NFL season 2021: Enjoy the best moments from training camp so far

The NFL offseason is full of optimism, action, intrigue and weird combos of active wear and headbands. It's like a glam-metal festival out there. But that's why we love training camp! Let's look in at a few of the best camp moments so far ...

Drew Lock isn't in a laughing mood. But white compression tights and bright orange cleats, come on guy? 

Patrick Mahomes always gets out of a jam ... but here he's too embarrassed to admit his helmet is stuck.

Tom Brady fires a ball at an unsuspecting pizza delivery guy for wrongly bringing him a ham and pineapple. "I said gluten-free tofu vegan jerk-off!"

Smitten by his hair, most pro scouts missed Zach Wilson's Iron Man impression. 

The autumn wind is a ... oh, wait, is that the lunch bell?

Forget the Super Bowl Shuffle - the new Bears perform 'The Sprinkler'.

Peyton will stand tall in Super Bowl 50

Just @5280Miles at the @fullerhouse house. #NBD from @Broncos

Despite some in the media doubting that Peyton Manning, 39, has much left in the tank for the upcoming Super Bowl, he still has his wonderful height and continues to boast a neat haircut. Should he walk away from the fiftieth iteration of this grand football occasion with only a stiff-brimmed runners-up hat, rest assured he'll wear it proudly - and highly.

Slow and steady

Let's not count the Sheriff out altogether, okay. He may look more like Doc Holliday than Wyatt Earp at this stage of his career, but there's one last stand in him. I know it. Manning completed 17 of his 32 passes for 176 yards in the AFC Championship Game, in a steady if not impressive performance, and that's all Broncos fans need. Certainly the ball didn't always spin along a tight line, but it reached its intended target when most needed, right? That's really all that counts in games of such magnitude. While, some commentators are hellbent on telling us that wounded duck throws are catastrophic, we now know this isn't always true. We also know that some commentators are hellbent on hyperbole.

Steadiness is all the Broncos require on the offensive side. And Manning can be an oak for just one more game. Let Cam Newton chase the wind. That's his game. In truth, he'll need multiple plays to square the Broncos defence away.

One good throw

One play. Two plays. OMAHA! OMAHA! The talking heads also like to say that a game can be decided by one play, and if this is indeed the case, then Manning is also still capable of making that single pass - maybe even twice. Two good passes are not out of the realm of possibility here, especially when you're lifting less than the guy at the snack bar all afternoon.

2 QBs.
2 very different styles.

1 Super Sunday: https://t.co/cUqX9OILG7 (via @judybattista) #SB50 pic.twitter.com/4NkdElIiZp

— NFL (@NFL) February 3, 2016

Starring role

In the very first Super Bowl, played in California as well, Green Bay Packers quarterback Bart Starr tossed 16 of 23 passes for 250 yards, and two touchdowns. He had one interception but the Packers thumped the Chiefs 35-10. Of course, it was a different era, and the Carolina Panthers might be slightly more menacing on defence than the 1967 Chiefs. But I can see Peyton posting similar numbers, and out-thinking the Panthers the way Starr did Kansas City.

Yes, his preference for shorter passes will likely mean fewer yards, first downs, and ultimately a lower scoring output for Denver. However, those numbers might also be just enough to win him the game's MVP prize, and ensure that he leaves just enough in the arm to lift the Lombardi Trophy.

Regardless of the outcome, Peyton Manning is the off-field MVP of #SB50 https://t.co/063PNHMQZF pic.twitter.com/cuwheET2f1

— Forbes (@Forbes) February 3, 2016

10 New Audibles For Peyton Manning On Super Bowl Sunday

The big wigs over at Broncos HQ are said to have concerns ahead of the Super Bowl because Peyton Manning's "Omaha! Omaha!" signal call has become too obvious.

In light of this, they've come up with 10 new audibles for Manning to use at the line against the Seattle Seahawks.

“Hey Irsay! Irrr-saaaayyy.....!”
“Brady’s hair....Brady.....Hair....Hut!”
“Oma-wooohhh, what's that smell?"
"New York, New York!"
"Actually it's Jersey. We're in Jersey!"
“Colts! Broncos! Same difference!"
“O brother, where art thou?”
“Wounded duck! Wounded duck!”
"Sherman! Sherman! Sherman!"
"Handsarefrozen! Frozenyahearme! Frooooo-zen!

