A Stanford Grad's Perspective
Bad fans, bad band, good stadium
September 19, 2006
By Glenn Truitt
It¹s been over a year since I was last on campus, since I wrote for the
Daily and since I publicly proclaimed my hatred for the Band. Saturday, I
had the opportunity to see my two Alma Maters meet on the football field, an
occurrence rare enough to justify the six hour drive to see the game, and an
occasion which also coincided with the opening of Stanford¹s new stadium.
And while you have an AMAZING new stadium ‹ certainly, the class of the
Pac-10 ‹ you still have the worst football fans at any major university and
a band that remains an embarrassment to your school. At least you¹ve finally
gotten the cheerleaders right.
What kind of band is so screwed up that it misses an event like Saturday¹s?
And don¹t tell me that it¹s not the Band¹s fault. You mean, you couldn¹t see
this coming? It¹s an isolated incident? The fact is, the Band has been an
increasingly annoying eyesore for years, and now it¹s the subject of
national ridicule (See the Cleveland Plain Dealer, the Indianapolis Star,
the San Francisco Chronicle, etc.) Looks like I may have been the rule and
not the exception after all, (see my column 3/1/05) to which I¹m certain the
band will respond that we¹re ALL now fascists. Listen, that response is even
more tired than the Band¹s act. Just stop, you¹re only making it worse.
What fills me with joy is the fact that the world¹s worst fans and
corresponding band, got a chance to see what real fans and a real band look
like, right in the middle of their own brand new house. Because, amidst
Navy¹s sound beating of a stronger, faster and more experienced football
team, they also came with louder, more excited fans, a rowdier student
section, and a band that doesn¹t suck. There it is Stanford, that¹s the best
look you¹re ever going to get.
I overheard one Stanford fan lamenting ³We¹re stronger and faster than all
these guys, how can we possibly be losing?² I¹ll tell you something that I
learned while still a freshman at Navy: it¹s all about ³heart.² None of the
Navy players will play in the NFL, and none of them were likely recruited by
the major conference schools. They go through the same grind as all the
midshipmen at Navy, they get no special favors ‹ they stand
shoulder-to-
them will go to war ‹ a place where their touchdowns and tackles mean
nothing. So why do they play? Perhaps for love of the game, for pride in
their school, perhaps for the crowd who they know will stay to the end of
the game and cheer them, win or lose. For whatever reason they play, they
play; and they play hard. They play with HEART. And that¹s why I cheer for
them. There are very few pure things left in college football, and Navy is
one of them.
The Stanford football team has little reason to dig down deep. I¹ve seen
more excitement at a knitting convention. And at the first sign of
adversity, the so-called ³fans² filed for the exits like rats on a sinking
ship. That¹s right, in the THIRD QUARTER of the home opener in a BRAND NEW
stadium many cardinal-wearing spectators were already headed home. Better
things to do I guess. What¹s worse, when it came time to sing Stanford¹s
alma mater (after Navy sang theirs to a packed house), there wasn¹t even an
identifiable section of fans for the Stanford team to stand in front of to
sing ‹ the student section had long since gone off to their own parties.
Embarrassing.
For the men of the Stanford football team, here¹s something you might not
hear enough from your own crowd: Great game; you played hard; and better
luck next week. You guys deserve that great stadium.
As for the ³fans² and the Band, you don¹t even deserve to be let inside.
Glenn Truitt, Stanford Law School Class of 2005, USNA Class of Œ97 is now a
practicing attorney in
the Band. He welcomes comments at glennt97@gmail.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Paul Johnson for Superintendent
Navy's version of the triple option puts a successful spin on an outdated offense
By Gary Lambrecht
Baltimore Sun Reporter
Originally published August 30, 2006
The Navy players do not hide confidence in their ability to move the ball.
They have seen what kind of damage this offense, with its unfamiliarity,
deception and numbing repetition, can do. And they have seen their share of
defenses give in to impatience and frustration while trying to solve the
Midshipmen.
"When [the offense] is clicking, a team comes out in one defense, and we run
them out of it. Then, they switch to another defense, and we run them out of
that," senior left tackle Matt Pritchett said. "Then, they just sit in one
defense and take [abuse]."
"Depending on what the defense does, we like to get 4 or 5 yards and march
down the field, but if you give us more, we'll take it," senior quarterback
Brian Hampton added. "In this offense, nobody can be selfish, but anybody
can have a breakout day."
Under fifth-year coach Paul Johnson, Navy has erased years of futility with
a 26-11 record over the past three seasons, including back-to-back bowl game
victories. Better players all over the field explain much of that.
