Contrary to what some national draft experts think, Dan Nied believes the Detroit Lions may have put themselves over the top by selecting Mike Williams
With the 10th pick in the 2005 NFL draft the Detroit Lions selected the missing link, the corner piece of the puzzle, the straw that will break the backs of opposing defenses.
Sure a few people were puzzled by the Lions’ selection of USC receiver Mike Williams in the first round of the draft Saturday, but then again, what does anyone really know?
The national critics calling this a boneheaded move do make a good point. The Lions have used their first-round pick on receivers the last two years (Charles Rogers at No. 2 overall in 2003 and Roy Williams at No. 7 overall in 2004) And yes, there was a glaring hole at safety that still needs to be filled.
But really, who needs a safety when you can score 100 points per game?
That is the thinking of the optimist, the fellow who will tell you that the best defense is a good offense. By taking Williams Saturday the Lions actually made a logical move that could put them over the top.
That safety spot will be filled by third-year ballhawk Terrence Holt. While their 6-10 record in 2004 might suggest otherwise, After that safety spot, there were no glaring weaknesses for the Lions. See, that that record was a result of an amalgam of injuries, inexperience and lack of depth that create a fatal combination.
This pick made sense because the Lions have one true question mark on the offense: quarterback Joey Harrington.
Harrington has had a roller coaster career at best in three seasons. At worst he has been substandard. But the one thing Harrington and the Lions could point to were countless excuses about dropped passes and unfortunate injuries that stifled the passing game and a young quarterback’s numbers.
True, Rogers has played in only six games in two seasons. He has broken the same collarbone twice and is getting a reputation as a china doll. Also, Roy Williams missed four games of his rookie season with a leg injury. Even when he did play, it was usually on one leg.
So by picking Mike Williams (and signing tight end Marcus Pollard from the Indianapolis Colts and wide receiver Kevin Johnson from the Baltimore Ravens) the Lions are taking all of Harrington’s potential excuses and throwing them out the window.
Williams is surehanded enough to catch anything thrown to him. Plus, it is highly unlikely that all three receivers will suffer season-ending injuries.
If Harrington can’t shine with this group of receivers, then he isn’t cut out to be an NFL quarterback. So the biggest question on the team gets answered in the first four games. If Harrington cannot produce with the Williams brothers, Rogers and Pollard, then the Lions turn to an alternative, Jeff Garcia, who made three pro bowls while running the exact same offense under Lions coach Steve Mariucci in San Fransisco.
But the more hopeful, and more likely, scenario is that Harington and his young receivers light up the league in a Manning-esque fashion. There is no cornerback unit that will be able to cover all three receivers. It may take a Pro Bowl unit to even have a chance.
So why not roll the dice with that kind of firepower?
With defenses forced to play nickel and dime packages on nearly every down the holes should open up for second-year Lions running back Kevin Jones, who led the league in rushing over the last eight games in 2004.
What it all amounts to is an attack so potentially potent that the defense might not even matter.
However, the Lions did eventually address defense in the draft. In the second round they took defensive lineman Shaun Cody, also from USC, as the first of a string of four defensive players selected with five picks.
Yes, maybe Holt will fail as the starting safety, but sometimes greatness at the expense of mediocrity is necessary.
For the Lions, it makes all the sense in the world.
Dan Nied didn't listen to life's most basic lesson until it hit him right in the mouth.
Last week was turbulent and shameful.
There was a lesson learned ... well, at least taught. Only time will tell if I have learned anything from it. For now, it is there, and I shall pass it on to you before it leaves me.
Wednesday I went to visit a friend at a Denver Hospital. In February, she was in a horrific car accident and broke several bones in her neck. Luckily, her spinal cord was not severed. While I was there I sat in on a class she was taking at the hospital for the newly disabled. It was about how to get around in a wheelchair, and general things that a disabled person would need to know. The five students in the class wheeled in one by one.
There was Tom, the middle-aged man with a smile, but no voice. Susan, about Tom's age. She was the optimist who I spied crying in the hallway shortly after the class. Then there was Anu, a woman from Arizona who was the loudmouth of the group. And then there was my friend, who may have years of physical therapy as her best-case scenario.
But then my jaw nearly dropped as a boy wheeled in with what seemed to be his mother. We'll call him Jake. Jake was so young, so strong. It turns out he was 17. In March, he was in a car accident that claimed the life of his father and left him with a severed spinal cord, and no chance of recovery.
That chair was Jake's home for the next 60 years or so. Physically, he was robbed of his 20s like a liquor store cashier. Mentally, the anguish might be worse - burying a father and losing physical abilities at the same time probably isn't the easiest thing to go through.
