Passing Fancy
People who get the cards on this site will get have a special appreciation for the comparison between Sunday's Colts-Packers game and the legendary Colts-Jets shootout in 1972.
But it's a different game today. For all of Sunday's fireworks, it didn't quite measure up to this vintage Namath performance. Unitas was very 2004-like that day: 26-for-45 for 376 yards and 3 TDs. That's about 14.5 yards per completion, noteworthy only be today's standards. Namath that day? 15-for-28 for 496 yards. Everyone talks about the six TDs. But 496 yards on 15 completions is a mark that will likely never be approached. That's 33 yards per completion. Tom Brady averages about 10 yards per completion. The all-time single season record is Greg Cook at about 17.5. Namath in '72 finished just under that.
Favre and Manning clocked in yesterday at about 12 yards and 14 yards per completion, respectively. So it was an aerial show with a decided west coast flavor. In fact, the most Namath '72-like performance yesterday was Daunte Culpepper's 360 yards on 19 completions (coming off last Monday's dink-and-dunk fest where he Culpepper's 343 yards required a whopping 37 completions). It's generally accepted that yards per passing attempt is the best indicator for wining and losing a game. (That's why we emphasize it so much in our NFL Forecast posted every Friday.) But I wonder if yards per completion is just as good or even better.
On Sunday, the QBs with the higher yards per attempt went 11-1 (McNair and Leftwich tied). The one loss was by the Bengals. Now I suspect my friend Scott Pianowski is going to say, "No duh." Well, if it's so obvious, why don't I hear more about that correlation compared to, say, the team with the most rushing attempts winning the game (when, in truth, you run because you're winning, you're not winning because you run).
Speaking of that Titans-Jaguars game, I've about had it with Leftwich and company. This is one lucky team. I don't believe in destiny (or Beatles or Zimmerman, just Yoko and me). The hail mary against Buffalo (yeah, you can throw a hail mary from the seven-yard line), the Griffin fumble instead of the chip-shot, game-winning Elam field goal? Now the phantom pass interference call.
I predict the Jaguars will need more than one scoring drive to beat Manning and Co. come Sunday. I'm going to make sure to put that game on the big screen here in mission control.
Do yourself a favor and read my wife Catherine's Football Widow Blog. She's a great writer and I think she'll eventually end up being much more widely syndicated than me. All wives with football-loving husbands are sure to sympathize with Cath's Sunday plight.
But, in my defense, it's not easy sitting around here all day watching games while she's out galavanting with the kids. Here's the thing about the NFL Sunday Ticket: there are no breaks in the action. No respite. Heck, there's not even any real halftime. Try planing lunch around that. And then when you do get around to eating, there are pitfalls. Real danger lurking in the weeds. First you have to decide how long to heat Ryan's virtually untouched (despite repeated pleading and outright bribes), leftover chicken lo mein. If you want the food properly reheated, you have to deal with the molton bowl. And try carrying that down the basement stairs without burning your fingers. Unable to cup it in your hand, you need to decide whether to hold it by the lip with both hands and struggle down the stairs with a drink and napkin underneath your arms. Or do you transfer to a cool plate and make an additional mess? No. I grab a kitchen towel and use it to insulate the heat from my hands and free up my other hand for the napikin and drink. Mind you, this is without an eye in the sky or coaches screaming instructions into my headset. And all with the play clock running down before one of those seven or eight games is set to kick off the second half. But I keep that all in. I internalize this Sunday stress fest. Not anymore.
But it's a different game today. For all of Sunday's fireworks, it didn't quite measure up to this vintage Namath performance. Unitas was very 2004-like that day: 26-for-45 for 376 yards and 3 TDs. That's about 14.5 yards per completion, noteworthy only be today's standards. Namath that day? 15-for-28 for 496 yards. Everyone talks about the six TDs. But 496 yards on 15 completions is a mark that will likely never be approached. That's 33 yards per completion. Tom Brady averages about 10 yards per completion. The all-time single season record is Greg Cook at about 17.5. Namath in '72 finished just under that.
Favre and Manning clocked in yesterday at about 12 yards and 14 yards per completion, respectively. So it was an aerial show with a decided west coast flavor. In fact, the most Namath '72-like performance yesterday was Daunte Culpepper's 360 yards on 19 completions (coming off last Monday's dink-and-dunk fest where he Culpepper's 343 yards required a whopping 37 completions). It's generally accepted that yards per passing attempt is the best indicator for wining and losing a game. (That's why we emphasize it so much in our NFL Forecast posted every Friday.) But I wonder if yards per completion is just as good or even better.
On Sunday, the QBs with the higher yards per attempt went 11-1 (McNair and Leftwich tied). The one loss was by the Bengals. Now I suspect my friend Scott Pianowski is going to say, "No duh." Well, if it's so obvious, why don't I hear more about that correlation compared to, say, the team with the most rushing attempts winning the game (when, in truth, you run because you're winning, you're not winning because you run).
Speaking of that Titans-Jaguars game, I've about had it with Leftwich and company. This is one lucky team. I don't believe in destiny (or Beatles or Zimmerman, just Yoko and me). The hail mary against Buffalo (yeah, you can throw a hail mary from the seven-yard line), the Griffin fumble instead of the chip-shot, game-winning Elam field goal? Now the phantom pass interference call.
I predict the Jaguars will need more than one scoring drive to beat Manning and Co. come Sunday. I'm going to make sure to put that game on the big screen here in mission control.
Do yourself a favor and read my wife Catherine's Football Widow Blog. She's a great writer and I think she'll eventually end up being much more widely syndicated than me. All wives with football-loving husbands are sure to sympathize with Cath's Sunday plight.
But, in my defense, it's not easy sitting around here all day watching games while she's out galavanting with the kids. Here's the thing about the NFL Sunday Ticket: there are no breaks in the action. No respite. Heck, there's not even any real halftime. Try planing lunch around that. And then when you do get around to eating, there are pitfalls. Real danger lurking in the weeds. First you have to decide how long to heat Ryan's virtually untouched (despite repeated pleading and outright bribes), leftover chicken lo mein. If you want the food properly reheated, you have to deal with the molton bowl. And try carrying that down the basement stairs without burning your fingers. Unable to cup it in your hand, you need to decide whether to hold it by the lip with both hands and struggle down the stairs with a drink and napkin underneath your arms. Or do you transfer to a cool plate and make an additional mess? No. I grab a kitchen towel and use it to insulate the heat from my hands and free up my other hand for the napikin and drink. Mind you, this is without an eye in the sky or coaches screaming instructions into my headset. And all with the play clock running down before one of those seven or eight games is set to kick off the second half. But I keep that all in. I internalize this Sunday stress fest. Not anymore.
Entry #109633992895692576 posted by Catherine Salfino at 2:45 AM
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