Out of his big mouth, a foot tries for recovery
by Buck Harvey
San Antonio Express-News
OXNARD, Calif. — He missed his first field-goal attempt as a Cowboy last weekend in practice, and he missed another two Monday. But Mike Vanderjagt has made up for it this training camp. He has yet to treat Drew Bledsoe as he once did Peyton Manning.
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If anything, Vanderjagt has been a cheerleader. When Terrell Owens caught a long pass on the first day of practice, on Saturday, Vanderjagt sprinted with his index finger raised in the air, trying to get the crowd excited.
But none of it matters. Vanderjagt knows that. He has made 11 game-winning kicks in the final 15 seconds over his NFL career, and those don't matter, either. He went 37 of 37 three years ago and missed just twice last year, and those don't matter. Once, in a 2002 game at Denver, he drilled a 54-yarder with three seconds left to send the game into overtime, then knocked down a 51-yarder to win it.
Does that matter? No.
What matters for the most accurate kicker in NFL history is that he does something so special — so substantial — that he becomes known for something that doesn't require a rolling of the eyes. Changing the Cowboys would be a start.
Whatever Vanderjagt does now, in practice, is certainly meaningless. He signed a $5.4million, three-year contract, more than the Cowboys have ever invested in a kicker. Dallas added another kicker Monday, but he's here as a practice guy to relieve the others. Vanderjagt could shank everything through November, and Jerry Jones would likely stand pat.
But Vanderjagt's story goes beyond money. His stature has been obscured by two moments, and he's been defined in ways that can't be changed with a few first-quarter kicks against Jacksonville.
The first incident is funnier, except to Vanderjagt. Then, three years ago, the Colts suffered a first-round playoff loss. In an interview with a sports TV station from Canada, where Vanderjagt is from, he announced coach Tony Dungy and Manning were genial to a fault.
That's Vanderjagt, an extrovert who wears No. 13 on a dare. He has a few things to say, and the Cowboys already joke about this lively personality. "I got my eye on him," Bledsoe kidded last weekend.
Had Manning treated Vanderjagt similarly, not much would have followed. Instead, sensitive to the criticism, Manning used terms that are still associated with Vanderjagt. Manning laughed and dismissed Vanderjagt as an "idiot kicker" who "got liquored up."
As Vanderjagt told reporters in July: "I said something I shouldn't have, and it bothered him. He got back at me. It bothered me because it's completely false. If I was a drinking fool, I'd be like, 'You know what? I'm a drinking fool.' But because it's completely false, that's what drives me nuts."
He says Manning called 10 times the next day to make sure they were cool. They were. But had this been between Manning and a pedestrian kicker, Indianapolis would have likely moved on with someone else immediately.
Still, the episode never went away for Vanderjagt. When he talked Monday about wanting out of Indianapolis ("I was happy to get out of there"), this one exchange likely festered and added to everything else.
Vanderjagt thought he was gone last January even after another brilliant season. But what happened in his final kick for the Colts cemented everything, and Manning was again part of it.
After Jerome Bettis' infamous fumble, after Ben Roethlisberger somehow made the game-saving tackle, the Colts had the ball at their 42-yard line, with 1:01 left and three timeouts. Given that, Manning managed only one first down — leaving Vanderjagt with a 46-yard field goal.
Vanderjagt missed wide, wide, wide right, then slammed his helmet to the ground.
"I got to the locker room and was in true disbelief because there was not a thought in my mind that that wasn't going in," Vanderjagt said Monday. "That's the way I look at every kick. (Pressure kicks) are something I enjoy, something I embrace. I don't choke. I'm not a choker because I love that environment. I love being in the spotlight when the game is on the line."
All of that appears true, going by his record. But because of his past, he wasn't merely a great kicker who had missed badly. He was "the idiot kicker."
Now he's the solution. Vanderjagt says Jones, Bill Parcells, fans and media have told him how the Cowboys lost at least three games last year because of faulty kicking.
"I've got three games placed on my shoulders," Vanderjagt said, "I'm supposed to turn it around."
And if he does? If he becomes known as the difference-maker?
