Billick’s message to the team on Wednesday was twofold: First, foremost, don’t worry about the circumstances they were in. There was no need to worry about the standings because if they played the kind of football he knew they could play, they would be exactly where they wanted to be when the playoffs began: playing.
“In the end it doesn’t matter how you get in as long as you’re in,” he said. “We went to San Diego and won a year ago. Anybody in here afraid to go out there and play? Anyone in here who doesn’t think we can beat Denver?”
Those were possible playoff matchups—both on the road. Part two of his talk was about the Colts, also a likely first-round opponent, until the very end. “Let me tell you about this team,” he said. “They have a lot of impressive stats. They’re good, really good. But they’ve beaten exactly one team—Minnesota—with a winning record. And I guarantee you they haven’t faced anyone like us for a good long while.”
That was the theme for the week. The Ravens now believed they were the Ravens again. The defense was banged up but healthy enough to play the way it was expected to. Boller had come a long way in a month and he now had everyone back: Lewis, Ogden, Heap. They had discovered a wide receiver who was a legitimate threat in Clarence Moore. Even Orlando Brown, who Billick had believed was done for the year, was going to play on Sunday. Only one player—Bart Scott, who had hurt his knee against the Giants—wasn’t going to play and he was certain he would be ready for Pittsburgh the next week. “If it wasn’t for that turf, I’d try it,” he said. “But the doctors think it’s too much risk.”
In short, as difficult as the next two games were likely to be, the Ravens were as ready to play them as they could possibly be. “It also means we’re out of excuses,” Deion Sanders said in the locker room on Friday after practice. “We’ve had legitimate ones all year, right from the beginning. That’s all over now. We find out who we are for real now.”
They had believed all season that if they were healthy, there wasn’t anyone in the league they couldn’t play with. They felt as if they had gone into Philadelphia and New England playing with one hand tied behind their back because of injuries. Now both hands were free.
The trip to Indianapolis on Saturday took longer than expected because the plane hit headwinds. It was already dark and the temperature was in the teens—with the wind chill making it a lot colder—when they landed. But that wouldn’t matter since they were playing indoors. The biggest challenge on Sunday would be killing time. Their three previous night games had been at home, meaning they could leave the hotel after morning meetings and go back to their houses. Now, they were in a hotel in downtown Indianapolis, with very little to do indoors and no one wanting to go outdoors.
Most of them watched football in the afternoon. One might think that every player in the NFL is a big football fan. That’s not necessarily the case. Boller rarely watches football. “I look at enough tape, trying to learn, that when I have free time, I like to do other things” is his very reasoned explanation. When the Ravens returned from Philadelphia in October, the players knew that the Steelers and Patriots were playing in what was then a crucial game for them. Boller got into his car and turned on music. He was surprised when someone pulled up next to him in the parking garage and reported that the Steelers were winning.
If Boller had been watching on that Sunday afternoon, he would have been encouraged by the Broncos’ loss in Kansas City, which dropped them to 8-6, but less than thrilled by Jacksonville’s upset victory in Green Bay, which made the Jaguars 8-6. Buffalo also won, beating the Bengals, to raise its record to 8-6. The Ravens made the short bus ride to the stadium knowing that they once again had control over their own destiny. A victory would make them 9-5 and leave them alone in second place, one game behind the Jets, in the wild-card race. If they won out, they would be in the playoffs, regardless of what anyone else did. On the other hand, a loss would drop them into a four-way tie for the second wild card and everyone would start calculating tiebreakers that seemed to involve everything in the world, including the price of unleaded gas, in the formula.
The most remarkable ending of the day was in Detroit. With the Vikings hanging on for dear life to an NFC playoff spot, they found themselves in deep trouble against the Lions. Trailing, 28-21, in the final seconds, Detroit went the length of the field for what appeared to be a tieing touchdown, meaning the game would go into overtime. But Detroit kicker Jason Hanson never got a chance to kick the extra point. The snap was low and the holder couldn’t get it down for Hanson to kick it. Long snappers get their name in the paper only when they make a mistake at a key moment. The snapper in this case was Don Muhlbach, who had been in training camp with the Ravens. He had been signed by the Lions a couple of weeks earlier. Watching on TV, Gary Zauner noticed on the replay that Muhlbach’s head had come up just a tad prior to the snap. “I think that’s what did it to him,” he said. “I felt awful for the kid. He can snap in this league. I hope this doesn’t ruin things for him.”
