Training Camp Impressions Days 2 & 3

Training Camp reminds me of a zoo. Not in the metaphorical sense, in that I mean it's crazy—it's not crazy—I mean a zoo in the spectacle sense. It's mass voyeurism where crowds quietly watch the beasts mill about in their natural habitat and occasionally yell out to them in hopes of some kind of a reaction. It's a peak behind the curtain where one might hope for football math to emerge to them from the practice field like a John Nash chalkboard, but instead you see a lot of the third-string offense running the same screen play against a defense of coaching staff members holding big puffy shields to occasionally whack anybody that runs past them. It's dry and mellow, yet well attended. Discussion throughout the rows of cheap metal bleachers is sparse and typically it consists of folks asking each other where various players went to college. If the players were gorillas wrestling about in their enclosure, you would pretty much get the same vibe from those watching.

Like with all zoos, I began to empathize with the creatures themselves. These men have been given an area surrounded by terrible air quality. Here is Pete Rose Way, there is I75, here are trains, there are piles of river industry. Even my lungs felt the pinch of pollution as I walked the many blocks from free parking to the practice field.

Once seated, like everyone else I assume, I began to marvel at the really big ones. Andrew Whitworth and Dennis Roland looked like Transformers as they stretched and tried touching their toes. Andre Smith looked in fine shape too with only a respectable lineman belly showing. All the concerns of his offseason work ethic eased up in my opinion as I admired his build from afar.

Then I noticed the new young chap, Kevin Zietler. He looked rather smallish next to these other prize-winning cattle. I wondered how he was gonna hold up on the pro level until I remembered that all of these guys weigh more than 300 lbs. All of them. That being said, this man did not look like a fat man at all. Unlike Whitworth who has surprisingly skinny ankles for such a large man, Zeitler is tree-trunk legged, he has a thick, wide torso but he is by no means fat. Also, he is supremely flexible. While the other beefcakes awkwardly bent to to reach their cleats, Zeitler grasped the grass well out in front of him and shifted from side to side problem-free. Never have I been more impressed with a person simply stretching, but after watching this little lineman do his thing, I now know why Marvin Lewis is so caught up in the knee benders. This guy isn't clumsy and he should do well at keeping his legs healthy with such athleticism and flexibility. That alone made me a believer in this kid.

The other individual whose sheer size affected me was Jermaine Gresham. He is a power forward in shoulder pads, a Julius Peppers on offense. No wonder people gush all over his potential. He is simply enormous. I saw a few interesting screens to him which I liked and he made a nice over-the-shoulder grab after beating Dan Skuta on a sideline throw by Andy Dalton. Now that I have seen him up fairly close, my expectations of him have grown almost as big as he is. Orson Charles, by no surprise, looks a little slight in comparison. I thought Charles looked like a thick receiver but not a tight end. Antonio Bryant with the Bucs comes to mind as a comparable build. Charles looks fairly agile, but I am now worried about how well he can block.

As practice began, some things became evident immediately.

A.J. Green is the best player on the team without question. Everything the man does is electrifying. He exudes stardom just standing in line waiting his turn to catch a five yard slant undefended. He moves like football should be easy for everyone. He doesn't just look the part, he is the part.

After Green and Gresham though, there are a lot of questions about how all this is supposed to come together on offense. The battle for the second receiver will be as fierce as advertised with no one making the decision all that easy. I'd say from what I saw on Saturday and Sunday, Marvin Jones has impressed, while Armon Binns made the least impression on me. Mohamed Sanu occasionally turns heads, but he also has dropped a few. Andrew Hawkins also dropped a catchable pass and a punt on Sunday. BenJarvus Green-Ellis also had a few drops on Sunday, the first one on a halfback toss—technically a fumble for all those scoring at home. It's just practice, but the playmakers appear minimal among the second-tier offensive contributors. I think Jay Gruden's test this season might be even more difficult than first imagined.

Then there are the corners. On Sunday the only reputable corners on the field were Brandon Ghee and Jason Allen. Five others, all starting-worthy candidates, sat the day out watching in baseball caps. Ghee had a nice interception on a very poorly-thrown Dalton pass, and Allen also made me remember who No. 25 was with his solid play, but the Bengals will need more than two decent corners pretty damn soon. Before taking Sunday off, Adam Jones was burnt twice on deep passes on Saturday. Leon Hall was upset with himself after A.J. Green roasted him off the line in one-on-one battles on Day 2. Taylor Mays didn't look all that fast either day. The secondary isn't off to a great start.

One defensive back excelling, however, is rookie George Iloka. Hue Jackson, the newest coaching addition on the Bengals staff, has consistently been pleased with George and his efforts. I caught the two low-fiving on numerous occasions.

