2004 Colts Training Camp

If you remember, the original goal of Flipside was to provide this city's sports fans with very un-Indy-Star-like material. The underlying purpose of the fledgling website was to counteract the ineptitude of one C. Jemal Horton, the Star's featured columnist. As it was then, approximately 0.0038% of Horton’s articles covered topics that we—the sports-loving and semi-educated people of this city—found interesting.

(Seriously, how many Stephanie White-McCarty articles did we really need to see each summer? Zero would have been more than enough. Thirty-eight seemed a bit high. And the never-ending barrage of "Just-Give-Isiah-A-Chance” articles grew kind of tiresome. But I'm preaching to the choir here. Per usual, I digress. Sorry.)

The point of all this? Like Mike Davis on the first day of practice, an incredibly destructive and incompetent force is back at work. Mysteriously, the dreaded Hortonian Method of sports writing has returned to the Star recently, and this in spite of CJ’s understandable departure to The Leroy Jones, Jr. School for Kids Who Hate Whitey but Don’t Write Good (a.k.a., www.PolitcSports.com ).

The Star, it seems, is in the midst of a Terre-Haute-induced funk. And something needs to be done about it. I just can’t stomach the thought of reading another article about how Peyton Manning’s contract is affecting the salary cap or how the Colts have all the tools to win it all or how Mary Kate Olsen drew strength from Tony Dungy's on-going battle with anorexia. Can’t we read something new? Something different? Something that won’t make us wretch with boredom? Is that too much to ask?

Apparently so, because the articles aren't getting any better. In fact, they're getting worse (like this recent in-depth expose on how Rob Morris says he isn't as bad as his critics say he is...with more on that later). And if the Star isn't able to entertain or enlighten or provide even halfway decent barroom-discussion material, then we all suffer. Just like we used to. And I just can't let that happen.

Below are my "Top 5 Most Exciting Things About the Colts’ Training Camp That Have Nothing To Do With Salary Cap Concerns or Meaningless Super Bowl Predictions." I'm not saying that this will be some kind of prize-winning journalistic piece, nor am I saying that it'll even be coherent. Rather, I'm simply saying that the list will incorporate some ideas that lend themselves to lively, opinionated discussion (and for the record, "opinionated" is Flipsidian for "drunken"). What I am saying is that it will be very un-Indy-Star-like.

And in the end...

[Cue mental picture of Doogie Howser, sitting deep-in-thought at his bedroom desk, about to enter another overly dramatic and poigniant thought into his on-line journal]

...isn't that all we really want?

Yes. Yes it is. Now on to the list.
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1) The Big Year Edgerrin James is About to Have

Why hasn't the Star discussed the monsterous year Edgerrin is about to have? Isn't it obvious? Just do the math:

In the hierarchy of powerful human emotions, "greed" and "the desire to escape Indiana's weather patterns" rank second and third respectively, right behind "love." "Being with your peoples," similarly, ranks 8th. The point? James is motivated to rack up some sick numbers this year. Which segues nicely into...

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2) Dominic Rhodes: The Best Replacement Since Tom Brady

Why should we be unconcerned with Edgerrin's inevitable departure? Because Dominic Rhodes is healthy again, and when he's healthy, he's a top-tier running back in the NFL. You'll see.

Yes, we need to get this on the record: I love Dominic Rhodes. I love his cool European-porno-star-like name, his fluid running style, and the fact that he never bitches. I love his outside-the-shoe tape jobs, his Marcus-Pollard-esque enthusiasm, and his North-to-South mentality. I even love his number; it's not quite the smash-'em-up-and-retire-early "34" of Earl Campbell, but neither is it the smooth-as-silk-but-psychologically-deranged "32" of OJ Simpson...it's right there in the middle, right where it belongs, the best of both worlds.

(But then again, what does that prove? After all, my favorite Colt of all time is Albert Bentley. And what did he accomplish? I'll tell you exactly goddamn what: he's going down in history with Marcus Allen as the two athletes who got the biggest shaft job in video-game history. How? On the original "Tecmo Bowl," Bentley was joined in the backfield by Eric "Where's the Nearest Sideline?" Dickerson, to whom the designers of the game decided to give blazing 2.6 40-yard speed and Randall-Cunningham-like agility. Bentley looks like a quadrapalegic in comparison, just as Allen does when seen next to his backfield mate, Bo Jackson (the only virtual entity to crack ESPN's "Top 50 Athletes of the 20th Century" list). The legacy of these two men is that they will always be remembered by my generation as the "Tecmo Bowl" backs who should ONLY run the ball when you're up 28 points and trying to rub it in with the "I'm-still-kicking-your-ass-and-I'm-doing-it-with-the-running-back-with-cerebral-palsy" line. I'm still pissed. Albert deserved more. But this is neither the time nor place.)

