Suits, you just can't trust them. That's what I have come to take away from the split between the Saints and one of their most beloved and consummate leaders, as everything that's been made public regarding Mark Ingram's free agency leads me to believe it was botched by a third party not named the Baltimore Ravens. Considering the amount of up-to-the-minute communication that he, himself said he had with his now former teammates throughout the process, it makes little to no sense for #22 to have, more or less, ghosted his now former head coach unless it was a directive from his representation. Therefore, I'll go to the grave believing that the Saints would have met Mark Ingram in the middle if his agent didn't lose his mind...just a little. It still sucks something serious to know that such a familiar and galvanizing face won't be wearing the black & gold alongside Alvin Kamara next year, but it does slightly ease the pain to know that even Sean Payton was feeling the frustration. The Saints didn't wait because they were given no indication they should wait from the person they would have been waiting on. They simply did what they could not get stood up by someone who was presumably instructed to play hard to get while ignoring the status of the grass in seeing if the money was greener elsewhere, which was settle. I don't blame Mark Ingram for trying to maximize one last big pay day that he undoubtedly deserved. I'm just upset that his proverbial GPS malfunctioned while looking for it, as it allegedly took him too long without talking to get to the reasonable price and term he eventually accepted anyway. Just another reinforcement of the belief that this entirely unnecessary breakup was merely a product of circumstance, except this time with Mark Ingram's management assuming the nickname 'Circumstance'.
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Thirty-one other inherently self-serving NFL head coaches. Thirty stubborn and oft-unrelatable NFL owners, with the only exception being that of a Bengals' organization that would be one step away from relegation if professional football were ever to enforce such a practice. One imbecile of an NFL commissioner, who'd rather beat off to his bank account than agree to make any sort of sizable changes to the league that keeps it fluidly flush at all times. That concludes the list of powerful people who Sean Payton convinced to indirectly admit that his team suffered such an outrageous and inexcusable injustice that something absolutely had to be done to prevent the league from enduring such an unsightly black eye in the future...
Saints' fans and/or players are still far too cynical for even one to believe that this "win" comes even remotely close to making up for the harrowing and heart-wrenching loss that necessitated it. Be prepared to continue telling New Orleans as a collective to get over it, because this hardly signals the end of their spiteful grudge. However, it's tough to think about how unbelievably unlikely it is to get almost the entirety of the NFL's billion-dollar brain trust to agree on anything that doesn't have a dollar sign attached, as well as look at that warm embrace between Sean Payton and Gayle Benson, and not come to the conclusion that this is an accomplishment - albeit a bittersweet one - for those heavily invested in the franchise. Now, this rule change is hardly a cure-all for negligent, cowardly, and flat-out piss poor officiating. You don't exactly need a telescope to foresee the stars of stupidity aligning in such a way that controversial pass interference calls, or lack thereof, endure the forever frustrating "what exactly is a catch?" treatment. That said, with the NFL's principled refusal to put any one of their many zeros worth of income towards the outcome of full-time referees whose jobs are actually dependent on identifying the blatantly obvious free from the game-situation during which it occurs, this is about the best anyone could hope for in terms of change. Perhaps whatever impassioned speech Sean Payton gave in swaying the unforgiving audience in a room that's resistant to change to damn near unanimity should be made public so that everyone feels the same about the NFL's rare attempted fix to something that actually affects the integrity of football. This wasn't about retroactively righting one disgraceful and dishonorable wrong, as the Who Dat Nation will gladly be demeaningly loud and obnoxiously proud in letting you know that will always and forever be an impossibility. This was about making more fair a product that impacts the fickle job security of thousands, even if that is an on-going and imperfect process. Root for the New Orleans Saints to ironically be on the wrong side of a rule their head coach was adamantly ingenious in having altered all you want, but don't say his head wasn't in the same place as his heart in doing so.
