That Fickle Finger of Fate

I know it’s finally Super Bowl week because I’m actually watching the Saints de-plane at Miami International. Oooh Boyy! There’s Jeremy Shockey and Reggie Bush…woohoo! And there’s the fabulous Benson family. And I can look forward to more hours hearing about Katrina.

Well, in at least one respect, it’s good. At least one team has shown up. That indicates there indeed will be a game…eventually. But it won’t be before a zillion interviews and about 5 zillion clichés. And I can only hope that wild and crazy guy, Colts head coach Jim Caldwell, will kinda keep to himself this week.

This game, when it’s finally played, will hinge on Dwight Freeney’s leg hinge, his sprained ankle. When you think of offense, you think Peyton Manning. When you think of defense, you think of Dwight Freeney. If Freeney, whose main asset is speed, is hampered by an ankle sprain, he becomes just another guy who takes up a lot of space.

The Colts have been the best team in football this season. I really don’t think there can be any question about that. Manning is the real fly in the ointment for opponents. That fact was characterized most perfectly against New England, whose coach of coaches Bill Belichick elected to go for a fourth and one in his own territory with the time winding down rather than have to watch Manning drive the length of the field to beat him. Of course it didn’t work, Belichick’s Pats had to give Manning the ball about 40 yards closer to the endzone than they would have otherwise, and it was all over but the shouting (speaking of clichés).

The Saints had been undefeated too. But with each successive win, they won less convincingly. They did it with unlikely interceptions and forced fumbles and it seemed every win was an act of God. Yes, they had Drew Brees and Marques Colston, Shockey and Meacham, but they also had unlikely heroes almost all the time, guys like Devery Henderson and Pierre Thomas.

But what ultimately stopped the Saints was defensive injuries, in the secondary and defensive line. It seemed those turnovers just weren’t coming anymore, putting more pressure on the offense to outscore the opponent. And it just didn’t happen those last three games of the season.

The Colts had a very different ending to their regular season. They just gave it up, their perfect record, their chance at NFL history, their opportunity to put a lid on Don Shula and those Miami Dolphins of yesteryear, Csonka and Mercury Morris and Jim Kiick, and that feared 53 defense. They gave it up to avoid injuries for the playoffs.

So, as luck would have it, the fickle finger of fate landed on Dwight Freeney’s foot in the playoffs. Those 13 ½ sacks he had in the regular season would be meaningless. He came out of that Jets win with either a bad ankle sprain or some kind of ligament injuty, take your pick, but either one is pretty bad for a guy who depends on speed for his game.

The Colts were awesome in the playoffs though. They looked anxious to prove a point in thrashing the one-dimensional offenses of both the Ravens and the Jets, even though the Jets surprised them early with a passing game they really hadn’t shown all season.

While the Colts had it easy, the Saints had to face Arizona and Minnesota. There would be no Joe Flacco or Mark Sanchez barking out signals on the other side of the line from that opportunistic Saints defense. They had to face Kurt Warner and Brett Favre, two sure future Hall of Famers. But they came out on top, absolutely pulverizing Warner and the Cards while just squeaking by the much tougher and more versatile Vikings.

While it could be argued that the Vikings gave the game away, Childress and then Favre having found imaginative ways to throw the game away in the final minute, the Saints had to deal with the best running back in the NFL, Adrian Peterson, and their craftiest quarterback, who they may have forced into retirement.

The Vikings had a fearsome defense too. The Vikes had everything. The Vikes held the Saints offense to one of their lowest outputs of the season. But they couldn’t win the game. They fumbled the ball time after time and kept giving the Saints life when things looked the darkest for the black and gold. That fickle finger kept pointing at Peterson and Berrian and, in the final analysis, pointed straight at Childress and Favre.

If the Colts weren’t the best team in the NFL, the Vikings were. But they couldn’t beat the Saints. That same fickle finger made all those Saints injuries go away. It seemed to poke the ball out of Vikings’ hands and, down the stretch, that finger maybe even stuck itself through Favre’s ear right into his cerebrum.

And now Freeney’s hurt. While the injury could be just a ruse, I don’t think the Colts’ braintrust is that imaginative. There is no Belichick to mislead, confound and confusticate, just earnest Jim Caldwell and his hard-working band of real football players, which is still saying a lot, Freeney or not.

Without Freeney, Brees will have time to find all those receivers down the field, and pass defense was never the strength of the Colts, not this year anyway. The Saints could score early and often, putting enormous pressure on Manning, a master of pressure situations if there ever was one.

But when will enough become too much for Manning? He has already complained of being tired, after the Jets game, when the New Yorkers had taken that early lead that Manning had to take back. And he was brilliant, finding Pierre Garcon and Austin Collie and that elusive tight end of theirs.

It’s still early but even the great Manning may have trouble scoring at will against pesky veteran defenders who always seem to come up with the ball.