Sigh.
What can anyone say to possibly sum up what all Bengals fans are feeling right now?
Nothing.
Cincinnati lost to the Houston Texans to make the Bengals' trip to the playoffs about as long as a Brittney Spears marriage. Again. The play calling was awful, Andy Dalton almost made me miss Carson Palmer and the highly touted defensive line never got near Matt Schaub.
It even had the hallmark of a classic Bengals loss: Fans were given legitimate hope at the very end.
And then, with one overthrown TD pass, it was all taken away.
Cue the fire and brimstone. Cue the calls for the heads of Dalton, Marvin Lewis, Jay Gruden and everyone else who may have contributed to a loss that ended Cincinnati's season the same way it did last year. And in 2009. And in 2005.
In some respects, these calls are justified. Going by Einstein's definition of insanity, change must be made. But maybe in a few weeks cooler heads will prevail and Cincinnati's esteemed owner Mike Brown will bring back the entire cast of characters who raised the Bengals to the highest level of play they've been in years.
But what if that's not enough?
What if this cast of characters has hit its ceiling?
We've seen what this crew can do. And to be honest, it's not much better than what we saw from the Dick LeBeau/Gus Frerotte-esque combinations of the '90s and '00s.
I'm not going to pretend I know what the real answer is. Whether it's getting rid of Gruden, Lewis, Dalton or some combination of the three. But I do know another slightly above average season will no longer cut it in Cincinnati.
The bar has been raised. More is expected out of the Bengals than before. Unfortunately for Cincinnati fans, we have an entire offseason to think about exactly what those expectations are.
Showing posts with label bengals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bengals. Show all posts
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
The Hope of a City
Ever since the Reds won the World Series in 1990, championship banners haven’t exactly been a main export of the Queen City. Cincy fans have been subjected to some very bad professional sports teams and even more painfully mediocre ones. These teams have put fans through year after hopeful year of disappointing torment.
And we sat through every game.
All 214 Bengals losses from 1991 through 2011, and each of the Reds’ 1,704 defeats in that span.
Even worse, Cincinnati’s only two professional franchises (I shudder to think what we’d do with an NBA team) managed to win a total of three playoff games in those 42 combined seasons. And all of those victories were in one divisional series the Reds played in ’95. The Bengals assembled three trips of their own to the postseason, all after 2000; all resulted in convincing losses.
We’ve endured all of it.
Sure, we said we were done countless times. I can’t even tell you how often I swore off my allegiance to Cincinnati sports after an inexplicably bad defensive effort by the Bengals or a three-homerun losing effort by the Reds. But just like everyone else, the next day I took the paper bag off my head and somehow truly believed the next game, the next week; the next season would be different.
But year after year, we were met with the same results. The 7-9s; the 78-84s. And those were the good years. Those were the years when we were at least teased and taunted with that dangerous hope of changing winds. Other years, the dark ones, were the 3-13 or 66-93 efforts. The years when we heard of owners who cared more about money than winning and locker room atmospheres that can only be described as poisonous.
Cincinnati’s athletic woes didn’t even end at the professional level. The University of Cincinnati’s hoops team is better remembered for a brawl than its recent basketball success. And the Bearcat’s football team is going through its third painful breakup in less than a decade with a third coach who saw the program as a stepping stone instead of a legitimate contender.
Hope was the only thing that got us through these teams and those times. Hope made us keep watching. Hope told us better days were ahead.
Days, maybe, like this Saturday.
The Cincinnati Bengals are in the postseason for the third time in four years, marking the first back-to-back playoff seasons this franchise has seen in three decades. This year hasn’t always been pretty, but it was highlighted by a 13-10 late-season victory at rival Pittsburgh that knocked the Steelers out of the playoffs and clinched a Bengals berth. Even an ugly win like that is sweeter than anything Cincinnati fans have tasted in a long time.
But now it’s time to take that all-important next step. The reach from mediocre to something more, whatever that is. Sure, it’s nice to move past the .500 seasons of old, but how much difference does it really make if all the farther we get to see is a couple regular season wins and a painful playoff loss?
