My, That Was Very Commodore-Like Of You

I would say that it felt like getting kicked in the balls, but I don't even think that adequately describes what happened on the field last night. We lost. Yeah, just like usual, but this was no ordinary loss. With 9:02 to go, we were up 22-3. With 1:30 to go, they were up 25-22, and it was pretty much over.

But the story of this game requires a little more detail than that.

***

For those keeping track, we played the first-place Frankfurt Galaxy last night, the same Frankfurt Galaxy that beat us 35-7 in a demoralizing beating a few weeks ago at their place. We knew we were better than that, and even though we were officially out of the World Bowl picture after losing last week to Hamburg, we wanted to play better than that drubbing the last time.

Especially because we were playing this one at home, where we WERE 0-3 so far this season.

So, in comes big bad Frankfurt. They're in first place, looking to get a little closer to the World Bowl. (as we explained last time, they couldn't clinch this week.) Also for those keeping track, you know that our story this season is that we play between 2 and 3 quarters of football a game, and if we lose, it's because we get obliterated in those quarters that we essentially don't show up. In both our wins, we've won because we've played exceedingly well in the few minutes that we showed up.

So, our aim coming into this one? Play a complete game to our potential. We know that when we want to play, we can come back from 21 down against a team that's tied for first (Cologne). So, let's go do it.

Since we were playing Frankfurt this week, and they're NFL Europa's baby, the game was live on NFL Network. Plenty of players' parents and families were in the stands (as we'll get to later). We didn't want to lose 4 in a row--both overall, and at home. We didn't want to secure a losing record for the season. And we wanted to wash away that beat down they gave us last time.

So, we come out, and on our first drive, Chris Barclay scores a touchdown. (That's our first touchdown in the first quarter this season.) Barclay would end up having a huge day, by far the best day that any one player had for us at all this season.

They come back on offense, and even though they get down into our red zone--they even scored a touchdown at one point that got called back--we held them to a field goal. Our guys start to feel like we can play with these guys. Confidence is growing.

Mostly uneventful second quarter. We trade a few punts. But, I must point out, Key Play Of The Loss #1: a missed 50-yard field goal midway through the quarter.

This is a good time to point out our kicker odyssey we went through this week.

On Thursday, we come to the conclusion that our regular kicker, Andrew Jacas, he of the 50-yard field goal record in NFL Europa, sufficiently injured his quad in last week's game, to the point that he cannot kick this week. So, we get on the phone with D.J. Fitzpatrick, who punted with us in training camp.

Keep this timeline in mind: we call him Thursday. We tell him that he's going to kick off and kick field goals for us on Saturday. He gets on a plane Friday morning. He lands in Berlin Saturday around 1:30 PM. We kick off at 6. He opens the game with a kickoff--presumably his first kickoff since Notre Dame, in 2005. On probably zero hours of sleep, after a trans-Atlantic Flight which took off, at this point, over 20 hours ago to his body.

Next up? A 40-yard field goal to give us a 7-point lead over the best team in the league. It could be the first field goal he's kicked in almost a year and a half. I doubt he's eaten yet in this country so far...maybe a banana during pre-game.

It's up...and it's good!

Holding, on linebacker Tim Clarke. 10 yard penalty. Repeat the try.

Okay, D.J. (by the way...this couldn't have happened to a nicer, down to earth guy.) 50-yard field goal--yes, a 4-pointer here in NFLE--which, I assume again, he hasn't even attempted since he placekicked at Notre Dame his senior year. Even then, I doubt he had to kick many 50-yarders in his day. Check that, I don't think he's ever attempted a 50-yarder after a flight across the ocean. And I don't think he ever will again--I found out later that he's spent the entire last year training to be a full-time punter.

To his credit, it was right on line. From my angle, it appeared that someone got a piece of it, but either way, it fell short.

Keep that in mind: 3 points that we had, called back for holding, and a short 4-pointer.

We trade punts for the rest of the second quarter. Time of possession in the second: Frankfurt- 2:42, Berlin: 12:18. No points scored for either side.

We come out in the second half, feeling full well that we can beat these guys. We've been killing them in the run game. Barclay had 73 first-half rushing yards. So, we come out in the third quarter, and we run, run, run run......run. 12 called runs on our first drive, and six in a row to Cal Murray, who eventually bulldozed in for a 1-yard touchdown.

Enjoy this post-touchdown sequence: PAT attempt: blocked by Bill Alford (go dores!). Offsides on Alford, rekick from the 1. PAT attempt good, offsides on someone, retry from the half yard line.

