Angry Pope
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From minicamp...
Mini dramas
May 20, 2006
Phil Barber
"We don't cover decoys," Raiders cornerback Nnamdi Asomugha sneers to tight end and teammate James Adkisson as the two trot off the field, Adkisson having just biffed on a pass in the end zone. "You ain't gonna catch it; we ain't gonna cover you."
Adkisson's foul-up is not for lack of effort. During a passing drill later that afternoon, he momentarily leaves the receiving line to puke his guts out at midfield.
In a full-squad red zone drill, the action -- physical and verbal -- comes in rapid bursts. Co-offensive line coach Irv Eatman exhorts tackle Chad Slaughter, "Hit the first damn thing you see!" Backup quarterback Marques Tuiasosopo rolls right to escape pressure and fires a pass to Doug Gabriel at the back of the end zone; "Yeah! Touchdown, baby!" Tui yells, pumping his fist.
Tight ends coach John Shoop rides Adkisson when he drifts out of bounds on a route down the right sideline: "Leave yourself some (gosh-darn) room!" Linebackers coach Don Martindale isn't happy when Ricky Brown slips to the turf: "Rick, find some (gol-dang) shoes that work!"
Welcome to Oakland's recent minicamp, a three-day circus from May 5-7. It features 89 players, 19 coaches, five practices, five sets of meetings for each position group, several miles of athletic tape and perhaps a ton of barbecue. No pads, though.
Similar scenes are being borne out in other nonexotic locales throughout the country as each NFL team kick-starts its 2006 aspirations. Though an NFL minicamp is heavy with tedium and must seem deathly repetitive to anyone who has participated in more than a few, it also crackles with small dramas. Everyone there has something specific to accomplish, or to prove, or to overcome. Consider these five story lines drawn from the Raiders' May camp.
The boss
New NFL coaches generally walk into difficult situations, and Art Shell's is harder than most. Forget about installing a new offense. Shell must restore discipline and confidence to a franchise that has a cumulative 13-35 record over the past three seasons, perennially leads the league in penalties and did not always go full speed for its previous two coaches (Bill Callahan and Norv Turner).
At first glance, Shell seems a strange choice for this attitude adjustment. He is so quiet on the practice field it often is hard to find him at first. About the closest he comes to raising his voice is when he stops a drill to explain basic protection schemes to his young offensive linemen: This is Lucy, this is Rambo, this is Ringo. This is where you line up, and this is who you hit. There is only a trace of frustration in his voice.
And yet, without a single curse or tossed clipboard, Shell has a natural ability to command respect. When he gathers the team into a semicircle on the practice field at the close of camp, you can almost hear a bead of sweat drop.
"It takes me back a little bit to my first couple of years with (Jon) Gruden," guard Barry Sims says. "Everybody's in charge of what they're supposed to be doing. If they don't do it, then put someone else in there to do it."
Not that this respect makes the minicamp smooth for Shell. At one meeting he tells his players 90 percent of football is mental. But that 90 percent can be difficult to cram into craniums in just three days.
"We put in an hour's worth of work last night in the classroom and told 'em you need to go look at the book," Shell says. "Now when they go look at the book, it looks like Greek to 'em. But to their credit, they went to their rooms and they studied, and you could see some of it today."
At the end of camp, Shell admits his team is behind schedule, especially on offense. But he has won some converts. He even earns some gratitude by abolishing the dreaded rookie sprints that capped the Raiders' minicamps in previous years.
The new guy
Aaron Brooks had productive seasons from 2001-04, but all anyone wants to talk about is his downward spiral in 2005, when he bickered with Saints ownership and the league office and was benched for the final three games. When the Raiders signed Brooks on March 22, it hardly was hailed as a major acquisition.
Brooks insists he has nothing to prove. The chat rooms say otherwise.
Since Brooks' arrival, Shell has insisted the veteran is competing with Tuiasosopo and Andrew Walter for the starting quarterback job. That assertion doesn't ring true during camp as Brooks takes the vast majority of repetitions with the first-team offense.