With the slow and steady way things have gone since the Saints actively started courting Jared Cook, I suppose Sean Payton's mildly non-comittal "understanding" that the premier tight end on the market has joined one of the offenses most likely to maximize his talents is the best we could have hoped in terms of an official announcement. In fact, the coyness of it is actually quite fitting of what's felt like a sitcom-esque inevitable relationship, in which the New England Patriots played the cameo role of the attractive suitor that ultimately ends up making the two parties realize exactly what they've seen in each other all this time. Of course, what really took so long was really the master class in cap economics that Mickey Loomis was undoubtedly putting on for Jared Cook and his agent. However, it was still reassuring to hear that not even a call from a Super Bowl champion with a first ballot HOF-sized opportunity available could get him to change courses before the final drop date. As for how Jared Cook fits into a Sean Payton offense that's never met a mismatch it wasn't overly anxious to exploit, I can't help but feel like I'm a bit late to the game in realizing how perfect it has the potential to be. I don't know if I underrated his athleticism due to the sheer incompetence of Jeff Fisher's Rams, or the inability of Aaron Rodgers-led offenses to get the most out of the tight end position, or the irrelevance of the Oakland Raiders, but what Jared Cook lacks in career consistency was more than made for by his versatility the last two seasons. It might be premature to think of him as much more than a rich man's Coby Fleener. Still, with the way he's able to exploit the seam, execute double moves, and use his size and speed to his advantage, you can definitely envision a reason to believe he could provide the production of a poor man's Jimmy Graham plus the occasional block or two. Especially in a Saints' system that's become more reliant on intermediate routes as their quarterback's accuracy has aged more gracefully than his arm strength. Now more so than ever before, Drew Brees needs to work with hand-in-hand with the scheme around him and there's nothing Sean Payton loves to do more than find ways to make the most of unique offensive skill sets. What's undeniable is that Jared Cook absolutely has one of those and it happens to match what the Saints have been missing at the flex tight end position for awhile now. If what's being reported is at all accurate then the only risk that comes with investing in a 31 year old player who is reliant on his athleticism has been minimized by a short deal that's front loaded in guaranteed money and backloaded in roster flexibility. Therefore, until further notice, there really isn't anything to dislike about an addition that helps open up an offense that probably wouldn't have needed to leave their fate in the blind eyes of officials if they had another prominent and experienced pass catcher available to them during the postseason. At least in theory, Michael Thomas, Alvin Kamara, and Jared Cook should all make each other more efficient, and they were are all pretty damn effective in their own right as is.
The good news is that, between the quickness with which they solidified an timely weakness and Sean Payton's retrospectively suspicious identification of interior offensive line as an offseason need, it can be inferred that the New Orleans Saints weren't anywhere near as taken aback by the otherwise out-of-nowhere retirement of Max Unger as their fans were...
The bad news is that Nick Easton wasn't on the level of his predecessor prior to spending an entire season recovering from neck surgery, when he was being switched between guard and center, and thus probably isn't worth a cap hit comparable to the one that was just taken off their books. All in all, it's a moral(e ) victory to be able to bounce back from such an impactful loss of talent so quickly, but it's still a decided overall loss with how much trustworthiness and leadership are leaving the building. The Saints also emptied out their change purse to keep Cameron Tom within the organization, so having two players with the potential to fill Max Unger's immovable shoes is a hell of a lot better than getting caught with their pants completely down. That said, as tends to be the case when perennial Pro Bowl caliber protectors call it quits, there's undoubtedly more skepticism regarding the Saints' offensive line now than there was on Saturday morning. Nick Easton came undrafted out of Harvard, which - as evidenced by the immortal career of Ryan Fitzpatrick - buys him the assumption of on-field intelligence. I'm not so sure that says anything about him being able to keep Drew Brees' jersey clean, but it's at least something Saints' fans can use to sell themselves on his ability to start in the oft-pressured middle of a line in which knowledge is almost as good as power. The quarterback he'll be playing in front of has a tendency to make lineman look better with his pocket presence, but - for the time being - we'll stick with labeling the Saints' reconstructed situation over center as "could be better, could be worse". That's not all that awful considering the caliber of player and person they were left trying to replace.
