NFL season...almost there, almost there.....

As we close in on the first NFL kick-off like the rebels toward the Death Star, we contemplate our collective new hopes.

Above all else, that means proper football---throws with zip and tackles with venom! We want quarterbacks with pedigree, not cheap competitions between third-stringers. And we want coaches throwing clipboards, not patting guys on the rear for trying.

Red Leader, we're standing by....

So we know Mark Sanchez hasn't improved much. But Tebow hasn't improved at all. The Jets know what they have and that's two QBs who at least bring the ladies through the gate. Congratulations Woody.

But if you thought the Jets were loosing altitude, how about the low-flying Cardinals? They went all in with Kevin Kolb, and Kolb went all in on looking like Betty White. Now it looks like John Skelton's job, and that's more upsetting than catapulting your family truckster across the Arizona desert.

50 yards....

If only the Cards could generate that sort of tally.



We’ve also rediscovered that Michael Vick throws out more limbs than out routes. His fragility could undermine a championship-caliber squad in Philly. Brace yourself for plenty of Andy Reid post-game apologies, and surely a few Sunday night cheesesteaks.

Then there’s the Raiders, whose speedy receivers could rattle Usain Bolt. But not opposing corners. No sir. That’s because Carson Palmer seems to be regressing in his twilight. Maybe it’s Leinart Time? Let's not lose our heads.

How about Adrian Peterson? The guy busts a knee so badly the thought of him turning on it again makes you wince. And yet he’s ready for Week 1. It’s an impossibility. A freakish comeback. Supernatural! Here’s hoping AP is more sturdy than the Metrodome roof.

By contrast, any time Brady is on his rump...well, maybe not if you're a Pats fan. The New England o-line is a worry, not just for the state of the attack but Brady’s psyche, which can loosen like a New England apple cobbler when he's bumped. Okay fine. He's still---still!---the benchmark.

Did you hear Peyton Manning’s neck is playing QB for the Broncos now? Yep, it’s received more reviews than the greatest signal-caller of the last decade himself. In truth, Peyton looks good, and it’ll be a joy to see him tossing TDs again. Especially when The Neck faces off against his rival at Gillette in Week 5.

Remember the Titans? They should be a playoff team with the weapons they stash. And yet, quarterback is never a lock with these people, because Hasselbeck has some rust, and Locker is shiny and new. Neither one appears to have the mettle.

Just as rain and winds hit Florida, some hard knocking drama brewed in the Dolphins locker room. Rookies starting, veterans cut, egos wounded, and a proposed logo change in the works. It all smacks of a rebuilding phase. At least the cheerleading squad remains formidable.

The Cowboys wideout Dez Bryant had 63 catches and nine touchdowns last season. This season he's already scored Jerry Jones's so-called rules and a curfew. Should be a smokin' season in the Big D.

And finally, the New York Giants, the reigning Super Bowl champs no less, are being picked as the second best team in the NFC East. Either the experts like taking a beating or this is their perverse way of motivating the Big Blue defense. Thank you experts.

It's just the preseason Kevin, relax

Let's remember it's the preseason. That's what they like to tell us. But it's hard to excuse "unofficial" interceptions and flat-out ineptitude, isn't it?

Take the Titans' Jake Locker, who threw wildly and off-balance against the Bucs Friday. He darted up field in the end, because overthrows and misguided decisions just weren't cutting it. Funny that. Locker was 4 of 11 for just 21 yards on the day. Thank goodness for Chris Johnson.

How about the much maligned Kevin Kolb, who looked nervous on the sideline, petrified in the pocket, and demoralized by the time he'd logged his minutes against the Raiders. Is it safe to say the Kolb era is over in Arizona? Oh, Kevin. We thought it was just the preseason, too.

Then there's those Hard Knocking quarterbacks of Miami, Ryan Tannehill and Matt Moore, oh, and the suddenly bed-ridden David Garrard who still might start after Friday's dire display. It's a competition, they tell us, but we know better.

The truth is, Matt Moore, after his stellar second-half last season, deserves the starting job---not a competition. He not only gave the team stability en route to a 6-3 finale, but injected some life into the offense. The receivers finally had someone noticing them down field. It was a breath of fresh air in the humid confines of South Beach.

But in the NFL, the grass is always greener on the other side. Right now, Moore is off the grass and into the swamp. Tannehill is new and shiny, and has a beautiful young wife. He's hungry and untainted, slinging it and winging it. This means everything in pro football. Forget that he has very little experience or isn't seeing beyond the first read. Tannehill, in the eyes of both fans and media, is the starter.

It's just the preseason, but it tells us so much.

McFadden needs air like a fine wine

Recent article from XtraPoint Football on Xlog

The word out of Napa, other than that the Valley’s 2009 Cabernets are now drinkable, is that Darren McFadden is tearing by defenders in training camp – just like you remember him doing.

