
of the moment. Yesterday was about what
matters, which is you. And me. It was about "friends". It was about "loved ones". Yesterday, only one thing mattered, and that
was to take the time, simply take the time, to embrace each and every person
you love, and make sure they know how much you love them. It doesn't matter what stupid disagreements
arise -- all that matters is you and me at our cores.
Yesterday was about making damned sure the people who matter the
most to you know, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that you not only are still
throwing punches for them long after they hit the floor, you're pulling a knife
and a gun to put the person who hurt them, in their place.
The opening lyrics, from Keane's awesome song that came out (dear
God I am old) nearly a decade ago, were chosen for a reason, for a
purpose. "And if you have a
minute? Why don't we go talk about it
somewhere only we know? This could be
the end of everything! So why don't we
go? Somewhere only we know?" Yesterday was about the only thing that
matters in life -- going to that special place with those you love the most,
that "somewhere only we know".
You all know I don't believe in coincidence, and that I'm not a
religious person, even if God keeps doing his damndest to get my attention. (Well, unless you just
stumbled onto this site by accident or curiousity, then you wouldn't know
that. If that's the case, welcome! Grab a chair, grab a beer, and make yourself
comfortable!) Having said that, you all
who regularly read this know that I've had my issues with a couple people over
the last few months, over stupid sh*t that 99 times out of 100, anyone else
would look at and say "damn Stevo -- you crazy!" And the one time I do take offense?
Well yes, I was crazy.
And now, having established those two things ... "Somewhere
Only We Know" is what popped up on the Mixology playlist as these two
friends arrived yesterday. I saw them
walk into the tailgate, started to head their way, then heard this song come on, and I'm not kidding you -- I
had to walk away, because I didn't want everyone else to see me crying. (Good God, I need professional help).
Because all that stupid sh*t between us? Stopped mattering as of 9:32am
Saturday morning, when my brother texted me to "get on Twitter! Now!", which is how I found out about
the tragic events of the day. All that
mattered, was that my Champ and my Chica were there, were healthy, upright,
ambulatory, enjoying a frosty cold Miller Lite, and again -- they were
there.
They were there.
That is something that, sadly, little precious three month old
Zoey will never be able to say about either of her parents.
I may not be religious, but there's no way, there's simply no
freaking way, that having THAT song play at THAT moment, there's simply no
effing way that didn't have God's fingerprints all over it.
I made a point to hug each and every person yesterday. Not shake their hand, not yell "hey
there! Welcome!" from twenty feet
away. I intentionally made sure each and
every person that arrived, saw me express how much you all mean to me. I'm sure some of you thought it was
corny. I don't give a sh*t. If Saturday taught us anything, it is that
life is too damned short to focus on the negative. Focus on what matters, which is you and me,
and that special place located somewhere only we know.
I'm going to start the recap of the day in a few moments, since
after all, that is the reason you came here for. But it cannot be stressed or stated enough --
YOU are what yesterday was about. It was
about the friend who's done far more for me that I can ever possibly deserve,
Gregg. I love ya man. I'll always have your back, just as you've
had mine far, far, far too many times.
Yesterday was about his dad, one of the best people I've ever had the
privilege to meet. About Dusty and
Kellie. I know we've jokingly referred
to ourselves as "The Family".
Guys? I'm not joking when I use
the word "family" to describe the two of you. About Russ and Mona, my second parents. About Susan, the best addition to our group
in a long, long time. About Chris, about
Ray and his son (and his son's incredibly attractive girlfriend. Good Lord dude, please -- bring her
again! And again!). It was about telling those you have issues
with, that you forgive them ... and more importantly, making sure that the ones
you love, know it. Yesterday was about
taking time, the most precious gift you have, and giving that gift to those you
love.
The only thing that mattered yesterday?
Was going "somewhere only WE know".
Because there's no guarantee of another chance to do so.
So to everyone there yesterday, whether in person or in spirit,
please know -- I love you all. I am
literally tearing up just typing that*.
You all have been so incredibly kind, so incredibly generous, so
amazingly accommodating to this certifiably crazy dude typing this. You've seen my flaws, you've seen me at my
worst. And you don't care. Because you've also seen me at my best. And you must like my best if you're still
here. And that means more to me than I
can ever possibly express in words. Hence
the hugs yesterday. Because we are not
guaranteed another chance, to make sure those we love, know we love them.
(*: wow, usually I don't get this
sappy, except for the Annual Column that'll go up on Christmas Day. It sucks, it freaking sucks, that it takes
tragedy to put things into perspective.
But if anything good can come from the events that made up the final
hours of Mr. Belcher and Ms. Perkins' lives, then that is the good. Shake hands with those you hate. And hug the hell out of those you love, until
they cry from the emotion of the moment.)
That's what yesterday was about, at least for me.
And now, the recap:
* first, I didn't see it as it happened, but I was told of his
comments, and watched them last night.
Tom Jackson, take a bow sir. Take
a freaking bow. I am NOT a Tom Jackson
fan. Something about denver and broncos
and linebacker.
