BOB KRAVITZ
For Dungy, time is now to deliver in playoffs
September 6, 2006
This is the fifth year for Tony Dungy as coach of the Indianapolis Colts. That's a lifetime in most NFL locales, where they would have been
asking, "When's he taking them to the Super Bowl?'' after the second or third straight playoff flop. Around here, though, continuity is valued like a precious gem, so despite four doomed postseason efforts while working with arguably the best talent in the league, nobody dares place Dungy where he belongs.
On the hot seat.
This should -- not will be, but should -- be his make-or-break season in Indianapolis.
As in win, or else.
This will be his fifth year with Peyton Manning and Marvin Harrison and Reggie Wayne and Dwight Freeney. You can't show me a team that matches the Colts for raw talent. And that's even without Edgerrin James on the roster.
You say this is the Colts' time? Listen, it has been the Colts' time the past three years. It was the Colts' time until they spit up on themselves in New England in the AFC title game three years ago. It was the Colts' time two years ago until they no-showed for the repeat in New England. And heaven knows it was the Colts' time last year, when all the stars and planets and even Pluto were perfectly aligned, at least until the boys did their now-annual vanishing act in front of a home crowd.
Let's be honest: If Dungy's name was Tom Coughlin, or Nick Saban, or any one of the other less-lovable coaches in this league, we'd be issuing ultimatums and turning up the temperature.
But we don't.
Because he's Tony.
Because he's hands-down the nicest man in the National Football League. Because he stands for everything that is good and noble in sport and in life. Because he has handled the real-life tragedy in his life with such grace. At some level, we root for the good guy to finish first; even crusty sportswriters wish him the best, and we're a group that would criticize Mother Teresa.
There is no question in my mind, Dungy gets handled with kid gloves, both here and nationally.
Imagine if this was Jim Mora, taking over one of the two or three most talented teams in the league, blessed with future Hall of Famers at multiple positions, and failing to get his team to the Super Bowl.
The howls for his head would have been deafening.
Consider the plight of the other big-league coach in town, the Pacers' Rick Carlisle. First year, he took his team to the Eastern Conference finals. Second year, he somehow fashioned a playoff team from the wreckage of The Brawl. True, last season was a disappointment, but the Pacers spent most of the year with at least two starters injured.
Right now, he's approaching the final year of his contract without an extension, and if the Pacers stumble early, there's reason to believe he'll pay with his job.
Dungy, though, is Teflon.
Now, I've never been one who believed that junk about how some players or coaches "just can't win the big one," like losing high-stake games is part of their genetic code. Marty Schottenheimer fell short of two Super Bowls because of one John Elway-led drive and one Earnest Byner fumble. Marv Levy would have won a championship if Scott Norwood's kick had sailed a few yards to the left.
I wonder, though, whether there's just a little bit of truth to the whispers that have always accompanied Dungy. Because, well, he hasn't won the big one. In fact, he has lost several big ones by several touchdowns, presiding over some of the lamest postseason efforts imaginable.
Yes, he built the Tampa Bay Buccaneers into a special team, and maybe if he'd kept his job, he would have taken them across the Super Bowl threshold the next season. But he didn't. And his successor, Jon Gruden, got the job done.
Now, here, this will be his fifth year, again with all the pieces in place for a Super Bowl run.
If it doesn't happen this time, what makes team owner Jim Irsay or president Bill Polian or anybody else think he's the man to lead the Colts in the future?
As much as I would love to think that a man of quiet dignity and honor can take a team to the Super Bowl, I can't help wondering if the pursuit of NFL greatness requires more of an angry edge, and a judicious use of fear as a motivator.
Like Pittsburgh's Bill Cowher.
Whose players seem to like him, respect him and fear him just a little.
The Colts will not be able to keep the core of this team together forever. Already they've parted with James, David Thornton and Larry Tripplett. Over time, they'll have to make more hard decisions when it's time to pay Freeney and others. The window of opportunity isn't shutting, but it won't stay quite so wide open forever.
After five years under Dungy, it's time. Time to deliver. Time to reach a Super Bowl. Time to win one.
And if not?
It's time to look elsewhere.