NFL Cool Rankings: The Quest For The Holy Grail

With only four teams left to pursue the Super Bowl’s Holy Grail, it remains to be seen who escapes the series of traps left within the playoff temple. The path to the Vince Lombardi Trophy can be a treacherous one to be sure, especially with that old knight Walt Coleman patrolling the sidelines.

“Only the penitent man shall pass!” he cries.

But are there such men in this year’s crop of quarterback heroes?

First, there's Brady, who is unforgiving. Then Manning, who seems more like an everyman. How about the two young guns, Kaepernick and Wilson, who both strut the park with more bravado than prized poodles at Westminster?

Indeed, there’s no room for internalizing in the modern game. Strut! Stride! Charge! Or be charged. Run, or be roughhoused. Or rocked. That's why the older guys get rid it of it so quickly, you see.

Truth is, time is also running out. For Brady and Manning, this may be the last hurrah. For Wilson and Kaepernick it might be just the start of many blue ribbons. They're the future, or so everybody is telling us. 

Whether you side with these players, and their teams, may ultimately be framed by their cultural impact (hashtag - leaping onto a cool bandwagon).

So for the indecisive and uninitiated, here’s a quick guide to the coolness levels of the four remaining contenders.

1. Seattle Seahawks

The Hawks are the hottest team in cool colors since the Blue Man Group. They’re still hot, right? 

Anyway, you can’t help but like Wilson. He’s so slick. So fast. So cool. And can throw. Plus, his post-game comments are the stuff of, I don't know, a senator. A good senator, one without a lascivious past. He makes you believe. 

Then there’s that animal Beast Mode – a.k.a. Marshawn Lynch. Man he’s scary. He looks like the Predator, for crying out loud. 

So, if don’t have a horse in this race and need one, it’s hard to look past the suddenly favorited ringless underdog.

2. Denver Broncos

The Broncos defense is menacing. That’s what football fans say. The uniform is rich. That’s what fashionistas say. The air is rarified. That's what the media says. The old 'D' logo was once impenetrable and therefore legendary. That’s what I say.

Speaking of legends, how about Peyton Manning? They don’t come much bigger. Or better. Or humbler. He seems like a great guy. A man who studies the game more earnestly than that nerdy dude in your fantasy league who's so very pedantic on trades. What gives with that? I just need another receiver, guy. Pull the trigger. 

Anyway, if you believe in miracles - and Peyton winning at age 37 post serious injury is one - Denver should be your team. 

"Omaha! Omaha!" 

3. New England Patriots

Look, even as a neutral observer I’m finding it tough to recommend the Pats. They’re just too dynastic. Too conniving. I mean Belichick and Brady are the Gargamel and Azrael of the NFL, aren't they? Everyone else are Smurfs, scurrying for survival. And you know who Vanity is right….?

4. San Francisco 49ers

Yes, Colin Kaepernick loves to kiss his arms. Give the man a mirror and put a flower in his hat! I’m sorry but....yes he can run. Great. He sometimes even throws it well. Other times, when he's not congratulating himself, he does the two simultaneously, like a tattooed cyborg that’s short-circuiting. In fact, I’m convinced Jim Harbaugh built Kaepernick in his basement as part of an elaborate plan to unseat Alex Smith, win a Super Bowl, and more importantly, the hearts and minds of every Gen Y fan out there.

Tebow's a gamer

Tim Tebow's move to the New York Jets has confounded most NFL experts and commentators. And yet, there's a strange genius at play in acquiring the country's biggest football personality to showcase his rare stylings on its grandest stage.

Here's a satirical piece I wrote earlier this year for The Good Men Project about the one, and only, Tebow.

Tebow's a gamer

There are two scenarios in which Tim Tebow would be the world's greatest quarterback: the first, on a frost-covered gridiron in Deluth Minnesota in 1923; the second, inside a football video game from the Eighties - coincidentally an era when aimlessly running in hostile environs was at a premium (see the movies Running Man, Blade Runner and Predator).

Too many people expect too much from Tebow. Of course this past season he couldn’t pitch a nine-yard out to save his life - he's a born runner, a replicant created better, for short term gain only. Why can’t we just accept the genius of his rare design?

When the video game gods considered the possibilities for a football prophet to eclipse black and white Xs and Os, they surely conjured a mold in Tebow's image. If you look closely, Tebow is in fact a Nintendo sprite, circa 1985. Left. Right. Forward. Back. The occasional awkward diagonal. Stick with these controls and Tebow will take you far. If he freezes mid-play, hit reset.