Having said that, Mr. Jackson perfectly put this into perspective,
and amazingly enough, his matched mine.
"We hear about what a great teammate (Mr. Belcher) was and how
close some of the guys were to him. He
is in fact a guy who is a murderer, who has taken the life of Kasandra Perkins
as a new mom and left a little girl without her parents." Amen, Tom.
A-effing-men.
* We were first in line in aisle five at gate six. Got there around 7am, and it was eerie. There was a thick fog hovering over the
practice facility, so thick you really couldn't see it. The eerie part? The fog didn't exist anywhere else. Again, I don't believe in coincidence. Here was the scene:
(photo: me, via my Blackberry.)
* Had a good conversation with Warren and his wife outside the gates, and his wife
raised a very interesting point that I admit, I hadn't even considered up until
that moment. "Have you noticed, no
matter how bad it's been, this team is still standing strong?" Bingo.
This isn't 2008, when you had players openly b*tching about each other
in the media, a whiny malcontent of a tight end demanding in the papers to be
traded, an open mutiny on the field against the coaching staff. These guys are awful on the field. But they are unified off of it. For that, we can be thankful.
* Also, as she noted, what does it say for this team that the one
place Mr. Belcher felt his safe harbor existed, was with this team? The one person he sought out in his hour of
greatest need, was Romeo Crennel.
However crappy this team is on the field, they've definitely changed the Carl Peterson-era culture off of it, at least from a players perspective, for the better. For that, we can be thankful.
* For those keeping track at home, I am now 0 for 5 in getting the
flagpole assembled correctly on the first attempt this year.
* lynched donkey did not get lynched this week. He did make a postgame appearance sitting on
top of one of the speakers, but he was not hung in effigy this week. Seemed a bit tasteless to string him up,
honestly.
(photo: me, via my Blackberry.)
* Some Eagles club members tailgated with us yesterday, and they
provided the main course, smoked prime rib.
Unreal. Unbelievably good. Outstanding job guys. Ray and his crew's philly steaks were amazing
as well. And damn if the SoCo wasn't
going down perfectly.
(photo: me, via my Blackberry.)
* There really isn't much else to share from tailgating, because
honestly, I wasn't the only person who reacted yesterday in the way that I
did. Again, from all tragedy, good can
come. It just sometimes takes a while
for the good to come out.
* and yes, that tailgating scene yesterday was much more subdued
than usual. The difference from last
week to this week, was a very noticeable thing.
* I enjoyed the National Anthem for once. Just saying.
(Psst -- Mr. Pioli? Feel free to
give Ida McBeth or the Rev. Hal Weeks a call for the Colts game. Please sir, let your "parting gift"
for participating in attempting to build a winning football team, be to give us
one of the only three people who should ever be allowed to sing the Anthem at
Arrowhead (along with Patti DiParto-Livergood). And while you're cleaning out your office, leave a note to your successor that "whatever you do, bring back the TD Pack Band and fire Rumble". Thanks, your pal, Stevo.)
* OK, here we go. Unlike
last week, I wasn't dozing before kickoff.
I was alert, awake, definitely not pushing a dangerously high BAC.
* Chiefs win the toss, choose to receive. It's what I would have done.
* After a couple Charles runs net a first down, Quinn drops back
to throw for the first time, and places a perfectly thrown pass into Dwayne
Bowe's hands 30 yards downfield. Then
Quinn throws a tremendously placed ball 35 yards downfield to Jon Baldwin, who
makes the catch, and Peyton Hillis pounds it up the gut for the six on the very
next play. THAT, was WITHOUT QUESTION,
THE best drive of the season to date, bar none.
Outstanding execution, outstanding blocking, outstanding result.
* So of course, the Panthers strike back with a deep bomb of their
own to tie the game at 7.
* Just saying, and I don't really know any Panthers fans, but if
y'all really don't think Cam Newton can be a franchise quarterback in this
league? You're nuts. Yes, the dude who sees a mental health
professional every Tuesday at 5pm (more on this in the closing couple pages), is calling you nuts. (alanis morissette voice) isn't it ironic?
* Chiefs answer with a decent drive of their own, setting up a
Ryan Succup field goal to retake the lead, 10-7. I agreed with the decision to kick, for what
it's worth. I only mention that, because
it was 4th and 2 ... and as we're about to see, Ol' Romeo was feeling frisky*
on fourth down yesterday.
(*: it cannot be said enough how awesome of a word "frisky"
is. It just sounds fun, you know. "Hey honey? Feeling frisky?" Nothing bad happens when you're "feeling
frisky", that's for damned sure.)
* the Panthers strike right back with an impressive drive that
ends in a Newton to Steve Smith touchdown.
To call the Chiefs tackling on that play
"non-existant", would be an accurate description. Good Lord.
How in the hell do you let a simple slant route on 3rd and 3, simply
designed to get four yards and the first down, how in the freaking hell do you
let THAT turn into an untouched scamper* to the end zone? I know we're severely short handed in the
secondary, but good God, that was disgraceful.
