What To Watch For: Fins - Raiders In London

When square shouldered American footballers storm into London’s Wembley Stadium this weekend, 80,000 odd sports fans will hope for a spectacle. They’ll anticipate heroic quarterbacking, rampaging rushes and pulverising tackling. But just as it is for fans of an English club treading the waters of relegation, hope isn’t always nearly enough.

In a historical context, they don’t come much mightier than the Raiders and Dolphins, who have five championship titles and rooms full of legends between them. Unfortunately, most of that success occurred in the 1970s, when roughhousing was as lauded as route running. The two clubs actually played in one of the NFL’s greatest ever games, a playoff in 1974 that saw six lead changes and an impossible last minute Raider victory.

That, however, was back when Gerald Ford was the American President and Elton John got around shirtless. The current Raiders offense looks predictably futile, and Miami’s once promising outlook is sinking like a bloated alligator into the swampy Everglades. While good fortune in English football seems to follow, well, the fortunes of very wealthy club owners, the American game is more dependent on the cohesion of its elaborate 53-man rosters. Given the locker room bullying fiasco Miami’s front office faced last year, it’s easy to see how teammates can drift apart.

Now understand that I say this not with a columnist’s disdain for sporting mediocrity, but rather with a face paint coloured tear bleeding down my cheek, because these are, in fact, my two favourite NFL clubs. Perhaps like many of you, I grew up tuning into the glittery gladiatorial battles of this sport from a world completely foreign to airborne theatrics, forward passing and referees who spend more time on microphones than Japanese stockbrokers in karaoke bars. 

In Australia, at least, American football had long been scoffed at because its players wore so much protective equipment and there were countless stoppages to the game. However, with recent concerns about concussions, and the fact that spectators are just as likely to break from the action to check their phones as another timeout occurring, such criticisms seem antiquated. We’ve changed, but the football remains thrilling.

I was always taken by the Dolphins because of the masterful quarterback Dan Marino. His stellar, albeit Super Bowl ring-less career, was underscored by his fireball throws and equally fiery temper. He desperately wanted to win and as long as he was on the pitch, the Dolphins always had a chance of fulfilling that desire. Miami fans haven’t felt this way since Marino retired in 1999.

With the Raiders, it was two things in the early eighties: back then they played in glitzy Los Angeles and their fans were nutters who dressed as pirates, ghouls and gorillas, among many other disturbing creatures. You can see how this might appeal to a seven year old.

Anyway, here we all are many years later, with both squads seemingly much less than the sum of their historic past. Still, don’t toss your ticket aside just yet because there are a few storylines worth following for this London fixture. 

Here are four of them, one for each quarter, perhaps:

Keys to Carr: Since taking over the starting gig from the ailing Matt Schaub, the Raiders rookie QB Derek Carr looks like the franchise signal-caller the club has waited an eternity for. It’s been a revolving door for the team at its most important position, but now Carr brings athleticism, smarts, a good arm and above all else, the type of poise this mad pirate ship needs.

Dolphins D: Miami hasn’t had much to celebrate of late but nobody can question the effort of its defensive unit. These guys charge into the backfield as if the opposing quarterback stole a tub of Gatorade.

Jumpin' James Jones: The veteran receiver has had his share of miscues but also has the ability to make great catches. If he gets an inch in the end zone, he’ll typically out leap his man to secure the ball for a score.

Trouble for Tannehill: Miami’s QB Ryan Tannehill has had a lukewarm start to the season and so as you’d expect, his seat is now hotter than a south beach tan. He’ll need to post about 300 yards worth of passing and bag a couple of touchdowns to keep his starting job.

Lechler's punt on the Texans and the Raiders silver lining

The NFL's best punter, Shane Lechler, has signed with the Houston Texans after 13 seasons with the Oakland Raiders, and fans in the Bay Area are surely kicking themselves.

Oakland won't be short of people swinging their boots, if that's what you were thinking.

Lechler signed a three-year $5.5 million deal with the Texans, significantly lower than what the late Al Davis was willing to pay him---a record punting fee of $16 million for four years back in 2008. But economies have since collapsed, Twinkies have faced extinction, and Justin Timberlake does everything now except run the Vatican. Times have changed.

Despite the fact he's only 36, and plans to play 20 seasons in all (which would mean seven more), the Raiders are clearly not seeing Lechler in the same light. Assuming they are wearing their eye patches over the correct eye, it may be because the punter's net yards were slightly down last season.

Net yards seem very important to NFL teams, even though the punter has no real control over that statistic---not unless he's sprinting down field after scratching his nose with the toe of his cleat, and wrestling the punt returner into the grass himself. I'm not sure that even Usain Bolt could achieve such a feat, though wouldn't be surprised if a pro football team similarly forked out $16 million for the service.

Lechler netted 39 yards per punt last season, lower than his career average of about 41. This type of discrepancy causes more panic in pro football clubhouses than warm Gatorade. But he has booted 47 yards per punt over his career, not including the adjustment of returns or penalties. This should count for, well, everything, because it relates to the actual distance of his kicks.

Lechler has also admitted that he rushed back from a knee injury last season, and that it took him a month to be back on his game. "During the second half of the season, I felt like I was back to my old self," he told reporters in Houston recently.

Of course, there are many other aspects that factor into punting, and the associated squad that charges towards the man returning, such as the amount of time the ball hangs in the air. Lechler has been consistent on all of these fronts for many years, which is why so many people regard him as the best punter ever. You only need to scan his career stats to realize this. For example, Lechler kicked for 4,503 yards for an average of 47 yards per punt in 2003. His net average per punt that season was just 37 yards. That particular campaign, the Raiders won just four games, and were obliterated on the road (0-8). Not surprisingly then, returners tallied 699 yards on Lechler's 2003 punt total.

