Second draft

Readers revisit my all-time Hall of Fame team picks

For some reason, my piece about the Hall of Fame all-star team seemed to rouse many folks from their offseason slumber, so let's get into that right away, before they realize it's just play-acting. Robert of Madison, Wisc., and thanks, Robert, wants the name of the guy who will coach my all-star team. He says it's gotta be Vince Lombardi. Bingo! He's the guy, and my offensive coordinator is Bill Walsh and my defensive coordinator is Bud Carson, or maybe Buddy Ryan if I want to play killer football.

Paul of L.A. likes my three Raiders on the Dream Team but is lobbying for a fourth, Marcus Allen. Don't get greedy, Paul. Marcus was a great goal-line runner, but I like my guy, Earl Campbell, as a better player in the old ball-control game.

Jim of Volpi, Pa., is upset because I selected no Steelers. I would have picked Joe Greene, but he was already taken. Jack Lambert and Jack Ham would have been strong choices at MLB and OLB, respectively, but we were only allowed one LB and I went with Lawrence Taylor because of his ability as a down-rusher. Mike Webster was a great center, and certainly in my top five of all time, but Dwight Stephenson had more blinding speed than the position has ever seen. Hey, don't get me wrong. The Steelers squad of '74 (or possibly '76) was my favorite team of all time.

Bob of Singapore wants to know why I consider Stephenson better than Dermontti Dawson. Because he could give 'em the old Singapore Sling. (The Redhead just told me that's a joke that's badly dated because nobody in the last 30 years has ordered that drink). Because, whereas Dawson had speed and range, Stephenson had a bit more of each.

Serge of Montreal, and I thank you for your nice words, is annoyed that I didn't include the Patriots' Bob Kraft on my list of impact owners. Sorry, Serge, it was an oversight. What I particularly like about Kraft is that he paid for the new stadium out of his own funds, without burdening the taxpayers.

Steve of Chicago writes the following: "I'm beginning to suspect that 'The Flaming Redhead' is nothing but a voice inside your head, even though you may 'see' her move through your office, or 'hear' her calling to you from another room. How else can you explain the way she constantly offers editorial feedback on your mailbag musings as you muse them? I know you've posted photos of her, but that proves nothing. The more important question here is this: Have you seen A Beautiful Mind? Has anyone talked to you about wine-induced schizophrenia? Something to look out for: Does the Flaming Redhead age?"

OK, gimme room. I know a person can write too much personal stuff, and then it gets written out and loses its appeal, and sometimes I feel that such is the case with my chronicles of The Flaming Redhead. But people do enjoy meeting her, even if it's only by chance. Case in point. A year or so ago we're at the Cliff House in San Francisco, the Redhead and me and my daughter, Sarah, and her daughter, Natasha, at the time a frenetically driven almost 2-year old. I don't mean that she's not still frenetic, she's just not almost 2 anymore. It had been one of those horror show lunches with the food flying, and a lot of "NATASHA, IF YOU DO THAT ONE MORE TIME! ..." And now we've hit the street and poor Linda, the Redhead, is trying to steer the stroller, with Natasha in it, up Point Lobos Ave., and Sarah is yelling to watch out for cars, and I'm carrying a whole bunch of heavy stuff, blinded by sweat ... one of those hideous scenes we all know too well, and some guy looks at Linda and does a double-take and yells, "My God, it's the Flaming Redhead!" and stops her in the middle of the street for a chit-chat, and she's trying to be polite while she's dodging the traffic and I'm yelling, through the murk of my fogged glasses, "Dammit, will you come on!" and my daughter wants to know, "What's going on, anyway?" and the baby has started to scream ... or, rather, she has continued to scream.

I don't exactly know the point of the aforementioned story, except that yes, the Redhead is all too real. I've turned your e-mail over to her to answer, item by item.

A voice inside my head, a figment of my imagination, a vision: "If you've ever heard my big feet going clump, clump, clump through the living room, you'd know I'm only too real. It costs too much to keep me fed for me to be a vision."

Editorial feedback: "He makes me sit in the next room while he's writing the Mailbag column. He bounces ideas off me. If I tell him something simply doesn't work, he'll kill it. I've got real power."

Does she age? "Wish I didn't."