If that’s the only thing I have to look forward to this week, I’d almost rather not even bother.
Cincinnati fans are tough. We’ve made it through the abyss of athletics with precious little to show for it. But we still have the teams. Unlike the fans from some other professional sports settings, we’ve kept our teams when they were better for a punch line than a sports venue. The Bengals are no exception. Once the laughingstock of the league with more arrests and failed draft picks on a yearly basis than wins, the orange and black have a chance to change the direction of a sports town that’s been going south far too long.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Adios Ocho
November 9th, 2003. The Cincinnati Bengals were nothing more than the Bungles, a horrible team with no upside, no excitement, and no hope. But they had just beaten the Houston Texans to pull to a respectable 4-5 record, one of their best marks halfway through the season. Things were quietly going pretty well for the worst pro football since 1991, maybe there was hope after all.
Then Chad Johnson spoke up.
The Kansas City Chiefs were the best team in football in 2003. By far. While they may not have had a defense that could compete with the '85 Bears, the Chiefs offense was untouchable. Trent Green was slinging, Priest Holmes was scoring, and Dante Hall was doing a little bit of everything in the return game as the league's Devin Hester before there was a Devin Hester. Kansas City was unchallenged, unbeaten, untouchable. And that was exactly why Chad Johnson guaranteed the Bengals would defeat them.
This cocky third year wide receiver from Oregon State was as flashy as he was fast, as arrogant as he was athletic; as gaudy as he was good. But dang, was he good.
It wasn't really new for him to promise a Bengal's victory (he had done so twice the season before). But a young player on an annually bad team guaranteeing a win over the 9-0 Chiefs? That took guts. Or stupidity. I guess we'll never know which.
You remember what happened. The Bengals beat the Texans, Chad made the prediction immediately following the game, a crazy week of speculation followed, and when the two polar opposite teams took the field in Paul Brown Stadium that Sunday, Peter Warrick made like Dante Hall and took a punt back 68 yards for a touchdown. Bengals win 24-19.
You can say what you want about the person Chad was before that game. Yeah, he was loud and talked a lot prior to his Joe Namath-esque guarantee. But he was never the same undersized receiver after that day. The Bengals finished that year 8-8, missing the playoffs but proving that they were a legitimate team for the first time in my life.
Chad Johnson was one of the biggest factors in the new age of the Bengals where they don't suck... as much. If you made a Mount Rushmore honoring those brave souls, his face would be the first on it, along with Jon Kitna, Marvin Lewis, Carson Palmer, and Rudi Johnson.
While I firmly believe that specific guarantee was a pivotal point in the history of the Bengals, it was far from the last thing Chad did to entertain this city and put it on the map.
He talked.
He joked.
He celebrated.
He putted.
He proposed.
He Pepto bismoled.
He Fiesta'd.
He changed his name to Ochocinco.
He resuscitated.
He Riverdanced.
He Lambeau-leaped (even in Cleveland).
He played camera man.
He played Santa.
He played soccer.
He raced a horse.
He raced a car.
He kicked an extra point.
He inducted himself into the Hall of Fame.
And all he wanted was to not get fined.
Cincinnati is the legitimate football town it is because of Chad, and that will never change. There are many hard feelings towards the man who just wanted to have fun and win, and some are valid. But you cannot discredit the amazing things he did for this team and this city. As Chad Ochocinco heads off to suit up for the New England Patriots in this post-lockout, apocalyptic world, we should be thankful for his contributions to the Bengals and wish him the best. I guarantee he will fare well in his new home.
Thanks for the memories Chad "Ochocinco" Johnson, we'll never forget you.
Then Chad Johnson spoke up.
The Kansas City Chiefs were the best team in football in 2003. By far. While they may not have had a defense that could compete with the '85 Bears, the Chiefs offense was untouchable. Trent Green was slinging, Priest Holmes was scoring, and Dante Hall was doing a little bit of everything in the return game as the league's Devin Hester before there was a Devin Hester. Kansas City was unchallenged, unbeaten, untouchable. And that was exactly why Chad Johnson guaranteed the Bengals would defeat them.
