Tags: Paul Zimmerman, Dr. Z, football
Defenses don't even have nicknames anymore. There's no more Steel Curtain, with Mean Joe and Fats, no more Fearsome Foursome with Rosey and Deacon and Merlin the Magician, no more Purple People Eaters or Doomsday Defense or Gold or Silver Rush. OK, you say there's one -- Miami's Killer Bees -- but give me another. I dare you, just one more. I can hear the snickers out there. What's wrong with Dr. Z? Put him out to pasture. Doesn't he know the game is different now? It's a speed game, it's played in space. It's a game of formations and motion, freeze frames and chalkboards. It's a game of situation substitutions: You move your pieces on the board, we move ours. Cerebral football played on synthetic grass.
It's corporate football and I think it's dull. I hear Woody Widenhofer, the Steelers' defensive coordinator, tell me, 'We can use up to 20 different players on one series. Everybody makes a contribution. It's better than the old Steel Curtain defense,' and I want to kill him. Makes a contribution? What is this, the March of Dimes?