Last season, Lechler punted for 3,826 yards all up, with returners only logging 450 yards. So while he punted for fewer yards, they were likely more effective kicks with a better net average per punt than during the monster year, nine seasons earlier. So, I'm not certain I see the Raiders logic here in letting Lechler go, because up or down, he's been relatively consistent.

We do know that the Raiders picked up Marquette King in last draft, who supposedly has more leg than Heidi Klum. For Fort Valley State University in 2011, King led his team's conference in punting with a 43 yards per punt average, and 16 of them were for 50 yards or more. And due to a towering 80-yarder once, his legend has preceded his NFL career.

So Oakland and its fan base are no doubt giddy at the prospect of King. But Lechler's shoes are mighty ones to fill, especially before an intimidating audience of pirates, ghouls and skeleton bikers.

Good luck, kid.

McFadden: Raiding the secondary

Darren McFadden is running wild in this 2011 NFL season, revving his motor in the Raider backfield before breaking to the wing and charging like a '64 Mustang. McFadden was always good - we knew this. But his transition to the NFL has been slow: his transmission, if you will, has gone from five to seven-speed in 2011.

McFadden turned up the turf and churned up the air against the New York Jets in Week 3, making a once stout defense look like the flag wavers at a Le Mans finale. The end result was 171 yards and two touchdowns. It also featured the longest dash of his career, a beautiful 71-yarder that saw the striding 6'2 Raider swing to the outside before flooring it in a series of brilliant bobs and weaves to the end zone.

Then, one week later, McFadden swept through the New England Patriots for 75 rushing yards and further 48 receiving. So in a single month of play, he has amassed 468 yards for a 6.2 yard average and three TDs. All of sudden, the Raiders have a back! - a rampaging and ruthless roadster that blazes across the pitch and turns a game on its head - something they've longed for since the days of Bo Jackson.

And McFadden isn't just any back: he's the type of runner that sees space and punches the gas, blasting into daylight like Andretti on the home stretch. It's that "next gear", as they say, which differentiates him from the plough horses and Clydesdales. In fact, McFadden's energy is more akin to a mustang: swift and untamed. But his technique is splendid: upright, pumping and purposeful. It's the sort of running we long for as fans but are so often under supplied. Adrian Peterson and Arian Foster break off these types of scampers, but somehow they haven't been as interesting lately. McFadden, by contrast, is grounding up the grass, and then bolting past the line, and Oakland's offense is immediately exciting.

With several of the NFL's worst rushing defenses to come, including Houston and Kansas City, there's potential for McFadden to log 1,500 yards this season. As Howard Cossell might have said: "He straightened, legs powering up to the mid-rift, and just like that, a silver and black blur left opposing defenders in a cloud of dust."




Article first published as McFadden: Raiding the Secondary on Technorati.

The Battle of the Bay

The idea of California football always appealed to me. Its dusty 50-yard line and sun baked bleachers were the antithesis of traditionalist football - winter winds, heavy snow, frozen tundras. The latter was harsh and messy, evoking icy crunches and cracks. They were bruising affairs that mired Midwestern and Mid-Atlantic teams in muddy trench warfare. The Californian game, by contrast, was brighter, more dazzling. Its football soared and its players blazed. Touchdowns were plentiful.

The type of blue horizon backdrops and sweet lemonade-infused days I'm referring to are San Francisco 49ers games of the Eighties. Football was never more romanticized than those glorious years, during which Joe Montana surveyed the field behind center, dropped back to pass and fired the ball into the hands of John Taylor or Jerry Rice skipping across Candlestick. Forty-Niners football always seemed to be cool and calm, free-flowing and determined. Sure, in reality, it  might have been a little chilly by the bay, and there were probably more imperfections than I can recall, but on television it always looked sunny, and the red and gold uniforms appeared, well, gladiatorial.

So it was certainly deflating to see the 49ers collide with their closest rivals the Oakland Raiders last weekend, in a contest that was a mere shadow of former glories. After all, the "Battle of the Bay", while usually confined to the preseason, is a competition and tradition clubs in remote corners of the map must salivate over. Here you have the golden glitz of the Niners, the team that took the West Coast offense to new heights, against the NFL's footballing pirates, a brand that embodies more than toughness - perhaps brutality. You couldn't script a better story if you were Steve Sabol of NFL Films.

Unfortunately for fans of both teams, Sunday's battlefront was more stunning in the stands than on the field, and in this instance, that's a tragedy.

Alex Smith looked better in the pocket and in delivery, but that's not saying much when you're coming from a state of disarray. Smith just doesn't apply enough zip on the ball, though he is releasing it more quickly these days. His feet look hurried, which my be why his passes are popping out like a pinched grape. One throw to Braylon Edwards - who made a spectacular single handed grab - gave hope. Then a floater to the Raider defensive end Matt Shaughnessy defused any excitement possibly brewing in the stands.

Meanwhile, Oakland's Jason Campbell continued his penchant for clutching the ball too long. On one occasion it hindered his ability to find the open man in the back of the end zone, and on another, his final play of the day, Campbell took a stray knee to the helmet and was forced to leave. It's probably better that he had extra time to think over this performance.

If not for Daniel Kilgore's fine block in the middle of the park that stalled three Raider defenders and sprung Kendall Hunter for a 53-yard touchdown sprint, this day might have felt like a great waste. And if the 17-3 scoreline wasn't crushing enough, it's now apparent that the weekend's fan violence has prompted police to seek a permanent ban on this famed match-up.

So now we're left to reminisce decades past, when those shiny gold helmets furiously knocked about sunny California with the scary silver ones. And it was really fun to watch.

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