Tuesday, January 23, 2001
DAUGHERTY: Ravens 'D' no dazzle, all danger
TAMPA, Fla. — They come seeking casualties and history. The Baltimore Ravens' defense wants to be the best ever, in a brawny, boastful, barroom way that doesn't leave room for debate. Basically, they'll cripple anyone who gets in their way.
“We're like having a PlayStation and (putting) all the best players on one defensive unit,” said Michael McCrary, the defensive end. “We'd take this unit to the Pro Bowl and shut the other team out.”
We watch the Ravens defense the way we watch car wrecks and exploding volcanoes. They set a 16-game record for points allowed, 165. They've given up 13 points in three playoff games. They threw four shutouts
and have allowed one touchdown or less in 16 of their last 20 games.
They led the league in fewest rushing yards allowed. No runner got them for 100. Only two did better than 63. Corey Dillon ripped the Ravens for 32 yards in two games. Remember the last time a running back touched you for 100, Michael McCrary?
“I think Jamal said he had 100 on us a couple nights ago, on PlayStation,” said McCrary, of Ravens' halfback Jamal Lewis.
"We're furious'
They are big-talking, big-bopping men, thrashing about in a boy's game, just detonating people. They're scary-good to watch.
“We're furious,” was how McCrary described it.
“There's not a lot of genius to it,” said Tony Siragusa, the nose tackle. “It's basically kill the guy with the ball. Our corners and our safeties hit you just as hard as our linebackers.”
The Ravens defenders are the people who come to the Halloween party dressed as themselves. Siragusa, all 340 pounds of him, is the guy who shows up at 6 and asks, “Who's for dinner?”
No wonder the team is named for a poem written by a teller of mad tales. If the Ravens' defense didn't exist, Poe would invent it. They're the beating heart beneath the bedroom floor.
Push and shove
They want a push and shove Super Bowl, sleeves rolled up to the rotator cuff, faces painted tribally, in mud. It would be lovely for the Ravens if it rained. It would be better if the Ravens could stage this game in a ring, with tag teams. They'd play 12 three-minute rounds.
Their defense is so good, it has adopted their orphan offense. They plan on dragging it, punting and screaming, to a championship. As tight end Shannon Sharpe said of the offense, “Our job is not to mess it up.”
One small point needs to be addressed before the Ravens defense takes its place next to Pittsburgh's Steel Curtain, Buddy Ryan's Monsters of the Midway and Norman Bates as certified, Hall of Fame killers:
They need to beat the Giants Sunday.
“It's going to be a brawl,” Siragusa said. “It's two East Coast teams. You don't have all this West Coast, hokey, throw-it-down-the-field baloney. It's old-time football.”
Said McCrary: “We got to take advantage of this last dance. We have to try to make this the best defensive performance ever. We might not be together next year.” Given the shifting sands of free agency and the shifting attitudes of players whose eyes have seen the glory, he's probably right.
On Sunday, the Ravens will get one shot at the fame of permanent memory. If you doubt them, you should probably keep it to yourself.
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at (513) 768-8454.
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DAUGHERTY: Ravens 'D' no dazzle, all danger