Unfortunately Tebow's in the wrong era, trapped in reality. He competes in this futuristic pigskin we know as the NFL, where his indecision and inaccuracy are brutally punished by battering rams with hardened plastic shells. It can never work, no matter what the epitomic quarterback John Elway says. Video game QBs of the mid-Eighties were different to actual QBs - more innocent, dancing and dashing around the pocket like a kid playing hopscotch in the backyard. Being pummeled in the back field was not in their repertoire, but reserved for those plodding NFLers taught to launch balls from deep in the pocket like a rusty- wheeled cannon. No, '85 sprites bounced, rolled and rambled, without a hint of deference for the defense, which looked hopelessly blinkered on every down, mind you.

In this vain, my favorite football video game as a kid was the underwhelming but charming 10-yard Fight. I was nine when it was released, which gifted me with a suitable lack of expectation and a necessary amount of patience to enjoy a game with the limited locomotion. But then again, 10-yard Fight moved video gamers beyond Atari’s pixilation and into, well, a sharper variation of little blurry squares.

The beauty of Fight – as anyone nostalgic about the original batch of Nintendo offerings will attest to – was simplicity. No fancy intro featuring Kid Rock or Creed. No mistimed broadcasting on a loop, more obvious than Ferris Bueller’s rigged doorbell. No overcompensation of mini-games because the main product's bogged down in complex playbooks. Instead, Fight resourced one offensive mode – Tim Tebow’s preferred attack – the read-option. Your quarterback simply received the ball upon the snap and could enact one of three choices: 1) run, 2) toss the ball horizontally to a running back, 3) throw the ball to your lone down field receiver. It was the sort of stark, unscheduled, draw-it-up-the-sand approach to football that made you fall in love with the sport in the first place.

Playing the game again also reveals the ungoverned zeal Tebow must experience as he zigs and zags and then darts into every line, and finally, charges away from every helpless secondary. Tebow, like the Fight signal-caller, hurriedly scans for space, reads the lean of defenders' bodies and chooses an angle, by foot or by air. It’s a basic premise with an understated beauty.

But 10-yard Fight, like Tebow, is polarizing because most gamers and even those with a penchant for anything retro, prefer the oft-heralded Tecmo Bowl. And to be fair, Tecmo seems a superb blend of dynamism and graphical prowess in hindsight. Indeed, Fight never matched its game play, but made up the difference with quirky, old-fashioned touches, chief of which was its sound effects. Its mirthful audio snippets can only be described as cuts from an abandoned Casio keyboard recording session, which provided both practical and emotional checkpoints for a game that hinged on such things - as opposed to completing entire seasons or starting as a rookie and ending up an MVP. Fight’s intermittent jingles signalled new downs, first
downs and touchdowns, but more importantly, success!

Football deconstructed into 10-yard struggles posed a feasible and enticing challenge in the Eighties, kind of like the “It girls” they casted during the era's teen movies: Cindy Mancini in Can’t Buy Me Love or Andy in the The Goonies were just the types of love interests nerds locked in their rooms with Nintendo could not attain, but hoped to. Yet, if you consider today’s it girl - Madden on the Xbox, if you will - they’re all uninhibited nymphs whose mere silhouettes are enough to unsettle the fit of your Dockers. It's a challenge of another kind.

Fight will never hold a candle to a scantily-clad Shannon Elizabeth but it has its own sex appeal. How about, for example, when the marching defense is coming for you, with that tappity-tap drumming sound in your ear? Then, at a speed equitable to the one typically seen on CBS replays, you retreat your quarterback toward your own end zone, spinning and ducking in a Tebow-esquepixilated Gatorade - and will conclude its flight in the opposite end zone, in the hands of your receiver. The bird-like whistle will sound repetitively as your man leaps for joy on the spot. You glance at the rapidly ticking clock and get ready to defend, where you’ll soon play the part of cumbersome obstacle, and your opponent will attempt to secure ground in highly-coveted 10-yard increments.

Football, the way it was intended.

Doubling down on quarterbacks

They say fortune favors the brave, and at The Quarterback Casino this week, there were five fearless bidders for Peyton Manning. But there were also four losers at the close, and no matter what you think was whispered behind heavy doors guarded by burly earpiece-toting goons, there was only ever going to be one awarded the spoils. So I think it’s a stretch for some pundits and fans to start tossing their complimentary cocktails at the GMs who sat down at the Peyton Hold ‘Em table and left short of a flush. Cards were dealt, faces turned to stone, and perhaps some Jennifer Tilly-style cleavage was even dropped. But once those cards tumbled, all bets were off. The public went into a frenzy and everyone with a Twitter account was ready to pounce with 140-character assassinations. Sure, it’s human nature to hope for a run of aces in such matters, but really, how often do you land a king? 