OK, straying readers, you can come back now. The home movies are over. Eddie of Jersey City, who has a record of "three million questions submitted, three million unanswered," but has finally seen his faith rewarded, wants to know why I didn't pick Mark Bavaro as my tight end over Dave Casper. Because Bavaro's not in the Hall of Fame and I wanted to save my wild-card entry for later on. Second part: What's my take on the Francis Ford Coppola Collection Merlot. I tried it once, under bad conditions, in the Coppola tasting room, surrounded by a bunch of screaming yahoos. Liked it just fine. Pleasant without great depth. Third part: Thanks for the nice compliments. Fourth part: Say hello to the Redhead, Eddie says. Hard to say hello to a vision, a voice inside my head, but I'll cross my eyes, peer inward and try.

Andy of Seattle is "hoping that Shawn Springs will bounce back to his All-Pro form. Is there any hope?" Well, he's only 28, but last year, coming back from the substance abuse suspension in 2001, the zip seemed to be gone from his game. Maybe it'll be back this year. Question No. 2 from Andy: Does it really matter what type of wine glass you're drinking out of? Yes. You get the bouquet much better in a chimney-shaped glass, you know, smaller at the top, and aroma is one of the grace notes in the old wine game. In sparkling wines it makes an even bigger difference. The old saucer-shaped glasses, which, thankfully, are out of fashion now, flatten the bubbles. The flutes are the vogue, but I don't like them. They tend to kind of pinch the flavor. I like Champagne in plain old white wine glasses. For some reason, wine drunk from really fine crystal works on my head and it just seems to taste better. This is what is known as the psychological approach.

Steve, a Dolphins fan from Sacramento, Calif., where I landed my first newspaper job out of school (at the Bee), wonders what kind of an impact Junior Seau, Terrell Buckley and Jeff Zgonina will have, and can a fine defense paired with a so-so offense produce a winner? Well, these are the kind of guys you pick up when you're aiming at the Super Bowl, older vets (34, 32 and 33, respectively, in the order listed above), guys you hope to squeeze a year or two out of. Buckley is on the downside. I'm not sure he'll make the team. Zgonina is one of those sturdy pluggers who can help, but he, too, has seen his best years. It'll be interesting to see how they play Seau. I think it'll be a mistake to give him too much coverage responsibility, because last year he seemed to be missing a lot of open-field tackles, although persistent injuries were part of that. I think he might be helpful as a run-jammer. I don't know how the QB battle will come out, or if Dave Wannstedt is the guy to finally get them over the top, but right now, off the top of my head ... well, I just might pick them as my sleeper choice in the AFC.

Mike of Elk Grove, Ill., sees no future in the Bears' offense, nor in their coordinator, John Shoop, nor in the marriage of Shoop and his offense with Kordell Stewart. I agree. I can't stand their ultimate-dink attack. Wish I could be more encouraging.

Dennis of Wyoming is abominated (is this a word?) by the team becoming the Bank One Bears. Well, I wouldn't mind if this were a pool-shooting designation, opening up all sorts of possibilities. "The Bank One Bears ... we come in off the rail," etc. Unfortunately, this corporate crap produces revenue, but at least the city fathers wouldn't let them change the name of Soldier Field. Dennis is surprised that Paul Tagliabue would allow it. C'mon, buddy. The commish simply loves stuff like this. He's an old corporate lawyer, don't forget.

Now that we've disposed of the Bears' offense and their name, we turn to ... uh, we turn to ... what's next, Jimmy? No more Bears? Good. We turn to Frank of Seattle, who wants to know who's the toughest QB, past and present. Past ... I'd say John Unitas, unless you're looking for a QB with the physical ability to hurt people, I'd go with Bobby Douglass, who was more dangerous as a power runner than as a passer. Toughest today? Tie between Jeff Garcia and Brett Favre.

