It’s one reason I generally can’t take more than a few
minutes of a post-game radio show. Because this guy is inevitably going to
call:
“Yeah, the Bills lost 67-4. But if the ref would have called
it when Cromartie mugged Johnson on that third down in the first quarter, they
would have had momentum. Woulda been a whole different game.”
No one does this better than Bills fans. When I worked at
Niagara Gazette, you could be sure that, win or lose, moments after a Bills
game ended (and quite often several times during), the phone would ring and at
the other end, a faithful reader on a first-name basis with every member of the
sports department would start ranting about one of two things: A flagrant
example of pass interference committed by an opposing defender which had been
missed by an obviously corrupt official; or a blatant scapegoating of a member
of Buffalo’s defense, also by an obviously corrupt official.
A team that deserves to win almost never puts itself in a
position to get beaten by a blown call. There are rare exceptions, like the
interference call in the end zone at the end of New England’s 1998 comeback win
over the visiting Bills (which will be discussed at length at a later date).
One non-exception – Home Run Throwback. I was sitting in the
press box, nursing a nuclear toothache near the 45-yard line on the end of the
field where the most gruesome single play in Bills history unfolded.
After Steve Christie’s field goal gave Buffalo a 16-15 lead,
I stood up and put my notebook and tape (!) recorder in my blazer pocket, joked
with Buffalo News beat reporter Al Wilson about whether we’d be headed for
Jacksonville or Indianapolis for the next round of the playoffs (with the sort
of forced cynicism required to make a pretty cool job sound like working in the
sewer), and started composing leads in my head hailing Rob Johnson’s heroism in
bringing his team back in an incredibly hostile environment.
I looked at the field in time to see Lorenzo Neal field
Christie’s short, high kick, then turn and hand it to Frank Wycheck.
“Isn’t that adorable?” I thought. “They’re going to let him
throw it.”
When Kevin Dyson caught Wycheck’s heave and headed upfield,
all alone, there was little reaction amongst the media. The mumbled consensus
was that it had been a forward pass. No one said much of anything other than,
“It’s coming back” until Dyson reached the end zone. And the nearest official
threw up his hands.
Then all hell broke loose, on the field, in the stands and
in the press box.
I probably watched the replay at least 50 times that
afternoon, as we crowded around the elevated televisions, dissecting Dyson’s
75-yard jaunt like the Zapruder film. I have seen it at least as many times
since.
And I still cannot say with absolute certainty whether it
was a forward pass or a lateral.
The other image that stuck with me from that afternoon was
watching Buffalo’s entire coverage team angle to the center of the field, all
planning on jumping on the pile that would, of course, form on top of whoever
caught Christie’s kick. And then watching them chasing Dyson desperately, most
at least 20 or 30 yards behind him.
If those guys had simply stayed anywhere near their assigned
coverage lanes, it would not have mattered whether Wycheck’s throw was legal.
At the least, Dyson wouldn’t have made it past his own 40, if he had even been
able to catch the ball with a Bills defender arriving at full speed
simultaneously with the ball.
All that said, the scab referees the National Football
League has foisted on the 2012 season were putrid during the preseason and,
maybe because there was real football being played, even worse in Week 1.
Not to hurt their self-esteem or cause body-image issues or
anything, but it can’t help that so many of these guys appear mildly to
woefully out of shape. For all their other flaws, the regular officials tend to
be pretty fit and trim. Or, in the case of Ed “Two Guns” Hochuli, ready to kick
the living crap out of you and everyone you know.
Several of the scab officials, though, sport boilers that
are unflatteringly highlighted by the striping of their scab-official uniforms.
That could be part of the reason that, when New York’s Shonn Greene fumbled, it
seemed like at least five seconds before any black-and-white shirt got to the
pile of red, blue, green and white.
Deadspin.com compiled 21 of the most egregious mistakes madeby the scabs last weekend. Though the Bills-Jets game is not included in the
package, the officiating in New Jersey made news when Mario Williams excused
his absenteeism from New York’s backfield by claiming Jets tackle Austin Howard
spent the afternoon alternately attempting to pick the defensive end’s nose and
inspect his teeth.
Even if Williams’ complaint is valid, it would seem that the
most prominent defensive free-agent signee in recent memory could have still
found a way around a second-year, second-string tackle making his second NFL
start a few times, at least.
Sunday against Kansas City, Remarkably Average Mario gets a
chance to start earning that big payday. It’s either that, or continue
complaining about the officials.
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