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Sports Columnist Bryan Burwell
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
10/13/2009
Sometimes, the biggest trouble with watching a really bad team labor through a season is figuring out where to train your eyes. Call it visual over-stimulation —the impossible task of zeroing in on one compelling character of stability when chaos is swirling around and scattering conflict, controversy and confusion like a Kansas twister.
The woebegone Oakland Raiders are definitely that sort of bad team, with an in-way-over-his-head young quarterback who can't complete a pass, an embattled head coach who could be facing criminal assault charges any day now and a formerly great owner who apparently hasn't flipped his own personal football calendar since the late 1970s.
The slapstick Washington Redskins are that sort of unsightly bad team, with an eccentric young owner who hired a head coach with no visible qualifications to do the job, then spent the past few years doing everything to undermine him, and now can't quite figure out why his expensive NFL toy never works like it should.
When it comes to distracting swirls of chaotic activity, the one thing you can say about the 0-5 Rams is that despite the NFL's longest current losing streak — 15 and counting — they can at least cling to the belief that they are past the worst of it.
If you listen to the smart voices around Rams Park, there is a real sense that the eye of the storm has already blown past this place. The players who have been around here long enough to have survived the madness of Mike Martz, the incompetence of Scott Linehan and Jay Zygmunt and the Rome-is-burning fiddling of John Shaw continue to preach that the storm is over and they are knee deep in post-disaster relief.
And when they tell you this, they all point to one guy as the central figure in their stubborn belief that the worst is over and that the best isn't that far away:
Steve Spagnuolo.
These players all believe that Spagnuolo is the guy who keeps the chaos away. This is not delusional happy talk, either. In many instances, the comments come from the voices of veteran players who already have been to the puppet show and seen the strings. They're not easily impressed or often fooled.
In public and private, they see Spagnuolo setting the tone for an organization fighting to prove to the football world that the Rams don't belong in the same conversation with all those other miserable franchises anymore, even as they keep piling on one more ugly loss to the carnage left behind by the ousted regime.
Like a metronome — or depending on your level of cynicism, a scratched record — Spagnuolo keeps repeating the same positive message every single day. On Monday, when someone asked him if he ever imagined 10 months ago when he took the job that this monumental task would turn out to be this difficult, he rejected the negative description in typical Spagnuolo fashion.
"Well, first of all, don't assume that I felt that way, that it was monumental," he said. "I felt really good about coming here because of the people here, the players ... I mentioned this way back that when I would watch film at the end of the season, this team was still playing hard. I think there's something to be said to that and they're doing that now and we'll hang our hat on that. ... You are probably tired of me saying that, but I won't stop saying it and when we win five in a row, it will be the same thing. I just think that's how you do it in the league."
Based on the current evidence, you might think the man's delusional. He probably would argue that he's a stubborn visionary. But he would do it quietly. Firmly, but without much fanfare. It's not Spagnuolo's style to handle his business in a demonstrative public fashion. He gets after guys, but he doesn't necessarily need a news conference to deliver his message, or any elaborate public confirmation, either.
When he benched offensive tackle Alex Barron a during the ***** game last week, Spagnuolo barely made a peep about it. But based on how Barron responded Sunday, it clearly lit some sort of spark under the chronically listless lineman. Going against perhaps the best defensive player in the league in Vikings defensive end Jared Allen, Barron played lights out and without any of the miscues that have been typical of his game day experiences.
And on Monday, Spagnuolo quietly made it quite clear to the team and to second-year wide receiver Donnie Avery that his little "stinky leg" touchdown dance in the fourth quarter with the Rams trailing by 21 points was not going to cut it either. He didn't rant, but the message was delivered clearly enough for everyone in that team meeting room to understand that this is not the way the Rams will do business.
Too many unsuccessful people in the public eye are paralyzed by the capricious whims of the public. Spagnuolo's not that guy. I still don't know how successful he will be here in St. Louis, but here's what I love about him. His success or failure will be as a result of sticking to his methods, not putting his fingers into the air to see which direction the wind is blowing.
To be blunt, I don't think Spagnuolo expends an ounce of energy worrying about whether or not the general public can see his vision right now.
It would be nice, but not essential.
He's not asking anyone to be prescient, merely patient enough to allow him the time to prove that his methods will work.
