Knee Jerk Reactions to Week 9: Patriots vs. Falcons

Things to consider while living in a world where baserunners who should run through home plate since there's a force play on, instead choose to slide, while superstar quarterbacks who should slide, instead choose to run through linebackers:

--Before the season, whenever anyone would come up to me and ask for a prediction on how many games the Patriots would win, I always said the same thing. "You're going to just let this commoner approach me? Idiots! What am I paying you goons for?" And when my bodyguards were done roughing the guy up, I'd say, "One thing we don't know right now is, will this be a team that knows how to win games? I know that's a tired cliche, but that makes it no less true. Will they be one of those teams that's disciplined, that keeps its focus when thinks aren't going right, and keeps doing the little things that make all the difference in a close game?" I'd then go on to explain how that has not been the case these past few seasons. I'd cite some of the dozens of examples - from even when Belichick was still coach - where opponents would be keeping things close and wait for the Pats to make the critical mistakes in high-leverage situations. And they always seemed to comply. "I expect this team will figure out 'How to win' under Mike Vrabel," I'd continue. "What's impossible to say is how long that will take. That's the best I can give you. Now, begone, peasant! And no more eye contact. Have I made myself clear?"

--Yesterday was a prime example of a team capable of figuring out how to win. Of how to make just enough plays when it matters most, even when very few things are going right. They lost the turnover battle. Had a coverage matchup battle they simply could not win, no matter who they assigned the task to. Had problems in pass protection. Played worse as the game went along. Got one huge lucky break, and made it count. And the W they came away with looks exactly the same at the other six they already had. After years of sometimes having to settle for losses that were Moral Victories, they're giving me what I wanted all along: Genuine Immoral Victories. 

--Starting at the end, with the plays that made the biggest impact when the Pats needed them most, I'll start with Milton Williams. An Atlanta 1st down, and a 25-yard completion to Drake London (remember that name) had the ball on the Patriots half of the field needing on a field goal to take the lead with the 2:00 warning approaching. He was ready for the snap in ways Michael Penix and right guard Jovaughn Gwyn weren't. Williams' penetration turned a 2nd & 10 with 10 yards to gain for a field goal try, into a 3rd & 20 at the Falcons' 42:

And a Patriots defense that had been on its back foot the whole second half was instead able to go into a deep quarters coverage shell, force a punt and give their offense a chance to put the game on ice. "Williams' Penetration" works on a lot of levels. It could be a battlefield tactic. The kind of ailment they sold tonics for back in the 1920s. And a sex position. But in this context, it was nothing less than this team proving to the world, and themselves, they can come up with a game winning play in a a desperate, have-to-have-it situation. That kind of difference-maker will turn a regular team into one that believes in itself. And those are the most dangerous kind of opponent in the last half of a season.

--The next such play was the one that put the Pats in victory formation. After the subsequent punt, backed up into their own red zone, Josh McDaniels called for two Terrell Jennings dive plays, trading downs for Atlanta's remaining timeouts. Facing a 3rd & 5 and needing one 1st down, he dialed up this Dagger concept. Stefon Diggs from the middle and Mack Hollins from the outside run dig routes, to pull the corners inside, and Hunter Henry runs the bend behind them:

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Will Campbell went for the dive block on Arnold Ebiketie off the edge, keeping him from getting his hands up in time. DJ Bertrand was caught looking in the backfield, and his hesitation killed. Henry already had the ball in his hands by the time Hollins contacted Bertrand, making it not so much a pick play, but an upfield block, and that was ballgame. 

--A short time later the Colts lost at Pittsburgh. And now the team that was one Week 18 win away from having the worst record in the league is now tied for the best record. Because they make these plays on both sides of the ball in critical moments. It's been a while since we've been able to say any of these things. 

--If only it had been easier. In the first half, they were dominating everywhere but the scoreboard:

For the first time all season, they didn't start the game with the NFL equivalent of a Garfield mug that reads, "Don't talk to me until I've had my coffee." They broke out of their season-long habit of not being ready for an opponent's opening possession's scripted plays, forcing a 3 & out thanks to Williams sniffing out and subsequently blowing up a screen pass to Bijan Robinson, and a K'Lavon Chaisson sack. And this one felt different.

