Ravens 33, Patriots 14 (1/9/10): All the questions about the Patriots in this up-and-down season were answered very early yesterday. Can they play a complete 60-minute game? Can they overcome injuries? Can their coaching staff bring forth a game plan that throws the other team off balance? Can their best players (mostly Brady) step it up when it really counted? No. No. No. And no.
The official end-of-dynasty proclamations will be issued and reissued all week on the radio and TV. I'll take a pass on listening to all that. The "dynasty" has been over since '04. Is that news? Each year in the NFL has nothing to do with the previous one or the next one. Sometimes two great seasons come bac
k-to-back. Sometimes they don't come for decades. '03 had very little to do with '04 which had very little to do with '07 which had very little to do with this year. Sure, some players and coaches are the same. But things change quickly from year-to-year. Look at the Steelers this decade. So the Pats are out and the season ended in an embarrassing loss. They made the Ravens look a heck of lot better than they really are. Does that mean the Pats can't get back to the top next year? Once again the answer is, no.
But there are many things they need to improve on if they want to go deeper into the playoffs. And all of those things were on display from the first play of yesterday's game. The Ravens are a great running team. Their plan was to pound the ball right at the Pats D all day. The Ravens knew it. The Patriots knew it. Everyone in the stadium knew it. The Pats knew it, but they weren't ready for it. RB Ray Rice took the hand-off on the first play at his own 17-yard line, hit the hole up the middle, cut left, and went -- untouched -- for an 83-yard touchdown. On the first play of the game. I had skipped my pre-kickoff Don Julio margarita run in order to be in my seat for the national anthem. No sooner had Rice crossed the goal line, than I bolted up the stairs for a little liquid relief. You know, something to change the momentum.
I got to the front of the line at the Don Julio stand and said "Two margaritas please." The woman serving the drinks seemed annoyed with my order. "No margaritas today," she answered. No margaritas? The Ravens just scored on an 83-yard run on the first play of the game AND there are no margaritas? "This game is not starting out so well," I thought. "Why no margaritas?" I asked. "No hard liquor on playoff games. You want two Coronas?" "Coronas?" I repeated back to her. "It's January. Why would I want a summer beer?" "You wanted a margarita," she said. "That's a summer drink too." Good point. But one has tequila, the other doesn't. It's 15 degrees out. Which one would you prefer?
I drifted away from the margarita line, excuse me, the Corona line, and wandered dazed across the concourse. I looked up at the small TV hanging on the wall. (Hey, Mr. Kraft. Can we get some TVs that I can see please? Put the $400 I spent on parking this year towards it.) The Pats had the ball. Brady dropped back to pass, and from what I could make out on the screen, he fumbled the ball and the Ravens recovered. No, this game was not starting out so well at all.
It just got worse from there. The Ravens had a third down inside the Pats 10. Hold them to a field goal attempt there and maybe -- maybe -- the Pats could turn things around. Rice took the ball and hit the hole on the left but James Sanders came up from his safety spot and had a clear shot on Rice that would have stopped him short of the first. A tackle that had to be made. Sanders didn't make it. He completely whiffed and Rice bulled ahead for a first and goal. Two plays later, touchdown. 14-0. The Sanders missed tackle was emblematic of the season. A Patriot had a chance to make a play and he just didn't get the job done.
This would normally have been the point in the game where I texted my nephews and sister with messages like "Lots of time left." "This is ugly." "We just need a big play." Something like that. Or they would have texted me. But there was radio silence. Clearly we were all too stunned to try to offer each other hope. And for good reason.
Brady threw a horrible pick on the Pats' third possession. The Ravens scored again. Then he threw another pick on the next possession. The Ravens scored again. As the clock ticked down on the first quarter the Gillette scoreboard read Ravens 24, Patriots 0. The boos started to rain down. I prefer silence over booing my team but when you screw everything up for an entire quarter in the playoffs you have earned some boos. And they really weren't that loud. I believe me exact words were "You can't spot a team like the Ravens 24 points. We are done." How's that for analysis? Mark refused to die, knowing that teams can come back and believing that Brady could still summon up some magic. But there was no magic to be had. That Pats scored after a muffed Ravens punt to make it 24-7 and had chances to cut the lead to 10 before the half but just couldn't make the plays. Time and time again.
The second half started with the Pats going three-and-out. There were too many three-and-outs this year for an offense that averaged the sixth most points per game. They scored a lot. But they rarely scored when they had to. Red zone issues. No consistent production from their tight ends. Lots of problems for Belichick and the staff to address. The rest of the game consisted of the Ravens grinding down the clock and the Pats desperately trying to do something to climb back in the game. But the Pats couldn't get anything going. It was their worst game of the season and one of their worst in years. As the sun went down behind the south side of the stadium and the temperature began to go down with it, we left with just over three minutes to go so Mark could catch an earlier train out of Providence. It was one of just a handful of times we left before the final gun during our 16 years as ticket holders. But we had seen enough.
That's the only good thing -- as a fan -- about your team getting blown out and blown out early. You go through the stages of grief before the game is even over. By the start of the fourth quarter acceptance had settled in around most of the stadium. The season was over. Their unbeaten home playoff record under Brady and Belichick was over. The shot at a fourth Lombardi this decade was over.
The day after the season ends is always a gray one when your team comes up short. You kick away the snow in front of the shed and put away the grill, tables, chairs, tent, and all the tailgating supplies. (It's important to make sure you throw out any leftover meat or else it will not be pretty come spring when you open the door again). As I was carrying stuff across the yard something felt different. I realized this was the first time in a long time that I was storing things away after a season-ending loss at home. That was a strange feeling. It's been a great decade. A decade of great games and even better memories. The Pats had never ended a season by losing at home during that time. As I put the last items into the shed I thought about next season's outstanding home schedule and started to look forward to setting up in the Gillette lot some sunny September day with my friends. I can't wait.