(*: I also like the word "scamper", although it's
nowhere near as fun as "frisky".
Or as funny as "dingy".)
* After exchanging punts, the Chiefs take over at their own 20 ...
and proceed to mount what might be the best drive this team has mounted in a
couple years. It was a thing of
beauty. It had everything, really. A healthy dose of Jamaal Charles. Simple, effective throws from Brady Quinn to
multiple receivers. Outstanding blocking
by the line. Hell, Quinn even managed to
draw the Panthers offside and get a free first down for crying out loud! And the capper, as the clock wound down and
Romeo did his best penguin impression to call the final timeout -- the Chiefs
scoring from the one yard line as time expired on a perfect pass to Tony
Moeaki. Perfection. Again, I can only speak for myself, but that
was the funnest first half of football in that stadium since ... when? The Chargers Monday Nighter last year that, in hindsight, was the beginning of the end of the Todd Haley era?
* I was feeling so happy over that first half that I did something
I normally don't do: get up at halftime and buy a round of beers. You're welcome for that $17.25, Hunt family.
* Wait, did I just say that prior drive was the best drive the
Chiefs have mounted in a couple years?
Well (ac/dc voice) hell's bells -- their next drive topped it! After a Panthers punt, the Chiefs take over
at their 13 yard line, and proceed to mount a 14 play drive that took ten
minutes off the clock, and ended via a Jon Baldwin short touchdown. It's what happened in between that made it
perfect.
The Chiefs went for it.
On fourth down.
TWICE!
If you know me, you know I have long advocated going for it a lot
on fourth down. I'm not one of these
people who thinks you go for every fourth down, because sorry, if you've got
4th and 8 at your own 13 late in the first quarter, you punt there 100 times
out of 100. But I do believe teams are
way too conservative in general, and give up points needlessly by punting or
opting for the field goal. Yesterday,
the Chiefs faced a 4th and 1 at the Panthers 27. In virtually that same spot in the first half
(4th and 2 at the Panthers 24), the Chiefs took the field goal. Romeo never hesitated to go for it there yesterday. Peyton Hillis relatively
easily got the half a yard they needed to extend the drive, rumbling for six up
the gut. Four plays later, the Chiefs
faced a 4th and 1 at the Panthers 13, and again, never a moment's hesitation
from Romeo. Line up, hand off to Hillis,
first down. Two plays later Quinn found
Baldwin in the end zone to give the Chiefs their first double digit lead at
home all season at 24-14. For one brief,
shiny, happy moment, we saw what the 2012 Chiefs should have been.
* Before I forget, holy Lord, was that an amazing weather day or
what? When I can jokingly text
"shirt off temps in the lower bowl", and it isn't a joke? In the words of my favorite sitcom of all time: "ain't we lucky we got 'em? Good Times!!!!!!" It was hot down there in the sun. 72 degrees in December! Did I move back to the Metroplex and forgot
to tell myself I had?
* Of course, these are the Chiefs we're talking about, so go
figure, Cam Newton immediately marches the Panthers down the field, tossing his
third touchdown pass of the day, to drag the Panthers back to within a field
goal at 24-21. The key play on the drive
came early -- after Newton scrambled left to pick up a 3rd and 1, he took the
next snap, took off up the middle, and 28 yards later, a Chiefs defender
finally bothered to pay attention to him, and shoved him out of bounds.
I've been saying all season that other than denver, this was the
one home game I had circled as can't miss*, because I was really looking
forward to seeing what might be Cam Newton's only visit to Arrowhead. He did not disappoint. This kid is good. I hate to say it, because it's a helluva thing
to try to live up to, but Donovan McNabb came to Arrowhead for a Thursday
nighter late in his second season. He
crushed it that night. Newton crushed it
yesterday. I cannot express how
impressed I was with this kid.
(*: yes, I am aware that me actually calling any non-preseason
Chiefs game "missable" is absolutely ridiculous.)
* After the two teams swap punts, the Chiefs march down the field,
but stall out at the 35 yard line. Enter
Ryan Succup. Cue another successful
field goal attempt. Chiefs now lead
27-21 with a little less than five minutes to go.
And for the first time all season, it was our time to step up and
be the difference between victory and defeat.
And step up we did.
* First down, Newton tries a short screen to Mike Tolbert. Tamba Hali sent him crashing to the ground
for a loss of one. A huge cheer for the
effort. And louder cheers urging the
defense to simply stand and give us a chance to finally, after 348 days,
deliver a win for us on the sacred ground of Arrowhead.
Second down, Newton in the shotgun, back to pass, but the
protection was phenomenal. Out of
options, he's flushed out by Justin Houston, and eventually knocked out of
bounds by Brandon Siler. More on him in
a second.
Now, finally, the moment of truth. 3rd and 4 at the Panthers 25. The noise level rising. Hell, I've pretty much given up even cheering
this season, save for denver, because I just haven't cared since Matt Cassel
fumbled at the goalline against the Ravens, handing them a win they didn't earn
and ensuring this season would go down one of the worst in franchise
history. And I was standing, screaming,
pounding on the chair backs like it was 2005 again.