We bring in the offense. For a half yard, we're going for two. And we get it! Another Cal Murray run. We're up 15-3.

They come in and go three and out. We come out and run, run run.....run. Here's one sequence of ball carriers during this drive: Barclay, Barclay, Barclay, Murray, Murray, Barclay, Barclay. Followed by incomplete pass, incomplete pass. Up to that point, we called about a million runs, and drove from our 17 to their 27. We call two passes, and the drive dies. So again, we need to put the scoring into the hands of the probably now-delirious D.J. 44 yard field goal.

Short. You can't blame the kid one bit. But remember this.

So their quarterback, J.T. O'Sullivan--one of the best in the league--is coming out firing. To make matters worse, our ends keep losing contain and he can scramble for first downs almost at will.

End of the third quarter. We're up, 15-3. Time of possession in the third quarter: Galaxy-3:02, Thunder- 11:58. Time of possession over the last two quarters combined: Galaxy-5:44, Thunder-24:16. And we only scored 8 points!

The fourth quarter essentially begins with O'Sullivan getting picked off by safety Chris Harrell.

We come out, with 13:49 remaining, up by 12 against the most potent offense in the league, in a game where we're dominating the ground game, and do this: false start, incomplete, incomplete, incomplete, time out. (Luckily, a defensive penalty gave us a few yards and another play.) Next play? 62 yard completion! Then a wide receiver reverse! Then a rushing touchdown! We're up 22-3 with 10 minutes to go! They need a miracle to come back!

....let's just keep going, shall we?

So, when you're down big at the end of the game, what do you need to come back? You need quick scores and quick defensive outs. Frankfurt comes out, and J.T. O'Sullivan proceeds to do this: 18 yard completion, incomplete, 30 yard completion, 20 yard touchdown pass. 22-10. That took 1:15. Again, in this time span, he could have waited for his receivers to run back to Frankfurt--he had that much time in the pocket. No pass rush to be heard of.

They kick off to us--but don't go onsides, just a regular kickoff. We come out and, first throw an incompletion, but then run for a first down. There are about 7 minutes left, we're up 12 at home, and we're running the ball like crazy. Chris Barclay just went over 100 yards--on his 11th carry, our first 100-yard rusher of the year.

Then, Key Play #....whatever: on the next play: Cal Murray runs for no gain. Gets called for taunting. 15 yard penalty, making it 2nd and 25.

A league official (who I will not name), who was at our game, came up to me on the sideline and said: "Andy, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're going to lose this game because of that taunt. I can feel it."

That's when the feeling started in my stomach.

Anyway, we were winning, so of course our offense couldn't dig themselves out of 2nd and 25. Tom Malone comes in to punt--and he has a habit of not punting well when we really need him to. 26 yard punt. Their ball, just over 5 to go.

On my NFL Network headset, I can hear the play-by-play guy, Ari Wolff, say: "You know, we left Frankfurt for dead about ten minutes ago, but if they can get a quick score here, this could be a ball game."

And that's when the feeling in my stomach started growing. I started remembering Travis saying, to the NFL Network crew in our production meeting, "You know, I feel like if we play four quarters of football, this is a good football team. Our problem is that we play two or three quarters." By that math, our two or three quarters of good ball were up.

Here we were, at home against the league's best team, fighting desperately to win at home for once, to save our dignity after suffering our worst defeat of the season against them last time--and here we were, up by 12, and looking at our sideline, you could see the seams start to unravel. Everyone started to realize, wow, our defense hasn't stopped them yet this quarter. Our offense started to realize, man, we gave them a chance to get back into this game. But still, no one could have possibly guessed how this epic meltdown could, or would, go down.

J.T. and the Frankfurt offense come on the field. On a 9-play drive--all passing plays--he goes 7 of 9 for 82 yards, culminating in a 6-yard touchdown to the tight end. How long did it take? It was their longest drive of the second half--2 minutes, 23 seconds. 22-17 us, with 2:45 left. And they had all 3 time outs.

"Still," Ari Wolff said to a live audience watching on NFL Network, "as strong as Chris Barclay and the Thunder rushing attack have been so far, all they really need is a first down or two on the ground, and this game is over."

We come out and, after Murray runs for no gain and they call a time out, I start to realize that there's no way we're going to run on this play. As my mom says, "You feel it in your bones." I knew, in MY bones, that we were not going to run on this play.

After all, we still had to let them back into the game.