But more than anything else, Navy's resurgent path is strewn with opposing
defenses that were bigger and quicker than the Mids, yet still unable to
counter Navy's trump card, which is basically a variation on a college
football relic.
When trying to understand Navy's spread offense, picture the triple-option
attacks that used to be staples at schools such as Nebraska, Oklahoma and
Ohio State. But subtract the power quotient that marked such run-heavy
formations as the wishbone and go with a one-back set without a tight end.
Add finesse, spacing, one or two receivers and the element of surprise, on
the ground and through the air.
Navy's success is wrapped in an offense Johnson has studied and refined
since he became offensive coordinator at Georgia Southern more than 20 years
ago.
The triple option remains the foundation from which everything else flows.
It is based on defensive keys the quarterback reads before either handing
the ball to the fullback, running it himself between the tackles, or moving
along the line of scrimmage before turning up the field to gain yardage or
pitching the ball to a trailing slotback.
How the defensive end reacts on the side where the play is called dictates
much about the decision by the quarterback, who also watches his own,
play-side guard before committing to an option. If the guard opens a hole,
the fullback probably will get the call. If the guard-tackle gap is closed,
the quarterback will keep the ball and move laterally while reading the
pitch key, before either keeping it or tossing it to his slotback, depending
on who is covered.
"We don't know on most plays who the fake guy is or who's the guy that gets
the ball. It depends on how the defense reacts," said Johnson, who as
offensive coordinator at Navy in 1996 used the spread to drive the Mids to
their first winning record (9-3) in 14 years. "The neat thing about the
option is even if [the defense] puts eight or nine guys in the box, it
doesn't keep you from running the ball. We don't have to block them all,
anyway."
The Navy option is based on simplicity, repetition and deception. The
playbook consists of merely seven or eight plays. Each play has at least
half a dozen variations, such as sweeps or counters, and each calls for a
different blocking scheme. Every running play has a play-action pass option.
Besides Air Force, Navy is the only school that still bases its offense on
the triple option, which began to fade out of vogue in the early 1980s, as
more programs incorporated passing into their systems and turned to the
pro-style set prevalent in the college game today. The option came to be
seen as an unattractive recruiting tool for quarterbacks and receivers
looking to hone NFL skills, and it was typically ineffective at overcoming
large deficits to win games.
Johnson, whose offense averaged 34.2 points last season, insists the option
is not dying, but is hiding in disguise. "You look at schools like Florida,
Utah, West Virginia. They're doing what we do, but they're doing it out of
the [shot]gun [formation],
of option in their stuff, but none of them want to be called option teams.
They're afraid of that taboo. You could take this offense and gear it toward
throwing the ball very easily. We choose to gear it toward the run. You play
to the personnel and the talent you have."
For Navy, the option is an equalizer. The Mids' defense usually is too
undersized to dominate its opponents. The offense faces the same problem,
and would not thrive with one-on-one blocking schemes. The option allows
Navy to control the clock, stay in close games and protect leads.
"There are some unique challenges that make it extremely difficult to
prepare for. We donate specific time periods going back to spring practice
to defending the option," said Massachusetts coach Don Brown, who will face
Navy on Sept. 9.
"You have to get your scout team to run it for you as fast as they can,
which is hard to do, because we don't see it much," Brown said. "You have to
get your defense to stay hard on their keys and let those take them to the
ball. And you have to limit their big plays, like the play-action pass."
The Mids will kill a defense softly with long drives - the 14-minute,
26-second epic that finished off New Mexico with a field goal in the 2004
Emerald Bowl stands out. Or, they will take the quick strike, should a
defense over-commit to the run and expose itself deep. Think of slotback
Reggie Campbell's 55-yard touchdown reception that set the tone for the
51-30 rout of Colorado State in last year's Poinsettia Bowl.
Navy has led the nation in rushing in two of the past three seasons, and
averaged barely 12 pass attempts in 2005. But Navy also averaged 20.3 yards
per catch and scored seven times through the air.
"What we start off with on Day One in camp will be the same things we'll be
practicing in Week 14 against Army. We keep it simple, and we keep doing it
over and over," said Ken Niumatalolo, Navy's assistant head coach, who
played quarterback at Hawaii in the late 1980s under Johnson, then the
offensive coordinator.
"We've added wrinkles to it, like the toss [or sweep], but we've never
revamped it or disregarded the core. It doesn't hurt our feelings that
nobody else is running it."