A punto de acabar la T6! ¿Podéis rellenarme esta encuesta?http://t.co/WdRQqmfejc Sólo 5 preguntas y nos ayudarán mucho. Gracias!
Sumlin and McKinney did not really have a mobile quarterback to work with in Houston (Case Keenum) to run a true spread option offense. What they did have was one of the more recent evolutions of option football – the package play. The package play, to put it simply, is having three or four plays all going at the exact same time on different parts of the field; the quarterback has the “option” to execute any one of them based on his pre-snap read.
For instance, from a single back/four wide shotgun set, Sumlin might have put a wide receiver screen on both sides of the field, an inside zone run up front, with a fourth option of a quarterback run. If the box is “hard” with six defenders on five blockers, throwing the screen to either side of the field off of play-action becomes a safe play with the potential for a huge gain. If the box is “soft” with both safeties deep to stop the passing game, both the inside zone run and the quarterback keeper become viable choices based on the read from the back side defensive end.
A big reason why package offenses like Clemson and Oregon are able to operate so smoothly at such a fast pace is that they might be running literally the same play four or five times in a row while simply executing a different option each time. On top of that, even when not running screens or package plays, the offense can simply pick out whichever opposing defensive back is the worst in man-to-man coverage and exploit him all game long.
It is rare for a defense to have two good cover corners, let alone four of them that have to keep their receivers in check with little to no safety help. Finding the most favorable matchup in C-USA is often as simple as throwing at the walk-ons.
St. Patrick’s Day is the wedding anniversary of Peyton and Ashley Manning. On a Saturday morning, March 17, 2012, with NFL teams anxiously awaiting word from the free-agent quarterback and the Manning family facing one of the biggest decisions of their 11 years of marriage together, Fox texted a simple message to both the groom and his lovely bride: “Happy Anniversary.”
This is the oldest trick in the recruiting playbook. Win the mother’s heart and the player will follow. A gentle tug on the heartstrings in the direction of Denver with happy anniversary wishes makes for a cute story, but the important question was adroitly asked by Sports Illustrated pro football expert Peter King: Where did Foxy get Ashley Manning’s cell number? “Top secret,” Fox told King. “I recruited for 10 years in college. I was pretty good.”
No Plan B, Mark Kiszla.
Look, the truth is, the Broncos had a pretty good idea they were signing Mr. Noodle Arm, yet offered Manning a $96 million contract with full confidence the best QB mind in the business would find a way to adapt.
"No Plan B", Mark Kiszla.
Pero eh, son manías.
Ahora que se acerca el final de la temporada regular y vienen cambios de personal, leo en varias webs sobre General Managers que deberían o podrían ser despedidos.
A mi entender, el baremo con el que debes juzgar a un GM es diferente del que debes usar para juzgar a un HC, y el margen debe ser mayor. A no ser que el GM en cuestión tome decisiones horribles una tras otra (que de sus clases de Draft no haya nada aprovechable, que no contrate a un solo Free Agent que valga la pena, etc), si se despide al HC no tiene porque despedirsele a él automáticamente.
Al fin y al cabo, él es quien proporciona las piezas, pero no quien las entrena, hace jugar, y coloca en disposición de rendir. Tu puedes draftear bien pero que tu HC sea un zote, y ahí el GM o le despide, o poco más puede hacer.
Por cierto, esta reflexión me viene a raíz de leer que Mark Dominik, actual GM de TB, podría ser despedido al terminar la temporada. Se equivocó de HC, si, pero creo que debería dársele otro “régimen” de margen bajo otro entrenador.
“In the world of twenty-four-thousand-square-foot weight rooms and twenty-four-carat donors, there are few absolutes. But there is this: no mega-program can physically survive a dozen heavyweight fights a year. The players are just too young, the bodies too fragile, the depth chart too thin, to handle the load and still be fresh when it comes to crunch time late in the season.
So a smart athletic director—in concert with his head coach—concocts a regular-season schedule peppered with a couple of patsies. More often than not the pain relief comes in the form of home games against lower-division opponents or “directional” schools. The various sacrificial lambs are lured to slaughter by so-called guarantees—payouts that run from a few thousand dollars to several hundred thousand or more.