It was ice-cold outside when the Ravens’ buses pulled underneath the building formerly known as the Hoosier Dome, the temperature having dropped into single digits. Even inside, the place was cool, with an actual breeze blowing across the field. By any name, the dome has fewer seats for football than any stadium in the NFL: 57,240 is the capacity, and it is that much only because the Colts have put in three extra rows of seats so close to the field that the sidelines can be a dangerous place. Joe Maese, healthy again, almost became unhealthy a few minutes prior to kickoff when he went behind the bench to take a few practice snaps and almost got run over by the ESPN camera dolly as it whizzed past. When the Ravens asked the security people on the sideline if they could move the cheerleaders back so that Maese could have space to snap, they were told nothing could be done. Maese responded by snapping a ball off a security guard’s head.
“Gee, I’m sorry,” he said.
Everyone else was cracking up. In a thousand snaps Maese would never be that far off-line. In fact, he had snapped the ball exactly where he wanted to. The security guard decided to move the cheerleaders back a few steps so he could move back a few steps and get out of the line of fire.
The Colts and Ravens were, in an NFL sort of way, distant cousins. After all, if Robert Irsay hadn’t moved the Colts from Baltimore to Indianapolis in 1984, the city would not have been available for the Browns. The Ravens had spent almost nine years in what had been the Colts’ practice facility. The Colts were now negotiating for a new building to replace the dome. Jimmy Irsay, who had inherited the team from his late father, had made noises about moving to Los Angeles. It appeared that a deal to get Irsay and the Colts a new stadium was close to getting done, but it was not done yet.
Beyond the teams’ city ties, Billick and Colts coach Tony Dungy had been coordinators together in Minnesota and were still friends. They talked easily during pregame while several of the Ravens had a brief reunion with Gerome Sapp, who had become a valued special teams player with the Colts after being cut by the Ravens during that painful second week of the season. The Colts were trying to lock down the third seed in the AFC behind the Steelers and Patriots. The next two weeks were as big to them as they were to the Ravens. After playing Baltimore, the Colts would host the San Diego Chargers. Since the Chargers had won in Cleveland that day (in the snow no less, an unheard-of feat for a warm-weather or indoor team), they would come to town with an 11-3 record. That meant the Colts had to win both this week and next to secure the third seed. The difference between the Colts and the Ravens was obvious: the Colts were playing for seeding, not for survival, and they would play their two key games at home.
Billick had made no bones all week about the fact that this was a big-time game in every way. He didn’t talk at all about getting another chance in Pittsburgh if they lost this game. Everyone seemed to sense what was at stake and what was going to be needed. Ray Lewis paced up and down the small locker room, saying to anyone who would listen, “You have to run this r
ace with all of your heart!” Stover, asked to do the prayer, said simply: “I just want to challenge everyone in this room to match the intensity of number fifty-two. If we do that, we can’t lose the game.” Those words were directed at his teammates. Then, after asking everyone to bow their heads, he said, “Lord, we come to pray before you as we have never prayed before.”
The doctors were busy prior to the game. Jamal Lewis needed a shot in his ankle after pregame warm-ups. Deion Sanders needed one in his foot. Chris McAlister had forgotten about his weekly painkiller and had to be injected on the sideline just prior to kickoff.
Billick isn’t very big on lengthy or eloquent pregame speeches. He usually stalks to the middle of the room and announces the captains and which unit is going to be introduced. At this point in the season he didn’t need to do that. The captains were in place and the team was being introduced all at once. He then goes on to remind them about playing with emotion, not making mistakes, or letting the other team know right away which is the better team. This time, he stepped out of character. His voice was much softer than normal.
