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Martz, the weird NFC, and field hockey
Week 11 Awards | Factoid
... Click here to send a question to Peter King's NFL Mailbag. NEWARK, N.J. -- St. Louis head coach Mike Martz was riding the elevator at the Newark Airport Marriott just before 9 p.m. Saturday. The elevator stopped at defensive backs coach Steve Brown's floor, and Brown got on. "Hey Brownie," Martz said matter-of-factly. "Coach," Brown said. The elevator next stopped at Kurt Warner's floor, where the NFL's reigning MVP and a few mates got on. "How 'bout those Bulldogs?" Warner said to Martz, mischievously.
The Fresno State Bulldogs. Martz's alma mater. Big game Saturday with nationally ranked TCU, the always dangerous Horned Frogs. "Won, didn't we?" Martz said. "You kidding?!" Warner replied. Martz held his hands up. "No, no, no ... Don't tell me." "Twenty-four to 10," Warner said. "And they gave up 230 yards rushing to one guy!" "No!" Martz said. "We're gonna make you wear a Horned Frogs T-shirt around practice all next week, you know," Warner said. Digging successful. My point: Two encounters. Sort of an official, stiffly cordial one with a defensive coach. And a warm, fun one with the injured superstar quarterback needling his head coach. The injured superstar quarterback is happy, not brooding. Everyone on this offense is happy, in fact. Martz makes this a good place to work, a good place to come to work. I may be looking too hard for something that isn't there. But I don't think so. The success of the offense makes Rams Park a great place for the coaches and players. But Martz has made it hot for his defensive staff by importing 69-year-old defensive staff aide Bud Carson (who is essentially the defensive coordinator without a title) and demoting star defenders Kevin Carter and Todd Lyght. I like that. The defense was playing like garbage until Carson arrived three weeks ago. The staff wasn't inspiring or adequately preparing the players. This is a results business. Now, Martz isn't spending much time puzzling over playoff possibilities ("You start thinking playoffs in November, especially when New Orleans is playing lights out, and a truck's gonna hit you right in the ear," he told me Saturday night), but he knows what a good thing he has going. Potentially. "We've got our destiny in our hands. We're not gonna let someone or something come in here and screw it up." I have no clue who will win home field in this oddball conference. I have no idea who will be good next week. How can you? I suppose the Rams, with a slightly tougher schedule than Minnesota, are probably co-favorites for home field with the Vikings, with Washington the third seed, Tampa Bay the fourth and God Only Knows Who at five and six. The 7-3 Giants went from a good shot at third seed to a good shot to be home for Christmas with their abysmal showing Sunday. The 7-4 Eagles got back into it with a weird win at Pittsburgh. Just when 7-3 New Orleans was getting very interesting, Ricky Williams goes down for six-to-eight weeks with a broken ankle. The Lions? Consult your local astrologer for their line. Good for Martz in keeping his offense loose and productive, and for telling his defense it stinks in time to save the season. Some coaches would have kept the Super Bowl champ on auto pilot. Martz is actually coaching. Week 11 AwardsOFFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE WEEK: Baltimore QB Trent Dilfer. I am shocked. I have named Trent Dilfer my offensive player of the week two consecutive weeks. The world, now, is officially flat. But what do you expect when Dilfer throws for 281 yards and leads two touchdown drives in the first 20 minutes -- including one of 17 plays and 96 yards -- and then leads the game-winning drive, at Adelphia? DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE WEEK: Buffalo S Keion Carpenter, the best player on the field in the Bills' survival-of-the-fittest 20-3 win against Chicago, with two interceptions, two key pass deflections and four tackles -- and Exhibit A why Ralph Wilson should pony up the dough to keep ace talent scout and GM John Butler. Carpenter and cornerback Daryl Porter -- one touchdown on a fumble return, one pick -- are both undrafted college free agents from the last three years. SPECIAL TEAMS PLAYER OF THE WEEK: Dallas K Tim Seder, who made three field goals (43-, 35- and 42-yarders) in the Cowboys' 23-3 win against Cincinnati -- plus one of the most heads-up plays of the year, running a called fake field goal from the Bengals' 1 in for a touchdown. GOAT OF THE WEEK: Tennessee K Al Del Greco. You need an explanation? He misses the extra point allowing Baltimore to rally for a last-minute 24-23 lead, then kicks the potential game-winning 43-yarder eight feet wide right. COACH OF THE WEEK: New Orleans coordinators Ron Zook and Mike McCarthy. Zook's energy makes the defense run ("You can't take a play off, in practice or the game," rookie DE Darren Howard tells me), while McCarthy deserves much of the credit for making Jeff Blake a fairly efficient 61 percent passer instead of a mad bomber. Zook's and McCarthy's fingerprints were all over on the rout of Carolina. Factoid of the Week That May Interest Only MeRams corner Dexter McCleon drinks a liter of fruit-flavored NutraMax Baby Care Pediatric Electrolyte, with a puppy dog on the label, before each game to avoid cramping. "Good stuff," he told me. "Gives you everything you need for a game."The 10 Things I Think I Think1. I think the more I watch the NFL, the more I surrender logical thought process. A friend of mine is in one of those knockout pools, where you have to pick one losing team every week. If that team wins, you're out of the pool for the year. So this guy had been saving San Francisco all year, and he was one of about 12 of 100 guys left in the pool last week, and I told him: This is the week for the 49ers. "You sure?" he asked. I told him: No way the Niners are beating the Chiefs. And so Ira Miller of the San Francisco Chronicle is down the row from me late in the Giants-Rams game Sunday he and tells me it's 21-zip, 49ers. I say to myself: There is no hope for you, you moron. 2. I think here is where I fault Jim Fassel in Sunday's loss: You're playing the Rams. You're down 28-14 with 12 minutes left in the third quarter. You have fourth-and-2 at the Rams' 3. You have to know you'll need 40 to win the game at this point. And you go for the field goal. Not smart. This is not a game to go for three. This is a game to go for broke. 3. I think, after watching more great catches yesterday, I am convinced Cris Carter is a first-ballot Hall of Famer, and I am one of the 38 men with a ballot. 4. I think, at some point, the Steelers just have to give up on Kordell Stewart. It's startling how inaccurate he still is. 5. I think the Ravens are for real. 6. I think the Giants are not, no matter how much they wish and hope Kerry Collins can become a playoff quarterback. By the way, my news-conference question of the day comes from the Giants game, and was directed to Collins after the Rams' 38-24 rout. "What do you say to the cynics who say you can't beat the upper-echelon teams?" Cynics? Realists. The Giants have played three good teams in the first 10 games -- Washington, Tennessee and St. Louis -- and lost to each by double digits. 7. I think I'm glad I don't follow college football very closely, because that BCS thing would drive me crazy. There's a Seattle computer ranking contributing to a national championship game that will apparently include a one-loss team, Florida State, and not include a one-loss team, Miami, that beat the Seminoles. Yup, head-to-head play should have no bearing on the biggest game of the year. 8. I think this is why computer ratings make people nuts: The Bills and Eagles, on Nov. 2, were ranked 14th and 15th in the New York Times computer ranking of NFL teams. The next week, Buffalo traveled to 2-6 New England and won a hard-fought game by a field goal in overtime. Philadelphia stayed at home to play 3-5 Dallas and won a hard-fought game by a field goal in overtime. On Nov. 9, entering this weekend's games, the Bills were still 14th. The Eagles were seventh. When this happens, Mr. Sulzberger (and when you have the Eagles ahead of the Vikings, Colts and Bucs, and when you have the Eagles 11 spots ahead ahead of the Rams), it's time to re-program the mainframe. And the fact that the Eagles won a big one at Pittsburgh on Sunday, frankly, is irrelevant. 9. I think, even though I'm a Democrat, I can't muster up much sympathy for the lamebrains who couldn't read that ballot in Florida. 