It would be a huge disservice to the decade of dominant service Max Unger put in as the head of security at the oft-rushed gates to the thrones of the most notorious of vertically challenged quarterbacks to start off by talking about what the loss of Max Unger means to the immediate future of the Saints. The totality of his career is more than deserving of quite a few characters before tossing his name from the depth chart and flipping the script to the next chapter of the Saints' interior offensive line. After all, we're talking about a guy that was so consistent in solidifying one of the only positions in which success can be measured by anonymity that he turned the most unforgettable of majorly forgettable first round busts, in Stephone Anthony, into a minor mistake. Meanwhile, his impact was larger than that of the infamous matchup nightmare he was, in retrospect, basically traded straight up for. You aren't supposed to be able to get rid of otherworldly weapons the likes of Jimmy Graham and live to tell the tale, never mind ultimately thrive in doing so, and I think it's fair to say that deal was made to look better and better with each passing day. That's no small feat for a center. Drew Brees executes his most surgically precise dissections from a clean pocket, and he was hardly ever done dirty with Max Unger snapping him the ball. The importance of that can't be overstated with how key the offensive line, by way of run and pass blocking, was to the Saints' resurgence the last two seasons. I don't know that his retirement can be seen as entirely unexpected, as he's been successfully stonewalling 300+ pound physical freaks of nature for a full decade, but it certainly wasn't something that was foreseen outside the closed doors of the organization. Needless to say, it's an unpleasant surprise, as his largely penalty and pressure-free tenure in New Orleans was more pleasant than anyone could have imagined when it started. Hats off to him for being put in the precarious position of making up for the absence of someone who was larger than life in the Saints' offense....and, more importantly, succeeding. In an expedited form and fashion that hardly allowed for the collective breath of the Who Dat Nation to be bated, the hole left on the line by the final farewell of a Pro Bowl caliber talent has already been filled, albeit in a way that makes for less stable grounds. However, it's not as much the loss of Max Unger's talent as it is the loss of his leadership and his fit in a locker room with boat loads of unfinished business that concerns me. The Saints were seemingly constructed perfectly last year, so every non-returning piece feels like one painstakingly pulled from an untouched Jenga tower. That's almost certainly an overreaction, but - no matter how good Nick Easton or Cameron Tom end up being - Max Unger's retirement definitely hurts the continuity of a roster that holds both a special and spiteful place in the heart of Saints' fans. He's earned every ounce of the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of his unforgiving labor, but he will be missed by the team for which he was somehow as durable as he was dependable in his captaincy. This feels wrong. It just does. Even the greatest of things come to an end, especially in a business as cutthroat as professional sports, but you simply can't convince me that one of the coolest and most captivating running back tandems of all time didn't meet it's demise prematurely. It was always going to suck when I no longer had their shared postgame interviews to look forward to. However, being of the half-educated belief that if free agency was simulated 100 times over that 99 of those times would lead to Mark Ingram spending approximately the next three years seamlessly playing off Alvin Kamara, both on and off the field, makes this split suck harder than the most disconcerting of pornographic images. Considering the context clues - be it the timing of his replacement, the rumored demands of an agent who was playing hardball, or the more than manageable discrepancy between what he eventually got from the Baltimore and what he was offered by New Orleans - I just can't shake the feeling that this officially disproves the idiotic notion that everything happens for a reason. Mark Ingram is supposed to be a Saint, making the fact that he no longer is that much harder to digest...
At the end of the day, it's impossible not to behold the beauty of a bond that was forged so fluidly that it got one of the all-time greats at their position shipped out of town in no more than a few weeks time. Mark Ingram welcomed the emergence of Alvin Kamara with both figurative and literal open arms, as the two instantaneously became brothers/best friends while in the process of becoming record-setting backfield mates. That friendship obviously isn't fleeting, but what had become a charming, bi-weekly look into it sure is. The culture in New Orleans can't be attributed to one man, but Mark Ingram was definitely a leader to what became a selfless and cohesive locker room in what he did for Alvin Kamara, as well as what he allowed Alvin Kamara to do for him. I'm near certain the Saints will be fine in leaning on Latavius Murray to help lighten a heavier load for one of the most dynamic and versatile playmakers in football. However, what the ladder has with the guy that the former is replacing is so much more special than 'fine'. Therefore, it's going to take a while before I feel fine about no longer having a first hand look at the deeeetails of boom and zoom buddying up on or around the football field, because almost everything about the situation, other than its result, tells me the opportunity for them to do so beat overwhelming odds in being missed.
Teddy Bridgewater, Quite Literally, Announced His Return To The Saints In Legendary Fashion3/14/2019
If you don't know what he's referring to then you don't deserve to, but in the interest of full disclosure...
And all the sudden, after approximately 24 hours of unforeseen uncertainty, a deal that was once thought to be imminent now appears to be signed, sealed, and delivered in a legendary fashion that makes a day's worth of anxiety a small price to pay. Learning of this news by scrolling across that tweet on my timeline legitimately got me excited for the Teddy Bridgewater era in New Orleans, as if...::knocks on wood::...it's not at least one season of Super Bowl contention away from coming to fruition. To be honest, it's almost impossible to view what is basically just a one-year signing of an insurance policy who still has a lot to prove in a rational context. This is a case of Teddy Bridgewater blatantly pandering to Saints' fans on the anniversary of the most impactful day in franchise history, and - in doing so - drawing all the parallels that every last member of the Who Dat Nation has probably already pondered a dozen times over. A 32nd overall pick and former starting quarterback in his late 20's overcoming a career threatening injury, receiving a skeptical reception from the Miami Dolphins while on the open market, and choosing to put the fate of his future in the hands of Sean Payton and the New Orleans Saints? Teddy obviously isn't remotely close to Drew, but I'll be damned if the former didn't just paint a picture worthy of its own street-side mural of him walking in the latter's impossible-to-fully-fill shoes. Of course, the date of Drew Brees' swan song has yet to be scheduled, so we could very well be having the same discussion next offseason, but that's not the point. The point is that the Saints took a calculated risk in trusting that their culture could make it pay off, and it did in a big way with Teddy Bridgewater having enough faith in and fondness for a franchise with whom he spent only a few months to spurn a starting gig. You don't turn down a bird in the hand for two in the bush if you don't love being a Saint, and you don't make a mention of the fatefully familiar set of circumstances that brought Drew Brees to New Orleans exactly 13 years ago without having some intention of putting your own personal spin on a sequel of sorts. This decision speaks volumes of both the foundation and the collective personality that's been put in place in New Orleans. We'll see what the future holds, but you simply can't read that tweet from Teddy Bridgewater (and read into the good will of his $7.25 million being fully guaranteed) and figure it anything other than unbelievably bright until proven otherwise.