Third down, Newton again in the shotgun, and NOBODY is open. NOBODY!
I cannot praise our beleagured secondary enough this afternoon for their
efforts yesterday afternoon. Realize,
Chiefs fans, who isn't out there. Our
best corner, Brandon Flowers, is limited with injuries. Our other starting corner when the season
began, Stanford Routt, is no longer on the team. We're playing such unsung, unknown players
like Tysyn Hartman, who led the team in tackles yesterday. Let there be no doubt -- yesterday was a
total team effort. Emphasis on the word
team.
So Newton is out of options, and decides to take a chance, and try
to float it into Mike Tolbert, who -- and THIS outta tell you how outmanned we
are right now when it's an obvious passing situation -- was being covered by
Dontari Poe, and no, Mr. Poe did not somehow magically drop 175 pounds and turn
into a nickelback. Poe defended the
pass. Chiefs hold.
This was another one of those moments, and I seem to have a few
every season, when I simply look at our sideline to see how the players and
coaches are reacting, and I gotta tell you, when they stood on that third down,
I actually felt, for the first time in a long time, like celebrating these
guys, and they did too. Romeo was
praising every defender as they hit the sideline. In the words of Richard A. Vermeil, "the
defense was servicing itself", high fiving and applauding.
And you know who else was doing that? He was standing right behind Romeo, actually,
if I saw right (granted, it's across the field from me, but there was maybe a foot, 18 inches between him and Crennel. He would have been the second guy that
greeted the D, after Romeo).
Matt Cassel.
That's awesome.
* Brandon Siler. Are you freaking kidding me. What an effort. What a job yesterday. If you're familiar with this site, you know I irrationally love this guy. "The Voice of Reason" has ripped me countless times over how good I think this guy can be. Yesterday, he showed you why I love this guy's potential.
* After a Panthers punt, the Chiefs take over at their own 30 with
a little less than four minutes to play.
The Panthers have two timeouts (plus the two minute warning) left to
stop the clock with. I thought,
realistically, we would need at least two first downs to end this, and possibly
three depending on when we attained the first down.
(Pause).
It took one. And that is
entirely, solely and completely, due to the presence of mind, the leadership,
and the intelligence ... of Brady Quinn.
And no, I'm not joking. Brady
Quinn on the Chiefs last drive yesterday put on a CLINIC on how to bleed the
clock. It was absolutely flawless. Let's take this one play at a time, and for
timing and accurate down and distance, I am reading from the play-by-play from
nfl.com's Gamecast.
1st and 10, Chiefs 30, 3:47 to play. The opening playcall is a delayed draw to
Jamaal Charles* up the middle for a gain of two. The Panthers use their second timeout, to
stop the clock with 3:41 to play. Went
exactly as it should -- you run the ball, get a few yards, force the Panthers
to start using their timeouts. It's sad
that this season has devolved so far, so fast, that simply doing what 99 out of
100 people EXPECT to see happen, simply doing that correctly, merits me
crediting you for doing, again, what 99 out of 100 people assume to be a given.
(*: if it's possible to have an aspect of the Belcher / Perkins
tragedy that hasn't received enough coverage, this is it to me. Ms. Perkins was Jamaal Charles' wife's
cousin. She and Mr. Belcher met through
him. I cannot even begin to comprehend
what had to be going through Jamaal Charles' mind yesterday, or his wife's. Stay strong, Charles family. Arrowhead Nation has your back. Always.)
2nd and 8, Chiefs 32, 3:41 to play. Another handoff to Jamaal Charles, another
gain of two, another Panthers timeout called, their last one, at 3:36 to
play. Again, nothing to see here, just
move along.
Then came the play that won this game, and it's a two fold play,
both of them to the eternal credit of Brady Quinn, who, if nothing else, will ALWAYS be
remembered in my eyes as the man who put the entire damned franchise, fanbase
-- hell, the entire five county metropolitan area -- put us all on his back,
and delivered a victory this team, this fanbase, this city, not only needed, it
HAD to have, given all that happened not just Saturday, but all season long.
We need these guys to be whole again.
We need them to heal, so we can heal.
We needed Romeo and Brady Quinn and the roster to let us know it was ok
to simply like these guys again.
Yesterday, we did. Deservedly so.
3rd and 6, Chiefs 34, 3:36 to play. Quinn drops back to pass, and there is nobody
open. So he takes off. Slowly, surely, around right tackle, diving
... and picking up exactly six yards.
First down. That was sweet.
What was sweeter was what happened next. I believe I read somewhere, or heard it,
whatever, that leadership is defined as the person who can keep their wits
about them, when everyone else has lost theirs.
Which is why what I'm about to type, on first glance, makes absolutely
no sense, even by my (now professionally diagnosed!) mental standards. And it is this:
Brady Quinn intentionally took a penalty for delay of game. Hang on, let me type that again:
Brady Quinn intentionally took a penalty for delay of game. And it was the smartest thing anyone on this
team has done all season long.
