With a nod of respect to the Cincinnati Bengals’ defense, it’s quite fair to say their quarterback, Andy Dalton, brought them into the playoff fight and single-handedly threw them out.
The echoed saying of planning to ‘live and die’ by one’s actions can certainly hold true for the Bengals and their savior, Dalton, but the other half of the team’s offensive mastermind lies on the sideline between the headset—head coach Marvin Lewis.
Yes, this is a guy that took over and ascended a 2-14 Bengals team of 2002 to an 8-8 team the following year and 35-29 for the next four years. Lewis had carved his name in his desk; he wasn’t leaving that team, and that team wasn’t leaving him.
Yes, this is a guy that hit a slump—like, a combined 25-38 slump in that 2007 to 2010 stretch. And through thick and thin, the Bengals stuck with him! Talk about a bold decision from the front office.
Boldness was rewarded. Since then, they’ve made it to three consecutive Wild Card playoff games. The playoff familiarity falls under a ‘live’ in the ‘live and die’ saying. But here’s the catch: they’ve never made it past the Wild Card round since 1990. More recently in that stretch, much stress must be thrust upon Lewis and his quarterback, Dalton, for the three straight first round playoff exits.
Though in all three years of Dalton’s career he’s made the playoffs, that stress starts to become very necessary if Cincinnati plans to go anywhere. When Dalton’s production drops and his reputation depletes on the win-or-go-home stage, his respect as a clutch performer can sort of ‘die’ in an instant.
In a sense, when the heat is taken, the fingers are pointed, Lewis’ reputation inevitably may slightly start to ‘die’ a bit, too.
By the time their 27-10 Wild Card loss to the Chargers last week had concluded simultaneously with the season, Lewis became an anthill for scrambling questions.
“I think one of the dumbest things in all of football,” Hall of Fame sportswriter Peter King started on ESPN’s PTI show, “is when everybody buys into this ‘Oh, you can’t take your starting quarterback out, you’ll wreck his confidence, you’ll ruin his grip on the team.’ That’s a load of crap. If Andy Dalton’s playing crumby, he should be removed from the game the same way if a running back is fumbling.”
That is always going to lie on the shoulders of the coach, but at the same time, Dalton must take the bulk of the blame for his rollercoaster of consistency and reliability.
“He (Dalton) is brilliant one week, he’s Bob Timberlake the next week,” King added.
Truly, he’s been as inconsistent as multiple choice answers, but on occasion with games, as consistent as the slack-off bombers that blow through them—consistently poor. Harsh but true. Of course, he’s had his A+ miracles, like any quarterback a coach trusts is going to have. With the—at times undeserving—opportunities he’s been baby fed, with no repercussions, at that, college-type of performances are bound to sprout up in light-soiled, weak weeks in the schedule.
Hey, a broken clock’s spot-on twice a day. With his hands, twice a month. In other words, with a game a week, twice a month is about every other game. That won’t cut it in the NFL, and frankly, the only thing it will cut is his pay.
On second thought, maybe it won’t. Quarterbacks these days are so valuable, so seldom to find as a surefire first-stringer on a weekly basis, a step back may help the Bengals’ front office reconsider their postseason frustrations.
Pulling away from the magnifying glass on specific blunders this season and simply seeing how far the Bengals have come in the three years Dalton has been taking snaps for them, Cincinnati must appreciate the work of turning tides they have fluently sailed through. (Their gunning offense, concrete defense and, at times, flashy demeanor can suggest they’ve surfed through.)
In so many ways, this Dalton issue rubs off as a Tony Romo type of situation, a Romo type of player, really. The tremendous performances, yet the punishing inconsistencies. The team-suicidal turnovers late in drives, games, and seasons. Oh, and that reassurance that he’ll keep his job and comma-loaded checks flowing because of teams’ desperate needs for a guy even in the same table talk as Dalton.
This has all been about the balance of satisfaction and overdue need for improvement.
The tandem of a tenured coach, who built from the ground up, and a talented, trusted quarterback, though dicey in consistency, has given Cincinnati every right to be satisfied with their progress. So far, they’ve “lived and died” by that tandem.
It’s safe to that that oath, rewarding yet potentially problematic, has had all outcomes for a team exiting in the first round—again.