He is impressive. Brooks is tall (6-4) and has loping speed, but the Raiders already knew that. Evident on the field is his live arm. Brooks throws deep outs and fly routes with zip and develops a particularly quick attachment to receiver Jerry Porter.
Brooks seems to have fun, too. He laughs with teammates and seems at ease with reporters. At one point during a passing drill, he pantomimes exaggerated pass route moves for Walter. But learning a new offense is no joke. Brooks ran only one offensive system during his six seasons in New Orleans. Absorbing a new one, he says, starts with the language.
"It's just the verbiage," he says. "One thing you need to understand is that the game doesn't change; the terminology, faces and people do. It will always be a four-weak blitz, four-strong blitz, zero blitz. So the protections remain the same. It's just different terminology to get to that protection."
Shell says Brooks occasionally is hesitant with the ball during camp. Brooks vows that will disappear as he grasps the offense. "I'll know it better (after the minicamp)," he says. "It just requires a little more studying, a couple more headaches and a lot more growing pains to work through."
The rehab
Warren Sapp was in the process of redeeming himself in 2005. After the most disappointing season of his Hall of Fame-caliber career, Sapp had returned to the 3 technique defensive tackle position he had mastered in Tampa Bay and once again was throwing fear into quarterbacks.
Then he tore the rotator cuff in his right shoulder in Week 11, and his comeback screeched to a halt. It was the first extended period of missed action in Sapp's 11-year career, and he hated nearly every minute of it.
"Being at home watching football on TV is a helpless feeling, and that's something I hadn't ever experienced," Sapp says. "It's not something I want to experience again."
Sapp is his usual looming presence at minicamp, but Shell and his staff treat him with caution. Sapp takes part in all of the D-line drills, the pad-swiping and the strategic walkthroughs. But when it is time to face competition -- even friendly competition -- he heads to the sideline.
Not surprisingly, Sapp fills his downtime with a steady stream of chatter. He baits offensive linemen, calls holding on nearly every play from scrimmage and comments loudly on the circumference of certain teammates' rear ends. At one point, Sapp laughs with a visitor on the sideline. What are they discussing? The NBA playoffs; Sapp is touting the Clippers over the Suns.
The big man says he's at "80 to 85 percent" and could line up tomorrow if the context were important. In the meantime, this three-day exercise has its value.
"The thing that you have to do in minicamp is just get reintroduced to the game, get your footwork down, learn certain sets and certain drops," he says. "It's just coming together as a defense. And being able to realize, 'I know you're going to be there.' "
When the Raiders gather again next month, Sapp says, he definitely will be there.
cont'd...
Mini dramas
May 20, 2006
Phil Barber
"We don't cover decoys," Raiders cornerback Nnamdi Asomugha sneers to tight end and teammate James Adkisson as the two trot off the field, Adkisson having just biffed on a pass in the end zone. "You ain't gonna catch it; we ain't gonna cover you."
Adkisson's foul-up is not for lack of effort. During a passing drill later that afternoon, he momentarily leaves the receiving line to puke his guts out at midfield.
In a full-squad red zone drill, the action -- physical and verbal -- comes in rapid bursts. Co-offensive line coach Irv Eatman exhorts tackle Chad Slaughter, "Hit the first damn thing you see!" Backup quarterback Marques Tuiasosopo rolls right to escape pressure and fires a pass to Doug Gabriel at the back of the end zone; "Yeah! Touchdown, baby!" Tui yells, pumping his fist.
Tight ends coach John Shoop rides Adkisson when he drifts out of bounds on a route down the right sideline: "Leave yourself some (gosh-darn) room!" Linebackers coach Don Martindale isn't happy when Ricky Brown slips to the turf: "Rick, find some (gol-dang) shoes that work!"
Welcome to Oakland's recent minicamp, a three-day circus from May 5-7. It features 89 players, 19 coaches, five practices, five sets of meetings for each position group, several miles of athletic tape and perhaps a ton of barbecue. No pads, though.
