Maroon87
01-25-2008, 12:25 PM
'72 Dolphins don't want to face the truth
by Mark Kriegel
FOXSports.com.
A champagne toast is in order. Raise a glass for the 1972 Miami Dolphins, a team that has finally succeeded in diminishing its own perfect season.
The latest silly salvo directed at the undefeated New England Patriots comes from Mercury Morris, now 61, who went on the radio the other day and spoke his apparently deteriorating mind.
"They win on February 3, and they're the second-best team in the history of the NFL," said Morris. "We're the first team. ... If they win, they're going to be the second team."
So there.
Of course, every team deserves to be judged in the context of its time. That said, a 19-0 season — New England's record should it win the Super Bowl — would be more impressive than Miami's mark, 17-0. Anyone not named Mercury Morris can do the math on that one.
What's more, Dolphins alums like Morris were not well-advised to call attention to themselves, or else someone like me would remind you of their dirty little secret. The '72 team benefited from one of the easiest schedules in NFL history. Bash the Patriots and their coach all you want. I do. Just understand that with a game left to play, they are nothing if not tested, as their regular season included victories over six playoff teams — the Colts, Cowboys, Chargers, Steelers, Giants and Redskins.
Now, go back and check the '72 Dolphins. Their regular season included only two games against teams that finished better than .500 — the Vikings and the Giants, who were both 8-6 that year. The combined won-loss record of their opponents was 43-86-3. Let me rephrase. Their average opponent had a winning percentage of .333.
There are some notably sane Dolphin alums. Jim Mandich, a tight end on that '72 team, comes to mind. When recently asked how that team would do against these Patriots, he responded: "They would kick our (butts) from one side of the field to the other."
There's no shame in that, just common sense. As a rule, ballplayers get bigger, stronger and faster every year. The Patriots have 35 years of athletic evolution (not to mention a little HGH, in the case of Rodney Harrison) on their side. The Dolphins offensive line averaged 253 pounds. The front three starters on New England's defense range from 300 to 325 pounds.
Still, Mandich's teammates seem incapable of acknowledging the obvious.
"The weight issue is overstated," the Dolphins' old center, Jim Langer, told The Miami Herald. Another 50 pounds doesn't mean a damn thing. It's all about leverage."
Said Bob Kuechenberg, once a guard: "If we play under the old rules" — basically enabling the defense to beat up receivers all over the field — "we win going away."
Fifty pounds doesn't mean a thing. We win going away. Lines like these — so contemptuous of an obvious truth — could be dismissed as a mere goof if they weren't also a little sad. No one wants to hear old men sound like little boys. But then again, maybe that's what this is about. It says right here that these ex-Dolphins don't resent the Patriots nearly as much for cheating as for making them feel old.
The undefeated season seemed to confer an eternal standing. But faced with the prospect of an even better undefeated team, the aging Dolphins are being forced to confront their own mortality.
As Charlie Babb, the former Miami safety, told my colleague Alex Marvez, "The older I get, the more it means. More than anything else, that's all that we have left."
They've spent months trying to rationalize their everlasting superiority, building hypothetical constructs that might favor their cause. They neglect their soft schedule, of course. Instead, they dwell on the old rules, as if that could possibly help them. They talk of having to play with their second-string quarterback, Earl Morrall, for 10 games. And, of course, there was the suggestion — first advanced by Don Shula — that an undefeated Patriots season should be designated with an asterisk.
New England was caught illicitly stealing defensive signals in the first week against the Jets. That alone is reason enough to root against them and to dislike the coach. Spygate might cast suspicion on Bill Belichick's career -- what of a coach who made cheating part of the game plan? -- but not this season. Again, the Pats were busted in Week 1 against the Jets, a team they beat by 24. It's not as if Belichick got caught in, say, Week 10. He never got a chance to study and make use of the stolen signs.
So there goes Shula's asterisk. It bears mention, by the way, that Shula wasn't always comfortable with hypothetical scenarios. Back in 1989, Steve Sabol of NFL Films came up with an elaborately modeled computer program featuring 20 of the greatest NFL teams in an elimination tournament. According to Dave Hyde's Still Perfect: The Untold Story of the 1972 Miami Dolphins, Shula detested the idea, and kept calling Sabol to see how the computer was treating his legacy.
"That team never got the credit it deserved," he would say.
Still, the computer Dolphins won every "game" until the very last, when they lost to the '78 Steelers. Not long after that Dream Bowl, as it was called, Sabol made the mistake of picking up his phone. It was Shula, hollering in what Hyde would describe as "a voice of rage."
"What kind of computer is that?" he asked.
Shula and his former players have made it a habit to pop of bottle of champagne following the first defeat of each season's last undefeated team. They might find themselves toasting the Patriots' loss on Feb. 3. The Giants have a legitimate shot. More likely, though, the 1972 Dolphins will learn of their fate the hard way. This is no Super Bowl for old men.
by Mark Kriegel
FOXSports.com.
