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BILLS
DIARY: THE ROAD TO SAN DIEGO 2002
Drew Make Me Feel Like
a Natural Woman
 I
felt a need to write this column because I have something
important to share with sports fans in this city. That is
this: aside from Drew Bledsoe himself, I probably know Drew
Bledsoe better than anyone in this city.
Why?
I'm from Boston and for the past ten years or so was one of
the most pathologically desperate New England Patriots fans
on the planet. In that time I have followed Bledsoe's career
with the kind of insane attention to detail normally reserved
for stalkers or organized crime investigators.
I
moved to Buffalo in April. Less than two weeks later, Bledsoe
was traded to the Bills. It was the purest demonstration of
fate I have encountered in my life. From that moment, it was
obvious that I would need to switch my allegiances.
The
recurring theme of Bledsoe's career in New England was that
he was never able to catch up to his critics. After his Pro
Bowl sophomore season, there was a lot of hand-wringing in
Boston about Bledsoe's interceptions. That year he threw 25
touchdown passes, but 27 picks. It didn't seem to matter at
the time, since he was putting so many points up on the board,
but Bledsoe's tendency to try to score touchdowns on every
single play and throw the ball through defenders—not
through their coverage, but physically through their bodies—really
had New England fans nervous.
So
what does he do? The next year he throws just 16 picks, but
only 13 TD passes. A year later, he breaks out with a great
season, throwing 27 TDs and only 15 interceptions. The following
year, he was even better, with 28 TDs and 15 interceptions.
By then, no one is talking about his field judgement. Instead,
they have a new criticism: that he "has no heart" and doesn't
win big games (a gruesome 7-6 playoff loss against the Steelers
is the chief evidence against).
So
what does he do then? In his next season, he wins two spectacular
games with a broken finger on his throwing hand, one against
the Dolphins and one against the Bills (in the notorious Hail-Mary
interference games). Bledsoe in these games can't even grip
the ball with his index finger: he has it in a splint. Suddenly
no one is questioning his heart and his leadership.
But
soon after, a new set of criticisms has hit him. Critics suddenly
notice after all those years that Bledsoe is not mobile and
can't get himself out of trouble. What has really happened
is that Pro Bowl left tackle Bruce Armstrong has torn his
ACL (and kept playing) and is no longer able to keep people
from hitting Bledsoe's blindside.
Worse,
Bledsoe in 1999 has the very worst starting running back in
the league, the miniature Kevin Faulk, handling his every-down
back duties. His receivers that year are the clearly insane
Terry Glenn and the aging Shawn Jefferson. Pro Bowl tight
end Ben Coates that year also suddenly decides to stop blocking.
In
a crucial game against the Dolphins that season, an uncovered
Coates drops a perfectly thrown pass on the final drive, ending
the game and beginning a long losing streak. Soon after, Bledsoe
begins to be accused of "not being able to win games on his
own," like a Brett Farve or a Steve Young. The following year,
Coates, Armstrong, and Jefferson are all gone, and Bledsoe
is left basically alone to shoulder the blame for a miserable
season in which the Patriots field 20 rookies on their roster.
Bills
fans probably think the Buffalo media is tough, but no sportswriters
in the country are as mean and exacting as the Boston contingent.
Spoiled by the experience of sports gods like Larry Bird and
Bobby Orr, writers continually hounded Bledsoe for not being
able to take his team to the promised land all by himself.
He entered the 2000 season hounded by press criticism, and
was even booed after the Patriots were pounded in the season
opener against Tampa Bay—despite the fact that the Pats'
starting offensive line in that game featured two guards (Joe
Andruzzi and Sale Isaia) who had not even been on the team
two weeks before.
Enter
Bill Belichick. He's a great coach, but his offensive strategy
clashes violently with Bledsoe's skill package. Belichick
favors ball control, smashmouth football. Bledsoe likes to
air it out and look for the big play, risking the occasional
mistake. At times under Belichick, it was clear Bledsoe simply
refused his orders and looked down the field when there was
nobody there. He took a lot of sacks and looked very bad at
times during the 2000 season. Belichick refused to deflect
criticism from his quarterback. He had another kind of guy
in mind, as was dramatically demonstrated last season.
All
of which brings us to this season with the Bills. I went to
the game against the Bengals last week and can report: Buffalo
has Drew Bledsoe at his best.
Bledsoe
has always seemed to throw better to big receivers. Maybe
it's because he's big himself, but when there's a big target
to hit, he always seems to ram it in there, while he sometimes
can't seem to find the little guys. Even a great receiver
like Terry Glenn never caught more than 6 touchdowns in a
season from Bledsoe. On the other hand, Bledsoe threw 45 touchdowns
to Ben Coates in his career. When Coates went down, Bledsoe
had nobody over six feet to throw to for years.
That
said, he clearly already has a thing going with Eric Moulds.
He was looking at Moulds first on almost every play. He hit
him on a slant, on a nice blitz read, and on a strike down
the sideline. In three possessions, Moulds had 4 catches for
64 yards. I'll be shocked if he doesn't catch a hundred balls
this year.
Another
Bledsoe feature: he likes fullbacks who can run deep routes.
Keith Byars and Kevin Turner had huge seasons playing with
Bledsoe. Here again, he clearly has a thing going with Larry
Centers. The 25-yard fade route to Centers in the Bengals
game was classic Bledsoe: looking out over the pocket and
flicking a deep route to a secondary receiver over coverage.
Bledsoe
is an odd character. His press conferences sound like introductory
speeches at political fund-raisers. They're filled with cast-iron
cliches lobbed out in an obligatory manner one after the other,
and steeped in a sort of neutral, military tone. He can be
amusing, but never funny. He is smart and aware, but hard
to warm up to. In Boston, that mattered for some reason. Here,
who cares. The guy can throw the hell out of the football.
I'm through with the Pats. Go Bills!
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