Did you realize that penalty was the first called on the Chiefs
all day? They played 57 minutes and 40
seconds of completely error free football.
No penalties, no turnovers, hell -- we hadn't even put the ball on the
ground and then lucked out by recovering it.
So why, you ask, does taking a penalty there, virtually ensuring you
will have to punt, because now you need 15 yards, not 10, how, I am sure you
are asking, how in the hell am I praising INTENTIONALLY taking a delay of game
penalty there?
Simple. "40
seconds".
Had Brady Quinn snapped the ball with :03 or possibly even :02 on
the playclock, there was a decent chance the Chiefs would have had to run
another play before the two minute warning.
Quinn understood that taking the penalty, and ENSURING only one play
would be run before the two minute warning*, meant the earliest the Panthers
could get the ball back would be with about 25 seconds to play, and they'd be
pinned deep in their territory with no timeouts available to stop the
clock.
(*: as good as this decision was, it isn't even close to shanarat's 4th and 2 call in 2005. To recap: it's 4th and 2 at midfield for denver. Chiefs lead 31-27. 2:07 to go. shanarat goes for it. The initial spot, he gets it. Mike White orders Dick Vermeil to challenge, because mike anderson wasn't in the same zip code as the down-to-gain marker. Because the play was ruled as a first down, the clock ticked to the two minute warning.
The Chiefs (correctly) win the challenge. shanarat then sprints down the sideline to get Bill Leavy's attention. Because shanarat knew that if mike anderson was tackled short of the first down, the clock shouldn't have reached the two minute warning. He bought his team an extra play, since he was out of timeouts. He bought a free first down, and the Chiefs would have to get a first down, rather than taking three knees. That man is a sick, evil genius. Oh yeah, and he looks like a rat.)
Brady Quinn knew, he f*cking* KNEW, what the smart play there was,
and it was to take the penalty, ensure the clock drops to 2:40 to play, and
since the NFL uses a :40 play clock, the "dream scenario" just
outlined in the previous paragraph was guaranteed to happen.
(*: hey gang -- go back and re-read it if you don't believe me ...
but that is the first f bomb used in this post.
I know, I know -- I couldn't believe it either.)
And so, as planned and envisioned perfectly by Brady Quinn, the
dream scenario happened. The Chiefs ran
the ball three times, punted it deep, and the Panthers got the ball back at
their own 14 yard line with :18 to play.
Ballgame. Right?
Uuh ... these are the Chiefs.
And when I said I was impressed by Cam Newton, holy Lord, he damn near
pulled this out. First down, Newton hits
Steve Smith for 15 yards, and Smith gets out of bounds. 1st down, they run the exact same play, with
the exact same result, albeit for 10 yards this time instead of 15. And after an incompletion, from his own 39,
Cam Newton let it fly ... and Steve Smith caught it 53 yards downfield ...
Let me see, how can I describe how I felt watching this play
unfold. I know. If you're a fan of "Friday Night
Lights", and if you aren't, please -- subscribe to Netflix and pound out
seasons one, three, four and five. You
will NOT regret it. (readers voice) why
not season two Stevo? (stevo) what
season two? They only aired one, three,
four and five! There's no season
two! That's crazy talk!
Anyways, the final scene in the pilot episode? That's how I felt at that moment. And if you think about it, given the tragic
circumstances surrounding yesterday's game, it even makes sense as an analogy,
given the tragic circumstances that had occurred to land Matt Saracen in the
spot he found himself in. Down 6. Time for one play. Your only play in the arsenal is some
variation of "four jet all go", the play made famous in the greatest
NFL game ever staged, the 49ers wildcard victory over the Packers on my 22nd
birthday. (Owens! Owens! He caught it! He caught it!)
The second Newton let go of the ball, I panicked. Because like Steve Young famously noted after
completing that pass to Terrell Owens to win that game, "he was open! There was a seam! He was open!" I stared in horror as I saw Steve Smith
streaking virtually uncovered down the middle of the field. (In the Chiefs defense, they were playing
serious prevent defense here, as they should have been). The throw by Newton was just beautiful. It seemed to take forever to come down, but
when it did, Steve Smith was there to get it ...
And thank God almighty, so was Neiko Thorpe, who tackled Smith
eight yards shy of his destination.
Chiefs 27, Panthers 21.
And as I noted many, many pages ago, while everyone else was
filing out, I was staring at the Chiefs sidelines. And I gotta admit, other than"Brave" Bennie Sapp grabbing the Powerade towel and hopping up on the donkeys bench to lead Arrowhead in celebration after the Thanksgiving Night win six years ago, I've never enjoyed a sideline scene of celebration more, than that one yesterday. You EARNED this guys. You EARNED this!