Part two from Steve of Chicago, the guy who believes that the Redhead may be simply a rosy pigment of the imagination, and this same query was echoed by Blake of Kitchener, Ontario: Why did I list the Cowboys' Mario Edwards among my top cornerbacks, when the Dallas organization has hardly been high on him? I can't help it, I go with what my two eyes tell me, what my charts show me. In the games I saw him play, he was that good, I believe. Hey, how about the Saints' Fred Thomas, whom I picked as one of my two all-pro corners, despite the fact that his club isn't that wild about him? A long time ago I learned to go with my own instincts, after I had been burned by coaches or personnel directors who were touting some particular guy, or dinging another one, for their own reasons, which sometimes involved salary. This has produced some spectacular errors, but it's also given me some all-pro sleepers who became perennials a year or two later, i.e, Tim Krumrie, Merton Hanks, Stephenson, etc. At least I can say these choices are based on my own perceptions, rather than on a consensus of scouts or personnel guys or whatever, many of whom hadn't even gotten more than a fleeting glance or two at the people they mention.

Brad of Columbia, Md., feels that Ray Lewis doesn't get his fair shake when writers and coaches are polled as to their choice of most dominant defensive player. I disagree. I think that when he was healthy, Ray was the consensus choice.

Here's an interesting one from William of Sacramento: After this season eight potential Hall of Famers retire -- Jerry Rice, Tim Brown, Rod Woodson, Shannon Sharpe, Favre, Cris Carter, Seau, and two Smiths, Bruce and Emmitt. Five years later, when they're all eligible for induction, which ones will make it, considering, as he says, that only seven can be inducted? First of all, you've mentioned nine, William. Second of all, only six can go in, because the seventh is a Senior candidate. And if my plea to allow two Seniors actually comes to fruition, then only five moderns will be eligible. So here are my five -- Rice, Emmitt, Favre, Woodson, Carter. Next year Seau and Bruce Smith come in. Sharpe? Hmmm. Maybe. Ditto Tim Brown, who I'd have to give a serious look. He has dropped too many passes in his career, I believe. But most important of all, where will I be in 2009? Drooling on my bathrobe, probably, with the Redhead bringing me hot soup at regular intervals.

David of Durban, South Africa, wonders how the Jaguars would do if they switched to a 3-4 to accommodate their new LBs. What would they do with Hugh Douglas, their new pass-rusher who cost them big bucks? Don't forget that he left the Jets because he couldn't handle the 30-Defense. Second part: "When are you going to bring the Flaming Redhead to the wild shores of South Africa to sample some fine wines, good rugby and interesting wildlife?" I'd make it fine rugby, interesting wines and ... uh ... good wildlife doesn't exactly fit, does it? I like the wines. They're getting better all the time, aren't they? The rugby? I've written this many times, but I always wanted to play against the Sprinkboks, just to see what it was like, and never did, although our club, the Old Blues, did give two visiting Springboks a "friendly," once upon a time ... a guest game, playing on our side, against West Point. The two were David Stewart, a center, and Jan Pickard, a second row forward who was reputed to be the bad boy of South African rugby. For us, he kind of spent the afternoon on cruise control, although he drank a lot of beer afterward. I'm always interested in wildlife. Did you read that article about wolves being introduced to northern New Jersey? You didn't? Me, neither, although it's an intriguing thought.

Finally, from Victor of NYC: If I could cover only one team's training camp, which would it be, based on what Victor considers two things but is really five or so -- most characters, best interviews, which includes access, best facilities, best lunch, nicest area, etc. Gosh, I don't know. I used to try to do them all ... well, at least the West Coast glamour camps. Then we split it up, so I covered only the NFC East. The Snyder Syndrome ended that, so I switched to AFC East a few years ago, and that's where I sit. So I'm out of touch when it comes to best players to talk to, etc., although I think I'd be very interested in visiting the Rams' camp just to see what makes those guys tick. Best lunches and facilities, etc.? Well, it's another step down memory lane, folks. My favorite camp was always that of the Seahawks in Kirkland, Wash. Two reasons -- wild blackberries ringed the practice field and I could graze to my heart's content. And they had the best food.

One day they had a seafood gumbo that was so good ... as good as anything I ever had in New Orleans ... that I went back in the kitchen and hunted down the chef and complimented him. Then I asked him for the recipe.

"First you have to make your roux," he said.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Well, you start with three cups of bacon grease ..."

I felt like making the sign of the cross to scare away the vampires. Bacon grease? Ach! Unclean, unclean! And that's the last time I ever asked for a recipe in training camp.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Paul Zimmerman covers the NFL for the magazine and SI.com. His "Inside Football" column and Mailbag appear weekly on SI.com. To send a question to Dr. Z, click here.

 

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