If I told you, 25 years ago that the NFL’s new “instant” replay rule would cold-stop the game every few minutes so officials — seated up there and standing down there — could spend the next few minutes trying to determine whether the receiver, in fact, got both feet down at the 46 …
Yet, here we are!
Thursday, 24 seconds left in the first half of Green Bay-Detroit, Lions QB Matthew Stafford spiked the ball, stopping the clock. And the game. Dead. For the next 3 minutes, 34 seconds. It was time, with the help of the “instant” replay rule, to figure out what the heck was going on.
Finally, ref Gene Steratore announced the verdict of a trial no one was interested in holding:
“Prior to the spiking play, the defense had 12 men on the field, at that time. It’s going to be a 5-yard penalty on defense, 12 men. It will be first down and 5, Detroit. The game clock is correct as it stands now. First and 5, Detroit.”
Well, all righty, then!
Funny thing about the replay rule: As both pro and college games continue to collapse beneath the expanding girth of its rulebooks — and with understandably inconsistent applications of their contents — is the story of how the demand for “instant replay rules” began, grew and exploded.
It’s original design — and the push behind it — was to reverse “egregiously incorrect” calls. At no time did football or its fans demand, or even desire, it be used as it is now most often used — to inspect microscopic, freeze-framed evidence, anywhere and everywhere on the field, and at any time.
Heck, if everyone years ago knew this is how the replay rule would be used — how it would cauterize play six, seven, eight times a game — who would have backed it?
The first mass cry for replay was heard after the 1979 Oilers-Steelers AFC Championship, when Houston QB Dan Pastorini hit WR Mike Renfro in a corner of the end zone. At first, no signal was made whether it was a TD, whether Renfro caught it in bounds. Finally, it was ruled incomplete.
The day after Pittsburgh’s 27-13 win, the drum-banging began. Did it matter that there never was any conclusive replay to establish whether Renfro was in or out? Nope. No matter, the populist buzz was on.
The next few NFL seasons seemed to be fraught with genuine “egregiously incorrect calls.” Seemed to be. There certainly were some doozies, all week seen on TV, discussed on radio and written about in newspapers, but they actually were infrequent. Still, every one made for calamity — and a louder cry for replay. The human condition.
And now here we are, stuck with what we asked for — but not even close to what we asked for.
And it now seems ex-NFL head of officiating Mike Pereira, inserted into FOX college and pro telecasts, disagrees with roughly half the original calls or half the replay rule decisions, most of them microscopic.
And that should tell us — and the NCAA and NFL — all we need to know: It’s time to return some football to football — put some action back in an action sport — with the removal of the kind of replay stoppages no one ever wanted or asked for, let alone demanded?
Why stay stuck in denial while football becomes overly medicated on who-knew, what-for and what-now rules? Must games be further delayed by frequent, lengthy stops for forensic examinations in order to reach decisions steeped in maybes — all presented between a series of TV commercials, in addition to the series of TV commercials that regularly appear every few plays?
What’s in it for us? For football?
But, hey, we got ourselves into this … and now we’re in it.
ESPN reporter magnet for pointed answers
Jeopardy! Poor Quint Kessenich. The ESPN roving/sideline reporter has a gift for eliciting surly responses — in the form of questions — to his questions.
A few years ago Kessenich, before the King’s Bishop stakes at Saratoga, approached Harry Aleo, a World War II Battle of the Bulge vet, and the 85-year-old owner of the favorite, Lost In The Fog.
“Why wouldn’t you sell this horse?” Kessenich asked.
“What? Why wouldn’t I sell? If I sold him, I wouldn’t have the horse, now, would I?”
Kessenich wasn’t done. Moments later, he asked Aleo to compare this race — good grief — to the Battle of the Bulge. Aleo blew. How, he hollered, could Kessenich compare owning a racehorse to “the Battle of the [bleeping] Bulge!?” Interview over.
Friday, at halftime of Iowa-Nebraska on ABC/ESPN, Kessenech walked alongside Cornhuskers coach Bo Pellini: “Coach, what was your reaction to the two early [Iowa] interceptions?”
Pellini shot him an incredulous glance, then said, “Well, whatta you think? What kind of question is that?”
It’s tough listening to a wise old vowel owl such as NBC’s Al Michaels parrot a bunch of new-age, silly stats every week.
Thursday, after the Ravens took the lead against the Steelers, Michaels was eager to inform us that, “In this series, the team that scores first is 27-8.”
So what does that mean? What’s it worth? How does that measure up to other series? What does it have to do with this game?
More importantly, do the players and coaches know? And if so, do they care? If so, why? What team in any series wouldn’t want to score first?
Crew’s fingers on pulse
Funny bit Friday from the ABC/ESPN camera crew working Iowa-Nebraska. At the start of the fourth quarter, all were shown holding up four fingers — as do many football teams to remind one another that it’s time to give it your best.
Always admire the way FOX NFL sideliner Pam Oliver makes it sound as if head coaches can’t wait to talk to her at halftime.
Cubs play-by-player Pat Hughes remains a devoted chronicler and compiler of the work of sports’ great announcers. Hughes has completed a DVD commemorating the first Voice of the Yankees, Mel Allen. Visit baseballvoices.com to order.
FYI: For the past few years, a photo of me frequently has appeared on the Internet — cut, paste, perpetuate. The Internet’s great, that way: It can run forever with whatever anyone chooses. One small problem with that widely distributed photo: It ain’t me. Oh, well.