Post by TheShadow on Dec 10, 2003 15:58:52 GMT -5
www.oaklandtribune.com
by Jerry McDonald
THE OAKLAND Raiders have spent the past several years tinkering with their defense, picking up savvy veterans while looking for the sort of young, explosive talent that could elevate the unit.
Some of the youth had moments of brilliance. Darrell Russell, the No. 2 pick in the 1997 draft, was an impressive player for a few years before being done in by his own personality flaws and bad judgment.
Charles Woodson, No. 4 in 1998, is a solid all-around player whose progress was impeded by two years of injury, and at present he is something less than the game-altering, week-to-week force the club had hoped for upon his selection.
Phillip Buchanon and Napoleon Harris arrived last year with what looked like a much-needed infusion of speed and youth. With established veterans falling all around them, both have made their share of errors in 2003.
The Raiders will keep looking for that elusive catalyst, trying to forget that the answer was glaring right back at them in 1996.
They could have had Ray Lewis.
The Baltimore Ravens visit Oakland on Sunday for the first time since Jan. 14, 2001, when they won the AFC Championship 16-3. With apologies to last year's Tampa Bay Buccaneers, that Baltimore defense was the most dominant in recent history.
Only three starters remain from that defense -- Lewis, outside linebacker Peter Boulware and cornerback Chris McAlister. With the Ravens in control of the AFC North at 8-5 and with a remaining schedule (at Oakland, at Cleveland, Pittsburgh at home) that makes 11-5 a reasonable expectation, Lewis is a candidate not only for the NFL's Defensive Player of the Year. He may well be the league's Most Valuable Player.
Lewis, with 137 tackles and five interceptions, can dominate a game physically and emotionally like no one since Lawrence Taylor. He scares the hell out of people in a profession where few are easily frightened.
He even scares his teammates.
"We got that guy, No. 52, man," McAlister said after Baltimore's 31-13 win over Cincinnati. "He's not going to let you come out relaxed in practice, games. You can imagine what practice is like, but games? That's when it's worse with No.52, come game time."
Lewis plays with a passion and ferocity that inspires and fuels the entire defense. He went after a fumble with such force Sunday he managed to fracture the right elbow of teammate Adalius Thomas, a bit of friendly fire that cost the Ravens a starting outside linebacker for the rest of the season.
He may be the most demanding teammate in the NFL, as rookie outside linebacker Terrell Suggs discovered when Lewis sent him home with a tape machine and reams of film for study.
Coach Brian Billick calls Lewis the most gifted natural leader he has ever been around.
The Raiders, meanwhile, have been treading water defensively since they returned to Oakland in 1995. Even in their best years, the Raiders have been driven by their offense, with the defense required only to make enough stops to hold a team under 20 points.
Oakland was not the only team in 1996 to pay too much attention to measurables and not enough to intangibles.
The main player on the Raiders' mind that season was Rickey Dudley, a swift, 6-foot-7, 250-pound tight end with an incredible body and superior athletic skills.
Oakland loved Dudley so much they packaged three draft picks and moved up from No.17 to No.9 to select him. Lewis lasted until No.26.
That's right. Twenty-five players were off the board before the finest defensive player of his era was selected. Keyshawn Johnson went No.1. Cal defensive ends Regan Upshaw and Duane Clemons were No.12 and 16. Another linebacker, Kevin Hardy, was No.2.
Dudley lasted five years in Oakland. Although generally regarded as a bust, his 29 touchdown receptions from 1996-2000 were surpassed only by Tim Brown.
But Dudley's hands were not to be trusted, and despite all the measurables, it was clear he merely tolerated football rather than embrace it.
Lewis, at 6-foot-1, 245 pounds, was thought to be lacking in size to play the middle yet wasn't an edge rusher either. He may not have fit perfectly in a computer, but he thrived on a football field because he was consumed by it.
Odds are the Raiders never seriously considered Lewis. Philosophically, Oakland is far more likely to go with defensive linemen or cornerbacks in the first round than a linebacker.
It found a solid, unspectacular player in Greg Biekert in the seventh round in 1993 and generally flanked him with projects and rejects, buying low and sometimes getting bargains in terms of performance.
Only twice since 1970 -- Rob Frederickson in 1994 and Harris in 2002 -- has Oakland taken a linebacker in the first round.
There was no way of knowing the answer to their prayers in terms of restoring the Raiders defense to the days of fear and intimidation was there for the taking.
As for Lewis' well-publicized off-the-field transgressions and occasionally abrasive personality, all that does is make it even easier to picture him in a silver and black uniform.
The Raiders are hurtling toward 3-13 oblivion. Opposing runners are running through their defense without fear of reprisal.
