Bears’ New Era Comes to Pass

The 10-3 Chicago Bears, still getting the most out of quarterback Jim Miller and their refashioned defensive team, are heading for home now--the home-field advantage.

They can spend at least some of the playoffs in Chicago if they win at Washington today and follow with conquests of two other beatable opponents, Detroit and Jacksonville, in their last two.

Miller gave them this chance. In a second-half moment when the Bears were hanging onto a 13-3 lead, he fired the shot that destroyed the Tampa Bay Buccaneers last Sunday.

On second and eight, a running down for the Bears not long ago, Miller beat Tampa Bay’s formidable deep-pass defense, the league’s best, with a pass down the middle for 18 yards and a touchdown. The receiver, who had wound his way cleverly into a clearing along the back line, was Fred Baxter, a tight end waived last summer by the New York Jets.

If Miller looked like a Ram passer on that play, Baxter looked like a Ram tight end. And if, at last, the Bears really want to play pass offense now, there’s a new day coming in Chicago.

Simple As X, Y, Z

Pass-offense problems kept Tampa Bay from contending at Soldier Field. The Buccaneers’ pass-play inadequacies whenever they held an edge in field position had more to do with their drubbing than the Bear defense, as sound as that defense has become with 330-pound tackle Ted Washington now in the middle. For example, Tampa passer Brad Johnson lost a seemingly sure touchdown when, at a key moment in the first half, two of his receivers dragged two or three defensive players into the same little area of the field along the goal line, creating a crowd that suddenly meant an incompletion.

It’s funny how often that happens in NFL games--two pass receivers in the same place at the same time when the ball comes down, meaning that at least one guy erred, ruining the play.

Wide receivers practice pass patterns all week. What are they thinking about on game day?

At Tampa, to be sure, the Buccaneers don’t practice passing that much. They have coaches who, like most NFL coaches, love to run the ball. Even so, their pass plays are all carefully drawn up. On every one, the X receiver goes here, the Y receiver there, the Z receiver there.

Of what use is his talent if on Sunday a great receiver has a mind block? Truly, football is a game not so much of muscle as of mind.

NFL on Late Hits

An unnecessary late hit absurdly delivered by Tampa cornerback Ronde Barber on Chicago quarterback Miller in last week’s game was promptly called by the officials, hurting Tampa more than Miller, and confirming that the league is keeping order in the ranks this season.

In this particular case, Barber, after the pass had been released, kept driving full speed at Miller until he got him, then pounded him into the ground.

Although Barber weighs only 184 to Miller’s 215, Barber had the edge because he was in motion against a standing, defenseless target.

Motionless weight is no match for weight plus motion--as the commissioner, Paul Tagliabue, and his influential competition committee understand in enforcing the rules.

Soccer Football

Hall of Fame quarterback Bob Waterfield doubled as the kicker for the Rams half a century ago when, after a winning field goal late in his career, he turned and jogged calmly and quietly off the field--as usual. What he was saying to the crowd was, “Of course.”

He had expected to succeed and he would expect to succeed next time--as usual.

Every kicker--from Hall of Fame quarterback Sammy Baugh to Hall of Fame tackle Lou Groza--did it like that in the era when kickers were football players, not soccer players.

Contrast their way with soccer kicker Bill Gramatica’s way for the Arizona Cardinals the other day when, celebrating a successful field goal, Gramatica congratulated himself so violently that he injured a knee, costing Arizona the game.

When a substitute kicker subsequently bungled a kickoff, the New York Giants were 10 or 15 yards closer than they should have been to the winning touchdown, which they barely scored with 25 seconds to play.

Help for Shaq?

Gramatica’s folly highlighted once again a major NFL weakness: Allowing football games to be won or lost by people who are not football players.

Baseball doesn’t let Olympic sprinters run onto the field in the last of the ninth to steal their way home from third base. The NBA doesn’t let archers come in to shoot free throws for Shaquille O’Neal.

Football is the only sport that calls on performers from another sport to win or lose its games.

And, increasingly, soccer kickers seem to be deciding many of them, hit or miss. And there are many misses.

As veteran football fans always advise younger fans: Never grow too fond of a kicker. Someday he’s going to break your heart.

There are ways to ensure that only football players play NFL football--in which case there might be fewer field-goals, as there were in the days of Waterfield and Groza. But at least the football players would understand that they were winning and losing with one of their own--as basketball players do. And baseball players. And some soccer players.

Ten-Yard Difference

A kicking play of the kind that cost Gramatica’s team so dearly is frequently much more important than it may seem. After a short punt or kickoff, there’s a tendency to wonder what difference 15 or 20 yards really makes when the receiving team, to reach touchdown position, has to go 70 or 80 yards anyway. The reality is that even 10 yards can make a dramatic difference--as the 1991 Super Bowl proved.

That was the game the Buffalo Bills lost to the New York Giants, 20-19, when Buffalo kicker Scott Norwood’s last-second 47-yard field goal attempt sailed wide right.

Ever since, that game has been known as the one that a good kicker blew after Buffalo quarterback Jim Kelly had moved the Bills into position. And it’s true that a kicking play that day was, as it so often is, decisive.

But it wasn’t Norwood’s kick. It was a Giant punt moments earlier, carefully placed by Sean Landeta, who drove the ball out of bounds at the Buffalo 10-yard line.

Had Landeta put the ball into the end zone, as so many punters do even today, Kelly’s subsequent drive could have made Norwood’s life easier--by 10 yards. A 47-yard attempt is never automatic. A 37-yard attempt probably wouldn’t sail wide right.

The unknown star of Super Bowl XXV? Punter Sean Landeta.

49ers Coming

San Francisco is still one of the nation’s two best teams.

In a matchup of 9-3 teams, the 49ers pounded the Miami Dolphins, 21-0, last Sunday the very way they had sought to pound the Rams a week earlier--by running them down with their corps of four good ballcarriers, Garrison Hearst, rookie Kevan Barlow, Terry Jackson and Fred Beasley. They couldn’t dent the Rams, but the Dolphins were a simpler problem.

Nobody else has four backs as talented as San Francisco’s to rotate with a passer as gifted as quarterback Jeff Garcia, and few contemporary teams are fronted by an offensive line as sound as San Francisco’s. Moreover, the 49ers have one other asset that makes life miserable for teams like Miami’s: better play selection.

Like many other running teams, Miami’s idea of a passing game is an occasional bomb in the midst of a running-play series. Against an NFC power, that doesn’t cut it.