--It felt even differenter when Drake Maye led them to the rare early lead. McDaniels used a variety of looks and schemes, TreVeyon Henderson on inside zones, Terrell Jennings on gap runs out of shotgun, behind Hollins motioning inside to block. Henderson broke tackles on a sit route at the numbers to pick up a 1st. Another in the flat to Henderson that got sprung by a Jack Westover (playing a season-high 46% of the snaps, often split out wide) block on AJ Terrell for 19. Then Maye, like a foodie recognizing the perfect wine to go with a particular course, saw the pairing of Pop Douglas out of the backfield, and how well it complimented edge rusher Jalon Walker in coverage:

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 Mwah! Chef's kiss. 

--Everything was going according to plan. Another stop on the Falcons second possession thanks to Chaisson again crashing into the backfield and breaking things. And this had all the earmarks of a blowout. You couldn't blame any guy in the stadium if he was watching this and thinking about leaving early. Getting home. Taking the dog for a walk. Maybe promising his honey he'll take her to see Wicked: For Good and hope she'll invite him upstairs for a little "Williams' Penetration." Because the Patriots were defying gravity and together their future is unlimited. 

--Until it became very limited all of a sudden. If I have a beef with the way Mike Vrabel and his staff are running these defense, it's that they've built it around very talented man coverage defenders, but seem to have a fixation on switching to zones when it's not needed. Out-thinking themselves Treating two consecutive stops that consisted of 8 plays for 15 total yards like it's Shock Wire and needs to be fixed before it kills someone in the shower. As opposed to simply sticking with what's working. The first big chunk play for the Falcons came on the third drive, when Kyle Pitts ran a choice route away from Craig Woodson as the deep middle defender, and it went for 22. Followed by London running a slant under the cushion Christian Gonzalez for 11. And a play later came the first of his three touchdowns, all of them high point catches in the end zone, two of them against Marcus Jones:

--Sometimes, it's not about the size of the man; it's about something you cannot measure: His heart. This is not one of those situations. When you're trying to stop a 6-foot-4, 215 pound, supremely gifted mega-athlete, heart helps. Just not nearly as much as height, weight and speed. 

--To be fair to Jones, who shouldn't be in that matchup, ever, it's not like anyone else was slowing London down:

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And it was absolutely Bananaland the way the Falcons receivers just kept making incredible catches. They all seemed to have the catch radius of a Hindu goddess and made more diving catches than you'd see on a week's worth of Baseball Tonight Web Gems. I just wish the defensive staff would have tried bracketing London with Gonzalez and a safety and take their chances with everyone else, rather than get into zones and rotations that put a 5-8 corner on him and giving Penix a prime target to exploit. Jones isn't going to win too many more DPOTMs this way. 

--But that's enough criticisms for the coaches, given what they've accomplished over the first half of the season. Yes, there were glitches. Michael Onwenu blocked nothing but air on Maye's fumble that set up a 1st & goal just before the half. Maye himself should've just taken the sack in that part of the field, and lived to lead another drive at the start of the 3rd. That's just terrible situational awareness. And after that equally terrible pick Maye threw, Vrabel did what the good ones do, which is get his young quarterback's head right:

--More to the point, this game further demonstrates how Vrabel and McDaniel have built this offense, the wide receiver position especially, into a Voltron that can be reconfigured to take any shape they need it to in a given week. In Buffalo, it was all Diggs. Last week, Hollins led the way. Kayshon Boutte has been the deep threat. And when he went out yesterday with a bad hammie after just 18 plays, it was Douglas' turn to be the first dog pulling the sled. And while the saying goes that "Only the lead dog gets a good view," that's not the case here. Everyone contributes. It was just Douglas' chance to shine, and he didn't pass it up. 

Granted, all of Pop's yards after catch were broad physical comedy. Like Chevy Chase when they'd have him trip over a set of drums for 10 minutes on Community before he got fired. Or mid-90s Jim Carrey before he started chasing Oscars. But it was a another great route combo run by Douglas and Diggs, who motioned to the opposite side of the field so they could run a deep cross that allowed Douglas to shake Dee Alford for the 58-yard catch and run.

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--But there was no more gratifying moment that watching Diggs run for about 50 yards to pick up 11, break tackles in slow motion like Leonidas fighting his way through Persians, before finally reaching the pylon:

--And of course what made it more better than all the other touchdowns scored was that it was inspired by true love:

I've been informed that when Diggs scored, the Gillette PA system started blaring a Cardi B song. Quite possibly one called "Twerk." My relationship with you is based entirely on honesty. And as long as you're in my Oval of Trust, I'm not going to pretend I'm familiar with her work, beyond "WAP," which they chose not to play for some reason. Since neither that one nor "Twerk" come up on my Yacht Rock station, I'll just have to take the public's word for it. I'm just glad she's made it to Gillette and the man who loves her is trying to impress her.

