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LEWIS OBSTRUCTS JUSTICE, GIANTS
Quoth the Raven: What a bore.
Ray Lewis had more fun at this year's Superbowl than he did at last year's. That puts him in a small minority.
Last night's overhyped game, in which Lewis's Baltimore Ravens murdered the New York Giants by 34-7, was arguably the dullest in what has always been a stultifying affair.
At least in past routs, the winning teams were proud franchises stocked with stars: Joe Montana, Emmitt Smith, Brett Favre. Plenty of people, this columnist included, hated the 49ers and the Cowboys. But plenty of people also loved the 49ers and the Cowboys.
The Chicago Bears annihilated the New England Patriots in 1985 by 46-10, but Jim McMahon, Walter Payton, Mike Singletary and William (The Refrigerator) Perry made that Superbowl fun to watch.
This year we have the Ravens, a team that has been in existence for exactly five years. A team named after a poem by a drug-addled Baltimorean. A team that has fewer die-hard fans than LARGEREGO has loyal readers. A team that is not only blander than a plate of Uncle Ben's, but completely devoid of likeable characters. To wit:
The owner, Art Modell, is one of the most reviled figures in all of sports, a man who stopped attending games when his announcement that the then-Browns would move from Cleveland generated death threats.
Trent Dilfer is the most boring quarterback ever to play in a Superbowl, just ahead of Kerry (Please Make It a Virgin Tom) Collins and Tony Eason.
The equine Shannon Sharpe, a notorious loudmouth, spent most of the week defending Ray Lewis from the barbs of the media, who collectively were responsible, clearly, for Lewis's involvement with the double murders in Atlanta last year. If only Justin Timberlake's fingers of flame had been turned on Shannon, the halftime show might have been worth watching.
(By the way, has anyone heard of this Nelly person? According to ROLLING STONE, Nelly, ne Cornell Haynes Jr., is the author of a hip hop album called Country Grammar. The question I put to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is: Is he a legitimate rapper, or just some dude in gasta garb CBS elevated to celebrity status? Because they could do that, and most of the however-many-millions who tune din last night would never know the difference. Nell Carter has more starpower than this guy. Sings better, too).
Tony Siragusa could be Jose Canseco's fat older brother. Two weeks ago, this lard of a defensive lineman bodyslammed Oakland quarterback Rich Gannon, a vicious and illegal hit that separated Gannon's shoulder, which is what happens when Jabba the Hutt falls on you. So desperate were Mickey Mouse and company for a marketable Raven, they turned this clod into a Disneyworld billboard.
And of course there's linebacker Ray Lewis, the NFL's Defensive Player of the Year, the game's Most Valuable Player, and the defendant in a double murder trial during the off-season. He copped a misdemeanor plea of obstructing justice in exchange for ratting on his two friends, both of whom were -- mirabile dictu -- acquitted.
Lewis refused to discuss the trial all week, hiding behind Sharpe and his coach. When he did speak, he railed on the media for not giving Baltimore "respect," even though his team was favored to win and the Ravens defense was uniformly lauded.
"There is no emotion like this," exclaimed Lewis to Jim (The Al Gore of Sports Broadcasting) Nantz at game's end. "Right now, to be here after being where I was last year. The man upstairs doesn't put you through tragedy without bringing some triumph."
It was not clear if Lewis was referring to God or Ravens Director of Player Personnel Ozzie Newsome.
The NFL has a serious problem. Their product is no longer entertaining. Pete Rozelle's dream of league parity has been realized. Every team has a chance to win the championship, but every team is also fatally flawed. The Ravens defense was good enough to stave off the Broncos, Titans, Raiders, and Giants, but their offense was putrid.
"I don't understand why football is the national pastime," my girlfriend said when the game was over. "It's so confusing."
And she is right. When a football game is good, there is nothing better. But when it's bad, there is no sporting event -- not the Australian Open, not the World Cup, not the Ididarod -- more boring.
The problem is, good football games are few and far between. Seasons go by without any. Combine that with arcane rules, a player convicted of conspiracy to commit murder, expansion (Go, Houston Texans, go!), and the changing of the guard from media darlings like John Elway, Dan Marino, and Steve Young to Jesus freaks like Kurt Warner, self-styled thugs like Lewis, and bores like Trent Dilfer, and you've got a hard sell.
When Babe Ruth emerged on the baseball scene in the 1920s, the two most popular sports were boxing and horse-racing. Now, it's baseball and football. Who knows? Twenty years from now it could be hockey and "Survivor."
By Greg Olear
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