When I was 17, I was contemplating a walk-on attempt for the Bowling Green football team the next year. I wasn't trying to figure out how I would live my life.
So that was Wednesday. It was a very contemplative day.
But then Thursday rolled around. For whatever reason, Thursday was a selfish day. It was a day where I magnified my problems 100 times in my head and expected the world to feel sorry for me. It was a day of short tempers and obnoxious comments, fueled by my own immaturities.
My Thursday ended with a professional argument that really was anything but professional. As most arguments are, it was heated and could have been avoided.
Immediately, I realized I made a mistake. I agonized over it until 3 a.m. I replayed it in my mind like a prizefight, reviewed my good lines, my bad points and my overall performance. Was I wrong? Was I right? Why is so much going wrong right now?
But then something popped into my head.
It was Jake. I was embarrassed.
Sparky Anderson, former manager of the Cincinnati Reds and the Detroit Tigers once said he watched the local news every night because no matter how bad his life was, there was always someone on there who has it worse.
I realized that my mother was right all those years ago. There are people starving in Africa, there are people who sleep on the street through no fault of their own. There are people who are blind, deaf, mute, mourning, struggling, straining, yelling, crying, dying.
There is Jake.
And I was ashamed.
So I took a deep breath and looked around my apartment and thought about my steady job and how good I have it. Maybe it's not all perfect, but I have control, and that is more than anyone can ask for.
That was my lesson.
Jason McMahon is hooked on America's most musical reality show this side of "Making the Band". He readily admits he has a problem when it comes to American Idol.
All right, I give in. The first of the 12 steps is admitting you have a problem, right? Well, I admit it, and I’m here to confess my vice. My name is Jason, and I’m an American Idol addict.
When Idol first hit the airwaves in the summer of 2002, I didn’t want to go anywhere near it. I was fed up with the whole reality TV craze (I still am, actually), and the show held no appeal for me. Still, due to its status as the newest water cooler hit, I felt I owed it to myself to check it out at least once. So I watched the season finale, and couldn’t help but wonder how in the world that Guarini guy lasted as long as he did.
I didn’t watch any of the second season, though I did keep up with the Ruben-Clay controversies. I finally did check out a bit of Season Three, but only through the auditions -- once the William Hungs were done, I figured it wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining anymore.
But I must confess, this season, I’m hopelessly hooked. I haven't missed an episode yet, and have even rewatched portions of several shows. I find myself drawn to the show's characters (the contestants, not the judges). I've developed different rooting interests at almost every step of the way. Being that I'm a sports guy at heart, the competitive aspect of the production is appealing. And hey, I've always loved to sing myself. If the Idol auditions ever came to my car, I'd be a lock to make it to Hollywood, dawg.
I'm not sure why this happened now. Perhaps it was the advent of TiVo into the family home, which has helped make each episode an event for the whole brood. My little sister feels as though several of the contestants are close personal friends. My younger brother transfers recordings of his favorite performers onto his iPod. My mother is in her late 40s, well outside the show’s target demographic, yet can speed-dial a vote as soon as the lines open with the best of them.
As for me, I’ve found myself watching each show with a critical eye, seeing how my comments match up with the panel of judges. After all, I have occasionally used the word “a’ight” and as long as I can add “dawg” and “pitchy” to my vocabulary, I ought to be able to match wits with Randy Jackson. If it’s truly warranted, I can be just as effusive with praise as the new Queen of Nice, Paula Abdul. Though lately, I’ve noticed that my opinions more closely match up with Simon Cowell’s, and since I’m not on live TV, I shouldn’t have a problem creating my own pithy insults.
One thing prevented me from trying my hand at being an amateur reviewer before this week: my affection for Mikalah Gordon. There was no gray area with the Las Vegas teen; you either loved her or hated her. I loved her unabashed enthusiasm and pure joy she brought to each broadcast, but every review I ever read seemed to slam her with a tremendous dose of vitriol. Made me wonder if I knew what I was talking about after all.
But I do admit, it was time for her to go last week -- she breezed through on personality as long as she could, but there was no way to justify sending someone else packing. Her exit was predictable, as was Lindsay Cardinale's after the first week of the finals. But the banishment of Jessica Sierra -- and more surprisingly, the continued support for Scott Savol and Anthony Fedorov -- just goes to show that no one knows what's going to happen next.
Let alone me. But that's not going to keep me from guessing. And it's certainly going to keep me watching.
Can’t get enough of all things Idol? Check out Jason’s weekly reviews on his weblog at mcjason.blogspot.com.