The Manning free agency story has reaffirmed an ugly truth about modern water-cooler conversation, and that’s that every opinion, and every warped or misguided piece of gossip is shaping the collective perception about sports stories, even if all the information published is inaccurate. In particular, I take exception to the incessant slaughtering of the Miami Dolphins, as both a brand and an organization, first by a number of columnists, and broadly across social media, as if their current circumstance - being a mid-tier ball club - is the result of a flawed business strategy. This so-called hopelessness, not merely the ups and downs of off-season gambling, is said to have undermined the Fins ability to sign Matt Flynn, and perhaps Alex Smith, too. Seriously? Somebody sound the shark alarm: the Dolphins are in trouble!

Even if the Fish are starting to smell, even if what chronic tweeters like the Steelers' Ryan Clark says is remotely true, we have no real evidence to suggest that it was the basis of Manning’s choice to play in Denver. The fact that John Elway is the head honcho in Mile High would indicate that Manning was hooked on the Broncos from the start. None of the other four teams in play employ Elway either, so in that regard, they were each equally disadvantaged, and equally flawed in their chase. But because Miami so hastily pursued Flynn after Manning, and missed there as well, the stink of the initial miscue is more pungent, at least in the public arena, where apparently opinion now trumps fact. That little context is provided to the endless vitriol of rumor spewed across the web, and that only a tiny percentage of people – usually players, agents, and some reporters are actually informed about these dealings – makes it implausible that we consider it, or that so many columnists fuel the fire further. In some cases, it seems, the players don't even know the truth themselves, as we saw with Smith traveling to Miami in search of new options.

And now the online consensus is that Miami's signing of David Garrard was a desperate and floundering move from an organization is complete disarray, due mostly to the perceived ineptitude of GM Jeff Ireland. Heck, fans in Miami have taken to the streets over this. My question to those spinning this agenda, including the Tweeters, Commenters, and News Churners, is what is the club supposed to do at this juncture? If they do nothing, after missing on two quarterbacks, one of whom hasn't proven a thing outside of playing well in two NFL games, then certainly their inactivity would be ridiculed. By inking Garrard, who has played well in recent seasons, including 23 touchdowns for a 90.8 QB rating in 2010, they at least have an additional QB option. If the team signed him after 2008's AFC Wild Card Game it would be regarded as genius. Instead, now, it's a major risk because what you did five minutes ago isn't just fresh in the mind, it means the world. In this light, Matt Flynn is a superstar because he won a meaningless game late last season.

Hey here's something to tweet: Matt Moore won six games last year as the Dolphins starter, and was a play away from beating both the Cowboys and Giants too.

This article first appeared on Technorati as Broncos Strong Hand, While Dolphins Go Fish 

Elway's Manning Audible

Things were looking so hopeful for Dolphins fans a week ago, with the prospect of Peyton Manning, already a part-time Miami resident, making sunny South Beach his full-time home as the local team's quarterback. How sweet life could have been in this scenario: endless sun, pina coladas, presumably better baseball on its way, and the world's greatest signal-caller kicking ass and taking names in the modern Orange Bowl - the Fergie Bowl.

Then a chilly air swept through, blustery and burly like the man blowing it. John Elway, the greatest signal-caller of an earlier era, rode up to the Free Agent Saloon as Denver's saviour, like he has so many times before, to talk the same shot-gun language as Peyton. He probably ordered a whiskey sour, threw a warm arm around the highly-coveted pilgrim, whispered a few sweet audibles, and Bam!, every other team in contention was staring at the rear-end of a one horse race. Yippee-ki-yay MF!

In many ways this isn't fair on Dolphins, Cardinals, or Titans fans, whose clubs have truly legitimate and logical reasons to offer Manning a roster spot. What, after all, is reasonable about Manning going to Denver? Because Elway is there? They had Orton and blew that. They have Tebow and are ruining that. Now, almost as if to alleviate the ramifications of those misjudgements, the Broncos seek Manning's services, and look more like landing him than any other NFL club.

