By Eric
Poole
Saturday, January 10th, 2004
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The reasons for the Indianapolis Colts' 41-10 demolition of Denver in last
week's wildcard playoff round are many.
To bottom line this, the Colts were a better team -- albeit not 31 points
better -- in spite of their loss to the same team two weeks earlier. Indy
was better-motivated, too, in part by the desire to lift the "can't win a
playoff game" tag from themselves, their coach, and their quarterback.
Because Indianapolis jumped out to an huge early lead by scoring on all of
its first-half possessions, the Colts were able to neutralize Denver's greatest
strength.
No, not the running game. The offensive line.
In spite of the fact that Broncos' running back Clinton Portis didn't find
much running room, and didn't have many opportunities to look for it, and
quarterback Jake Plummer must have felt like he was back in Phoenix, Denver's
vaunted offensive line has to be exonerated.
With a three-touchdown lead early in the second quarter, the Colts' could
forget about playing the run and their front seven could just go into the
huddle and say to each other, "Let's meet at 'The Snake' ... Break!"
As a result, Denver's offensive front five looked a little foolish at times
last week, which is a shame because it might be the best in football.
But if anybody should know that appearances can be deceiving in football,
and sometimes credit and blame are misplaced, it's the Broncos' offensive
linemen.
It's not as if every single Denver resident has run for 1,000 yards in a
season with the Broncos -- the actual number is four guys in seven out of
the last eight years -- but it sure seems like it.
The featured runner often is revered above all other players except the
quarterback. Yet at the same time, there probably is no other player on the
team who gets more credit for the accomplishments of others.
In the salary cap age of professional football, every penny overspent at
one position weakens the team overall. With that in mind, if I were a vice
president of football operations or whatever they're calling it nowadays
-- general manager, director of player personnel, Bill Parcells -- I wouldn't
spend more than $1 million a year on a featured runner.
Then, I'd use the savings on offensive linemen, who have as much to do with
a running back's output as the runner's talents themselves.
While I'm aware that San Diego's LaDanian Tomlinson had a season equal to
Portis behind a lesser offensive line, I don't think putting Portis on the
AFC Pro Bowl team in Tomlinson's place was the most egregious mistake of
the Pro Bowl selection process.
Including only one lineman -- center Tom Nalen -- from the Broncos was. The
work of Nalen, guards Dan Neil and Matt Lepsis, and tackles Ephraim Salaam
and Ben Hamilton certainly was worthy of at least one more Pro Bowl berth.
Portis is just a cog, just like Mike Anderson before him, and Olandis Gary
before him, and Terrell Davis before that.
If fans really believe that football games are won and lost in the trenches,
they would be able to name at least one of the Broncos' linemen. Even Nalen,
who has a pretty good shot someday at standing behind a podium in Canton,
Ohio, clutching a sculpted representation of his own head, toils in relative
anonymity.
And speaking of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Nalen isn't the only person
connected with the Denver Broncos' offensive line who should be on his way
there.
In seven of the past eight seasons, the Broncos have had a 1,000-yard rusher.
By all indications, former offensive line coach Alex Gibbs is a huge reason
for that.
Nalen is the only holdover from the beginning of that streak. In that time,
the line has lost standouts like Tony Jones and Pro Bowler Mark Schlereth.
Also, we're not talking about the biggest bullies on the playground. The
Denver offensive front averages 6-foot-4, 288 pounds. By NFL standards, where
most offensive linemen have to be weighed down at the train station because
the scale in the doctor's office doesn't go above 300 pounds, that's almost
Manute Bol-like.
Those facts indicate a couple of things -- the Denver offensive line has
done a good job meshing even when new cast members are introduced, and that
it is virtually technically flawless enough to overpower bigger defensive
fronts and schemes designed to prevent them from doing just that.
And that all comes down to coaching. Gibbs, 62, stepped down two years ago
to take a gig as assistant head coach and was replaced by Rick Dennison,
a disciple.
The thought that Gibbs, or any other assistant coach, should be inducted
into the Hall of Fame is counterintuitive to a lot of people, especially
those who know who Clinton Portis is but can't name any of the Broncos' offensive
lineman.
I mean, it's not supposed to work that way. The best position coaches become
coordinators, the best coordinators become head coaches, and the best head
coaches are inducted into the Hall of Fame.
However, that notion must be false if Gibbs is the best position coach ever
-- and there's every indication that's true -- and never became a coordinator.
I really couldn't say why he never got a head coaching chance because all
I know about him, I learned from watching his offensive line work.
But that's enough to convince me he should be in the Hall of Fame.
And it's about time someone involved with the Denver running offense gets
exactly as much credit as he deserves.
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