A champagne toast is in order. Raise a glass for the 1972 Miami Dolphins, a team that has finally succeeded in diminishing its own perfect season.
The latest silly salvo directed at the undefeated New England Patriots comes from Mercury Morris, now 61, who went on the radio the other day and spoke his apparently deteriorating mind.
"They win on February 3, and they're the second-best team in the history of the NFL," said Morris. "We're the first team. ... If they win, they're going to be the second team."
So there.
Of course, every team deserves to be judged in the context of its time. That said, a 19-0 season — New England's record should it win the Super Bowl — would be more impressive than Miami's mark, 17-0. Anyone not named Mercury Morris can do the math on that one.
What's more, Dolphins alums like Morris were not well-advised to call attention to themselves, or else someone like me would remind you of their dirty little secret. The '72 team benefited from one of the easiest schedules in NFL history. Bash the Patriots and their coach all you want. I do. Just understand that with a game left to play, they are nothing if not tested, as their regular season included victories over six playoff teams — the Colts, Cowboys, Chargers, Steelers, Giants and Redskins.
Now, go back and check the '72 Dolphins. Their regular season included only two games against teams that finished better than .500 — the Vikings and the Giants, who were both 8-6 that year. The combined won-loss record of their opponents was 43-86-3. Let me rephrase. Their average opponent had a winning percentage of .333.
There are some notably sane Dolphin alums. Jim Mandich, a tight end on that '72 team, comes to mind. When recently asked how that team would do against these Patriots, he responded: "They would kick our (butts) from one side of the field to the other."
There's no shame in that, just common sense. As a rule, ballplayers get bigger, stronger and faster every year. The Patriots have 35 years of athletic evolution (not to mention a little HGH, in the case of Rodney Harrison) on their side. The Dolphins offensive line averaged 253 pounds. The front three starters on New England's defense range from 300 to 325 pounds.
Still, Mandich's teammates seem incapable of acknowledging the obvious.
"The weight issue is overstated," the Dolphins' old center, Jim Langer, told The Miami Herald. Another 50 pounds doesn't mean a damn thing. It's all about leverage."
Said Bob Kuechenberg, once a guard: "If we play under the old rules" — basically enabling the defense to beat up receivers all over the field — "we win going away."
Fifty pounds doesn't mean a thing. We win going away. Lines like these — so contemptuous of an obvious truth — could be dismissed as a mere goof if they weren't also a little sad. No one wants to hear old men sound like little boys. But then again, maybe that's what this is about. It says right here that these ex-Dolphins don't resent the Patriots nearly as much for cheating as for making them feel old.
The undefeated season seemed to confer an eternal standing. But faced with the prospect of an even better undefeated team, the aging Dolphins are being forced to confront their own mortality.
As Charlie Babb, the former Miami safety, told my colleague Alex Marvez, "The older I get, the more it means. More than anything else, that's all that we have left."
They've spent months trying to rationalize their everlasting superiority, building hypothetical constructs that might favor their cause. They neglect their soft schedule, of course. Instead, they dwell on the old rules, as if that could possibly help them. They talk of having to play with their second-string quarterback, Earl Morrall, for 10 games. And, of course, there was the suggestion — first advanced by Don Shula — that an undefeated Patriots season should be designated with an asterisk.
New England was caught illicitly stealing defensive signals in the first week against the Jets. That alone is reason enough to root against them and to dislike the coach. Spygate might cast suspicion on Bill Belichick's career -- what of a coach who made cheating part of the game plan? -- but not this season. Again, the Pats were busted in Week 1 against the Jets, a team they beat by 24. It's not as if Belichick got caught in, say, Week 10. He never got a chance to study and make use of the stolen signs.
So there goes Shula's asterisk. It bears mention, by the way, that Shula wasn't always comfortable with hypothetical scenarios. Back in 1989, Steve Sabol of NFL Films came up with an elaborately modeled computer program featuring 20 of the greatest NFL teams in an elimination tournament. According to Dave Hyde's Still Perfect: The Untold Story of the 1972 Miami Dolphins, Shula detested the idea, and kept calling Sabol to see how the computer was treating his legacy.
"That team never got the credit it deserved," he would say.
Still, the computer Dolphins won every "game" until the very last, when they lost to the '78 Steelers. Not long after that Dream Bowl, as it was called, Sabol made the mistake of picking up his phone. It was Shula, hollering in what Hyde would describe as "a voice of rage."
"What kind of computer is that?" he asked.
Shula and his former players have made it a habit to pop of bottle of champagne following the first defeat of each season's last undefeated team. They might find themselves toasting the Patriots' loss on Feb. 3. The Giants have a legitimate shot. More likely, though, the 1972 Dolphins will learn of their fate the hard way. This is no Super Bowl for old men.