First and foremost, whew. Not that it's as much of an actual relief as it is a fiscal relief that the Saints are setting themselves up to burn a whole hell of a lot of dead money in tribute to the illustrious career of Drew Brees for years after it ends. but rather that the re-re-re-re-restructuring of his deal is what's come to signify that the offseason has been turned on. Like the lighting of the torch at the Olympics, news that Drew Brees' cap hit has been tinkered with in giving a middle finger to the future of the franchise should be the first to break as the unofficial opening ceremony to free agency. Loomis math is a tradition like no other, so it's nice to see that Mickey has finished working his magic in mixing up a bunch of numbers in a pot and somehow cooking up some inconspicuous cap space.
Now, the first allocation of said cap space isn't the one that's going to work the Who Dat Nation into a frenzy, as Malcom Brown is neither built to catch passes over the middle or succeed HOF quarterbacks, but it's one that was necessary nonetheless. With Sheldon Rankins starting next season in recovery, David Onyemata awaiting his punishment for prescribing himself herbal remedies internationally, and Tyeler Davison treading water in the free agency pool, there was a hole in the trenches. Something tells me a 320 pound former first round pick is just the type of person to fill it. Depth up and down the defensive line was one of the pleasant surprises of last season, so it's good to see it addressed in a fiscally fair form and fashion headed into next season. Expecting first round production would be a fool's errand, but the Saints aren't paying for that as much as they are paying for a slight upgrade who gives them starting experience at nose tackle and allows for the potential of Taylor Stallworth to come along slowly as part of the rotation. You can even tack on the added bonus of him going from one team that knows how to develop d-lineman to another team that's suddenly become great at developing d-lineman. Either way, it's tough to find flaw in the move. You know, so long as you don't hold it against Malcom Brown that his name is neither Jared Cook or Teddy Bridgewater.
I don't know if you can truly put a price on having the opportunity to breath easy with an unclenched sphincter every time the fate of a game is planted firmly on the foot of your kicker. However, after having suffered through what felt like a decade of the Saints hosting season-long tryouts in hopes of finding a mildly loyal leg, I'm willing to definitively say that price would even be higher than the market-setting extension that Wil Lutz just signed. In the last three seasons alone, the guy who was presumed to be just another inevitably forgotten name on a long list of fickle feet probably added that many years and more to my life span with how consistent and confident he's been in spots big and small. A lot has changed since 7-9 was a way of life in New Orleans, and perhaps the most underrated of those changes is being able to damn near guarantee at least an automatic three points within the opponent's 35 yard line. It's probably better left unsaid that the Saints have found some fucked up ways to lose games over the years, but not having to worry about the polarizing practice of placekicking and all its moving parts has really helped to dull the feeling of impending doom. Simply put, Wil Lutz has been nothing short of money since Sean Payton, by a painstaking process of elimination, finally pinned the tail on an absolute donkey of a kicker, so it's about time his salary matched his success rate. Especially since it stays with the trend of compensating and keeping in tact one of the best and most tight-knit special teams units in the NFL. Don't even act like you can't feel the love...
