The Bills Offense in 2009…a Passing Fancy?

I hate the West Coast offense. To be more precise, I hate the short passing game in general. There is nothing less inspiring in a football game than a four-yard out pattern.

The type of game that inspires me was played by teams like the Oakland Raiders of the 1960s and the Pittsburgh Steelers of the 1970s. These are teams who ground out tough yards up the gut and when they wanted to pass they didn’t nickle and dime it; they ran play-action and threw it deep.

While the Buffalo Bills teams of the past few seasons have used this annoying short passing game to some extent, the core mindset appears to have reflected the style of those classic teams.

The Bills built a mammoth offensive line and drafted powerful running backs Willis McGahee and Marshawn Lynch to exercise their will in the tough late-season conditions in Ralph Wilson Stadium. I applauded this strategy from the beginning.

Alas, it hasn’t worked.

In what has to be a punch in the stomach to every native Western New Yorker who believes nasty late-season football is inherently their dominion, the Bills have stumbled, fumbled, and bumbled their way to a 6-13 December record over the past four seasons. Not only have they lost in December, they have been pushed around in the process.

While it may pain an old-school guy like me to admit it, the offseason revamping of the Bills offense is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Gone is the monstrous left side of the offensive line, Jason Peters and Derrick Dockery. They never produced the consistent steam-rolling power push the Bills needed in their running game to win when it counted and often made glaring errors in pass protection as well.

The new line is intended to be quicker and more athletic with Langston Walker moving from the right tackle spot to Peters’ vacated position on the left and Brad Butler, who the Bills are very high on, moves from guard to right tackle, a position he played in college. Rookie guards Eric Wood and Andy Levitre are being counted on to make immediate impacts surrounding new center Geoff Hangartner, a veteran brought in from Carolina.

Of course most of the offseason hype centers around the arrival of Terrell Owens. Combined with Lee Evans, the duo should be one of the most dangerous receiving tandems in the league. But it’s what the Bills can do with the other parts of their passing game that intrigues me the most.

During the Super Bowl years, the Bills maintained a balanced offensive attack from the no-huddle, but it was deceiving. They gutted defenses with quick slants and dump offs to Thurman Thomas in the flat early on, slowly wearing down the opponent’s linebacking corps, setting them up for the running attack which ran downhill over a tired defense late in the game.

In 2009, with the opponent’s top defensive backs trying to handle Owens and Evans, the gameplan calls for—no, screams for—quick-hitting strikes to Roscoe Parrish lined up against single coverage across the middle.

Parrish, who has been very unhappy with his role, or lack thereof, on offense has trouble getting off the line of scrimmage against physical corners. But there’s no linebacker in the league who can keep with his first step should the opponent try covering him with one of them.

If they choose to bring up a safety or extra back on Parrish, the dependable Josh Reed can do what he does best and plant himself in an opening in the soft underbelly of the defense and make first downs.

But the real key for the Bills is to make Lynch or Fred Jackson into the second coming of Thurman. Both players have shown good hands and playmaking ability as receivers either coming out of the backfield or lined up in the slot, but the Bills have severely underutilized this aspect of the game over these past few seasons.

Bottom line, these Bills are built for speed, not snow plowing.

Things I Would Like To Know About the Brian Moorman Experience

Picking the Buffalo Bills player I’d most like to interview was an easy choice.

You can have your T.O. and Trent, your Leodis and Langston.

I’ll take superstar punter Brian Moorman.

Moorman has distinguished himself as one of the NFL’s best punters, considered by many Bills fans to be the team’s most valuable player over the past few seasons.

His mastery of the ever changing weather conditions at Ralph Wilson Stadium has earned the respect of fans and players alike, as he earned Pro Bowl honors following both the 2006 and 2007 seasons.

The Bills organization has also taken notice, giving Moorman a $10 million contract extension through the 2012 season.

But what really separates Moorman from his peers is the rare athleticism he brings to the position. His touchdown pass to Ryan Denney in the 2008 season opener against Seattle is the stuff of legend.

Here’s what I would ask this renaissance man’s punter, should I have the opportunity.

Brian, you’ve gained a cult-like fan base in Buffalo usually reserved for players in more prominent positions. They’ve even got a name for themselves, “the Moormanators.” This kind of love is unheard of for punters. Why do you think that is and what does it mean to you?

I think the fact the crowd cheers when their own punter comes onto the field is pretty fascinating and I wonder what his take on that is.

 

When you go out with your teammates, do people recognize you first and, if so, do your teammates feel slighted?

Basically, if he were single, would he be Goose or Maverick?

 

Ralph Wilson Stadium is the toughest place to punt in the league, with its swirling winds and often wet or freezing conditions. What signs or patterns do you look for that help you decide how and where to kick the ball?

This may be confidential notebook material I’m treading into here but I’m curious.

 

You’re a true athlete playing the punter’s position, having been a three-time state hurdling champion in high school. You were even invited to compete in the 2006 Pro Bowl Skills Competition normally reserved for the “skill” positions. Do your teammates give you a level of respect that might not be afforded most punters?

A lot of players scoff at the notion of calling a guy who might only play four or five plays a game a true player. I wonder if it’s different for Brian?

 

Because of your athleticism, you’ve become yet another weapon for Bobby April’s special teams unit. You’ve made clutch plays running, throwing and even tackling. How much confidence does the coaching staff have using you to make those types of plays and how much freedom do you have to call your own shots?

If he decides on his own to scramble for a first down instead of kicking and doesn’t make it, how short of a leash is he on?

 

Along with your wife, Amber, you started the PUNT Foundation that provides support to Western New York families with children facing life threatening illnesses. Do you think the level of popularity you’ve attained has helped spread the word about your cause?