--Cardi and the Krafts were also joined by Kenny Chesney. I'd pay good money for the live stream of those conversations 

--This Week's Applicable Movie Quote: "It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead. There's a big difference between being mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive." - Miracle Max, The Princess Bride

--At the game I discovered something I'd never actually paid attention to before. Or it's a brand new job that's only just been invented. Either way, this is my new career path. There are two guys who stand on the sideline, on the vistors side at around the 30 yard line. Who's only job seems to be when to alert everyone the TV timeout is over. One guy in a blue windbreaker and green hat. His Robin-like sidekick with both arms clad in Traffic Cone Orange. Like a mutant who can turn his arms into those sticks they use to guide airliners to the gate. They step onto the field and Green Hat tells Orange Arms man when it's time to use his powers to tell the world the network is done running ads with Kevin Hart or Eli Manning and trailers for the all new episodes of some lady detective show. Why that takes two guys, I have no idea. Maybe because Orange Arms has no hands and can't operate a device on his own, which seems easily correctable with just shorter sleeves. But I say that not wanting Green Hat to lose his job in this economy. Anyway, I'm glad to find an occupation that does less actual work than I did working for the MA Trial Court. They've inspired me to get into this field, and I'll be checking later to see if there are courses on it at the  Community College.

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--There was some speculation about what Arthur Blank and Mr. Kraft were talking about on the 50 prior to the game. With most people guessing they were trashing Belichick. But the romantic in me likes to think Blank is still salty about the Super Bowl rings made with 283 diamonds. Which still might be the greatest flex between multibillionaire industrialists since Henry Ford lost a court case to the Dodge Brothers, had to pay them billions, bought them out, and then crushed them. But those cars are all rusting in landfills, while those diamonds are eternal.

--Finally, let me end on a personal note. I considered staying home for this one, but I simply couldn't:

… along with my brother Bill,  took me to my first ever pro sporting event, Saints at Patriots in Foxboro when I was 13. I’ll be spending the day the way they would want me to. At Gillette. Hoping to recapture some of the same feelings I had that day and keep the memories of these special men alive. I hope to see you there  Go Pats. 

I've mentioned it before, but that day Jack, Bill and Phil took me to my first Pats game left a mark. I still get sense memories of it every time I hit the tailgate scene. Or if a neighbor has a charcoal grill fired up. Even sometimes there's just guys throwing a football around, the way we did. When I was a kid hanging out with adult family members who let me be part of the crew for the first time. Even in the dirt parking lot in that cheap, Soviet-bloc style stadium, sitting on aluminum benches watch fights break out every 3.5 minutes, I felt 10 feet tall and bulletproof. That day made an impression that's as real today as it is indelible. And it wasn't lost on me that now I'm sitting in the press box above six Super Bowl banners. A few hundred yards from the old stadium where we used to sit.  Like the time when I was in high school, Jack and I once went to a game that was so awful - they lost their 13th game on the way to 2-14 and the worst record in the league - that teenage me politely asked a security guard what we'd have to do to get thrown out. (Note: Jack always claimed he said it, but this is my blog.) And we loved that team in spite of it. So now it's been exactly a year since these two cousins met their final reward. Each joining a brother who also passed in 2024. Going to the Pats game seemed like the only appropriate place to be. As anyone who's ever lost a loved one they used to have these experiences with can confirm, it's a bittersweet feeling. You experience the memories of the good times you shared, but the loss hits you so much more. The guys you'd normally talk to for hours about this game aren't around, so you have the conversation in your own head, imagining what they'd say. You feel full and yet empty at the same time. Sort of incomplete. Hollowed out. It's hard to describe. The closest I could come up with is a lyric by Thornton Family favorite Warren Zevon. "Sometimes I feel like my shadow's casting me." Sunday at Gillette was one of those days. Even though Pats fans are my favorite group of people and I want to thank everyone who took the time to say hi. I'm going to keep going to every game I can, i honor of these exceptional men and the impact they had on my life. I know I'm not alone in this and thousands of us have similar experiences at these games. Anway, thanks for reading. Call your brothers and sisters.