I went to a Tampa Bay Buccaneers game a few weeks ago over Thanksgiving weekend. I was visiting family for the holiday and that Sunday, the Bucs were hosting the New Orleans Saints. Back then, the Bucs were 9-3 and a shoo-in for the playoffs. Now? After consecutive losses, not so much.
The chances for rain that day were about 80%. As my stepdad, step-bro and I drove up Himes Ave toward Raymond James Stadium, we kept a watchful eye at the storm looming overhead and contemplated whether we should brave the elements or opt for the dryness of a local pool hall to watch the game.
As it had been years since the three of us had seen a game together in person, we decided to trudge onward.
The closer we got to the stadium, the darker the sky became. We parked the car and bartered with scalpers, knowing the inclement weather would work to our advantage when bargaining for ticket prices. We ended up landing $100 face value tickets for the low, low price of $15 each. The ticketeer kept telling us how this game would be an experience we’d never forget, one I’d be able to tell my grandkids about. As I’m 40 years old and so far have chosen not to reproduce, this is a conversation that would likely never happen, but I didn’t want to stomp on his enthusiasm for my fictional offspring.
After buying our tickets, we headed into the stadium, all the while knowing this was probably a bad idea. As my stepdad ran back to the car to grab an extra shirt to protect him from the oncoming monsoon, my step-bro, Saul, and I headed into Raymond James. I wore only a t-shirt, hat and jeans, tremendously ill-prepared.
Still, though, no rain. That was, of course, until we got to our seats.
The good news? The seats were on the 40-yard line about ten rows up. The bad news, the Bucs don’t play in a dome.
As soon as Saul and I found our seats, the rain came down and came down hard. It was as if someone had dumped buckets of water on us. Within minutes, we were soaked to the bone. There was no dodging raindrops. Saul, who had pushed for the safe haven of the local pool hall, took it all in stride. When our pops returned from the car, he carried with him a green poncho/tarp barely large enough to cover the three of us. But by that time, it was too late. I swear I saw Noah at the helm of the pirate ship, loading up animals in twos.
I’ve been submerged in swimming pools before and been less wet. My jeans were soaked from belt loop to hem and my poor, cloth hat did not make it out alive. By the concession stands inside, I beat my favorite Bucs cap against the huge cement pillars in an effort to dry it. Didn’t matter. It was waterlogged, as were we. In fact, I woke up that night, not in a cold sweat, but simply wet, as if I had absorbed several pounds of water weight that was finally finding its way out of my body.
The Bucs contained Reggie Bush that day, holding him to zero yards rushing. The Buccaneer defense, as it has for years, lived up to expectations. In spite of the anemic Tampa Bay offense, the defense once again kept them in the game, forcing two late turnovers to quell Saints’ potential game-winning drives. The refs even called a phantom, illegal contact penalty on Ronde Barber, thinking it impossible that he could be involved on every play.
After that victory two Sundays ago, the Bucs led the NFC South. Today, after consecutive losses to division rivals, Carolina and Atlanta, they now reside on the outside of the playoffs looking in. Their Monday night blowout loss at Carolina has been noted. Their loss in Atlanta Sunday may have sealed their fate. In this game, the Bucs forced FOUR turnovers, held rookie sensation Matt Ryan to his second lowest quarterback rating of the season, had a hundred yard receiver in Antonio Bryant and had Brian Griese throw for nearly 300 yards and they STILL lost the game. No wonder Monte Kiffin wants to join his son at the University of Tennessee. How many times can you ask a friend for favors that go unreturned until he finally tells you to stick it in your ear?
Lost in the controversy of a Pittsburgh Steelers touchdown that was(n’t) and an ill-advised Bills fumble that gave the Jets a last minute victory is a Jon Gruden play call on third and inches that may have cost the Bucs a playoff seed.
In the fourth quarter, the Buccaneers were granted gracious field position, not once but twice. They then shot themselves in the foot worse than Plaxico Burress.
With four minutes left, the Buccaneers faced third and centimeters. They huddled, then abruptly bolted to the line of scrimmage as if to catch the Falcon defense by surprise and try a gimmick play. Instead of taking two chances with their running game, Gruden opted for trickery. The refs called a false start, assessing a five-yard penalty resulting in an eventual missed field goal rather than a sustained drive and victory.
After the Bucs defense forced Atlanta into a clutch three-and-out on the ensuing possession, the Falcons lined up to punt which Tampa Bay blocked and recovered on the Atlanta 22- yard line. After a ten-yard pass play to Michael Clayton, the Bucs had the ball on the Falcons’ 12-yard line, but were once again unable to convert good field position into six. More penalties turned a Buccaneer second-and-7 into a third-and-28. The Bucs, allergic to prosperity, appear much more efficient in moving the ball backwards when it matters most.
I have long defended Gruden, considering him the best sound-bite in the NFL. He brought a Super Bowl to Tampa Bay, albeit with Tony Dungy’s players. Gruden’s players boast he knows more about football than anyone they’ve been around. Yet this team is becoming more and more difficult to root for.
After a great start to their season, the Bucs are slowly folding. Injuries to Jeff Garcia and Earnest Graham have hampered the team, but they may very well have lost their last two road games with them in the lineup. Gruden’s supposed to be an offensive guy yet weekend after weekend, it is Tampa’s defense that carries this team, putting the offense in position to convert which they can’t.
In a division that remains one of the most competitive in football with Carolina, New Orleans and Atlanta, the Buccaneers will have to do their best to keep up with three teams on the rise. Unless they make appropriate changes on the offensive side of the ball, their chances to remain atop that division are as thin as Arthur Blank’s moustache. And Gruden may soon find himself coaching elsewhere.