Another guy I kept my eye on was Vontaze Burfect. He is definitely still a very physical player. On one pass near his zone, he grabbed some facemask in his attempt to strip the ball from the receiver. On another he blasted a potential blocker to the turf during an innocuous running play where no one was to be tackled anyway. I like the mean streak and his instinct for the ball, but there was a play where he dropped into zone coverage, got lost and had the receiver run right behind him on a slant that would have been a touchdown as a result of his blown assignment. I know that zone coverage isn't the first thing a rookie will excel at during his first few days of practice, but to me, it reemphasized the reasons why he wasn't drafted. Being mean and hitting hard are traits held by many men who are not recognized as linebackers, therefore showing you know a thing or two about zone coverage might be pretty key for Burfect to gain a good first impression.

All in all, it's extremely difficult to take away much inside knowledge of the team after witnessing a couple of training camp practices. There was one scene though that had nothing to do with football that struck me as interesting.

I looked across the field and on the other side I noticed Mike Brown sitting in his little John Deere cart with his white hat and shades, watching and forming his opinions that will change the lives of the men he employs forever. His thoughts matter and everyone, even us sheep in the stands, could feel it. He is the zookeeper, everyone else just works there. Then my eye trailed along the sideline a little farther down where a bright pink blouse burned into focus. There was the only female on the field, Katie Blackburn, looking a lot like a little girl hanging out in her daddy's front yard. She looked on too, trying to translate the action on the field into some kind of shrewd business perspective, but at the end of the day she may not give much of a shit. Who knows? Then it became clear to me, that every grown man on the field who was not a coach or a player were white dudes with polo shirts tucked into khaki shorts and that most of them were in Mike Brown's country club. The theory expanded when all the Bengal personnel in sight who were not directly football related appeared to be of the affluent Caucasian variety. Handsome young blond people handing out tickets, strapping stubble-faced lads ushering around the press as media liaisons, even the kids selling Gatorade had those stupid yellow rubber bracelets that only rich white kids wear. Then a young man came into sight who was clearly of the same background, only this one had grown too large. Here was a mountain of a 16-year-old, the telltale signs of adolescence betraying his enormous frame, schlepping Sharpie markers and photos of players to the rows of fans stuffed within the cheap metal bleachers. I could just imagine Mike Brown soliciting this white-collared behemoth at his country club.

“You're a big boy, you wanna job with the Bengals?” MB would tease the poor kid, get his hopes up to spot the d-linemen during weight training or something bad-ass like that, but instead breaks it to him that he has to sell autograph paraphernalia to weak, unprepared parents and then laughs at the kid's crushed reaction after telling him. And there would be Katie at the table next to her father, feeling sorry for this large teenager but too deep into her bottle of white wine to say anything about it. Troy might be there too, disinterested and checking out the waitress' ass. Who knows? Not me.

But that's what training camp feels like: a zoo that employs the golf crowd and lets in the poor for a free taste of their attractions. At the end of it all, no one really had to work all that hard—not even the players. I imagine the autograph sessions work themselves into a mild frenzy after practice, and I'm sure too many adults embarrass themselves by jockeying around children for their favorite players' signature, but my back always hurts after an hour or so of those hard-ass cheap metal bleachers and I never last long enough to see for myself. I left early both days, the second so I could fit in this blog post. The first so I could fit in a cold one.

Mojokong—training for something.

The Deep Jones: Final Offseason Prediction

Football lurks like a giant behind the hillside, you can see a scruffy sprig of red hair poking up over the horizon. As I stand in an open grass field, alone with my dog, I sense another presence somewhere close by. It's football. Rising above the weird odors of my kitchen, I smell football. When watching baseball or Olympic basketball, football streaks across the screen, taunting me. It crops up like a scary hallucination that I can't shake and it's getting worse. Permanent midnight. It's so close it makes my skin crawl. If it had a tracking number, I would obsessively monitor it's progress. A fresh new batch of the stuff, grown ripe and delicious, brought right to your doorstep. A football Jones of the worst degree.

We writers of the stuff can do no more meaningful analysis. At this point, we are analyzing our analysis and if we don't get training camp under way soon, the whole football literary establishment will crawl into itself and forget altogether what it was we were supposed to cover in the first place. We might have to switch to covering politics or worse. It's agonizing.

Nonetheless, dear reader, you must be placated, satisfied of your ravenous hunger for more football news. You're an impossible toddler, banging upon your high chair and wailing for more. Take no offense of such an analogy, dear reader, I am banging right along side you as I spoon feed you gobs of misguided predictions and speculative conjecture. Worry not, there is much more to be heaped upon that spoon in due time. But for now, I am stretched thin, the tank run dry, my cupboards bare.