“Fellas, this game, this setting is what your whole life is about,” he said. “This night is about why you do this. This is about celebrating the life you lead, the life we all lead. It’s about more than just this season. All your lives, you’ve worked and sweated to play in a game like this. A game like this is about commitment. It’s about passion. It’s about being willing to give yourself up for the cause if you have to. This isn’t about making the playoffs or not making the playoffs. It is about what is going to happen the next three hours out there on that field and how we will all feel about ourselves when it’s over. If it were going to be easy, then nothing would be at stake.
“At times this year we’ve played with great emotion. At other times we’ve played smart. Tonight, we have to do both—for the entire game. I promise you it will be worth the effort.”
As the players charged down the long hallway toward the field, Billick and Jim Fassel trailed them. For once, there was no chatter between them. Just a silent handshake.
The first half was full of all the emotion Billick had talked about. The Colts took Wade Richey’s kickoff—Richey was up again because of Bart Scott’s injury—and Manning promptly went to work. In four plays, he had moved his team from its own 28 to the Ravens’ 9, and it looked like it might be a very long night. But then everything changed. After Edgerrin James had picked up 2 yards on first down, Manning should have been intercepted—twice. First Chad Williams had a golden chance in the end zone, but missed. Then Will Demps, darting in front of tight end Marcus Pollard, might have had an Ed Reed-like 100-yard touchdown return, except that he dropped the ball. The Colts settled for a Mike Vanderjagt field goal and it was 3-0.
The Ravens offense didn’t exactly light things up, in the ensuing series. The most important play Boller made in the first quarter came when Jamal Lewis fumbled on the Ravens’ first play from scrimmage. Before anyone else could make a move, Boller alertly dove on the ball, preventing what would have been a disastrous early turnover deep in Baltimore territory. The game became a punting duel between Dave Zastudil and Hunter Smith. With just under four minutes left, Manning completed a short pass over the middle to Reggie Wayne, and Ray Lewis and Marques Douglas combined to make the tackle. Lewis came up wincing. He took about three steps toward the sideline before his knees buckled and he went down, holding his right wrist, clearly in great pain. He had to be helped off, holding his wrist gingerly. Billick, hands on hips, stood and watched silently. He didn’t need Andy Tucker or anyone else to tell him that it was a wrist injury. What he needed to know was how serious a wrist injury it was. The entire medical staff immediately surrounded Lewis as he sat on the bench.
While he was being attended to, the Ravens got the ball back and Jamal Lewis broke off his first big run in weeks, picking up 47 yards to move the ball to the Indianapolis 33. The offense stalled at that point—Lewis was stopped going up the middle on third-and-2—but Stover came in to make a 42-yard field goal that tied the game early in the second quarter.
Remarkably, Lewis was back in the game for the next defensive series. The official announcement in the press box was that he had sprained his wrist. Only later, after an X-ray, would the doctors realize that the wrist was broken. Lewis told them he had no time for X-rays, he needed to play. They wrapped the wrist to immobilize it as much as possible and sent him back into the game. On the second play of the Colts’ next series, he plugged the hole and slammed Edgerrin James down for no gain.
The defense was doing exactly what Billick and Nolan had hoped it would. Nolan had preached constant motion all week, telling his players not to stand still while Manning was lining his team up, because if they did, he would change the play based on where they were. The defenders kept bouncing around, and Manning looked confused at times, not quite sure where to throw the ball.
With the score tied at 3-3, the Ravens took over on their own 40 with 3:21 left. Boller immediately found Travis Taylor flying over the middle for a 33-yard pickup and a first down at the Colts’ 27. Worst-case scenario, they were in field goal range. An incomplete pass to Darnell Dinkins and a 1-yard run by Lewis set up third-and-9. Boller dropped to pass—and never had a chance. Before he could even think about looking downfield, defensive end Dwight Freeney was on him. What was shocking to Boller—and everyone else—was that Freeney had gone past Jonathan Ogden to get to him. Ogden getting beaten, cleanly, by a defensive end on a pass rush was dog-bites-man stuff. Freeney is a superb pass rusher and is easily the Colts’ best defensive player. The street that leads to the player entrance outside the dome is named Dwight Freeney Way. He had made a spin move and had gone around, or perhaps under, Ogden. At six-one, 268, Freeney is a relatively tiny defensive end and throughout the night he appeared to be getting under the six-nine Ogden. Boller deserved some credit for hanging on to the ball. Still, the sack took them out of field goal range.