There remains a hole in their defense where Ray Lewis should be.
by Jerry McDonald
THE OAKLAND Raiders have spent the past several years tinkering with their defense, picking up savvy veterans while looking for the sort of young, explosive talent that could elevate the unit.
Some of the youth had moments of brilliance. Darrell Russell, the No. 2 pick in the 1997 draft, was an impressive player for a few years before being done in by his own personality flaws and bad judgment.
Charles Woodson, No. 4 in 1998, is a solid all-around player whose progress was impeded by two years of injury, and at present he is something less than the game-altering, week-to-week force the club had hoped for upon his selection.
Phillip Buchanon and Napoleon Harris arrived last year with what looked like a much-needed infusion of speed and youth. With established veterans falling all around them, both have made their share of errors in 2003.
The Raiders will keep looking for that elusive catalyst, trying to forget that the answer was glaring right back at them in 1996.
They could have had Ray Lewis.
The Baltimore Ravens visit Oakland on Sunday for the first time since Jan. 14, 2001, when they won the AFC Championship 16-3. With apologies to last year's Tampa Bay Buccaneers, that Baltimore defense was the most dominant in recent history.
Only three starters remain from that defense -- Lewis, outside linebacker Peter Boulware and cornerback Chris McAlister. With the Ravens in control of the AFC North at 8-5 and with a remaining schedule (at Oakland, at Cleveland, Pittsburgh at home) that makes 11-5 a reasonable expectation, Lewis is a candidate not only for the NFL's Defensive Player of the Year. He may well be the league's Most Valuable Player.
Lewis, with 137 tackles and five interceptions, can dominate a game physically and emotionally like no one since Lawrence Taylor. He scares the hell out of people in a profession where few are easily frightened.
He even scares his teammates.
"We got that guy, No. 52, man," McAlister said after Baltimore's 31-13 win over Cincinnati. "He's not going to let you come out relaxed in practice, games. You can imagine what practice is like, but games? That's when it's worse with No.52, come game time."
Lewis plays with a passion and ferocity that inspires and fuels the entire defense. He went after a fumble with such force Sunday he managed to fracture the right elbow of teammate Adalius Thomas, a bit of friendly fire that cost the Ravens a starting outside linebacker for the rest of the season.
He may be the most demanding teammate in the NFL, as rookie outside linebacker Terrell Suggs discovered when Lewis sent him home with a tape machine and reams of film for study.
Coach Brian Billick calls Lewis the most gifted natural leader he has ever been around.
The Raiders, meanwhile, have been treading water defensively since they returned to Oakland in 1995. Even in their best years, the Raiders have been driven by their offense, with the defense required only to make enough stops to hold a team under 20 points.
Oakland was not the only team in 1996 to pay too much attention to measurables and not enough to intangibles.
The main player on the Raiders' mind that season was Rickey Dudley, a swift, 6-foot-7, 250-pound tight end with an incredible body and superior athletic skills.
Oakland loved Dudley so much they packaged three draft picks and moved up from No.17 to No.9 to select him. Lewis lasted until No.26.
That's right. Twenty-five players were off the board before the finest defensive player of his era was selected. Keyshawn Johnson went No.1. Cal defensive ends Regan Upshaw and Duane Clemons were No.12 and 16. Another linebacker, Kevin Hardy, was No.2.
Dudley lasted five years in Oakland. Although generally regarded as a bust, his 29 touchdown receptions from 1996-2000 were surpassed only by Tim Brown.
But Dudley's hands were not to be trusted, and despite all the measurables, it was clear he merely tolerated football rather than embrace it.
Lewis, at 6-foot-1, 245 pounds, was thought to be lacking in size to play the middle yet wasn't an edge rusher either. He may not have fit perfectly in a computer, but he thrived on a football field because he was consumed by it.
Odds are the Raiders never seriously considered Lewis. Philosophically, Oakland is far more likely to go with defensive linemen or cornerbacks in the first round than a linebacker.
It found a solid, unspectacular player in Greg Biekert in the seventh round in 1993 and generally flanked him with projects and rejects, buying low and sometimes getting bargains in terms of performance.
Only twice since 1970 -- Rob Frederickson in 1994 and Harris in 2002 -- has Oakland taken a linebacker in the first round.
There was no way of knowing the answer to their prayers in terms of restoring the Raiders defense to the days of fear and intimidation was there for the taking.
As for Lewis' well-publicized off-the-field transgressions and occasionally abrasive personality, all that does is make it even easier to picture him in a silver and black uniform.
The Raiders are hurtling toward 3-13 oblivion. Opposing runners are running through their defense without fear of reprisal.
There remains a hole in their defense where Ray Lewis should be.