So if today's tangent sounds repeated, vague, or generally uninteresting allow me this one pass. I haven't called in sick all year, perhaps I need a break. Or perhaps not, who knows. Either way, here we go.

As I grow a little older and watch the seasons pile up, I lose faith in my ability to really know how football works. When I feel I get a handle it, I strut about the yard like a proud rooster firing off my expertise at any ear kind enough to lean my way. Then, whatever trend I have identified so confidently changes, and I am humbled yet again. Maybe that's why this year I feel a little gun-shy to make predictions, especially about the Bengals.

In truth, my confidence in our boys has waned throughout the offseason, despite an intelligent free-agent session and an extremely promising draft. The Bengals have done nearly everything right with their personnel in the past few seasons and the talk that the team is run in any second-rate fashion can no longer hold up to the facts, but still something has me rattled about them.

This feeling is wrapped in existential mumbo-jumbo and the eddies and currents of the universe—stuff no grown up wants to hear about—but it's hard to not to acknowledge that the Bengals are a generally weird team that often surprises people in both good and bad ways. They read like a suspense novel that is painfully interesting to follow. Bengal fans know what I mean.

Yet they are hardly a reliable source. The vast majority of them will give you their take on the team in a throaty roar of “Who Dey” and leave it at that. Slightly more cerebral takes often talk of Super Bowl chances within the first few sentences and how so-and-so is ready to break out in a big way. Then there are the Negative Nelly's, the Debbie Downers of the lot, usually a person from Cincinnati but not one to call himself a fan. A person whose heart was broken once long ago and now keeps a safe distance from reliving that pain. This person will pull out Bengals history books and show you, in bold lettering, the traditional futility of the organization. They will pounce on Mike Brown's stretches of ineptitude as general manager, Marvin Lewis' overall and postseason record, and the fans lack of attendance. Even after a good season, where more positive folk throw the success back into their frowned face, the downer fan will stick to “they still suck” and feel good that they remain historically accurate.

The reality, however, is that usually a Marvin Lewis team lands pretty close to the middle. That's why before things get underway in a week or so, I will make the daring claim that the Cincinnati Bengals in 2012 will finish 8-8 and just miss the playoffs.

I know that the defenders of a better outlook will point out what they see as deficiencies in the rest of the AFC North. For years, we have been collectively eager to write off Pittsburgh and Baltimore as too old and now ready to be challenged for divisional supremacy. It rarely ever happens. There has been a lot of shakeup on both teams this year and once again there are claims that a power shift is underway, but these other franchises are run with intelligence and efficiency. At this point, we have to figure that they know what they're doing and that it's not going to change. The Bengals must improve themselves rather than wait for the towers in Pittsburgh and Baltimore to crumble on their own and simply waltz through the ruination. Marvin Lewis knows this; he's worked in all three cities. Like the youngest brother, he's close to catching up, but how patient is he? How close is close?

I don't believe in sophomore slumps but I do think progression moves in wavelengths rather than a constant increase. Andy Dalton knocked the socks off of the NFL during the middle portion of the season. By the end though, the enthusiasm waned a bit as he wilted some in big games down the stretch. There is no reason to think he will get worse, or even that he won't be better, but there will be phases throughout the year where he will likely struggle as adjustments are made.

Then there is the defense. I worry about the second and third-level tackling. Once a running back gets past the formidable front line, can the linebackers and safeties come up and make the tackle? It sounds like I'm nitpicking, sure, but such a problem can get ugly fast during the course of the season.

Once helmets and shoulder pads come off the truck and onto the bodies of football players, we will have a much better idea of what we're working with. Everything written before that will seem silly and like a waste of time, but for now we have nothing else and still need to think about football all the time. It seems like I have taken the safe road this afternoon, but for me it has been difficult to admit my true feelings on the matter. All offseason I have sang the praises of the Bengals and announced them as playoff regulars, but as time goes by, doubt sets in. Perhaps the sheer joy of seeing football played in the preseason and training camp will restore my faith, but for now I feel confused and detached. As if I know very little about a subject I once considered myself an expert.

So if the Bengals end up 12-4 and an AFC power, please forget I ever wrote this piece, and if I turn out correct, please don't remind me either—it's a cowardly prediction anyway. If anything, just remember that football writers keep at it even when there is nothing out there worthwhile. We're addicts of the stuff and mid July is the hardest on us. The tail end of the dry season, the deep Jones.

Mojokong—if it doesn't matter, it's antimatter.

Rome In A Day

In 2010, the Cincinnati Bengals crashed and burned. After lofty expectations were heaped upon them, they crumbled under the pressure and major repercussions ensued. Carson Palmer, the franchise's boy scout and number-one marketing tool, shocked the world by abruptly resigning from his post. The team was forced into a sudden era of major change and fans worried the adjustment would be long and painful.