Christ. I'm so far afield of where this segment was supposed to go that it's scary.
I really have no graceful way to jump back into it. So I'll just leave it at this: for none of the reasons listed above, a healthy Dominic Rhodes is a big-time franchise player, pure and simple. Trust me on this. Above and beyond his physical gifts, he has this unmistakable "Chappy"-from-Iron-Eagle-like mentality about him, like he's always in control, never to be trifled with. He is the running back of the future for the Colts, and you'll start realizing this come September.

In the meantime, though, let's just hope that the makers of "Tecmo Bowl 2004" don't make Edgerrin out to be some freakishly athletic Barry Sanders/Kevin Mack mix.

Dominic deserves more.

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3) The Sheer Joy of NOT Having To Deal With the Opposing Team Starting Their Drives at Midfield After Every Kick-Off

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4) The Astronomical "Atwater-on-Okoye" Factor of the Sanders/Doss Duo

Everybody loves hits that sound like high-impact train-wrecks, right? The best hit in NFL history is Steve Atwater's disturbingly violent and almost-criminal crush-job on Christian Okoye, right? Well, barring any injuries, there's a strong possibility that we'll be watching such carnage 10 to 15 times a game. Seriously.

Why is nobody talking about this? Why has Mike Chappell failed to mention that Bob Sanders' draft-day game-footage included three out of the top five college hits of all time? Why has Bob Kravitz failed to establish the Bobby Sanders/Bobby Boucher connection when it's so obvious? They both run around the field carving a swath of destruction...they both were relatively unknown before hitting it big...and they both grew up in a swamp (allegedly). The only difference? Sanders doesn't seem to have Boucher's mental disorders. Nor does he have a neck. He'll be starting by Week 6.

And Mike Doss already demonstrated his Atwaterocity throughout all of last year. It was beautiful to watch. It was the first time in a long time that recievers heard footsteps against the Colts' secondary. When was the last time that happened? When was the last time a reciever pulled up short in fear of losing a spinal column? After all, Eugene Daniel used to bring the hammer down in a very Eugene-Levy-like manner. And Tyrone Pool choose to not work with a hammer at all. But Doss changed all that. He changed what we're used to seeing from a Colts defense. And he's only getting better.

This is just huge. We're on the brink of being able to watch, on a weekly basis, a
set of safeties terrorizing the field like a pair of coked-up Lawrence Taylors.
Again...huge.

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5) The Possibility That the Morman Church May Lift Its Ban on Open-Field Tackling

Just so you know, if Rob Morris actually makes physical contact with an opposing running back this year (John Smith permitting), you'll have Flipside to thank for it. For the past several months, we've been relentlessly pestering the Jesus Christ Church of Latter-Day Saints in an all-out effort to have them remove one of their core values: "Thou Shalt Not Pursue the Ball Carrier." It's just f---ing killing the Colts' defense, and that's what we kept telling them. They, in turn, kept praying for our "tainted souls." Then we got pissed. Mistakes were made...lawyers became involved...there was some unpleasantness. But in the end, once all of the restraining orders were hashed out, those glorious sober bastards said that they'd consider it! Mormans: they may have a seething hatred for everything Flipside holds dear, but they really are good people. Good people.

The Top 5 Most Exciting Things About the Colts’ Training Camp That Have Nothing To Do With Salary Cap Concerns or Meaningless Super Bowl Predictions

What's the difference between a Mike Vanderjact kick-off and the kick-off of a slightly retarded third-grade girl?

About six yards and 0.013 seconds of hang time.

1 (Contract year) + 1 (Mouth-watering vacancy in the Dolphins' backfield) x 26 (Days of the Indiana calendar where it's not overcast, raining, snowing, or all of the above) x 38 (Number of the most caucasian people imaginable who live on James' street) = 1,976 (Yards that he'll rush for in order to get the f--- out of Indy and into a $6.2 million mansion in the greater Coconut Grove area before the start of the 2005 season).