“Miscommunication,” Ogden said later. “I heard the wrong call and I didn’t realize I had him until it was too late. The guy is quick.”
Zastudil lofted a punt toward the Colts’ end zone and B. J. Sams made a wonderful play, beating the ball down the field and downing it on the 1-yard line. This was one of those moments Billick had talked about to the defense after the New England game: the Colts were backed up, time was running out, and the defense had a chance to make something happen. Edgerrin James helped by pulling a Corey Dillon and running out of bounds on second down. A penalty helped, too. Then, on third-and-7, McAlister and Anthony Weaver combined to stop Harrison three yards short of the first down. Smith punted, his fifth of the half, unheard-of for the Colts, and Sams returned it 13 yards to midfield. They had fifty-one seconds and a time-out left to get on the board and gain some momentum for the second half.
Boller quickly picked up 11 yards on a pass to Chester Taylor, then spiked the ball to stop the clock with twenty-eight seconds to go. But before the Ravens could get off another play, Ogden was called for a false start. Clearly, Freeney’s quickness had unnerved him and he started half a second too early. The ball moved back to the 44. The Ravens needed about 12 yards to give Stover a reasonable chance. There was still plenty of time. Boller threw for Clarence Moore over the middle. Moore was a step short of getting to it, causing Billick to scream, “Goddammit, Clarence!” He felt that Moore had run the pattern short, an unsettling reprise of the Cincinnati game. Third down. Boller again looked for Moore. Rushed, he overthrew him, and safety Mike Doss, peeling back, intercepted the ball at the 22. He weaved his way to the Ravens’ 46.
Suddenly—stunningly—with thirteen seconds left, it was the Colts with a chance to score. Manning had two time-outs to play with. He needed only one. He quickly found Pollard over the middle, who was brought down on the 15 with five seconds left. Vanderjagt jogged on and made a 33-yard field goal with one second left, and instead of walking off the field with a lead, the Ravens walked off trailing, 6-3.
Billick heard Fassel. He also knew that his defense was frustrated. Ahead of him in the tunnel, he could hear Ray Lewis saying, “Team football, we need to play team football.”
He was reminding the rest of the defense that getting upset with the offense wouldn’t do any good. The defense had played as well as it possibly could have hoped and still walked off the field trailing. Twice the offense had been set up in the final minutes to get at least three points, but it had ended up surrendering three points. That was tough to swallow. But they needed to swallow it and come back and play just as hard in the second half.
“Listen up, listen up,” Billick said once they were inside the locker room. “We have got them playing our kind of football. Now we have to do the little things.” He paused as if thinking if he should stop there. Later he would wish he had. But even with Fassel’s calming voice in his ear, he couldn’t control himself completely. “Clarence, I don’t ever expect to see you short-arm a ball like that again. Understand?”
Everyone was wired during the break. Jim Colletto kept telling the offensive line that it had to make plays because “in a big-time game you have to make something happen, and this is a big-time game.” Nolan couldn’t ask for anything more from the defense. He simply pleaded with them to hang in there and keep doing what they were doing.
The third quarter wasn’t all that different from the third quarter in New England. The offense stalled after picking up one first down. The Colts took over on their own 23 and promptly marched down the field, Manning mixing James’s runs in with his short passes. On first down from the Ravens’ 38, he threw a short pass to Wayne and it looked for a second as if Gary Baxter had wrested it away from him. But the official ruled it a catch for Wayne. Two plays later, on third-and-1, Manning play-faked to James, and McAlister, who had been superb up until that moment, bit on the fake. Harrison was wide-open at the goal line and glided in for the touchdown, making it 13-3 and, coincidentally, allowing Manning to tie Dan Marino’s all-time record of 48 touchdown passes in a season.
Next Man Up Page 54