What blossomed however was a striped tulip of immediate success. The Bengals made the playoffs and left the mouths' of their critics agape. The new guys, including that friendly new sheriff, Andy “Woody” Dalton, didn't appear phased by a dubious franchise history or oceans of naysayers. Dalton, O.C. Jay Gruden, and hot shot AJ Green got down to business as if they were paid to win. They didn't wait to be successful; they went against conventional logic and played without fear right away. Marvin Lewis looked good, and Mike Brown looked better.

Now, after a long track record of wild unpredictability, the Bengals have everyone flummoxed as to what to expect in 2012. Lately, a lot of negative press has been shot at the Bengals, like blow-gun darts dipped in hate. Most of the losing predictions seem based on Andy Dalton regressing in his second year. There is still a pervasive attitude that second-year quarterbacks are destined to struggle. Many people who will tell you that they don't believe in ghosts will admit that they believe in the sophomore slump. Yes, there are stats that can be used to strengthen the argument that a downward trend exists in production from a quarterback's first year to his second, but you can refer to Mark Twain's opinion of the manipulative nature of statistics to understand the flip-side of that argument.

Many Bengals fans have dubbed their team a Super Bowl contender and feel terrific heading into the Monday Night opener in early September against the Ravens. The fact that the team has never had back-to-back playoff seasons only fills their cups of optimism even higher. “It has to happen someday, surely this will be their time,” is the general attitude. Despite the two diverging view points on the matter, I feel the difficulty to predict their season is more about the fact that they are young, rather than about their coach or their history or anything else.  Which leads me to today's question: are the Bengals still rebuilding or are they rebuilt?

The topic was raised in my head due to some recent NBA news. Steve Nash, that googly-eyed Canadian mad ball of a point-guard, joined the ranks of Kobe Bryant and Jed Clampett and moved to Los Angeles. Bringing in another veteran to match Kobe and crew shows the Lakers hesitancy to begin a rebuilding process of their own. I remember after Magic, Kareem and Worthy retired, and suddenly the Lakers best player was Sedal Threat, I felt weird about the transition. Kobe, Jerry Buss, and Mitch Kupchak must remember that too. What would a rebuilt Lakers team look like? What would a rebuilt Bengals team look like? Are the Bengals already rebuilt?

The sheer definition is hard to pinpoint, but typically a rebuilding process is the removal of the more marketable players on a team simply to make room for any replacement. Often it's a youth movement that purges the veterans into sudden free-agents. The frustrating part for fans is that most times it takes multiple seasons to harvest the talent collection that comes with high draft picks.

The Bengals followed the rebuilding formula to a tee. Gone are Carson, Ocho, TO, Cedric Benson, Bobbie Williams, Dhani Jones, Chris Crocker and other aged, overpaid grizzly bears. Here is a bumper crop of money-making talent, baby-faces of the franchise ready to shed the old Bengal image like a dried up corn husk. The surprise was the immediacy of the youngsters' impact. Although struggles bubbled to the surface in lengthy stretches at times last year, a 9-7 record and a trip to Wild-Card Weekend was light-years ahead of most Bengal prognoses.

But a solid record and some high-potential offensive players do not mark the end of a rebuilding process. This team is not without a veteran presence. Both outside linebackers are in the second half of their careers, a couple of the cornerbacks were alive for the Bengals first Super Bowl appearance, and, as baffling as it is, Robert Geathers still plays football in Cincinnati. As each day passes, my worry about this defense grows. The unit does come equipped with some fearsome young d-linemen and a first round corner, but linebacker and safety depth seem to be sold separately. A lot of faith has been granted toward Mike Zimmer and his defensive wizardry. He is a man who speaks of his guys and his program is unshakeable, but how much success can one man wring out of a largely no-name group? Can effort and knowledge of system alone continue to be enough to end up a top-10 defense again?

Despite what may or may not be missing on defense, the Bengals are going mostly young and mostly on the strength of their coaches in 2012. They expect their youth to further blossom—unimpeded by superstitious slumps—and excel with the aid of a full off-season. The rebuilding phase is largely complete, it's only deceiving to recognize because of the speed of its development. The front office actually lucked out when Palmer took his ball and went home and the ensuing draft allowed the team to become immediately better without him or his old mates. Then the two high draft picks Oakland gave up to get him was like manna from heaven. Next year, like every year, will bring more youth and excitement, but the foundation we see before us today, the current marketability of the Bengals franchise, is here to stay for a full and extended era. Better...stronger...faster!

Mojokong—going heat crazy.