Thursday, July 26, 2007
Sports

07/29/07 SPORTSLEAD: Shooting Blanks

Shooting Blanks Vick not the only one making wrong decisions BY ADAM KROHN Arthur Blank really thought the NFL was like Home Depot. He thought he could just walk in and build an organiza...

Arthur Blank CREDIT: Doug Benc/Getty Images

Shooting Blanks
Vick not the only one making wrong decisions
BY ADAM KROHN

Arthur Blank really thought the NFL was like Home Depot. He thought he could just walk in and build an organization from scratch. There’s one problem with that theory: The Falcons weren’t at square one. In fact, under the leadership of Dan Reeves, they were at the cusp of a championship. But Reeves wasn’t the owner; he was just a “football guy.” Had he succeeded at his goal of bringing a championship to Atlanta, it wouldn’t have been under Blank’s leadership. So he had to go.

In hindsight, Blank’s predecessors, the Smith family, proved to have much better foresight than he did, although their perceived “image” said otherwise. The Smiths knew nothing about football, and they didn’t care. As long as they could make a profit, everything was OK. It didn’t matter who made the football decisions because they sure didn’t want to make them.

As careless as this attitude may sound, the stage was set for someone who did care to come in and run the organization from a football standpoint. That’s where the Falcons got lucky and stumbled into Dan Reeves, who in his NFL career reached the Super Bowl six times as both a player and a coach, winning one as a player in 1971. Reeves cared, and he was allowed to build the Falcons from scratch, his way. And after just two years on the job, he had accomplished the unthinkable: taking the Falcons to their only Super Bowl appearance during the 1998 season.

But Reeves didn’t stop there. When his veteran-heavy Super Bowl squad began to fade out, he started a youth movement by adding integral pieces such as Keith Brooking, Patrick Kerney, Alge Crumpler and of course, the now-infamous Michael Vick, among many others. Just like that, Reeves built the Falcons into a championship-caliber team yet again, proving his first run was no fluke. The year was 2001.

BAD CALLS

Unfortunately, another development was taking place at the same time. Arthur Blank was selling off his company, Home Depot, to retire as a billionaire.

As it turns out, all the work Reeves did to put the Falcons on the map only served to get the attention of Blank, who stepped in and bought the franchise in 2002. All of a sudden, Blank was in charge of a successful team, and he wanted to take all the credit. In the process, he ignored the very reason the Falcons were a success.

Almost immediately, Blank began butting heads with Reeves. In his first off-season with the Falcons, Blank signed free-agent running back Warrick Dunn to a monster contract, mainly because Dunn was an active member in the community and did great things to give back. In other words, he had a great image.

Forget that Reeves didn’t need a speed back, since he had found a way to consolidate his quarterback into one. Reeves needed a bruising back to melt the clock, someone like Jamal Anderson. That’s why at draft time, when it was assumed the Falcons would draft a much-needed wide receiver; Reeves took T.J. Duckett. On the surface, Reeves looked foolish, given that so much money had already been committed to Duckett’s position already. Truth is, Reeves didn’t need Dunn. But it didn’t matter. Blank wanted the image.

Then, in 2003, less than a year after he purchased the team, Blank pulled off one of the most cowardly moves in ownership history. When Reeves’ prized acquisition—Vick—succumbed to a pre-season injury, Blank seized the moment and fired the coach. He then turned around and hired assistant coaches Jim Mora and Greg Knapp to run the team, somehow figuring they’d be a better fit for the Falcons than the perennial playoff-contending Reeves.

IMAGE IS EVERYTHING

In addition, the image-conscious Blank asserted what he called a “Falcon Filter,” claiming that he would only hire players of character and integrity—creating the image that his team is superior.

Who’s in charge of this screening process—Pacman Jones? Let’s look at a few of the players who’ve passed through this filter: Rod Coleman, said to have been drinking (although not drunk) at the time of a 2004 auto accident; Jonathan Babineaux, alleged to have killed his girlfriend’s dog; Jimmy Williams, currently facing a marijuana possession charge; and, of course, the $140 million Vick, whose extracurricular activities now have the attention of federal prosecutors—and even worse, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.

Last Thursday, Blank stood before the press to throw the same quarterback he spent years coddling under the bus. He tried to suspend Vick (without pay, of course) for four games without allowing him the right to due process—but was ordered not to do so by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell.

It was just four years ago that Blank was criticized for showing favoritism by carting an injured Vick down the sidelines in a wheelchair. Now that Vick is the most unpopular person in America, Blank would just as soon push that wheelchair over a cliff to save his image.

That “image” Blank is so concerned about now makes the Bengals look like choirboys. Even worse, the Falcons (even before the Vick revelation) have been in steady regression since Reeves left. And all this is at the expense of the fans.

Still, there is a silver lining: At least Blank didn’t buy the Braves as well. SP

Talk back to Adam at adamkrohn@sundaypaper.com.