Half a million dollars per season. That's it. That's all. There was one thing capable of putting out the fire that was sparked in Saints' fans when they indirectly learned of a beloved, long-time team leader having already worn the Fleur-de-lis for the final time. That thing was an absolute albatross of a contract would allow everyone to be happy that Mark Ingram finally secured his long-overdue bag, as well as glad that the cap-strapped team with which he grew from a scapegoat to a galvanizing force - both on and off the field - didn't meet the contractual demands of a 29 year old running back. Twenty-one million over three years, or something north of it, and I'd be able to stomach the idea of Latavius Murray taking over the reigns that he'll never be able to pull as prominently as the player he's replacing. Instead, an integral piece of a Super Bowl caliber team has a new home due to a breakup over the monetary equivalent of trivial matters. Half a million dollars per season. That was ultimately the disparity, as if the thought of Mark Ingram in colors other than black & gold hadn't already made me sick enough. There's fingers to be pointed everywhere. At the Saints for not being more patient. At Mark Ingram's agent for being too greedy. At the entire concept of free agency, during which time is of the essence and markets can be so easily misread. Much like those that take sides after a divorce, I want to be able to lay all the blame on one person, but the truth is that marriages don't end without regrettable mistakes being made by both parties. Knowing what they know now, I have the sneaking suspicion that both the New Orleans Saints and someone that embodies absolutely everything that they currently stand for would have been more than happy to extend their relationship by another three years for the more than fair price of fifteen million. If they could turn back time, I'm near certain they could have found a way to work things out. What makes this change so painful isn't that it happened as much as how it happened appearing to be entirely avoidable. All else being so damn close to equal, New Orleans would rather have Mark Ingram and Mark Ingram would rather be in NOLA. There's very little doubt in mind that that's the case, just as there is very little doubt in mind that neither feels great about the results in the immediate wake of their business decisions. To consider each other 'the one that got away' might be a bit overdramatic, but I presume you'd be hard pressed to find a player in that locker room - from Alvin Kamara to Cameron Jordan and everyone in between - that isn't heartbroken by the absence of what was an unmistakable part of its soul. Especially now that said absence has proved completely unnecessary. Mark Ingram overplayed his hand, the Saints folded theirs too soon, and both are going to need to work on their poker face if their disappointment is anywhere near as palpable as that of the fans. X Marks The Offseason? Seems As Though The Saints Are Interested In Bringing Back Dez Bryant.3/12/2019
— Dez Bryant (@DezBryant) March 12, 2019 There's a couple of reasons that I'm not going to wax poetic about Dez Bryant's fit in the Saints' offense. For starters, it seems like a bad omen to do so after the last time a sense of unbridled optimism accompanied his addition it took all of a couple practice routes run before the sobering subtraction of his functioning achilles. In line with that, while time might heal all, Father Time has a way of making the recovery period from a devastating injury that much more extensive. Especially for a 30 year old player who was highly reliant on his athleticism before spending a full year out of professional football doing nothing more than watching and recuperating. The truth is that no one knows anything close to the truth about what Dez Bryant can still bring to the gridiron, so it's tough to opine on the entirely unknown. That being said, as a low risk/higher reward signing, I can't see why the Saints wouldn't be interested in giving another shot to someone who has plenty to prove by adding him to a locker room that seemed to embrace him immediately. Banking on him as their premier pick-up at a prioritized position would be about as safe and sound as saving money under a mattress, but Dez Bryant makes plenty of sense as another fish in a pool of potential playmakers being given an opportunity to make a splash behind Michael Thomas. While I think he got a bit of a raw deal towards the end of his tenure in Dallas, I can't imagine he sees himself as worthy of much more than the low price of a one year, prove it contract. If that's all it takes then I'd be glad to see him get the chance to finally start throwing up some X's in NOLA, as opposed to having them thrown up in his honor.
I'm going to say something that I haven't said about a Saints' personnel decision in quite some time, and that's that this signing, and more importantly it's implications, makes me want put down my lunch and throw up my breakfast. As someone who has always thought of Latavius Murray as a replacement-level running back, finding out by way of his shocking long-term signing that one of the faces of the franchise is about to grow unfamiliar makes me sick. I honestly don't know how absurdly pricey Mark Ingram's impending deal would have to be to settle my stomach and allow me to sleep tonight, because the Saints just gave a four-year contract to an average player of the same damn age with lesser production, lesser pedigree, and lesser personality. There's no way around it, regardless of whether or not they found themselves a better deal, the Saints just got worse by losing a versatile player on the field and a consummate leader off the field. Of course, there's an emotional toll to be paid here, as Mark Ingram eventually won over a fanbase that he suffered right alongside during the recurring nightmare of 7-9 seasons. By coming out the other side and showing himself a selfless half of one of the most dynamic and delightful running back tandems in NFL history, the franchise leader in rushing touchdowns has ingratiated himself to the Who Dat Nation forever. That's something you couldn't imagine saying while he fought through some early struggles at the start of his career, which is a testament to his perseverance as the rare running back that gets substantially better with age. Mark Ingram was one of very few to survive the entirety of the rebuild, and in doing so became a main co-signee of the incredible culture shift in New Orleans. That obviously makes the news of #22 throwing up the deuces that much more difficult to deal with, but this even reeks of being bad from a business perspective. There's just no world in which I can envision Latavius Murray being anything more than a B-level backup to Alvin Kamara, as opposed to a BFF of a complimentary running mate, well into his 30's. That's what the Saints just banked on, and - even if it required a lesser investment - it certainly has the potential to prove more costly both in their backfield and in their locker room.