* forgot to mention, we have a tradition in our tailgating group,
that if the Chiefs win, the first song that plays afterwards while we're
waiting for the parking lot to clear / finishing off a few bottles of
champagne, is "Dancin' On The Ceiling". (The original classic, not the crappy Rascal Flatts reboot.) The entire fourth quarter, as it began to
look more and more likely that yes, we would win, I kept teasing what was
coming. Text to my buddy Damien: "I
can almost hear it. Something about
dancing, a ceiling, and a Richie."
Let's just say, NOBODY was more nervous on that final pass from Newton
to Smith, than me. I was 100 percent
certain, as Steve Smith broke wide open down the middle of the field, that I'd
jinxed it.
Color me relieved.
* and please, reread that previous paragraph, and see if you can
spot the word that matters. It's ok --
I've got time.
(cue "final jeopardy" theme song music)
And ... time.
"We". Yesterday,
this team, this fanbase, this city, so fractured and hurt and angry and furious
at this miserable wreck of a season, having now suffered the highest indignity
of them all -- a player killing his girlfriend, killing himself, and leaving
everyone even more disgusted at all this season has devolved into -- we were
made whole. The fans, the players, the
front office, everyone, was shocked back into reality by this unbelievable
tragedy, and we – all of us -- came together to stand as one at the darkest
hour in franchise history.
No longer was it about flying banners, wearing all black, mocking
the general manager for his obsession with candy wrappers. No longer was this about hating our
quarterback, booing our secondary, mocking our head coach, trashing our general
manager, demanding our owner show up and clean house and fix this. Sunday was about one thing -- setting aside
all the ridiculous, trivial, worthless bullsh*t and coming together not just
because it was the right thing to do, but because it needed to be done. This team needed us. We needed it.
I hate that it took something this awful to make that happen, but if
this is the lasting legacy Jovan Belcher has on the Chiefs, then maybe
something positive can come from this.
I will never forget yesterday as long as I live. It was beyond subdued out there. Not because of what happened the day before,
but because of what was happening then.
Healing. And since I do tailgate
in Lot G, I’m sure some of it was of a sexual nature.
I don’t know why Jovan Belcher did this. I suspect, at some level, he had no clue
either. I don’t know why, but the one
thing I’ve obsessed over about all of this, is what was he thinking standing there in front
of Scott Pioli, Romeo Crennel, and Gary Gibbs.
What was he thinking, at the darkest hour of his life, standing in front
of three people whose sole desire, whose only intention, was to save him from the
tragic fate that he was planning to embrace?
Whether this was caused by drug dependency, or depression, or concussions,
or flat out because he’s an abusive ass who couldn't cope with his victim telling him to f*ck off, I do not know.
But I do know this: suicide is NEVER the solution to what ails
you.
I debated whether to go here.
But one thing I’ve always tried to be on this site is up front and honest,
and it’s a policy I try to adhere to in life as well. You will always know where you stand with
me if you are my friend. It's both a good and (unfortunately, over the last few months) a bad thing at times. Allow me to close then, by sharing
what happened on the darkest night of my life, from my perspective. In the words of Howard 100 News: “no more
bullsh*t”.
Before I begin, first, one request: if you have problems, if you
feel overwhelmed, if you feel like you're in a situation that's so bad that you
view suicide as the only way out?
Please, please, please -- if you feel like that? Pick up the phone. Call someone.
Anyone. I hope, I pray, that all
my friends know I am available 24/7/365 (or in 2012, 24/7/366) for them. Please, if you find yourself at a point that
your problems or issues or whatever is so overwhelming you, that killing
yourself seems reasonable? Please, call
someone. Suicide is NOT the
solution. Suicide is NEVER the
solution. There is no problem in your
life so great, so outrageous, so offensive, that your true friends won't still
have your back. Trust me -- I know. I'll reveal a little something about myself
here, to hopefully serve as an example to anyone reading this who thinks life
has overwhelmed them, that they've gone too far, that they cannot be redeemed,
that things cannot get better.
Ten years ago, I had a severe, and I mean SEVERE, gambling
addiction. This was my typical workday:
wake up at 8am, show up at 8:30, leave at 5, head to Ameristar or Harrah's or
Argosy or the Isle, and stay until they closed for the night, or I'd maxed out
my withdrawal limits at the ATM on whatever credit card or debit card I had
with funds available, then go home and crash for a couple hours before
repeating the cycle the next day. This
cycle lasted almost 8 months, virtually nonstop. In April of 2002, I reached my rock bottom,
when I disappeared into the casino on Friday night, and come 11pm Sunday night,
having not slept in three days and being out nearly $3,000 on a weekend gone
horribly wrong, I literally had $0.00 to my name. My checking account was overdrawn. My savings account was drained. Every credit card I had was maxed out. Definitely NOT "good times".
I walked out of Ameristar that night, sat in
my car, and cried. I had no idea what I
was going to do. My rent check had
bounced, I owed my roommate hundreds of dollars he'd lent me for what he
thought were reasons other than gambling, and I literally had the three pennies
in my console to my name.
That's not news -- everyone who knew me ten years ago knew I was a
gambling addict, and I've admitted that on this site many times before.
