Chargers on Empty at the Start
Did you go to the Charger game Sunday?
If so, did you sit in a traffic jam? Did you move in excruciatingly short spurts? Did you wonder if you ever would get there?
If you made it, you had to come away thinking that the Charger offense is very similar to being stuck in a traffic jam. If, by chance, your car overheated and you didn’t make it, then you personally did a perfect imitation of the Charger offense.
You remember the days of Air Coryell? I know, don’t remind you. If this offense were an airline, it would make four stops between here and Palomar . . . and probably run out of gas in Leucadia.
Air Coryell had a bomb built into every play, but this one has a dud built into every drive. It moves upfield like it is tiptoeing through a mine field.
In the biggest game of the season Sunday afternoon at San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium, the Chargers matched their archrivals, the villainous Raiders, score for score through three quarters. And it still wasn’t a contest. The Raiders were scoring touchdowns, two of them at least, and the Chargers were settling for field goals. Each team had three scores and the Raiders had a 17-9 lead.
With 15 minutes to play, it was time to go home. The Chargers, given they weren’t going to score a touchdown, needed three more field goals.
Final score: 24-9.
This one actually might have been over before it started. Buoyed by their 39-3 victory last week over the New York Jets, the Chargers opted to wear their blue pants and white shirts once again. This left those dastardly Raiders with the black shirts they prefer. It must have been lost on them that the Jets are not very good.
What the Raiders did was beat the blue pants off the hometown heroes.
In reality, the Chargers did not lose this game because the Raiders wore black shirts or they wore blue pants, though black and blue does come to mind. They lost because of this glacial offense, which moves slowly and surely but just as surely melts down.
You see, this is an offense at its best when the quarterback is handing the ball rather than passing it. Billy Joe Tolliver should wear white gloves and a tuxedo and carry a serving tray. Here you go, Mr. Butts, can I get you anything else? And you, Mr. Bernstine?
The trouble is, it is impossible to win in the National Football League with running backs alone. This has been the case for the last 50 years, and that will pretty much cover it. Lombardi’s Packers may have been conservative by today’s standards, but they had a guy who could throw the ball to guys who could catch it.
These Chargers are as conservative as the Goldwater family, undoubtedly out of necessity.
Their first drive was typical. Pound the ball with Marion Butts, throw the ball to Marion Butts, pound the ball with Marion Butts, throw the ball to the tight end, pound it again with Marion Butts.
That put the ball on the Raider 11. In other words, the Chargers found themselves in their version of no man’s land. The last 11 yards may as well have been a moat. Butts came out second and six and that was it. A gain of one on a run and an incomplete pass, and it was time for a field goal.
Another drive, this one in the second quarter and this one inspired by the running of Rod Bernstine and another pass to a tight end, died when Tolliver had to go to the air from the Raider 20. This offense takes to the air like it has wings held together by wax . . . and it was 94 degrees on the field.
You see, these Chargers just cannot get anywhere quickly. I wouldn’t be surprised if all of them, at least the ones on offense, walked home after the game. No use rushing anything.
They tried to rush it at the end of the first half, but lost four yards on a flanker reverse, 11 more on a sack and then ran out of gas on an overthrown pass.
On the only possession of consequence in the third quarter, it was more of the same. They plodded downfield with conservative plays but awakened with a jolt on the Raider 10. Going backward much faster than they can go forward, they found themselves with a fourth down at the 20 after a holding penalty, an overthrown pass and a third-down pass apparently aimed at the invisible man.
By this point, of course, the Raiders had gotten their “A†in math, accurately concluding that 3+7+7 is superior to 3+3+3. The Raiders did not really need to make it 3+7+7+7, but they did. Sometimes, a genuine NFL offense cannot help but get the ball in the end zone.
In the aftermath, the Chargers were given another lesson in mathematics. They gained 289 yards in total offense, exactly the same as the Raiders. And they controlled the ball 32 minutes 58 seconds to the Raiders’ 27 minutes 2 seconds.
The lesson is that it matters not how far you travel or how long it takes you, but rather where you run out of gas.