This move reads like a desperate overreaction to negotiations that didn't go as smoothly as they hoped, and if they were going to get desperate I'd have preferred they instead lined the pockets of a more proven commodity and a beloved teammate who earned the opportunity to be part of another Super Bowl run. I would have understood moving on from Mark Ingram if it didn't mean going in the exact same direction but slower with his downgrade of a replacement. For that reason, I think they should have heeded the advice of deuce-deuce and taken a "look at the deeeeetails" that made him more than deserving of a raise and made his value to the Saints higher than just half a million more than that of Latavius Murray.
Although, most certainly not remotely close to this high...
I'm going to go ahead and run the risk of speaking too soon, being that there is a big difference between being expected to re-sign and actually re-signing, because this news doesn't surprise me as much as it probably should. That could be a product of my Saints' bias, combined with a laughable lack of belief in the teams that instead chose to recycle the painfully average passers they know (Joe Flacco, Case Keenum, etc.) rather than take a chance on the ceiling of a relative unknown, but the truth is that Teddy Bridgewater's best chance to succeed was always as Drew Brees' successor. The inevitable allure of more money and the immediate opportunity to start can't be undersold, but neither can the ease with which an insurance policy of a back-up quarterback danced his way into the hearts of a winning locker room despite playing a grand total of zero meaningful snaps as a part of it. There obviously wouldn't have been any hard feelings if he chose to kickstart a career that was put on hold by a horrific knee injury, but it speaks to the culture in New Orleans that Teddy Two Gloves didn't already have one foot out the door. This premature news makes the Saints' front office look like geniuses for flipping merely a third round pick for what could potentially end up being long-term stability at the position in which it's the hardest to attain, but it's really a feather in the cap of the players for creating such quality cohesiveness both on and off the field. It was safe to assume the business of Teddy Bridgewater was better left entrusted with someone like Sean Payton who can maximize his talents, but a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush when it comes to making your presence felt in a league as unforgiving to it's oft-forgotten athletes as the NFL. Whether it be more of a credit to the completeness of their roster or the unity of their front, the Saints reportedly amended that Bird Law by reportedly convincing a quality quarterback to wait out a black & golden opportunity. That's far easier said than done when considering how quickly earning windows close and opportunity costs plummet in professional football. Even if there is a suspicious amount of symmetry between Teddy Bridgewater's career path and that of someone who is Canton-bound after overcoming a career-threatening injury, slipping through the Dolphins' finger tips, and breaking every record in the book after being given the reigns as the franchise quarterback to a formidable offense in his mid-to-late 20's.
I'm not going to put to much thought into these tweets. After all, judging by both the frequency of the timestamps and the fact that their curator was coming off his birthday weekend in spending last night and this morning slowly riding around a city that's in an alcohol-induced hysteria, I can't imagine all that much clear thought was put into publishing them (hence the deletion of some). That being said, without pouring the proverbial drinks down Michael Thomas' throat, I love that all signs point to his version of "drunk words are sober thoughts" being related entirely to dominating the National Football League. I expected nothing less than for his competitive overdrive to be in 5th gear at all times, and him being unable to relax and enjoy Fat Tuesday without giving the rest of the league the skinny on the Saints' plans for reckoning is perfectly fitting of his personality. Michael Thomas has a one track mind, and that track just so happens to run clean over every single person that's either doubted him or lined up across from him. That couldn't be made more clear than him being unable to be guarded from his phone and serving as the eye of a tweet-storm during an otherwise upbeat event like Mardi Gras. _______
Ruthless. Absolutely ruthless. Perhaps not as ruthless as nicknaming an opposing left tackle after a mild vehicular inconvenience...
...but celebrating the extended contract of a familiar foe and blatantly using it as recruitment tool for your own impending free agents before the ink has even dried on it is pretty close to as cutthroat. Cam Jordan doesn't quite have a Michael Thomas-level of vindictiveness in his veins, but you can see Cam Newton's wine rack as proof that he's certainly not one to mince words that reference division rivals. Hopefully Alex Okafor returns, but the Buccaneers are going to need to do a lot more than cross their fingers if they don't want Marcus Davenport or whoever lines up opposite Cam Jordan to sack an investment that the Saints' resident stock breaker has determined to be no more valuable than leftovers. He might as well speak for all Saints' fans, so tell 'em Thomas...