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
10/13/2009
Sometimes, the biggest trouble with watching a really bad team labor through a season is figuring out where to train your eyes. Call it visual over-stimulation —the impossible task of zeroing in on one compelling character of stability when chaos is swirling around and scattering conflict, controversy and confusion like a Kansas twister.
The woebegone Oakland Raiders are definitely that sort of bad team, with an in-way-over-his-head young quarterback who can't complete a pass, an embattled head coach who could be facing criminal assault charges any day now and a formerly great owner who apparently hasn't flipped his own personal football calendar since the late 1970s.
The slapstick Washington Redskins are that sort of unsightly bad team, with an eccentric young owner who hired a head coach with no visible qualifications to do the job, then spent the past few years doing everything to undermine him, and now can't quite figure out why his expensive NFL toy never works like it should.
When it comes to distracting swirls of chaotic activity, the one thing you can say about the 0-5 Rams is that despite the NFL's longest current losing streak — 15 and counting — they can at least cling to the belief that they are past the worst of it.
If you listen to the smart voices around Rams Park, there is a real sense that the eye of the storm has already blown past this place. The players who have been around here long enough to have survived the madness of Mike Martz, the incompetence of Scott Linehan and Jay Zygmunt and the Rome-is-burning fiddling of John Shaw continue to preach that the storm is over and they are knee deep in post-disaster relief.
And when they tell you this, they all point to one guy as the central figure in their stubborn belief that the worst is over and that the best isn't that far away:
Steve Spagnuolo.
These players all believe that Spagnuolo is the guy who keeps the chaos away. This is not delusional happy talk, either. In many instances, the comments come from the voices of veteran players who already have been to the puppet show and seen the strings. They're not easily impressed or often fooled.
In public and private, they see Spagnuolo setting the tone for an organization fighting to prove to the football world that the Rams don't belong in the same conversation with all those other miserable franchises anymore, even as they keep piling on one more ugly loss to the carnage left behind by the ousted regime.
Like a metronome — or depending on your level of cynicism, a scratched record — Spagnuolo keeps repeating the same positive message every single day. On Monday, when someone asked him if he ever imagined 10 months ago when he took the job that this monumental task would turn out to be this difficult, he rejected the negative description in typical Spagnuolo fashion.
"Well, first of all, don't assume that I felt that way, that it was monumental," he said. "I felt really good about coming here because of the people here, the players ... I mentioned this way back that when I would watch film at the end of the season, this team was still playing hard. I think there's something to be said to that and they're doing that now and we'll hang our hat on that. ... You are probably tired of me saying that, but I won't stop saying it and when we win five in a row, it will be the same thing. I just think that's how you do it in the league."
Based on the current evidence, you might think the man's delusional. He probably would argue that he's a stubborn visionary. But he would do it quietly. Firmly, but without much fanfare. It's not Spagnuolo's style to handle his business in a demonstrative public fashion. He gets after guys, but he doesn't necessarily need a news conference to deliver his message, or any elaborate public confirmation, either.
When he benched offensive tackle Alex Barron a during the ***** game last week, Spagnuolo barely made a peep about it. But based on how Barron responded Sunday, it clearly lit some sort of spark under the chronically listless lineman. Going against perhaps the best defensive player in the league in Vikings defensive end Jared Allen, Barron played lights out and without any of the miscues that have been typical of his game day experiences.
And on Monday, Spagnuolo quietly made it quite clear to the team and to second-year wide receiver Donnie Avery that his little "stinky leg" touchdown dance in the fourth quarter with the Rams trailing by 21 points was not going to cut it either. He didn't rant, but the message was delivered clearly enough for everyone in that team meeting room to understand that this is not the way the Rams will do business.
Too many unsuccessful people in the public eye are paralyzed by the capricious whims of the public. Spagnuolo's not that guy. I still don't know how successful he will be here in St. Louis, but here's what I love about him. His success or failure will be as a result of sticking to his methods, not putting his fingers into the air to see which direction the wind is blowing.
To be blunt, I don't think Spagnuolo expends an ounce of energy worrying about whether or not the general public can see his vision right now.
It would be nice, but not essential.
He's not asking anyone to be prescient, merely patient enough to allow him the time to prove that his methods will work.
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