IndyStar.com
For Dungy, time is now to deliver in playoffs
September 6, 2006
This is the fifth year for Tony Dungy as coach of the Indianapolis Colts. That's a lifetime in most NFL locales, where they would have been
asking, "When's he taking them to the Super Bowl?'' after the second or third straight playoff flop. Around here, though, continuity is valued like a precious gem, so despite four doomed postseason efforts while working with arguably the best talent in the league, nobody dares place Dungy where he belongs.
On the hot seat.
This should -- not will be, but should -- be his make-or-break season in Indianapolis.
As in win, or else.
This will be his fifth year with Peyton Manning and Marvin Harrison and Reggie Wayne and Dwight Freeney. You can't show me a team that matches the Colts for raw talent. And that's even without Edgerrin James on the roster.
You say this is the Colts' time? Listen, it has been the Colts' time the past three years. It was the Colts' time until they spit up on themselves in New England in the AFC title game three years ago. It was the Colts' time two years ago until they no-showed for the repeat in New England. And heaven knows it was the Colts' time last year, when all the stars and planets and even Pluto were perfectly aligned, at least until the boys did their now-annual vanishing act in front of a home crowd.
Let's be honest: If Dungy's name was Tom Coughlin, or Nick Saban, or any one of the other less-lovable coaches in this league, we'd be issuing ultimatums and turning up the temperature.
But we don't.
Because he's Tony.
Because he's hands-down the nicest man in the National Football League. Because he stands for everything that is good and noble in sport and in life. Because he has handled the real-life tragedy in his life with such grace. At some level, we root for the good guy to finish first; even crusty sportswriters wish him the best, and we're a group that would criticize Mother Teresa.
There is no question in my mind, Dungy gets handled with kid gloves, both here and nationally.
Imagine if this was Jim Mora, taking over one of the two or three most talented teams in the league, blessed with future Hall of Famers at multiple positions, and failing to get his team to the Super Bowl.
The howls for his head would have been deafening.
Consider the plight of the other big-league coach in town, the Pacers' Rick Carlisle. First year, he took his team to the Eastern Conference finals. Second year, he somehow fashioned a playoff team from the wreckage of The Brawl. True, last season was a disappointment, but the Pacers spent most of the year with at least two starters injured.
Right now, he's approaching the final year of his contract without an extension, and if the Pacers stumble early, there's reason to believe he'll pay with his job.
Dungy, though, is Teflon.
Now, I've never been one who believed that junk about how some players or coaches "just can't win the big one," like losing high-stake games is part of their genetic code. Marty Schottenheimer fell short of two Super Bowls because of one John Elway-led drive and one Earnest Byner fumble. Marv Levy would have won a championship if Scott Norwood's kick had sailed a few yards to the left.
I wonder, though, whether there's just a little bit of truth to the whispers that have always accompanied Dungy. Because, well, he hasn't won the big one. In fact, he has lost several big ones by several touchdowns, presiding over some of the lamest postseason efforts imaginable.
Yes, he built the Tampa Bay Buccaneers into a special team, and maybe if he'd kept his job, he would have taken them across the Super Bowl threshold the next season. But he didn't. And his successor, Jon Gruden, got the job done.
Now, here, this will be his fifth year, again with all the pieces in place for a Super Bowl run.
If it doesn't happen this time, what makes team owner Jim Irsay or president Bill Polian or anybody else think he's the man to lead the Colts in the future?
As much as I would love to think that a man of quiet dignity and honor can take a team to the Super Bowl, I can't help wondering if the pursuit of NFL greatness requires more of an angry edge, and a judicious use of fear as a motivator.
Like Pittsburgh's Bill Cowher.
Whose players seem to like him, respect him and fear him just a little.
The Colts will not be able to keep the core of this team together forever. Already they've parted with James, David Thornton and Larry Tripplett. Over time, they'll have to make more hard decisions when it's time to pay Freeney and others. The window of opportunity isn't shutting, but it won't stay quite so wide open forever.
After five years under Dungy, it's time. Time to deliver. Time to reach a Super Bowl. Time to win one.
And if not?
It's time to look elsewhere.
IndyStar.com