If it seems a while since we’ve seen No.20, that’s because it has been. He missed the last nine games of the 2011 season with a foot sprain equivalent to a cracked axle. That’s the sort of problem you can’t simply rev through, hoping to get to Wendy's before grinding to a painful stop. No, that's at least a few days taking the bus folks, mustard down the shirt with every pothole.

But through the first six games of last season, McFadden led the NFL with 600 yards rushing, and had five touchdowns. Those are the beginnings of MVP numbers. It’s the endings that are undermining it all.

In recent seasons McFadden has led the pros in yards per carry with more than five a pop, but because he’s not always on the field, he's never earned as many Chris Berman mentions as he deserves. And you know Boomer likes to showcase his gravelly Ralph Kramden-sounding Raaaiiiiideeers impression whenever possible. McFadden needs to feed the beast!

Surely the issue is the way he runs – hard, and with perpetual pace. He’s the type of rusher that sees space and punches the gas, blasting into daylight like Andretti for the checkered flag. McFadden has Olympic technique – the sort of form that makes you recall sprinter Michael Johnson - upright, pumping and purposeful. Like Super Mario. But just as with Nintendo's highest profile plumber, it's also an approach that requires space---and generally few hammer-throwing turtles---to succeed. 

Raiders quarterback Carson Palmer recently called the back “unreal” and “explosive”. His speed is unreal. But the explosiveness, that rapid early motion, is perhaps affecting his longevity. It might be just what tweaks the knee, or jabs the toe, or cracks the axle. Or maybe it’s just bad luck. And yet – and I only say this because I want to see a full 16 games of McFadden – he needs to be more selective on his runs. When he hits the gaps, there’s a silver and black blur nobody's catching. Once he enters the pit of monsters awaiting him at that second level, however, McFadden can take a beating, as all marked men do. 

Sometimes, the hard runner needs to be smarter.

The Raiders can help counter the battering by giving McFadden enough spells on the sideline, but also by using him more out wide, where he’s proven to be an exceptional receiver and runner after the catch (over four seasons he's averaged no less than eight yards per reception). While the Adrian Petersons churn across the gridiron, over and through people, all power and grimace, McFadden blazes like a Ferrari. And a Ferrari is best on the freeway, not ricocheting into Buicks.  

There’s plenty of tread on those tires, but it’s no good if the car’s always in the shop.   

NFL training camp's most telling numbers

Infographics are in seemingly more places now than Terrell Owens. But unlike TO, they're not going to unsettle your favourite quarterback, or disrupt the inner workings of your team. They're simply colorful and informative...like John Madden.

So we're pleased to bring you our first ever football infographic, courtesy of our new friends over at The Football Educator. This one is about training camp, and interestingly represents the amount of Gatorade consumed, or at least made available for consumption---twenty-five cases! (Note: we can't confirm how much of the Jets' 25 were solely consumed by Rex Ryan but hope an infographic is in the offing).

Taking the bait in Miami

It's high time somebody called out Miami Dolphins owner Stephen Ross, firstly, for whatever role he played in the signing of Chad Johnson, but mostly for turning the Fins into his own personal PR project.

Miami, one of the NFL's great clubs by any measure - wins, memorable games, legendary players, iconic branding - entered the league just when things really started sizzling. It was 1966, and the NFL and AFL rivalry was so hot, a merger of frank and mustard proportions was inevitable. The likes of the Oakland Raiders, Buffalo Bills and San Diego Chargers were burning up gridirons in the new league, and the only thing left to do was expand. Where? Why south! South Beach to be exact, where talents have been taken and defining the landscape since Sinatra and the boys threw back Jacks at the Fountainbleau.

And yet, after all the history, the martinis, the thrills and throws, showman and showoffs, from Dino to Marino, we have a tax accountant cum millionaire real estate man calling the shots in Miami. How does this happen, you ask? Commerce friends. It's a powerful thing and it often knows very little about the hook and ladder.

But perhaps the last straw, the whittled and worn thread remaining after the penultimate twig, is that now there are rumors that Ross wants to change the Dolphins logo. First LeBron James betrayed Cleveland for the palm-lined paradise, now this. What's next, Fergie at quarterback?

It's truly hard to like the Dolphins during this bizarro phase. They're not Kramer - they're Feldman. They're not Buzz Lightyear - they're a mindless preprogrammed clone hellbent on more than infinity. And with a new logo, purportedly something you'd see imprinted on the glass doors of a pastel shaded Fort Lauderdale resort, they further run the risk of alienating fans. That is unless they're keen on filling seats with Mr. Ross' vacationing buddies.

I can't really see them dancing to Enrique Iglesias pre-game, can you?

Seahawks quarterbacks on the hook

If you’ve ever traveled to the Pacific Northwest, you will have noticed their proclivity for doing things well. This is certainly the case in Seattle, where their airplanes, computers, rock n’ roll, coffee, and women’s basketball are all remarkably good. So it’s rather confounding that their pro football suffers from fifty shades of grey, and nothing more distinct.

