I get you, Chris Johnson. I’m not a fan of mornings either. First of all, the waking up part is horrible, as usually in those first few minutes after the alarm rings I’d rather do anything else with my life than get out of bed. Name the cliff, I’m jumping.
But the Titans running back was especially grumpy this morning, or at least he was in a quote discussing a troubling matter that surfaced in the wee hours.
There’s a special place in my heart for Chris Johnson. The black part that’s hollow and lifeless. That’s where he lives.
Forgive me for a unique sort of Johnson hate that’s been well documented by now, and is isolated solely in the fake football fantasy world that I try to profit from each fall. He teases, and explodes, and fails. He does only those three things.
Consistency is a hell of a drug, and we yearn for it with running backs. Expecting 150-yard blow ups every week is both unrealistic and stupid, but following those booms with colossal busts of less than 50 yards is downright maddening. Johnson does this, and he does it often. Yet still, he legitimately thinks he’s capable of breaking Eric Dickerson’s single-season rushing record.
We live in sad times. It’s been 18 days since the Super Bowl, which is nearly three long, cold weeks without football. Most of us have used the survival methods of a recently dumped high school girl: a steady diet of cookie dough, and repeated viewings of A Walk to Remember. Yes, sad times indeed.
Sure, we filled much of that space two weeks ago by re-hashing the Super Bowl and wondering whether or not Beyonce pulled a very large Superdome plug. And personally, I burned a week turning various shades of orange on a Dominican beach, which was swell. But now the Combine has arrived, with coaches and players beginning to talk to people who hold microphones and notepads today.
So dammit, give us something, and maybe even something to make us think warm and fuzzy fantasy football thoughts in late February.
Munchak said finding a running back to help Chris Johnson needs to be more of a priority
Chris Johnson can be fast, and elusive, and shifty, and all the things that make an elite (*cringes*) running back elite. But he can also dance, and plod, and entirely miss running lanes. Too often over the past two seasons he’s either been one of those two things, or nothing. There’s no even ground with Johnson, and no average performance. There’s a boom, or there’s a bust.
That’s why while the sex appeal of the high end of Johnson’s talents is understandably irresistible, the low end makes a long-term financial commitment difficult. Combine that inconsistency with his inherently risky status as a running back, and we arrive at one of the most perplexing players when it’s time for a general manager to either give Johnson a contract, re-structure his current one, or manage the player financially in any way.
This week the Titans had a choice: commit to their polarizing running back at a heavy expense for 2013, or jettison him and start over. They’re reportedly set to make the only logical decision available to them with their still young and still developing quarterback in need of support. But that doesn’t make it any less painful.
I just watched Chris Johnson dance in the backfield after receiving a handoff on the Colts’ five-yard line, stutter step a few times, try to bounce to the outside, and then get tackled for a five-yard loss.Yes, that all happened on my TV, and yours. When I saw that, I had one question: why?
Things that are easy are so much better than things that are hard. It’s a basic scientific theory that dates back to our core existence as people, and the fact that effort must never be wasted. Homer Simpson, however, has another theory.
Trying is easy, and even fun when a high return on said effort isn’t difficult to achieve. This brings us to Chris Johnson, who found running against the Bills — the league’s worst rushing defense that’s giving up an average of six yards per carry — to be a pleasurable experience with his 195 yards on 18 carries and two touchdowns last week.
Now he’s staring down another week when few carries could be needed for high-end production. The only effort required will be running in straight lines and hitting holes. It’s easy, really, just please no backfield dancing, Chris. Wasted effort makes kittens cry.