Over the years these money games had served but a single purpose: the visitors take a beating, take the check and use the funds to help balance deep athletic department deficits. So if that means the Savannah States of the world become roadkill at Oklahoma State (84–0) or Florida State (55–0)—a combined score of 139–0—as they did in 2012, so be it. Or if Idaho State gets run through a 73–7 meat grinder at Nebraska, take heart in the news that the Bengals athletic department took home $600,000 for the mugging—or about 5 percent of its entire athletic department budget.
But more and more lately, for the designated losers these guarantee games have morphed into marketing plans, a way for college presidents and athletic directors (and even boards of trustees) to raise the promotional flag, to showcase the “brand.”
And while the move can occasionally surprise—witness Central Michigan’s upset of Iowa and Northern Illinois knocking off Kansas on the same September weekend in 2012—the unwritten contract remains clear: You come into our house. We kick the shit out of you and rest our starters. You take home a nice fat check for playing the Christians to our Lions. Or Tigers. Or so LSU figured.”
The System, Jeff Benedict
“Karland Bennett and B. J. Mathis were two recruits who Crowton and his staff felt could help change BYU’s fortunes… The duo was unfamiliar with the school’s strict honor code, which prohibits alcohol, sex before marriage and pornography. But Crowton personally explained BYU’s standards during his in-home visits. Most of what he told them about the honor code, however, didn’t register. Bennett later said, “It was just on a sheet of paper with everything else that we had to sign, some religious thing.”
That religious thing is actually a pretty big deal, seeing that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints owns BYU. The school’s honor code mirrors the teachings of the church, which goes as far as forbidding its members to drink coffee and tea.”
The System, Jeff Benedict.
Meanwhile, I’m catching some weird vibes around the building. Things feel off. I’m focused on learning the system as fast as I can, so I don’t have a lot of time for psychoanalysis, but it’s hard to miss. To a man, the entire Browns team seems to be deep in despair. There is a natural sluggishness that occurs during training camp, but this is something different. The men seem positively broken. They have no fight left in them. The locker room is quiet, so quiet. In Denver, even in the midst of training camp, the locker room was lively and social. Cleveland is a mausoleum.
That night at my first team meeting, I learn why. As I sit down in the emptiest seat I can find, I notice that players have handwritten notes scattered about their desks and their laps. They are reading them over nervously. Coach Mangini, a doughy thirty-eight-year-old frat boy with parted hair and a butt-chin, walks in and takes his place at the podium, a dip in his lip and a Styrofoam cup in his hand. He starts off by welcoming the two new men who were signed to the team that morning: me and some other dude. Then: —To show them how we do things around here, J.P., stand up. J.P. stands. —There is a quote written above the door to the locker room; what does it say?
—Uh, you must choose: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. —Very good. You can sit down. Clarence, stand up. —Sheeit. He says it under his breath. Muffled chuckles from the audience. —We have six core values on this team; what are they? —Damn. Okay, um, trust, communication … um, hard work … umm … Someone whispers from behind him. —Focus! —That’s right, Clarence, focus. Okay, two more. Silence. —Come on, Clarence… . Can anyone help him out? From somewhere: —Intelligence. —Football is important to you. —Good. Clarence, you gotta know these. And I’m going to keep calling on you until you do. Sit down. B.J., stand up. Tell me the name and number of every offensive lineman on our roster. B.J. was a rookie defensive back and rattled them off like a pro. —Okay, good. Very good.
Then Mangini presses play on the video system and footage of the morning’s warm-ups comes onto the screen. He had the warm-ups filmed and the tape cut up and cued up for the meeting. He launches into a biting critique of each player’s warm-up performance, excoriating certain players for not having a sense of urgency during the drills, and referring again and again to the mantras that are written in big block letters around the facility. He preaches the importance of living by their words, and humiliates the most glaring examples of those who aren’t.
—You must choose, the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. —Every battle is won before it is ever fought. —Don’t sacrifice what you want most for what you want now. And on the training room wall, “Durability is more important than Ability.” As if the injured guys don’t feel bad enough already. Might as well say, “If you’re reading this, you’re a pussy.” That’s what all the notes are. People are making sure they have these fucking mantras memorized. What the fuck is going on here? When the meeting breaks, I track down a fellow tight end. —Is he serious ? —Yes, dude. Dead serious.
Nate Jackson, en su libro, hablando de los Browns de Eric Mangini. Que fraude de Coach…
Disillusioned with the way Dan Snyder was running the organization, Mike Shanahan cleaned out his office in advance of January’s wild-card playoff game against the Seahawks and expected to leave the team whenever the season ended, according to a source.