Many would argue that the Seahawks defensive game has been the foundation of the club in recent years, keeping the team bouyant. For example, the 2011 Seahawks defense allowed just 19 points per game on average, which is better than at least 20 other teams in the league, including your Super Bowl champion New York Giants. They’re speedy, tenacious, and make interceptions (fourth in the NFL last year).

But the discrepancy here is that the Giants pound opponents black and blue when they most need to - they get after the quarterback! They might spot 25 points, but then in the crunch, there’s no sign of complacency or mediocrity. There's just a mammoth squeeze. In this regard, the Seahawks are more, well, flighty. And yet because the NFC West is more routine than your morning Starbucks order, the middling Blue and Green not only seem efficient at times, but inexplicably potent. That’s not difficult against the likes of Kevin Kolb and Alex Smith, of course. 

In turn, Tavaris Jackson looks adequate. He’s powerful, and power goes a long way if you can land the ball within the outer circle of your target at least. Tavaris does this. He also scrambles like Tebow, but with less fanfare, so when he arrives at the first down marker you’re more likely to be pleasantly surprised. Again, if the expectation is minimal, then fair results can always be positioned as “above average”. This is what's formally referred to as the T-Jack Jive.

And so, under Pete Carroll, the Seahawks appear trapped in an obscure offensive phase - averaging just 304 yards per game last season - which doesn’t bode well for the next campaign. Most recently, and startling, the club named Jackson as the training camp starter at quarterback, instead of young gun Matt Flynn - the man they pined for this offseason like Frasier after sassy blondes. That doesn’t sit well with many in the fanbase, nor should it. Even the Crane boys would suggest the strange reverse psychology at play here is bound to adversely affect Seattle’s signal-calling situation.

On the one hand, Flynn needs reps and a vote of confidence. On the other, we already know what Jackson can do, and most certainly what he can’t (his limited ability in reading defenses and locating second and third receiving options is imposing on my mind). So sitting Flynn looks geared toward reducing any immediate expectation of him. This could be futile in the end because unless Dave Kreig is getting off the couch any time soon, Flynn will likely be the most discussed offseason acquisition at the position this summer.

Yes folks, nothing's as it seems in Seattle, as Pearl Jam once cried.  

It's a different NFL era, does it have to be?

Football may have reached a cultural crossroads considering its hyper popularity conflicting with its hyper violence. But is it just the victim of a hyper perfect society?

As Grantland's Chuck Klosterman says in a recent column, it might be a nonexistent intersection, which will never reach a conclusion. But I wonder if we were able to simplify our collective thinking so that it more closely resembled the way we used to be before the Unlimited Information Era, then perhaps we could slow down football, and in turn, dial some of its issues down to a more manageable level.

Now I'm not talking about concussions specifically, because as we know, head injuries have become a rather grim and sad indictment of today's full-contact NFL football. I'm speaking more broadly about the way people function today, and the way many football players function today - with this sort of pseudo-bravado and hunger to be not only the best, but the most visible, the one who hits the hardest, delivers the most damage, or appears on SportsCenter most often. It seems for many NFL players, the literal conquering of the opposition, is more important than making a sound play. Intensity has been replaced by ferocity. Physical dominance has been replaced by brutality. If this is what is important to so many, as the New Orleans bounty case has shown us, then what hope have we of quelling the unnecessary component of football's violence? And when we say unnecessary, we must consider the excess violence that some players partake in. 

The argument we commonly hear is that football is a violent game and that's that. But we might also conclude that football has never been more violent than it is right now, and it's because many of the people playing the game consider themselves an extension of the tackle - they are weapons. These individuals are part of that hyper perfect society - overly engineered, over achieving Terminator types - who show all the concern for their on-field colleagues as a drunk driver. Can't football be played with a degree of responsibility? Well, of course, it can be.

When pro football players wore leather helmets, and labored through slow, muddied and grinding affairs, in which running, not passing, was a special commodity, we imagine there were less brutal injuries. We believe this because at a slower pace, with less equipment, men were less able to intentionally damage others, and as a result, their minds weren't geared towards it. Of course, the game became more dynamic, people grew bigger, moved closer to perfect, and were equally equipped with the latest technology - the hyper society complicated a simple game of yardage. 

But launching at another man with a cannonball atop your shoulders isn't really football, is it? It's an attempt to sideline someone. If that's football, the game of great athletes, clever tactics, and unparalleled story lines then I must have missed something.

There are no easy answers to dealing with violent sports. But other games manage. Rugby is played by more than a hundred nations, for example, and you rarely see the type of horrific collisions in rugby that you see in pro football. And to the naked eye, rugby is a far more bruising affair than the NFL. That's because the game's owners, and supporters, and protagonists, cling to the tradition of the task - not to merely the way the task looks. They're committed to the skill and strategy, to tackling with the right techniques, and less to the spectacle. The NFL is spectacular, and moves pretty fast, and we love it. But some of its people need to stop and take a look around every once in a while, or they could miss it.