The official end-of-dynasty proclamations will be issued and reissued all week on the radio and TV. I'll take a pass on listening to all that. The "dynasty" has been over since '04. Is that news? Each year in the NFL has nothing to do with the previous one or the next one. Sometimes two great seasons come bac
k-to-back. Sometimes they don't come for decades. '03 had very little to do with '04 which had very little to do with '07 which had very little to do with this year. Sure, some players and coaches are the same. But things change quickly from year-to-year. Look at the Steelers this decade. So the Pats are out and the season ended in an embarrassing loss. They made the Ravens look a heck of lot better than they really are. Does that mean the Pats can't get back to the top next year? Once again the answer is, no.But there are many things they need to improve on if they want to go deeper into the playoffs. And all of those things were on display from the first play of yesterday's game. The Ravens are a great running team. Their plan was to pound the ball right at the Pats D all day. The Ravens knew it. The Patriots knew it. Everyone in the stadium knew it. The Pats knew it, but they weren't ready for it. RB Ray Rice took the hand-off on the first play at his own 17-yard line, hit the hole up the middle, cut left, and went -- untouched -- for an 83-yard touchdown. On the first play of the game. I had skipped my pre-kickoff Don Julio margarita run in order to be in my seat for the national anthem. No sooner had Rice crossed the goal line, than I bolted up the stairs for a little liquid relief. You know, something to change the momentum.
I got to the front of the line at the Don Julio stand and said "Two margaritas please." The woman serving the drinks seemed annoyed with my order. "No margaritas today," she answered. No margaritas? The Ravens just scored on an 83-yard run on the first play of the game AND there are no margaritas? "This game is not starting out so well," I thought. "Why no margaritas?" I asked. "No hard liquor on playoff games. You want two Coronas?" "Coronas?" I repeated back to her. "It's January. Why would I want a summer beer?" "You wanted a margarita," she said. "That's a summer drink too." Good point. But one has tequila, the other doesn't. It's 15 degrees out. Which one would you prefer?
I drifted away from the margarita line, excuse me, the Corona line, and wandered dazed across the concourse. I looked up at the small TV hanging on the wall. (Hey, Mr. Kraft. Can we get some TVs that I can see please? Put the $400 I spent on parking this year towards it.) The Pats had the ball. Brady dropped back to pass, and from what I could make out on the screen, he fumbled the ball and the Ravens recovered. No, this game was not starting out so well at all.
It just got worse from there. The Ravens had a third down inside the Pats 10. Hold them to a field goal attempt there and maybe -- maybe -- the Pats could turn things around. Rice took the ball and hit the hole on the left but James Sanders came up from his safety spot and had a clear shot on Rice that would have stopped him short of the first. A tackle that had to be made. Sanders didn't make it. He completely whiffed and Rice bulled ahead for a first and goal. Two plays later, touchdown. 14-0. The Sanders missed tackle was emblematic of the season. A Patriot had a chance to make a play and he just didn't get the job done.
This would normally have been the point in the game where I texted my nephews and sister with messages like "Lots of time left." "This is ugly." "We just need a big play." Something like that. Or they would have texted me. But there was radio silence. Clearly we were all too stunned to try to offer each other hope. And for good reason.
Brady threw a horrible pick on the Pats' third possession. The Ravens scored again. Then he threw another pick on the next possession. The Ravens scored again. As the clock ticked down on the first quarter the Gillette scoreboard read Ravens 24, Patriots 0. The boos started to rain down. I prefer silence over booing my team but when you screw everything up for an entire quarter in the playoffs you have earned some boos. And they really weren't that loud. I believe me exact words were "You can't spot a team like the Ravens 24 points. We are done." How's that for analysis? Mark refused to die, knowing that teams can come back and believing that Brady could still summon up some magic. But there was no magic to be had. That Pats scored after a muffed Ravens punt to make it 24-7 and had chances to cut the lead to 10 before the half but just couldn't make the plays. Time and time again.
The second half started with the Pats going three-and-out. There were too many three-and-outs this year for an offense that averaged the sixth most points per game. They scored a lot. But they rarely scored when they had to. Red zone issues. No consistent production from their tight ends. Lots of problems for Belichick and the staff to address. The rest of the game consisted of the Ravens grinding down the clock and the Pats desperately trying to do something to climb back in the game. But the Pats couldn't get anything going. It was their worst game of the season and one of their worst in years. As the sun went down behind the south side of the stadium and the temperature began to go down with it, we left with just over three minutes to go so Mark could catch an earlier train out of Providence. It was one of just a handful of times we left before the final gun during our 16 years as ticket holders. But we had seen enough.
That's the only good thing -- as a fan -- about your team getting blown out and blown out early. You go through the stages of grief before the game is even over. By the start of the fourth quarter acceptance had settled in around most of the stadium. The season was over. Their unbeaten home playoff record under Brady and Belichick was over. The shot at a fourth Lombardi this decade was over.
The day after the season ends is always a gray one when your team comes up short. You kick away the snow in front of the shed and put away the grill, tables, chairs, tent, and all the tailgating supplies. (It's important to make sure you throw out any leftover meat or else it will not be pretty come spring when you open the door again). As I was carrying stuff across the yard something felt different. I realized this was the first time in a long time that I was storing things away after a season-ending loss at home. That was a strange feeling. It's been a great decade. A decade of great games and even better memories. The Pats had never ended a season by losing at home during that time. As I put the last items into the shed I thought about next season's outstanding home schedule and started to look forward to setting up in the Gillette lot some sunny September day with my friends. I can't wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment