Performance Art, David Mamet and the AFC Championship Game

A long time ago, like back in the Neil O'Donnell era, I went to an evening of performance art at Mellon Park put together by this artsy guy who I kinda knew because he dated somebody I knew. I didn't much care for him. I thought he was pretentious and annoying because he was pretentious and annoying. Also, he wore purple. Lots and lots of purple all the time and I don't think I ever saw him when he wasn't wearing at least one article of purple clothing. He had a simply shocking propensity for purple. Not a dignified purple, like Northwestern or Minnesota Vikings purple, either. It was more like the shade of purple preferred by pre-pubescent little girls, the shade they would squeal with delight to find in a pen and then proceed to sign everything in purple and write on the fronts of their notebooks and stuff. That purple. He even wore purple socks. In the summer. With shorts and running shoes. (I am not making this up.)

But I started thinking about him, and this particular evening of performance art because the over-arching theme was time. It was made up of many different vignettes, some of which were more monologue and others more, em, performance artsy, if you know what I mean. And when one of them was finished, Mr. Purple would bang this little gong he was carrying around and call "Time!," only he did it in a really annoying way -- like, "TIIIMMMMMMMMEEE!" -- he really laid on that "M" and dragged it out. Then we'd all walk, like lemmings, to another spot in the park for another vignette.

I found myself thinking about Mr. Purple calling "TIIIMMMMMMMEEE" yesterday morning when I was reflecting on the Steelers-Jets game because it seems to me it was all about time, it was about the Steelers offense's ability to drain nearly all the time out of the first quarter and about the defenses's ability to make the Jets use more time than they wanted to down the stretch.

They opened the game with a 15 play, nine minute touchdown drive. Nine minutes is an insanely long time for the Steelers offense (any offense, really) to be on the field. The Jets offense must have felt helpless, just standing their on a freezing night, watching the slow, inexorable tour of destruction that was the Steelers offense at the start of the game. They were down by seven points, with one-sixth of the game gone before Mark Sanchez even touched the ball. It felt like that opening drive set the tone for the whole first half, that the Jets had been almost lulled into a coma by the first drive. In fact, the Jets held the ball for just 8:04 in the first half. TIIIMMMMMMEE!

After the Jets gamely fought back to make it a two score game, they took over near the end of the 3rd quarter on their own 13 yard line. Though they drove the length of Heinz Field, James Harrison et al. forced them to use 17 plays to do it, and chew up eight minutes of clock before Casey Hampton and Brett Keisel stoned LaDainian Tomlinson at the goal-line. This was a muther of a goal-line stand.

I realize that the Jets got a safety on the very next snap of the ball, and scored a touchdown on the ensuing drive. Of course. But think of it in terms of time. The Steelers forced them to use 12:38, almost a full quarter of the game, to score just nine points. TIIIMMMMMMEEE!

None of it works, mind you, if the Steelers offense cannot close them out.

In David Mamet's brilliant Glengarry Glen Ross, Blake tells the assembled sales team (selling what, I was never clear on) that they should:

"A-B-C. A-Always. B-Be. C-Closing. Always be closing. Always be closing."

QB rating be damned, Pig Ben is a closer. It may not be pretty and you may not be able to look at a stat sheet to see it, but he's got a killer instinct, an innate, uncanny ability to put a dagger in the other team's heart at just the right moment.

I've been critical of Bruce Arians from time to time (mostly, I just wish he'd take that little delayed handoff to Mewelde Moore and the reverse just out of his playbook. Out. Gone. Banished to the trash heap), but I have to applaud his play-calling at the end of the game, twice calling pass plays to pick up first downs when most other coaches would have just run the ball, punted and tried to pin the Jets deep. It doesn't look like much on the stats sheet:

2nd and 9 at PIT 42 B.Roethlisberger pass short right to H.Miller to NYJ 44 for 14 yards (A.Cromartie).

and

3rd and 6 at NYJ 40 (Shotgun) B.Roethlisberger pass short right to A.Brown pushed ob at NYJ 26 for 14 yards (E.Smith).

Just two relatively routine pass plays, but what those two plays really are is: "You see pal, that's who I am, and you're nothing. Nice guy? I don't give a shit. Good father? Fuck you! Go home and play with your kids. You wanna work here - close!"

I love the calls. Of course, I love the calls because they worked. But lets face it, only a handful of coaches would do it, have the ability to to do it, because there aren't that many closers out there. Pig Ben has never thrown for a bigger 28 yards in his life.

It is a synergy of a quarterback who can make those kinds of plays and a coaching staff that trusts him to do just that. Always Be Closing. That was a closing.

"Fuck you. That's my name. You know why, mister? 'Cause you drove a Hyundai to get here tonight, I drove an eighty thousand dollar BMW. *That's* my name."

Play big or go home. Once again, the Steelers are going to the Super Bowl. And they're not going in a Hyundai.

A Tale of Two Games

In "The Fighter" with Mark Wahlberg and Christian Bale, Wahlberg finally gets a big fight. After years of toil, of watching other, younger guys get opportunities, of having his face beat in from time to time, he gets a break. And then he goes out and is getting his ass soundly kicked. He's losing the fight just as much as he's being beaten. Suddenly, when he's just one or two good punches away from being knocked into an assisted living facility, he changes tacts. He starts taking the fight to his opponent, rather than just reacting to his opponent. He delivers some body blows, stuns the other, 'better' fighter. And he wins. It's not pretty, but its a win.

Boxing analogies, redolent with antiquity, blood, guts, and nothing more than sheer will driving competitors to get up and take more punishment, are like crack to television analysts and writers alike, and in the week leading up to Steelers-Ravens III, boxing language was tossed about like Pepcid after an ill-advised late-night trip to Primanti's. Bluster. Hyperbole. Hype and amplification that I myself was guilty of, knowing full-well that it might end up being both balder and dash. But I gave into it, letting the literary nature of the sweet science wash over me.

And then something crazy happened. The football game really did live up to the heavy weight bout paradigm, ridiculous as that seems.

The Steelers, with lots of veterans on the field, let a live ball lay on the ground while they stood around as though they were waiting in the considerable Heinz Field bathroom lines until Baltimore's Cory Redding picked the ball up and just sauntered into the endzone. I've seen guys move with more urgency on their way to visit the in-laws. How can veterans like Hines Ward and Heath Miller not even have the sense to pick up the ball? You know, just in case? How can a smart rookie like Maurkice Pouncey not just fall on the ball? It was the equivalent standing there, arms down, chin hanging out, just daring your opponent to knock you into the third row.

Terrell Suggs did his best to knock the Steelers senseless. It felt like a seismic, tectonic shift in the game -- if not a knockout blow, then the haymaker that sets up the inevitable knockout.

And I wondered, just how do you come back from that kind of thing?

The Steelers came back from that epic brainfart by going three and out, and then on their next possession, Rashard Mendenhall fumbled the ball over to the Ravens just 12 yards away from the endzone. Joe Flacco hit Todd Heap for an easy TD and the beatdown was on. The Steelers offense played careless football and played themselves into a deep hole. They let the Ravens beat them in the face and pound their midsections. The 21-7 deficit felt like a knockout.

Somebody throw in the towel before it gets too ugly.

It was at this point, I have to admit, that I thought, "Oh well, with the Steelers playing like this, at least I won't be tense."

But on the 8 count, the Steelers dragged themselves off the mat. And started to deliver head-body combinations of their own.

Ryan Clark knocked the ball out of Ray Rice's arm and the Steelers turned that into 7 points quickly. A word, and perhaps you've heard this before, or maybe you even read it here, but Rice never fumbles. Like never. That he did at that particular moment, was the turning point in the game, the one landed punch that gave the Steelers a chance to collect themselves, re-focus, re-load.

I have a simple-minded theory about turnovers. When an offense is unable to score after their defense sets them up with a turnover, it dampens the fire of the defense, breaks it's resolve. It's hard to get amped up when you give somebody a gift and they literally pee on it. But a touchdown following a turnover? That cranks the defense up to 11. Which, as you know, is one louder.

Pig Ben's pass to a wide open Miller in the back of the endzone fired up the Steelers defense and lit a fire under the Heinz Field crowd. That place was as loud as I've heard it in a long time, probably since the 2002 Tommy Maddox playoff comeback against the Browns.

Emboldened by the 7 point swing, the Steelers defense went out and forced a definitive three and out. Then, next time out, Clark (again) read Flacco beautifully and pulled in the overthrow intended for Heap. A bullet from Pig Ben to Hines Ward later and the game was tied.

What the??? How the hell did that happen?

Ray Lewis looked dejected. Don't believe me? Courtesy of the Baltimore Sun:But really, how did it happen?

It happened because the Steelers defense, statistically dominant all year, showed just why they owned all the numbers -- never caving in, never giving up, even after Rice ran through Troy Polamalu on the way to the endzone, even after all the offensive ineptitude. They gave up just 126 total yard. 126 total. Heck, Tom Brady throws for 126 yards in a single quarter and the entire Ravens offense was able to generate that over four quarters.

It happened because the Steelers forced three turnovers of their own, had five sacks and seven more tackles for losses. They did it with the other safety making all the big plays, with Casey Hampton looking like the 2005 version of Casey Hampton and Ziggy Hood looking very much like he was worth taking in the first round. It happened because Ike Taylor shut down one side and William Gay held down the fort on the other.

It happened because the Steelers offensive line, much maligned (by me) through the year, greatly diminished through the course of the season, and with the Ravens turning them into an on-field triage unit, somehow found a way to battle through. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't dominant, but it was admirable. You have to hand it to a bunch of guys who are back ups to back ups, going out there and giving their all against a defensive front and linebacking corps as good as Baltimore's.

Even so, the teams were even on points late in the game. Pittsburgh already had 17 points off of turnovers. Baltimore had 14 points off of turnovers, plus 3 more off of special teams, which woes the Steelers just cannot seem to banish once and for all. Each offense had driven the length of the field for one touchdown. I'd say, using the boxing judge's scorecard analogy, that's even on points, both literally and figuratively.

So this game, as games of this magnitude often do, came down to who was going to make just one or two big plays late in the game.

Facing a 3rd and 19, Pig Ben somehow found Antonio Brown deep behind the Ravens defense and the rookie clutched the ball to his helmet a'la David Tyree, tripping his way to the 4 yard line. Pig Ben is 9-2 in the post-season, an .818 winning percentage. Of quarterbacks who have started at least 10 post-season games, only Bart Starr (9-1 in the post-season) has a better winning percentage. And the reason is, I believe, because, inelegant though his game may be, he has an ability to make one big play when it matters. It maybe ugly, and it may only be one or two plays, but he has a knack for getting it done. It's inexplicable, but it's a fact.

On the other side of the ball, the Ravens had every opportunity to make that one big play, but Flacco and his receivers couldn't do it. Anquan Boldin dropped a sure touchdown that would have put the Ravens up by 4 points. On a pass, I would point out, that was nearly identical to the pass Ward hauled in to tie the game.

With plenty of time left to score a touchdown and send the game to OT, Ziggy collapsed the Ravens pocket and dropped Flacco bringing up a 4th and 18. Then T.J. Houshmandzadeh dropped a pass that Flacco put right between the 8 and the 4 on Whoseyourmama's jersey. Yes. That Whoseyourmama, the one who once wiped his feet on a Terrible Towel, the one who earlier complained that the Ravens were not throwing to him enough. With a drop like that, is it any wonder that, when he has his druthers, Flacco looks for Derrick Mason?

The Ravens had their chances. Actually, the Steelers gave them every chance to win, opening up their midsections and daring the Ravens to punch them there.

The Baltimore offense couldn't come up with one big catch when they needed it and the Baltimore defense let Antonio Brown get behind them. Two plays. Two plays where the Steelers executed and the Ravens didn't.

Brown gets deep and hangs on.

Whoseyourmama drops a sure first down.

The Steelers made a lot of mistakes they need to correct, but they have a ton to be proud of, too. All that means is they get a chance to fight another day. That is way more than I anticipated back in September.