To everyone's credit, the play worked beautifully. Play action, naked bootleg. Travis threw a strike to a wide open Charles Davis. Hit him right in the chest and Charles goes down with it, I assume to protect the ball and not fumble or lose it. He had it right over the first down marker. The game was just about over.

As he falls down with it, his impact on the ground makes him drop the pass. Incomplete pass.

"Why are they throwing the ball here?," Wolff asked his audience. "That wasn't a very good idea."

You could feel the collective air start to get sucked out of anyone associated with the Berlin Thunder--fans, staff, and players included. Everyone started to realize that yes, it was going to happen.

But it's still third down, and Barclay is on fire, so we've got a shot. We come out, and...Travis drops back to pass. Again--it was a well-called play that was about to work. Travis threw a great ball in Carlton Brewster's direction--Brewster ran an out. I mean, when you throw it to the league's leading wide receiver who's wide open, it's never a bad idea, right?

Brewster slipped and fell. It sails out of bounds. Fourth down, and our drive took exactly 4 seconds off the clock. One guy threw his helmet as he came off; Brewster couldn't believe he fell down; Travis was, undeniably, frustrated after throwing two perfect, first down balls, neither of which hit their man, and may have sealed his team's fate.

I started to recount all of the games I'd lost in my career in football, remembering telling anyone who'd listen that my teams, unquestionably, are losers. And that I don't know what it's like to win, and I don't know how to win. I do know though, for around 80 times, what it's like to lose, and the many various ways to lose. You can lose big, or you can lose a close one; you can get blown out, or you can blow them out and just come up short; you can lose with turnovers, or you can lose on defense; you can get outscored, or you can just not score enough; you can lose with nice guys that aren't very talented, and you can lose with awful guys that have tons of talent; of course, you can lose with awful guys that have no talent; you can lose with smart guys that try really hard, but just aren't big enough; you can lose with big guys that just don't care and don't try; and then you can lose the games like we're watching right now, the kind of game that makes you embarrassed to wear the colors your wearing, when you can almost hear the other team on their sideline saying afterward, "Man, we had no business winning that game." Those are without question the worst.

"What the fuck is wrong with your guys?" the NFL Network director said to me over the headset. "This is why you're 2-5, Andy! And it's why you're about to be 2-6!"

The blood poured into my cheeks. I knew what was about to happen, but I still didn't want to believe it.

Before Tom Malone even came onto the field to punt, I turned to our equipment guy and said only one word: "Amsterdam." He knew what I was talking about.

I was referencing our Week 3 loss, on this very field, to the Amsterdam Admirals. We dominated the game for 3 quarters and 13 minutes, and we outgained them by almost 200 yards. We won the turnover battle. Our defense was playing a great game. Their entire day, all the time they played well, came down to just 12 plays. That's it. They had a 35-yard touchdown pass in the second quarter. That was one. We led the entire game practically, 10-7.

We had the ball with about 7 minutes left in the game. Our offense was playing great. We came out and, presumably, went 3 and out. In came Tom Malone, punting from our 27 yard line. His punt limped through the air for a grand total of 29 yards and bounced awkwardly out of bounds, giving them the ball at their 44.

I still remember Tom coming off the field, one of the best punters in college football history suffering through a season of just plain inconsistency, and watching him throw his helmet and tell me, "That's one of the worst punts I've ever had in my life. We're going to lose because of that punt."

I didn't want to believe him then. But, I watched Drew Olson and Amsterdam's offense come onto the field, and the same thought process I had during our game crept back into my consciousness.

They come out, and--taking up 4 minutes, 32 seconds--run an 11-play scoring drive, taking their first lead, 14-10, with 30 seconds left.

When Travis came onto the field, I saw the look on his face, and it reminded me of Jay Cutler, during any of his first three years, when he would trot out against anyone, during a close game, and I saw the same look on his face: we're not going to win this game. I've seen this before: A Georgia Tech defensive end sacking Cutler, stripping the ball, and a Tech defender recovering the ball to end the game.

I didn't even want to watch as their defensive tackle came up on Travis from behind, stripping the ball, as one of their defenders picked up the ball all by himself, ending our 30 seconds of disbelief.

As I watched Tom come onto the field to try and stave off their offense for a little longer, I remembered.

Tom's punt, for the record, went 34 yards, giving Frankfurt the ball at their 46.

