He should be watching.
And not just watching, he should be taking notes.
If there are no particular secrets to uncover or blueprint to follow from the presence of still another two unlikely Super Bowl participants, there is significant wisdom to be gleaned from its two starting quarterbacks.
And Cade McNown should be paying attention.
The Bears’ young but already beleaguered quarterback can look at Baltimore’s Trent Dilfer and the Giants’ Kerry Collins as two former top draft picks (Dilfer No. 6 in ’94; Collins No. 5 in ’95) who had to hit bottom before they could rise.
Not that McNown can compare his semi-desperate situation with either that of Dilfer, practically run out of Tampa to be a backup in Baltimore before finding his new lease on football, or that of Collins, who gave a whole new meaning to losing his team when he was in Carolina.
Compared with these two, McNown is a novice in getting booed by the fans, slammed by the media and ostracized by teammates. Which is all the more reason he should study how they recovered.
Boiled down, the two have learned that patience, perseverance, unselfishness and humility go a long way, often to places where talent doesn’t always take you.
Dilfer was highly rated out of Fresno State for his arm strength, his size (6 feet 4 inches, 230 pounds) and his intelligence. But after essentially wasting his rookie season in Tampa Bay because of a contract holdout, he was forced into the lineup his second year, coach Sam Wyche’s last before being fired.
Among the knocks on Dilfer in Tampa, where he lost his job to Shaun King in 1999, was that he lacked touch on his passes, that he wasn’t a strong leader and that he wasn’t as smart about the game as they thought he was.
His quarterback rating was nothing special (69.4 average in Tampa) and, as Wyche told the Cincinnati Enquirer, Dilfer was “naive” about what it took to succeed in the NFL.
“He didn’t realize how much work was involved,” Wyche said.
Sound familiar?
What Dilfer did not do, however, was pout or, it seemed, lose the loyalty of his Bucs teammates, who have been publicly congratulating him all week.
He has earned respect in Baltimore largely because he realizes he’s not bigger than the offense.
Of course, it’s easy to be gracious now, when you’re the starting quarterback in the Super Bowl and despite still obvious deficiencies, no one is booing you anymore. But Dilfer still could be a self-righteous jerk as he prepares to return to Tampa for the Super Bowl.
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Instead, he goes the other way.
“I think the greatest lesson I’ve learned in life is that you have to appreciate the moments in your life that are hard,” he said in the emotional moments after the Ravens beat Oakland for the AFC championship, “moments when you often say things you later regret.
“You can’t go running from adversity. You have to let it hit you straight in the face. I’m very thankful for my six years in Tampa. I wouldn’t trade one single experience for anything because those experiences helped develop the man who sits here today.”
Collins probably would trade several of his experiences in Carolina, from which McNown can learn the old adage of being careful what you wish for.
After two years in the league, Collins already had led his team to a 12-4 record and the NFC championship game. Too much, too soon is how those close to Collins now describe what happened.
What followed was a nightmarish series of incidents, starting in training camp of ’97, that had him alternately labeled a racist (the accusation of two teammates), a quitter (the charge by coach Dom Capers after the Panthers started 0-4 that season) and a drunk (which he admitted when he later entered rehab).
When he was released by then-New Orleans coach Mike Ditka after a charge of driving under the influence during the ’98 season, Collins was considered lucky that Giants General Manager Ernie Accorsi was willing to take a gamble on him.
Accorsi, who grew up not far from Collins’ hometown of Lebanon, Pa., knew those who knew Collins and signed him to a four-year, $16.9 million contract that included a $5 million signing bonus, a move for which Accorsi was widely criticized.
But Collins’ rebirth still wasn’t over as Giants coach Jim Fassel identified a fatal hitch in his delivery and completely retooled his throwing motion. At 27, Collins gratefully acquiesced.
At 24, McNown’s technique problems seem minor in comparison with the quagmire in which Collins found himself.
Former Redskins quarterback and now TV commentator Joe Theismann recently watched McNown throw and pronounced his mechanics “horrible–too much sidearm motion, which is why his ball always sails on him, and too off-balance.”
Theismann pointed this out to McNown, whom he thought seemed receptive.
“Cade needs to correct that,” said Theismann, “and he needs to earn his teammates’ respect. Young players don’t always realize that.”
He would if he pays attention.