That's a start.
San Antonio Express-News
OXNARD, Calif. — He missed his first field-goal attempt as a Cowboy last weekend in practice, and he missed another two Monday. But Mike Vanderjagt has made up for it this training camp. He has yet to treat Drew Bledsoe as he once did Peyton Manning.
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If anything, Vanderjagt has been a cheerleader. When Terrell Owens caught a long pass on the first day of practice, on Saturday, Vanderjagt sprinted with his index finger raised in the air, trying to get the crowd excited.
But none of it matters. Vanderjagt knows that. He has made 11 game-winning kicks in the final 15 seconds over his NFL career, and those don't matter, either. He went 37 of 37 three years ago and missed just twice last year, and those don't matter. Once, in a 2002 game at Denver, he drilled a 54-yarder with three seconds left to send the game into overtime, then knocked down a 51-yarder to win it.
Does that matter? No.
What matters for the most accurate kicker in NFL history is that he does something so special — so substantial — that he becomes known for something that doesn't require a rolling of the eyes. Changing the Cowboys would be a start.
Whatever Vanderjagt does now, in practice, is certainly meaningless. He signed a $5.4million, three-year contract, more than the Cowboys have ever invested in a kicker. Dallas added another kicker Monday, but he's here as a practice guy to relieve the others. Vanderjagt could shank everything through November, and Jerry Jones would likely stand pat.
But Vanderjagt's story goes beyond money. His stature has been obscured by two moments, and he's been defined in ways that can't be changed with a few first-quarter kicks against Jacksonville.
The first incident is funnier, except to Vanderjagt. Then, three years ago, the Colts suffered a first-round playoff loss. In an interview with a sports TV station from Canada, where Vanderjagt is from, he announced coach Tony Dungy and Manning were genial to a fault.
That's Vanderjagt, an extrovert who wears No. 13 on a dare. He has a few things to say, and the Cowboys already joke about this lively personality. "I got my eye on him," Bledsoe kidded last weekend.
Had Manning treated Vanderjagt similarly, not much would have followed. Instead, sensitive to the criticism, Manning used terms that are still associated with Vanderjagt. Manning laughed and dismissed Vanderjagt as an "idiot kicker" who "got liquored up."
As Vanderjagt told reporters in July: "I said something I shouldn't have, and it bothered him. He got back at me. It bothered me because it's completely false. If I was a drinking fool, I'd be like, 'You know what? I'm a drinking fool.' But because it's completely false, that's what drives me nuts."
He says Manning called 10 times the next day to make sure they were cool. They were. But had this been between Manning and a pedestrian kicker, Indianapolis would have likely moved on with someone else immediately.
Still, the episode never went away for Vanderjagt. When he talked Monday about wanting out of Indianapolis ("I was happy to get out of there"), this one exchange likely festered and added to everything else.
Vanderjagt thought he was gone last January even after another brilliant season. But what happened in his final kick for the Colts cemented everything, and Manning was again part of it.
After Jerome Bettis' infamous fumble, after Ben Roethlisberger somehow made the game-saving tackle, the Colts had the ball at their 42-yard line, with 1:01 left and three timeouts. Given that, Manning managed only one first down — leaving Vanderjagt with a 46-yard field goal.
Vanderjagt missed wide, wide, wide right, then slammed his helmet to the ground.
"I got to the locker room and was in true disbelief because there was not a thought in my mind that that wasn't going in," Vanderjagt said Monday. "That's the way I look at every kick. (Pressure kicks) are something I enjoy, something I embrace. I don't choke. I'm not a choker because I love that environment. I love being in the spotlight when the game is on the line."
All of that appears true, going by his record. But because of his past, he wasn't merely a great kicker who had missed badly. He was "the idiot kicker."
Now he's the solution. Vanderjagt says Jones, Bill Parcells, fans and media have told him how the Cowboys lost at least three games last year because of faulty kicking.
"I've got three games placed on my shoulders," Vanderjagt said, "I'm supposed to turn it around."
And if he does? If he becomes known as the difference-maker?
That's a start.
posted by The Gryphon at 7:30 AM
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