During the commercial break, I hear the director of NFL Network giving out orders for the next segment. Update the standings to reflect Frankfurt's victory and Berlin's loss. Update the World Bowl scenarios and pitch next week's game as a possible World Bowl clincher for the Galaxy.

They hadn't even taken the field yet, and already our loss had been assumed, to a live audience in America! Has it come to that, seriously? I generally try not to take games too hard, but already, I felt humiliated.

Not that it really mattered in a few minutes, anyway.

What did J.T. do? Incomplete, 17 yard completion, 11 yard scramble, 26 yard touchdown pass. 30 second scoring drive. The score was 23-22; they came out and went for two.

From where I was, their end zone was on the opposite side of the field. J.T. ran left, got tackled, and was called short of the end zone. No good. We lined up to receive the kickoff.

The back judge--who had been standing at around the 20 yard line for the conversion attempt--came running up to the referee and signaled at the conversion attempt was, indeed, good.

In my years of watching football, I have never--ever--seen a back judge, 20 yards away from the play, convince the head official on the field that he had a better vantage point of a play concerning a matter of inches, and have the referee overturn the conversion and make it good almost a whole minute after he called it no good.

Coach Allen, of course, was furious, for the same reason I described above. 25-22, and we were about to get the ball with 1:39 left and, because of whatever mistakes we made during the half, we only had 1 time out left.

In only Andy fashion, we come out and throw an incomplete pass and get a penalty called on us. And in true Andy fashion, when it's crunch time, we can't take a few steps forward without taking a few steps back. Get a few yards, penalty. Get a great completion, and it takes us 20 seconds to call a play. We drop a pass. A lineman misses a block and Travis has to throw it away.

We're at the 50 yard line with 27 seconds left. False start. So, now we're 55 yards from the end zone, we've called our last time out, and we have less than 30 seconds to go.

Do I need to tell you what happened next? Incompletion, interception (by one of our former players), game over.

I put my hands on my knees and just stared at the ground. I thought I was going to vomit.

I went to midfield once the clock mercifully hit zeros. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw their PR assistant, Beth, who is pretty much my best friend during his whole season. I wanted to walk over and tell her that she's going to the World Bowl, but I was too embarrassed to even look at her. I just turned and walked away.

Fourth quarter possession time: Galaxy-5:25, Thunder-9:35. For the game, we held the ball for 40 minutes, 2 seconds. They had the ball for 19 minutes, 58 seconds. 40 minutes!

They did not call one running play in the entire second half. J.T. threw for 333 yards--the most in the league this season--and 3 touchdown passes, all in the last nine minutes of the game. More or less, J.T. O'Sullivan scored 21 points in about 4 and a half minutes of ball time.

Losing a game like that is a team effort. You can see a number like that and say, "Wow, your defense lost that one for you." But, that's not entirely true.

We dropped a first down pass at the end--and a receiver slipped on another one. On that note, we called passes when our team was reeling emotionally, and when our running game was doing great. We had a taunting penalty that killed potentially a game-icing drive. Travis had pressure that forced him to throw a few balls away, or inaccurately. We dropped an interception (probably the only good defensive play of the fourth quarter). Their successful two-point conversion still has our coaches angry. And remember, we had hit a field goal earlier and got it called back for holding. Then, his two attempts that missed fell short. Without that holding penalty, this game was tied. Without that two-point conversion call, we still won the game.

I couldn't even imagine how our coaches--or our players!--must have felt. But this one, for me, hit me right in that spot in the middle of my stomach where the ulcer burns, like a little reminder of that "curse," that losing spirit that follows me wherever I go, and trying to think of something that didn't feel like acid, I asked myself: just what does it feel like to win?

***

The sick thing is, I've experienced this type of loss before. (Have I really lost that many football games, that I've suffered an epic, once-in-a-lifetime loss twice already?)

A few of you might remember in 2004, when Vanderbilt hosted a still-lowly Rutgers football team coached by a young Greg Schiano. It was actually my first week of working at The Vanderbilt Hustler, but I was not writing for sports quite yet. (I wrote for the science section first!)

I forget if it was Homecoming, or Parents' Weekend, or whatever it was, but it was an occasion, for whatever reason. Anyway, we played lights out in the first half, and went into half time up 20-3. It was on TV, or, the score had been updated on TV, to the point where I was receiving congratulatory text messages during half.

We even stuck with them in the third quarter. We both scored two touchdowns, and they failed a two-point attempt on one of them. We went into the fourth quarter up, 34-16. That's an 18 point lead! At one point in the third quarter, we were up 27-4. That's a 24-point lead!

