Major League Hope

The author is one of the most devout fans of the Chiefs that I know. Despite the fact he lives in another country, Enrique generally has a very incisive view of what’s going on around the team. Here are his thoughts about the start of the Pioli-Haley Era.

Despite glaring question marks at key positions, a potentially-damaging injury to the starting quarterback, the removal of the offensive coordinator, and to top it off, an 0-4 pre-season record, there’s one admission that I just can’t deny.

Yes. I do have a dream.

With the appointments of Scott Pioli as general manager and Todd Haley as head coach, a new era of football is about to be written at One Arrowhead Drive. The fresh approach that the pair brings to the table –along with a championship background — has already spawned expectations, both good and bad ones. Come to think about it, that’s the true essence of any change in itself.

But some things remain the same. And for me, once again, is that time of the year.

Ever since 1990 –the season in which I got hooked without remedy to the pigskin– I’ve been rooting for the Kansas City Chiefs to hoist the Lombardi Trophy one more time. By entering the twentieth consecutive year of my quest, it’s safe to say that the drought has officially become a long one. Yet, to this day, I don’t complain; there are die-hard fans that have waited longer than I have. And in several cases, some of them have really suffered throughout the years.

When the Chiefs lost the AFC Championship Game in January of ‘94, something told me to better buckle up. To see the magic of Montana disappear in such anti-climatic fashion (literally and figuratively) in Buffalo after an extraordinary run in the regular season and the playoffs was discouraging to say the least and made me realize that the main destination was a little farther than I first thought. Still, that wasn’t much of a problem. I already knew in my heart that Kansas City was my football home and where I belonged. Plus, there’s nothing like jumping on the bandwagon when there’s plenty of room available.

Among the lessons learned from that loss, is that every fan has a way to deal with defeats. It’s one of our rights as innocent bystanders. Some miss their workdays; others like to punch walls; and there’s the passive kind that thinks that some curse is being cast on our teams. To some degree, count me in the latter. However, the most important part of that process is to find something to hang on; something that can keep us looking ahead and down the road in case disaster strikes again.

And I found mine on a baseball movie.

The first time I watched Major League on TV I was entertained. The theme of an underdog pulling off the improbable upset out of the blue is always attractive. But the next time I saw it in the summer of ‘94 I was overwhelmed. The light bulb went on. While I partially blame it on the instant-gratification syndrome that is the trademark of my generation, with time I could certify that I was accidentally given a glimpse of what the NFL would become in the next few years. Even in the wrong sport, this was definitely a masterpiece ahead of its time.

Irrefutable truth is that championships are obtained through the Draft; the safest way to succeed is by picking and developing your own players –In other words, building from the inside-out. Nevertheless, the institution of free-agency and the salary cap opened a window of opportunity for everybody in professional football because it provided an alternative method to select the perfect people to execute a system. Therefore, it accelerated processes and allowed franchises to deceptively sneak out of nowhere. One can easily identify 1993 as the beginning of the Win-Now era. Since then, with the notable exception of George Seifert and Jimmy Johnson, who were named head men of San Francisco and Dallas in 1989, the only head coach to win a Super Bowl after running a team for more than five years is Bill Cowher. Check this out:

 

These are the good news for Todd Haley, and for Scott Pioli.

The last fourteen years have registered unique stories for every champion. My favorite one is that of the 2001 Patriots. They’re my Holy Grail. Try to guess the men behind that feat. As members of a region starving for a title, and trapped in a transition stage (sound familiar?), their plan to feature a competitive lineup consisted in revamping the depth chart, betting the farm on the astonishing number of twenty-two free agents that provided fundamental contributions, not only because of their abilities on the field but for the personalities that they possessed. All in search of an overall identity.

Starting from scratch demands creativity. That’s the genius behind Major League.

The most valuable word for a head coach when he’s trying to assemble a team is chemistry. And it’s attainable if the man in charge adds the appropriate characters. Make no mistake: talent, guts and brains are very important, and roster spots are granted on the strength of these qualities; but the goal of driving 53-plus men in one direction is based on the fact of convincing them to rely on each other no matter the score, weather, city, etc. In order to be successful, they need to get along first. They need to be together through thick and thin because winning squads are as strong as their weakest links. Ultimately, as those Patriots showed me eight years ago, necessity can produce miracles.

Afterwards, they’ll just need something to ignite the combustion. That sure worked out all right for those fictional Cleveland Indians.

Todd Haley and Scott Pioli are joined at the hip. Their methods may seem rude and tactless, and they probably are (Do you remember skipper Lou Brown and a certain contract?). Just the result of swinging the proverbial pendulum. As long as the victories show up, everything will be fine. If they don’t, both will be subjects of criticism. That’s no different of how it works. Luckily for them, they appear to be in the same channel, and that alone gives them a chance.

At first sight, I’ve liked what I’ve seen so far; I’ve loved the nature of the current acquisitions and I’m at peace with the holdovers from previous regimes. With the release of Zach Thomas, auditions will be held to fill the role of Jake Taylor, the savvy veteran in pursuit of one last hurrah and unquestionable leader of the pack; in the meantime…

• I’ve penciled Matt Cassel as Rick Vaughn, eager to step into the huddle to the tune of “Wild Thing”;
• I’m confident that Mark Bradley will serve as an adequate Willie Mays Hayes, waiting for the opportunity to showcase at least one big play on every Sunday;
• I’m counting on Mike Vrabel to be Roger Dorn, the former great that will finally buy into the program;
• And of course, I’m envisioning a final celebratory embrace between Todd Haley and Brian Waters; one that would make Eddie Harris and Pedro Cerrano proud.

   

Those visions could quickly turn into nightmares as soon as the team lands in Baltimore.

Would it matter? Yeah, probably. Nobody likes to think about next year. But I’m not in a mood to give up. Not at the start of a season and definitely not at the beginning of a new chapter. I’ll keep reaching for that elusive star ’cause if history has taught me one thing is that the moment is coming; and just in case that’s not enough, I can seek relief on the premise that this is the time for hope.

And at the end of the day that will always, always … be better than nothing.