I can't even say I am impressed by the attention to detail that went into using the magnificence that is Mardi Gras to put forth the pettiness of Saints' fans into parade form. After all, I truly expected nothing less than a marching body of blind referees to be somewhat synchronized in their mockery while using the carnivalized face of professional football's head clown in charge to cover the never-to-be-fully-healed stab wounds in their back. Even taking time constraints into consideration, a float being dedicated entirely to the incompetence of the NFL and the suspiciously un-thrown flags of their officials was a foregone conclusion. That theme, in perfect New Orleans' fashion, was bound to be one that was explored in excess of excess. Even during the most unbridled of festivities, Saints' fans never, ever forget, so save your "get over it" for a later date in which they will undoubtedly still not have completely recovered from having a Super Bowl appearance stolen from a city that would clearly do the honor justice in going above and beyond in celebrating it...or anything really.
I'm calling bullshit. That's partially because attaching the phrase "just saying" to literally anything is undefeated in sending the bullshit-o-meter into overdrive. However, it's mostly because my blood pressure would go into that same overdrive if I had to worry about what a poison pill of a personality would do to the internal makeup of a locker room that currently has perfect chemistry. Not to be overly dramatic, but I honestly think I'd rather keep my eye in a mason jar next to my bed than on this "rumor". Never mind him representing a great fit as another incredibly explosive target that quickly creates separation and runs pristine routes, or him representing a contract that's somewhat affordable relative to his skill-set at a position of need. I want Antonio Brown nowhere near New Orleans because of the culture, and I'm not even referring to the headlines that could be created by the walking, talking allegation while thirsting for attention in the hollow leg of sports' cities. This team, as currently constructed, couldn't possibly be more selfless, while the guy that was just very, very loosely linked to them is one narcissistic step away from making someone carry a mirror in front of him while literally singing his praises on the sidelines. I get that talent typically trumps all, but the Saints are an organization that's dealt with the downside of far too many characters to think character issues are a farce. On top of that, they run an offense that prides itself on feeding too many mouthes to worry about satisfying the biggest, loudest, and most insatiable one in the entire NFL on a week-to-week basis. Drew Brees is no Ben Roethlisberger in that he's not an unforgivable asshole, but he's also a guy that has too many children at home to have to also concern himself with temper tantrums at work while in the twilight of a career marked by spreading the ball around. The Saints do, pretty obviously, need more help on the outside, but that money can be better spent than on someone who would be about the worst influence in the world on Michael Thomas while also cutting into his workload. More importantly, they are going to need an entire Babysitter's Club worth of help on the inside if they bring aboard 'Mr. Big Chest' and the treasure trove of trouble that comes with trying to temper a loose cannon with a lit fuse in an otherwise like-minded locker room.
— Teddy Bridgewater (@teddyb_h2o) February 24, 2019
I'm not biased enough to think that stuff like this doesn't go down in other locker rooms around the National Football League. However, since other locker rooms around the National Football League didn't appear anywhere near as fun and cohesive as the Saints did from Monday through Sunday, I'm treating this on-going friendly competition between backup quarterbacks as yet another tip of the cap to the culture that's been created in New Orleans. I mean, how random is that collection of players? A first year free agent linebacker in Demario Davis. A fringe wide receiver/punt returner in Tommy Lee Lewis. A backup quarterback that was acquired by trade just prior to the season in Teddy Bridgewater. An undrafted backup to the backup quarterback that found himself in an on-again, off-again relationship with the practice squad in J.T. Barrett. It honestly leads you to believe you could call four random names off the roster - regardless of age, status, or position - and they'd have been just as likely to get along like life-long friends, if not brothers. I'm sure that's not entirely true, but only in the latter half of coming of age sports' movies is something as rare as 53+ personalities co-existing as one supposed to seem remotely plausible. Also, not that I needed one, but this is just another small look in on how much a clearly healthy Teddy Bridgewater enjoyed being a New Orleans Saint, despite actually only playing one game. Time will tell whether the clock has already struck midnight on his residency within the Who Dat Nation, but - all else being equal (with 'all else' being $) - it's not crazy to envision a world where he thinks his future is brightest behind Drew Brees. Good things come to those who wait and just about everything we've seen from the Saints, be it on or off the field, indicates that calling the current construction of their talented, tight-knit roster a good thing would be a massive understatement. P.S. I first treated Sean Payton's question as if it were asked in jest, but clearly he didn't know the extent of these battles or Teddy Two Gloves would have using one sticky ass hand to cut into Taysom's workload as yet another pass-catching quarterback in the Saints' offense. Hell, he might be capable of creating more separation than some of the actual wide receivers not named Michael Thomas did this past season.