What I haven't admitted before ... is that sitting in the driver's
seat that night, I decided to kill myself, in the exact same manner as my buddy
James would sadly do two years later: by plowing my car head on into the
concrete barricades on the freeway at 80mph.
Heading home, I resolved to do it.
I even had my location I was going to do it picked out -- Southbound
I-35 and 75th Street, where the freeway curves hard right. I'd just drive straight into the barriers and
never turn, never stop. It would be
quick, hopefully painless, and if I failed, and somehow survived? I didn't want to go on living the way I had
been anyways. Incredibly enough, I actually picked that spot also because it was the closest place I could do it to my folks' house and the apartment where I lived at the time. In my mind, I was "saving" my friends and family from having to travel to get me. Jesus, I was eight layers of screwed up.
I had made my
decision. I hopped on the freeway,
headed south ... and accidentally exited on Shawnee Mission Parkway, which was
my normal route home at that time.
Again -- I don't believe in coincidences, and I'm not religious,
but anyone who tells me that my turning off at the normal exit instead of going
another mile, when the whole purpose of my being in the car at that moment was
to kill myself, anyone who says that was random chance, or that God didn't have
a hand in that? Anyone who argues God
himself didn't step in and make me exit a mile early, to save me from
myself? You'd be wrong. I then spent another hour and a half just
driving, both despondent over what I still intended to do, because I genuinely believed I had no other choice. I honestly believed I couldn't go home. Ninety minutes spent believing that
what I'd done, the point I was now at, was so outrageous, so unforgiveable, that the roommate had
probably changed the locks on me.
Finally, I opted to go home, since it was pushing 2am, and I
figured I could sneak in, get a couple hours sleep, and slink out the door
before anyone woke up or would notice. And at worst, try again in the morning on the drive into work.
I opened the door to the apartment, and there on the couch, were
my roommate and my brother, looking absolutely sh*t faced frightened. I had no idea that they had spent all day Sunday looking for me (along with other friends and family), fearing I had done what I had resolved to
do. Terrified for me.
I stood there for about 1/1000ths of a second, before my brother
ran -- ran! -- over to hug me, and completely lost it, relieved I was alive. Ditto the roommate. We sat around for a while, and I spilled my
guts. What choice did I have -- I'd
maxed out every credit card, I had no money in the bank, it's not like I could
afford to continue this anymore.
What I learned that night, is this. There is NOTHING you can do,
that your true friends won't forgive you for.
I learned that there is nothing -- NOTHING -- so overwhelming in your
life, that your friends won't help you fight back against, nothing that your
friends won't help you work out, nothing your friends won't help you overcome.
I learned what true friendship, what truly unconditional "I
got your back man, always!" love feels like.
I still struggle with my gambling addiction. I always will. But I've put steps in place to at least try
to curb the problem. And yes, I had a
pay a price for my addiction. Just
because people forgive you and love you and accept you, doesn't mean that you
aren't accountable for what you did. I
still struggle financially from the price I am paying to, uuh, pay off that
addiction. (Hey, you rack up almost $20k in credit card debt over a year, and tell me how cheap it is to pay it off.)
But the important thing, the only thing that matters? Is that I'm struggling.
I'm struggling, because I'm still here. It feels wonderful to struggle, when faced
with the alternative I had chosen. I'm
still good friends with my former roommate, and my brother and I actually grew
closer as a result of this, believe it or not.
They still have my back. As does everyone else who dropped everything they had planned on a gorgeous Sunday at the end of April, because their friend was hurting, and needed them, whether I knew it or not. Because of them -- and God -- refusing to give up on me, I'm still here.
(This is probably where ever reader groans out loud at the
realization there was a chance you might have been spared from reading the last 14
pages and counting …)
Your true, core friends will ALWAYS back you, no matter what you
do. It’s why I’m not upset at the Chiefs
players show of support for Jovan Belcher.
You can hate the sin, but love the sinner.
If you feel overwhelmed, please -- take the time to call
anyone you have faith in. A true friend will never judge
you. He may hold you accountable, as he
should, but a true friend will always accept you, ugliness and all. If you feel that dealing with your problems
with your friends is too overwhelming, or too embarrassing, then please -- call
a professional. Get help.
Depression is a dark, ugly place. Believe me, I know -- I currently see a counselor
every Tuesday night on my way home from work, to simply talk through my
feelings with someone who knows how to help, and wants to help. I resisted it for a long time, but I can
honestly tell you -- scheduling that first session back in February, was THE
single best decision I've ever made in my life. That thirty minutes every Tuesday night is the best therapy
imaginable.
All of us have issues. And there is no issue too great, that you coupled with the ones who have your back, cannot overcome.