10. I think this is my Field Hockey Novella of the Week: I have been to nine World Series games. I have been to 16 Super Bowls, two Olympics and a Stanley Cup. I have been present for Dan Marino's last win, John Elway's biggest win, Bill Buckner's biggest miss, the Bills' 32-point playoff comeback, Michael Jordan's freshman-year national championship shot to beat Georgetown, and Jim Valvano's Wolfpack shocking Houston. But there is no sports event I will remember like a field hockey game played on a little field across from an elementary school in my hometown of Montclair, N.J., last week. If you read this column, you know my autumnal team of choice is the Montclair High field hockey team, with my eldest daughter, senior Laura King, on right wing. Field hockey is much like soccer, with 11 tireless skirted girls per side on a field about the same size as a soccer pitch but with a much smaller goal, curved sticks and an orange plastic ball the size and density of a baseball. Our season record of 16-2-1 earned MHS the host's role last Monday in the New Jersey Group IV Section I semifinal game against 12-4-1 Livingston. At breakfast that morning, Laura said: "I just can't believe this might be my last game." When Livingston scored midway through the second half, I feared Laura was right. Parents became frantic on the sidelines. We made so much noise that six New Jersey Transit railway workers, doing repair work on the commuter tracks just behind the west side of the field, stopped work to watch the game and yell encouragement. Our kids pressed. Finally, in the last minute of regulation, our all-world midfielder, Nicki Cozzolino, weaved through a throng of Lancers, centered the ball, and left wing Alexis Barbalinardo slapped a shot into the back of the cage. Thirty-two seconds left. Delirium. Momentum, us. "What are the rules now?!" one of the railroad guys yelled. "Overtime!" I yelled back. Now they'd play a 10-minute sudden-death OT, with seven players a side to stimulate offensive chances. Then another, if it was still 1-1. Then a round of five penalty strokes, just like soccer penalty kicks. Then another round of five. Then, gulp, sudden-death penalty strokes: The game ends when the first stroke beats a goalie. Our field has small bleachers on the side of the field, stands that were packed at the start of the game. At the end of regulation most of the 200 people in attendance got off the bleachers and packed the sidelines. When the overtime began, you couldn't hear stick strike ball over all the screaming. We had a 2-on-1 midway through the overtime -- Laura and linemate Erika Hamdan -- and the Livingston goalie stoned them. Laura got tackled in the goal crease. "PENALTY SHOT! PENALTY SHOT!'' Railroad Guy yelled. The two refs conferred and green-carded the offending Lancer. The poor girl went to the sidelines and buried her head in the ground, crushed. Now we'd have a 7-on-6 edge for five minutes. No score. Momentum, Livingston. No score in the second overtime either. Now each team picked five girls to take alternating penalty strokes. The pressure. The overwhelming pressure. Your entire season comes down to a goalie moving the right way or wrong way. Or which corner the shooter aims for. Each team lined up behind the shooters, Montclair to the left, Livingston to the right. Every player intertwined hands with a teammate, holding hands so hard they thought fingers might get broken. Cool senior Natalie Serock, our ace stroker, had made two of four of these rare shots in her career, and she would shoot first. Her mother had to turn away. "I can't look," Rita Serock kept repeating. Suddenly, silence. For two, three, four seconds. Natalie crouched, poised to take the shot. The ref blew his whistle. Natalie shot ... and it thudded into the Livingston goalie's glove. Save! Livingston's shooter repeated everything Natalie had done -- except she hit her shot perfectly. Score! Then we missed. They missed. Our Devon O'Neill, one of the steadiest, most reliable players you'll see on any field, went high right with her stroke. Score! Tie game! I hugged half of Montclair, and I would have bear-hugged Railroad Guy had he been next to me. Then they missed, we missed, they missed, we missed, they missed. Still tied. Now a second round of strokes, with five different shooters. The pressure. Unrelenting. One of our fans, Jim Zarrilli, had bypass surgery a couple of years ago, and I looked over to see him pacing and