I’d think it would be easier to pull in support for a cause if you have a marquee name like Jim Kelly. I wonder if it was harder for Brian to get his message out as a punter and if his rise in popularity has helped that.

 

And finally, what were you thinking as the late Sean Taylor prepared to steamroll you in the 2006 Pro Bowl?

9 Reasons the Bills Will Make the Playoffs in 2009…and One Reason They Won’t

Even these guys are excited about the Buffalo Bills chances of making the playoffs this year. Why, because they have bags over their heads and can’t see Bill Belichick on the other sideline? No, because the Bills have put together an intriguing team loaded with possbilities. Here’s why a decade long playoff drought will come to an end…

Larry Csonka to Tom Brady: Here’s to 30 Years of a Bills Fan’s Suffering

I’m sure my journey into Buffalo Bills fandom began like most; being stuffed into a t-shirt or jersey at an age ripe for brainwashing, aside a chubby smiling uncle giving the thumbs up as the Polaroids flash. But my first real memories begin in an appropriate spot, watching a makeable field goal sale wide as the clock expired in a rainy Rich Stadium.

It was September 3, 1979. I was seven years old. The Bills season opener was against the Miami Dolphins, a team that had beaten the Bills in every game played during the entire decade. The current stretch of futility against the Patriots is child’s play compared to those golden years of defeat.

It was just me and Dad. He had been a fan from day one. I enjoy his tale of bagging groceries for old ladies at the Super Duper as he listened to Van Miller calling the “hit heard ’round the world,” Mike Stratton’s rib snapping blow to Keith Lincoln’s ribcage during the 1964 AFL title game.

In what I would come to consider my day one, I watched a terribly ugly game played in a pouring downpour. Both offenses struggled mightily. The Bills were trailing 9-7 as time wound down. They got into position for a game winning field goal, and as Tom Dempsey jogged onto the field, a mighty buzz of hope arose among the sea of ponchos.

The outcome was predictable. I think it was under 40 yards, but Dempsey missed. So began my long, slow walk down this path of suffering.

It hasn’t all been bad. The following year on a cloudless perfect day, the Bills began the 80s by doing what they couldn’t do once in the ’70s…beat the Dolphins. We had a huge family group at that one; parents, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I remember the scene as the clock wound down like it was yesterday.

A shirtless guy with long blond hair and cutoff jeans was the first of the mob to hit the field. He did a perfect cartwheel as the stadium speakers cranked “Another One Bites the Dust.” I still think of it every time I hear that song.

My cousin Tom was crying his eyes out because my aunt belted him with her binoculars during the celebration. Someone reminded him that we just beat the Fish and he started laughing like a hyena.

My family moved to Tennessee in ’81. I’m convinced the next few years were meant to test my resolve as a true fan. As the Bills sank to the bottom of the NFL, I suffered alone through daily hecklings and other trauma at the hands of my schoolmates. They stoned me on the playground for crying out loud!

Not only did my family have to suffer through the bad play, we suffered just to see the bad play.

We lived 30 miles from Knoxville, and about 80 miles from the Tri-Cites. Occasionally the Johnson City feed would have the Bills game when Knoxville didn’t. In the days of ‘rabbit ear’ TV antennaes, we took turn holding the antennae up to ceiling in the general direction of the Tri-Cities. Thus was the nature of our madness.

Fast forward to January of 1991. I was a freshman at the University of Tennessee when the Bills began their push to Super Bowl XXV. I had contracted the chicken pox playing football with the next generation of Bills fan, my 7 year-old cousin during Christmas in Buffalo.

I watched in agony 700 miles away as the Bills beat the Dolphins in a classic snow playoff game, knowing my uncles and cousins were there to see it.

Despite missing two weeks of classes, I made a sudden miraculous recovery and was able to attend the AFC Championship game blowout win against the Raiders. I could write a book about how that moment felt (there’s an idea).

My Dad managed to hook up the family with Super Bowl tickets through some friends in the right places, and on to Tampa and destiny we went.

Long story short: from the angle of my seat, I thought Norwood’s kick was good. I leapt into the air, all my dreams come true, only to come crashing down to my seat in tears as the refs gave the signal. I muttered “I can’t believe he missed it” about 10 times with my hands in my face.

I dropped out of college three weeks later and moved back to Buffalo and got season tickets.

My Grandfather died a week before the next Super Bowl. Down 24-0 and one Thurman Thomas helmet at halftime against the Redskins, I charged drunk up the snow covered hill behind my uncle’s house and upon reaching the top looked to the sky and asked Grandpa to make it right this time.

The Bills scored the next 10 points. Maybe…

Washington 37 Buffalo 24.

The following year I was back at UT in Knoxville. I kept the season tickets, and made about half the games. I drove with another uncle, who lived in Atlanta, up to Buffalo for Super Bowl XXVII, just to be in Buffalo if the Bills won.

Dallas 52 Buffalo 17.

The next year, a couple of cousins and I went down to Atlanta for the rematch against the Cowboys. We watched at Billsville, set up in the base of the Radisson Hotel downtown. The place was going berserk as the Bills led at halftime. Strangers hugged each other. I called Dad at halftime full of emotion, telling him it was going to different this time; I could feel it. Then the 2nd half started, and Thurman fumbled.

Dallas 30 Buffalo 13.

On and on it’s gone. Through Flutie vs. Johnson, Homerun Throwback (it’s still forward, no matter what angle you look at,) and the firm of Williams, Mularkey, and Jauron we still come back for more.

Maybe T.O is the Golden Child. Maybe they’ll go no huddle and return to the glory days of the K-Gun. Maybe they’ll tease us and go about .500 again. It doesn’t matter  though. We wouldn’t trade one second of it to experience a championship as a Cowboys fan.

Our love is unconditional.

At least until they move to Toronto.

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