--------- First, let's check in on the Saints for their thoughts on the matter... — New Orleans Saints (@Saints) February 25, 2019 If I were only allowed one way to describe my reaction to this news it would be unsurprised. We've long known that when it comes to having idiotic priorities advised by people whose asscheeks tend to be held as tight as their wallets, you really can't put any entirely unnecessary and non-football related rule change past the 'No Fun League'. Having recently given in to allowing orchestrated and/or choreographed group TD celebrations, it was only a matter of time before they were no longer able to ignore that inherent desire to suppress the showing of team spirit. They've probably been looking for a way to satiate the satisfaction they get from censorship since the first time the players' powers combined to...::audible gasp::...entertain their customers. Now, as a Saints' fan, I'd be willing to bet that just as many coaches and owners suggested an amendment that took the ability to decide Conference Championships out of the cowardly hands of suspect officials. Unfortunately, as a Saints' fan, I also sit here colored with not one shade of shock that the league chose to use their unadulterated influence for the evil that is emotional inhibition as opposed to something that might actually uphold, or even improve, the integrity of their product. Whatever theory there is to support that players leaving the bench is problematic, there is over a year's worth of execution that speaks directly to its harmlessness. The fact of the matter is that most teams have fully embraced flooding from the sideline to pose after turnovers, and I know this because most teams shamelessly stole that very celebration from the New Orleans' defense. Go figure, even during the offseason, the franchise targeted most by the NFL's incompetent attempts at governing itself is the one that employs Sean Payton. What else is fucking new?
I have a hard time believing that the Saints went out of their way to beat every other team to what became a historically slow safety market by a country mile in order to pay a premium for the veteran presence of a backup defensive back. Therefore, you'd have to consider Kurt Coleman's prematurely terminated tenure in New Orleans to be a pretty big failure. It was a signing that was suspiciously bland the second it was made, and - to put it lightly - with the season came not a complimentary seasoning. That being said, he was a well-respected member of the most cohesive and fun secondary/locker room in Saints' history, so - as deep as I have to dig to find them - I will put some shine on the positives of his presence. None the least of which is the fire he presumably stoked under the ass of Vonn Bell, who took massive steps in going from vulnerable to versatile in his third season. The forced 4th quarter fumble against the Steelers was also a noteworthy bright spot, but playing the role of electrician in getting the light to turn on for an inconsistent and underwhelming second round pick will probably go down as his most impactful work in black & gold. You won't find too many people that didn't consider Kurt Coleman expendable heading into the offseason, but his shortcomings in trying to live up to what was a surprisingly sizable contract before the ink even dried on it are only part of the reason he's now looking for employment. The slow but steady development of a young player who finally forced his way onto the field in refusing to be denied playing time simply sealed his fate, though it will be interesting to see if the Saints look go for depth or wealth at the position in the coming months. As the early signing of Kurt Coleman proved, you never really know with Sean Payton.
Yikes. Sounds like somebody pissed off Sean Payton, and I'm placing my bets on the organization that apparently didn't take the hint when their interest in Dennis Allen immediately got one-upped by a contract extension. Truthfully, he should be flattered that he finally has a defensive staff worth flirting with for the first time in forever, but I wouldn't tell Picasso what brush to paint with so I'm damn sure not suggesting Sean Payton tone down his professional pettiness. Plus, you'd have to consider it great news that the Saints are doing everything in their power to keep their house in order, and that goes especially for a room of defensive backs that have become as cohesive off the field as they have on in posing under the watchful eye of Aaron Glenn.
The truth is that it's only a matter of time before AG is coordinating his own defense (or Dennis Allen is coaching his own team, for that matter). Until that time comes (and the Saints are no longer able to actively set the clocks back), however, he's a huge asset to a young, promising secondary has taken far more strides than the statistics would lead you to believe. There's a reason he was on the radar of a particularly successful curmudgeon of a head coach that knows a thing or two about maximizing defensive potential last offseason, and it's likely the same reason that Sean Payton shattered Cincinnati's radar as ruthlessly as he smashed their fire alarm. I do wonder how Aaron Glenn feels about being denied an opportunity for a promotion, but - having gotten a first-hand look at the Bengals' defense when Drew Brees and Co. fed 'em a 50 burger - I think there is probably a mutual understanding that it would only be a step up an entirely unstable latter. In my extremely biased opinion, he's much better off - both short term and long term - continuing to reinforce a Super Bowl-worthy secondary that has no conceivable reason not to improve. So, hopefully an interception of his interview offer is seen as more of a compliment to his capabilities than any type of constraint on his career. |
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