What's best for the league, and for fans, is being lost here. Manning will take his sore neck to frosty Mile High and possibly jeopardize his production with challenging conditions and an inferior offense. Then, the other quarterback-lacking clubs will overpay sub-par QBs who'll notch pedestrian numbers and help their teams miss the playoffs. So instead of seeing one dynamite Manning-led outfit, with football's John Wayne at the helm for one last hurrah, we'll have four mediocre clubs with distraught fan bases, desperately and sadly hoping Brett Favre un-retires.

Lin and Tebow churn the media machine

A recent poll on ESPN.com has revealed that 84% of fans (as of Tuesday evening) consider the rise of the New York Knicks Jeremy Lin to be greater than that of Tim Tebow.

So out of control is the media's focus on Lin - the namesake of the so-called Linsanity phenomenon - that Sportscenter anchors are even likening him to The Beatles. He surely has little in common with the Fab Four, but like Tebow, Lin is a talented athlete with the ability to inspire his teammates. He's also simply a guy looking for a long-term career in pro sports, who didn't ask for any of this extra attention or analysis. And yet,  the hype continues: GQ worked out some Lin lessons for the GOP; Yahoo claimed Kobe bowed to Lin's star power; and, The Huffington Post reported Harvard's rekindled love of basketball.

Why do we feel so compelled to seek out and elevate the next star of the hour? Are we just at the internet's mercy, fueled by micro-reporting and debate, constantly craving the latest search buzzwords?

Tebow - the web phenomenon - busted search algorithms when he painted John 3:16 on his face in early January. The top search terms that week were "John 3:16", "Tebow", and "Tim Tebow" according to Business Insider. Remember how crazy that period of time was? Was it really less "insane" than what's happening with Lin?

Eat, Pray, Tebow

Tim Tebow eats up a challenge, prays on the sideline, and loves the spotlight. In summary, he's the Julia Roberts of the NFL. Maybe not as leggy.

It's a familiar tale: a pilgrimage of self-discovery transpiring amid confusion and controversy. None of which is real, mind you, just the echoes of our hyperactive minds. But just like the narrative of the well known chick flick, we wonder if Tebow can adequately calm his soul despite the noise? And more importantly, will this journey feature a weird old guy in a bandanna who refers to him as "Groceries"?

Actually, good quarterbacks play with a full bag of groceries. Tebow's operating with less than 10 items. That's not a knock on his intelligence but his skill-set, which notably lacks an accurate mid-range or deep throw. Oh sure, against the San Diego Chargers last Sunday he completed a few longer balls, including a nice 18-yarder to Eric Decker for a score. But as his 9 for 18 completions indicate, Tebow passes usually finish like a clean-up on aisle three.

The truth is, we need to forget the stats - even ones that show Tebow's protecting the ball, and his passer rating as a decent 80.5 (as of week 12). What have been conventional quarterback measures for the last 50 years are no longer relevant - didn't you get John Fox's memo? It's not about style points, it's about wins. And Tebow is redefining "winning" football. As a result, it's quite possible we've been overrating the quarterback position altogether. Tebow, after all, is doing less quarterbacking than we've ever seen from a signal-caller, and his defensively-minded Denver Broncos are reaping the rewards. Even The Denver Post this week published that if Tebow earns his club a playoff berth, then he must not only be considered a legitimate Pro Bowl candidate, but also the NFL's most valuable player. Mercy!

Tebow's success - and the hype that follows it - feels like a sharpened iron poking at our collective sides. Yes, his personality is divisive, but so is his style. It's so unnatural it's making our heads explode. So how do we resolve the issue of a player we can't accurately label? How do we rationalize this football phenomenon when his perpetual positivity and seemingly endless luck - see faith - supersede the gaping holes in his quarterbacking repertoire? And what are the parameters for defining a winner anyway? One win? Five wins? Twenty minutes in the confessional?

There's no science to this. We know Tebow is a winner because high profile people tell us so, and because he's taken more end of game knees than Johnny Lawrence from Cobra Kai. And yet, recounting his faults has become a national pastime. We know Tebow can't throw, but he makes plays. He doesn't look down field, but he rumbles across it like a John Deere mower. He doesn't hang tough in the pocket, but is hard enough to take an Elway helicopter spin. He doesn't let plays develop, but his teammates are developing a powerful belief in him. He can't play four quarters, but he nails the fourth. He talks about his faith too much, but never stops believing. And though we keep talking about him, he doesn't hear it.

Just what to do with a case like Tebow?

We probably won't know until the journey ends, when he's hoisting the MVP trophy above his haloed noggin, and we've all attained a mile high worth of enlightenment.

This article first appeared on Technorati.