They threw a TD pass with about 11 minutes left to go in the fourth. We fumbled about a minute later, and they threw another TD pass on the next play. (Their 2-point attempt failed.) In a span of about three minutes, the score went from 34-16 to 34-29, and you could start to feel the Commodores remember that they were, indeed, those lovable, losing Commodores.

We came out and, in typical Vandy fashion, ran, ran, and ran unsuccessfully, punting the ball to them with 6:01 left. They staged an 11-play, 68-yard scoring drive, culminated by a 1-yard touchdown run by Brian Leonard--his fourth TD of the game. They went for 2, and got it. With 1:11 left, they had taken their first lead, 37-34.

Already, people were texting me to tell me that ESPN was showing our once-in-a-lifetime meltdown during game breaks. "Are you really losing??"

We come out and Jay gets sacked. With 11 seconds left, Jay throws up a desperation chuck down field, and....caught! 66 yard gain! We're in field goal range!

Flag. The refs called that Jay crossed the line of scrimmage before the throw. (To this day, I still swear that he didn't.) 5 yard penalty and loss of downs. Sack, game.

For whatever the occasion was that weekend, I remember after their QB--Ryan Hart--took a knee, and Rutgers celebrated their epic comeback on our field, fireworks went off over the stadium, celebrating whoever it was we were celebrating that day. (The picture on the front of the paper on Monday was Coach Johnson standing with his hands on his hips in disbelief, as fireworks go off behind him in the sky. Classic.)

I remember walking home, thinking I had seen a once-in-a-lifetime collapse, and getting text message after text message after phone call. Pete's text: "Did you seriously lose that game?" Devin's text: "That's a joke, right?" Krosche called. My stomach was at my feet; I remember it well.

Actually, I remember it even better, since it happened yesterday.

***

After having to take a taxi home at midnight to drop off papers to our video guy, I knew I had to get out of the hotel. If I sat there alone in my room, or sat there and talked to the players, I'd feel even worse. I just took a taxi over to the Galaxy hotel and got a few drinks with Beth, before calling it a night.

It was good to see her. Like I said, she's probably my best friend here in Germany during this whole experience. I felt bad that I just couldn't even stomach looking at her after the game.

I have absolutely zero impact on the wins and losses of my football teams; that makes things both better and worse. Better, because during any old loss, I can enjoy my sense of detachment and just chalk another one up to the "curse." But worse, because I really start to wonder, really, what am I doing wrong?

I must say, this one hurts much more than that Vanderbilt loss--no question. I live with these guys, I'm friends with these guys, and I share experiences with a lot of these guys. I see how hard they work, I talk to them about the game, and I watch them do what they're talking about on the field. To watch a game like that--where so many of them did what they wanted to, and played well, and we still lose--is just heartbreaking. Barclay had as good a game as anyone on this team will have all year (over 250 total yards). We outplayed them for...well, three quarters and 4 minutes.

The lessons for these guys will continue. They're here to learn in situations like that. For me, this is just about my 80th loss in my 7 or so years of football. I start to wonder how many more lessons there is for me to learn through the pain of my teams, how many more times I can convince myself that all of these heart wrenching experiences are just building up to some great personal experience. I mean, heck--I'm experiencing the same lessons twice now.

...I go through that entire thought process, and I tell myself, "I have no impact on the wins and losses of my football team." But, when you're a part of the team--and I do feel like a part of this team, in my own way--it's still going to hurt.

They are a good team, there's no question about it. This is just one of those losses that you'll never forget. For the second time, in my case.

***

This entry took me over 2 hours to write, and it's about 11 pages in Word. And all I've really talked about is our game yesterday, sadly.

I'm getting over whatever cold gripped me in Hamburg. I successfully slept it out of my system. I'm glad I got the sick thing over with now. I wouldn't want to get sick during the World Bowl, or while I'm in London, or during the week or so that I'm home. (Anyway, I know I'll be sick during training camp with the 49ers, so hopefully I can hold off until then.)

On a more positive Commodore-related note, I got a picture after the game with Galaxy cornerback Bill Alford, a Vanderbilt alumnus himself. I'll post it when I see it.

The season is just about winding down. We have two Friday games left, then the 2007 Berlin Thunder are all through.

Kind of a downer entry, I know, but, man, yesterday sucked. Next week, we host the Rhein Fire, who won their game tonight in a 41-38 shootout, giving us sole possession of last place in the league.

But then again, I wouldn't have it any other way, would I?