Several Super Bowl topics are getting older than Tampa-St. Pete’s average age. Ray Lewis Did It. Shannon Sharpe Babbles. Backup Safety Guarantees Victory. Baja Men Hold Press Conference.
Journalists Test Lap-Dance Crackdown. Publicity Sending Record Turnout to Strip Joints.
But what is getting older than the Ponce de McCaskeys owning the Bears is talk about how the Y2K Ravens defense is “even better than the 1985 Bears.”
Talk about needing a Florida recount. This is like George W. Bush beating Abraham Lincoln. Only those who have trouble remembering the chorus of the Baja Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out?” would buy into such nonsense.
As a single-season force of nature, the ’85 Bears made these Ravens look like Poe boys.
By now Buddy Ryan, who rode the ’85 defense the way Slim Pickens did the nuclear bomb in “Dr. Strangelove,” would have spat on all this Ravens raving if not for son Rex, who coaches Baltimore’s defensive line. But this argument begins and ends with Ryan’s scheme.
The ’85 Bears’ biggest edge–and biggest star–was the 46 defense they played. It knocked pro football for a loop the way the wishbone confounded the college game. For a while nobody could figure out how to block the thing.
It seemed as if 20 or 30 Bears came flying like giant bats out of hell. Nobody could run against the 46 and almost nobody could protect their quarterback. If he got rid of the ball, he could complete passes. But he might get carried off on his Blue Cross and Blue Shield.
These Ravens bend but don’t break. Those Bears tried to break your neck. They gambled and attacked, blitzed and sacked. These Ravens hold that line, sit back in a generic 4-3 and rarely give up the big play.
Those Bears terrorized. These Ravens tenderize. Those Bears went for the first-round knockout. These Ravens wear you down by winning round after round with body blows.
Those Bears were the “Super Bowl Shuffle” of Samurai Mike, Danimal, Mongo and Fridge. These Ravens broke the ’86 Bears’ points-allowed record and failed to inspire a nickname. That’s because this defense will be remembered for a middle linebacker without a nickname. This is the Ray Lewis defense.
While the Bears’ entire front seven made overgrown men fear for their safety, Lewis is the lone Raven who causes cottonmouth. The O.J.-inspired perception that Lewis surely killed two guys in a street fight–though no evidence or testimony even hinted at that conclusion–has made No. 52 even scarier. Now blood drips from his mystique.
A bigger, faster Lewis obviously would have been even better than Mike Singletary. How Singletary made the Hall of Fame before the defensive lineman who set up many of his tackles, Dan Hampton, is as baffling as who let the dogs out. As great as Singletary was, media hype dripped from his wild-eyed mystique.
One of Sharpe’s few on-point comments was, “We have only one superstar on defense and lots of good players who aren’t worried about publicity and endorsements.”
Those Bears injected publicity and endorsements as if they were steroids. Baltimore has no unblockable pass rusher like Richard Dent. Hampton was more of a force in the trenches and locker room than Sam Adams. Linebackers Otis Wilson and Wilber Marshall wreaked more havoc than Peter Boulware and Jamie Sharper. Safeties Gary Fencik and Dave Duerson were more suffocating than Rod Woodson and Kim Herring. Cornerbacks Chris McAlister and Duane Starks are more talented, but Mike Richardson and Leslie Frazier were often irrelevant.
Each defense had a late-season glitch, but Baltimore’s was more suspicious. A quick-draw Dan Marino beat the Bears 38-24 in the Orange Bowl humidity. But Vinny Testaverde threw for 473 yards in the Jets’ 34-20 loss at Baltimore.
The Ravens got to play low-scoring Cleveland, Cincinnati and Pittsburgh twice each and avoided Minnesota and St. Louis. The Bears’ 44-0 pillaging of division-winning Dallas was far more dominating than any Ravens performance.
More Top Picks Union Scale Flexfit Hyken Mesh
As impressive as the Ravens have been in the playoffs, no postseason defense has been as overpowering as ’85 Chicago’s. Those Bears left the Rams and Giants without points and dignity before stealing New England’s Super Bowl lunch money 46-10.
Those riding the Ravens’ best-ever wave have been out in the Tampa sun too long. The 46 beats 52 any day.