holding his chest. The first nine shooters -- five for us, four for them -- all missed, with the goalies doing a tremendous clutch job. Now it was time for the 10th Livingston stroke. Silence. Dead silence. The girl shot to goalie Kaitlyn Robinson's right and beat her! No! No! "Clang!" The ball hit the post and bounded harmlessly away. Momentum, us. Sudden-death strokes now. Our best, then their best. For the game. Our best was Natalie. A long time ago, in fourth and fifth grade, my wife and I had coached Natalie in a Montclair girls' softball league. Most girls at that age are silly a good half of the time, but not Natalie. She was serious, and cool. We decided she'd be our pitcher, and I bet we lost three or four games with her, at most. She'd be 3-and-0 on a kid, the other team would be chanting for a walk, and she'd come back with three consecutive strikes. When times were tense, she was the best. And now, I silently begged for her to be the best once more. A third of our team couldn't watch now, their heads buried in teammates' shoulders. One of the tri-captains, Perri Hillsberg, told me later: "I was biting Alexis' shoulder. Literally biting her. I couldn't take the pressure." Silence. The only sound came from a distance; a train whistle blew. Natalie reset herself. The ref blew his whistle. And on the 11th penalty stroke, after two fruitless rounds of strokes, after two fruitless overtimes, after a desperation goal saved a 60-minute heart-stopper, Natalie calmly flicked the ball just to the right of the goalie's pads into the back of the goal. It was a blur after that, Livingston missing its shot and strangers hugging and parents crying and me jumping eight feet off the ground in a silly pirouette and the entire team burying Kaitlyn, the goalie, for saving the game, and Perri weeping on her father's shoulder and screaming: "I never want to go through that again!" And the poor Livingston kids. No one deserves that torture. They wept -- the goalie sobbing uncontrollably -- as the two sides shook hands, and a couple of our kids started crying just seeing them. "I feel absolutely terrible for them," Laura said. "No one should have to lose that way." After the game, as Natalie and her parents walked to their car, someone asked her what she was thinking when she lined up for that last penalty stroke. "I was thinking, 'She hasn't seen my best shot yet,'" Natalie said. Montclair fell out of the state playoffs three days later, losing at New Jersey's eighth-ranked team, Morris Knolls, 1-0. Valiant effort. Just result. The kids fought to the end, but the other team was better. As we hugged Laura after the game, she said, "We tried soooo hard." We knew. And Saturday, in a hastily scheduled makeup with arch-rival Northern Highlands, a team MHS hadn't beaten since 1997, the girls shook off their disappointment and dominated, winning 2-0. We finished 17-3-1, and though one of the greatest seasons of their lives was over, the girls swore they wouldn't cry. Last week the Arizona Cardinals, who don't belong on the same field with the Redskins in talent, beat Washington 16-15 behind their emotional pepperpot of an interim head coach, Dave McGinnis. After the game, McGinnis gathered his team in the locker room, told them to be silent and rasped: "You hear that? That's one heart beating!" That's passion. Bobby Ross quit the Lions because he didn't have it, and he saw his players didn't. Rare are the great teams in football, or in any sport, that play businesslike and win big. The hope for our kids, everywhere, is that they grow up to do something with passion, something they love, and that they learn the true meaning of teamwork. High-school sports -- and all school activities for that matter -- are a perfect place for that passion to develop. After the Livingston game last week, I asked Perri if she wanted to be one of the penalty-strokers, if she wanted a piece of the glory that would go along with making such a crucial shot. "I don't care if I've got one of those shots," she said with feeling. "I don't care if I'm in Kalamazoo. I just want us to win." See how much kids can teach us? Sports Illustrated senior writer Peter King covers the NFL and appears
regularly on CNN/Sports Illustrated and CNN's NFL Preview. Click here to send a question to his
NFL Mailbag.
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