This cocky third year wide receiver from Oregon State was as flashy as he was fast, as arrogant as he was athletic; as gaudy as he was good. But dang, was he good.
It wasn't really new for him to promise a Bengal's victory (he had done so twice the season before). But a young player on an annually bad team guaranteeing a win over the 9-0 Chiefs? That took guts. Or stupidity. I guess we'll never know which.
You remember what happened. The Bengals beat the Texans, Chad made the prediction immediately following the game, a crazy week of speculation followed, and when the two polar opposite teams took the field in Paul Brown Stadium that Sunday, Peter Warrick made like Dante Hall and took a punt back 68 yards for a touchdown. Bengals win 24-19.
You can say what you want about the person Chad was before that game. Yeah, he was loud and talked a lot prior to his Joe Namath-esque guarantee. But he was never the same undersized receiver after that day. The Bengals finished that year 8-8, missing the playoffs but proving that they were a legitimate team for the first time in my life.
Chad Johnson was one of the biggest factors in the new age of the Bengals where they don't suck... as much. If you made a Mount Rushmore honoring those brave souls, his face would be the first on it, along with Jon Kitna, Marvin Lewis, Carson Palmer, and Rudi Johnson.
While I firmly believe that specific guarantee was a pivotal point in the history of the Bengals, it was far from the last thing Chad did to entertain this city and put it on the map.
He talked.
He joked.
He celebrated.
He putted.
He proposed.
He Pepto bismoled.
He Fiesta'd.
He changed his name to Ochocinco.
He resuscitated.
He Riverdanced.
He Lambeau-leaped (even in Cleveland).
He played camera man.
He played Santa.
He played soccer.
He raced a horse.
He raced a car.
He kicked an extra point.
He inducted himself into the Hall of Fame.
And all he wanted was to not get fined.
Cincinnati is the legitimate football town it is because of Chad, and that will never change. There are many hard feelings towards the man who just wanted to have fun and win, and some are valid. But you cannot discredit the amazing things he did for this team and this city. As Chad Ochocinco heads off to suit up for the New England Patriots in this post-lockout, apocalyptic world, we should be thankful for his contributions to the Bengals and wish him the best. I guarantee he will fare well in his new home.
Thanks for the memories Chad "Ochocinco" Johnson, we'll never forget you.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Maybe Next Year
Every year Cincinnati sports fans say maybe this year.
Maybe this team.
Maybe this time.
Every year we think the ball will bounce our way.
The clock will keep ticking.
The innings will keep coming.
Every year we think there's no way the worst can happen.
No way we'll miss the extra point.
No way we'll get no-hit.
But every year, we end up saying maybe next year.
Forgive me for showing the pessimism that comes as a side with being a Cincinnati sports fan. But as we sit at the All Star break, even with the Reds sitting at 45-47, just four games out of first place in a very competitive NL Central, I have very little faith that there will be a second straight postseason appearance for the Redlegs. They show too many signs of being a typical Queen City quack.
They beat themselves.
They make silly mistakes.
They can't close out games.
Management makes questionable decisions.
Does this sound like another Cincinnati franchise to you? Maybe it's best that we don't have a basketball team in this town. Because it would just end up with the same scenario as the Bengals in November and the Reds in August:
Fans saying maybe next year.
Maybe this team.
Maybe this time.
Every year we think the ball will bounce our way.
The clock will keep ticking.
The innings will keep coming.
Every year we think there's no way the worst can happen.
No way we'll miss the extra point.
No way we'll get no-hit.
But every year, we end up saying maybe next year.
Forgive me for showing the pessimism that comes as a side with being a Cincinnati sports fan. But as we sit at the All Star break, even with the Reds sitting at 45-47, just four games out of first place in a very competitive NL Central, I have very little faith that there will be a second straight postseason appearance for the Redlegs. They show too many signs of being a typical Queen City quack.
They beat themselves.
They make silly mistakes.
They can't close out games.
Management makes questionable decisions.
Does this sound like another Cincinnati franchise to you? Maybe it's best that we don't have a basketball team in this town. Because it would just end up with the same scenario as the Bengals in November and the Reds in August:
Fans saying maybe next year.
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