I suffer from depression. There
are times I literally cannot get out of bed, the pain in my mind and my
emotions is too intense. There are times
I simply break down and cry, for no obvious reason, because some random thing
triggered sadness in me. I tried medication two summers ago. It left me so screwed up in the head that it frightened even me. So I know that doesn't work, at least for me. Up until ten
months ago, I just figured I was going crazy, or was having a mental breakdown, when
the dark periods would hit. Now I know,
thanks to professional help, that I’m not crazy, my mind is fine. That there is nothing wrong with me. I simply have an issue that millions of people deal with, and cope with. I am NORMAL! And sweet merciful Jesus, if those aren't the three most frightening words you will ever read on this site, I cannot possibly imagine the three that are going to top them (rimshot!)
If you feel overwhelmed by your life? Talk to someone. There is NOTHING wrong with you. NOTHING!
Say it with me -- there is not ONE godd*mned thing wrong with you! Believe that!
And if you don't feel like sharing this with someone you love, as
was (and at times, still is) the case with me?
Then seek help. There's NOTHING
embarrassing about admitting you have a problem. We all do.
Believe me, seeing a professional is not a sin*. It's not a bad thing. They aren't there to judge you. They aren't there to humiliate you, or
degrade you, or make you feel worse about yourself. They are there to HELP! No, really -- that's what they're paid to do
and everything!
My mental state is at least 50% better now than it was entering
this year. I am happier most of the
time. I'm much more relaxed. I am beginning to regain a sense of
perspective again, something I had lost.
There is NOTHING wrong with YOU.
If you feel that you are the problem?
You're not. Accept who you
are. You are how God made you. Your true friends love you no matter
what. NO. MATTER.
WHAT. You are NOT the problem. There is NOTHING wrong with you.
(*: well, unless you're seeing a disreputable massage parlor
worker. "It's not a massage parlor
like you think it is, sir. Oh, so they don't
have sex with their clients there? Oh,
is that what you think a massage parlor is?
Then yes, it is a massage parlor like you think it is." I never miss a chance to work "The Norm Show" into a post.)
Please -- if you need help, ask for it. Please don't choose to check out like Mr.
Belcher did. Yes, Mr. Belcher's acts
were reprehensible. Killing your baby's
mother by shooting her nine times in front of your daughter and your mother is
a pretty awful thing, even by our morally bankrupt society's rock-bottom
standards. But it wasn't so awful that
Mr. Belcher couldn't be redeemed, either by paying his debt to society for his
actions, or possibly through finding faith and placing his life in the hands of
a higher power. There is nothing you can
do, that a true friend won't still find a way to have your back for. If you don't believe that, please -- call
someone. Anyone. Now!
Just pick up the phone and dial.
You have value. You have
meaning.
You matter.
You have more people than you can imagine who love you, who care
about you, who only want the best for you.
Believe that. And if you don't,
please, take the time, the most precious gift any of us have, take the time to
call for help, as I've done recently.
There is help available. Please,
take advantage of it.
Yesterday’s results don’t change what needs to, uuh, change, after
this season. A serious house-cleaning is
in order. Yesterday doesn’t change that
one bit. But yesterday showed that Mr.
Belcher notwithstanding, and again, by all accounts, this was a “WHAT?!?!?!”
moment in his life, that the soul of this organization is still intact. It’s more solid than ever.
Yesterday, Romeo Crennel delivered the most amazing, incredible,
epic coaching performance I have ever had the privilege to witness. What he pulled off on the field yesterday
was, quite simply, the most incredible sporting feat I may have ever seen. He accomplished the impossible on the field.
What makes yesterday so awesome, why it will be a day I will never
forget, is that I don’t care. It’s the
job Romeo Crennel did off the field, that history will judge him on. Romeo Crennel saved this franchise
yesterday. He somehow brought together
52 plus fragile, shaken, hurting young men, all of whom are at least 5 years
younger than I am, and somehow, someway, made this unbelievable tragedy
bearable.
And he made those of us who stand with Save Our Chiefs, those of us disgusted by what this franchise has devolved into, he made us PROUD again to wear red. He made us proud of what this team is. I will never, ever forget the feeling I had leaving that stadium yesterday. And the best part of that feeling, is that I felt as I did, due to NOTHING that happened on the field of play.
For the rest of the season, Chiefs fans, don’t swear to God over
how angry you are to see Romeo Crennel on the sideline. Don't huff and puff and scream about how Romeo Crennel needed to be fired after the oakland debacle, after the Cincinnati blowout, after the denver defeat, or that he shouldn't have ever been hired in the first place. (All thoughts I have expressed at some point this season, for what it's worth.)
Instead, remember the words by Garth Brooks, and feel this way:
"Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers.
Remember when you're talking to the man upstairs,
That just because he doesn't answer?
Doesn't mean he don't care.
Some of life's greatest gifts
Are unanswered prayers ..."
Pray for the Belcher family. Pray for the Perkins family. Dear God, PRAY for that precious little girl now left without her parents.
And while you're doing that, thank God Romeo Crennel was on that sideline yesterday, and every day this season before yesterday. He saved this franchise yesterday. As someone who DESPISES being wr ... wr ... wr ... possibly incorrect, even I have to acknowledge the obvious.
Some of God's greatest gifts? Are unanswered prayers ...
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