In Praise of Dennis Dixon

I know Double D was playing against the second string, but second string guys are still NFL players, players who get significant minutes in games, not the guys signed to the practice squad or tossed to the recycle pile. Okay, so they were the Lions, but you can only play who you play. I also realize that Dixon is a quarterback prone to run and in Pittsburgh, where the ghost of Kordell Stewart is ever present, that's never a good thing. But the only things Dixon has in common with Stewart are: they both wear/wore number 10, they're both fast, and they're both black. That's it.

Dixon is cool and calm, freakishly so considering the paucity of playing time the guy has gotten, unlike Stewart who, no matter how many games he started, always looked like a startled deer in the headlights when he dropped back to pass. I was filled with dread when Stewart was called upon to make a key third down pass, but I don't get that same anxious nausea with Dixon out there. I like the way he runs the offense and he certainly can fly when he wants to. Maybe he even runs too much, but so did John Elway, Steve Young and Donovan McNabb early in their careers. Dixon will learn as he goes. Plus, he runs smart - right for the sticks and then out of bounds.

He runs play action so well he faked out the camera crew a couple of times on Saturday night and his passes were right on target for the most part. His pass to Antonio Brown was in the exact right spot so that Brown didn't have to slow down for it, but rather, had to get into full sprint mode to get it.

If the presumption is that the offense might be less explosive but run more smoothly with Leftwich, I'm not so sure that's the case. The offense is crisp with Dixon in there and when he doesn't see anything he likes downfield, he takes off, picks up a first down, and goes out of bounds. QB's who throw the ball away are often lauded for doing that and I think for Dixon, it's the same thing, thinking, "Ward's covered, there's coverage over the top on Wallace, Miller's covered. F*ck it. I'll pick up 6 yards with my legs." I have no problem with that.

I'm just saying, I want to see more of Dixon. The coaches have not run him with the first team offense in camp, according to John Harris at the Trib. I sure would like to see him go out there with the first team and battle against the Giants first team on Saturday night.

More scattered notes from a disjointed, rain soaked pre-season game.

-- Mendenhall still has a ragin' case of the mad fumblitis, and if he continues to carry the ball so far away from his body that one can only surmise it is tainted with ebola, it's gonna be a long-ass season for whoever is lined up at quarterback. Sometimes a player gets a helmet right on the ball or right on his elbow and loses the ball, but the problem with the Fumbling Fool 2.0 (Edition 1.0 was Richard Huntley) is that these aren't the kinds of fumbles he has. He loses the ball for almost no reason. Lions' safety C.C. Brown barely waved at the ball and Mendenhall coughed it up. I'm no super genius like Tom Coughlin, but tuck the ball up near your shoulder, you idiot. We know the kid can run. The question is whether or not he can learn how to run with the football. Mendenhall wasn't the only one with the ragin' fumbles on Saturday, but he was the only one who was drafted in the first round.

-- The first string offensive line looked slow, confused and weak. Was it me or was Flozell Adams' footwork positively glacial? Byron Leftwich got hit way, way too much.

-- The good news is that first round draft pick Maurkice Pouncey got a lot of work at center and looked great. Line guys, like quarterbacks, often look lost when they make the move from college to pro, but Pouncey looked like a seasoned vet. Tony Hills and Ramon Foster impressed, too. Again, I know it was against the 2nd and 3rd string, but they can only do what they can do.

-- The wideouts, a question heading into this season, looked like a real bright spot. Antonio Brown put on a show. Nobody can throw far enough to catch up with Mike Wallace. And Arnez Battle looked like a nice free agent pick up.

-- Defensively, Ryan Clark had a nice interception, so that's a good thing.

-- The other good news was that Laurence Timmons looked healthy and James Harrison was in mid-season form, putting Jeff Backus on his back a couple of times.

-- Da'Mon Cromartie-Smith who arrived in Latrobe a few days before the game hit DeDe Dorsey so hard, I think Dorsey's dog is in the hostital. So, I guess what we can surmise from this game is that the Steelers are just fine at linebacker.