Similar scenes are being borne out in other nonexotic locales throughout the country as each NFL team kick-starts its 2006 aspirations. Though an NFL minicamp is heavy with tedium and must seem deathly repetitive to anyone who has participated in more than a few, it also crackles with small dramas. Everyone there has something specific to accomplish, or to prove, or to overcome. Consider these five story lines drawn from the Raiders' May camp.
The boss
New NFL coaches generally walk into difficult situations, and Art Shell's is harder than most. Forget about installing a new offense. Shell must restore discipline and confidence to a franchise that has a cumulative 13-35 record over the past three seasons, perennially leads the league in penalties and did not always go full speed for its previous two coaches (Bill Callahan and Norv Turner).
At first glance, Shell seems a strange choice for this attitude adjustment. He is so quiet on the practice field it often is hard to find him at first. About the closest he comes to raising his voice is when he stops a drill to explain basic protection schemes to his young offensive linemen: This is Lucy, this is Rambo, this is Ringo. This is where you line up, and this is who you hit. There is only a trace of frustration in his voice.
And yet, without a single curse or tossed clipboard, Shell has a natural ability to command respect. When he gathers the team into a semicircle on the practice field at the close of camp, you can almost hear a bead of sweat drop.
"It takes me back a little bit to my first couple of years with (Jon) Gruden," guard Barry Sims says. "Everybody's in charge of what they're supposed to be doing. If they don't do it, then put someone else in there to do it."
Not that this respect makes the minicamp smooth for Shell. At one meeting he tells his players 90 percent of football is mental. But that 90 percent can be difficult to cram into craniums in just three days.
"We put in an hour's worth of work last night in the classroom and told 'em you need to go look at the book," Shell says. "Now when they go look at the book, it looks like Greek to 'em. But to their credit, they went to their rooms and they studied, and you could see some of it today."
At the end of camp, Shell admits his team is behind schedule, especially on offense. But he has won some converts. He even earns some gratitude by abolishing the dreaded rookie sprints that capped the Raiders' minicamps in previous years.
The new guy
Aaron Brooks had productive seasons from 2001-04, but all anyone wants to talk about is his downward spiral in 2005, when he bickered with Saints ownership and the league office and was benched for the final three games. When the Raiders signed Brooks on March 22, it hardly was hailed as a major acquisition.
Brooks insists he has nothing to prove. The chat rooms say otherwise.
Since Brooks' arrival, Shell has insisted the veteran is competing with Tuiasosopo and Andrew Walter for the starting quarterback job. That assertion doesn't ring true during camp as Brooks takes the vast majority of repetitions with the first-team offense.
He is impressive. Brooks is tall (6-4) and has loping speed, but the Raiders already knew that. Evident on the field is his live arm. Brooks throws deep outs and fly routes with zip and develops a particularly quick attachment to receiver Jerry Porter.
Brooks seems to have fun, too. He laughs with teammates and seems at ease with reporters. At one point during a passing drill, he pantomimes exaggerated pass route moves for Walter. But learning a new offense is no joke. Brooks ran only one offensive system during his six seasons in New Orleans. Absorbing a new one, he says, starts with the language.
"It's just the verbiage," he says. "One thing you need to understand is that the game doesn't change; the terminology, faces and people do. It will always be a four-weak blitz, four-strong blitz, zero blitz. So the protections remain the same. It's just different terminology to get to that protection."
Shell says Brooks occasionally is hesitant with the ball during camp. Brooks vows that will disappear as he grasps the offense. "I'll know it better (after the minicamp)," he says. "It just requires a little more studying, a couple more headaches and a lot more growing pains to work through."
The rehab
Warren Sapp was in the process of redeeming himself in 2005. After the most disappointing season of his Hall of Fame-caliber career, Sapp had returned to the 3 technique defensive tackle position he had mastered in Tampa Bay and once again was throwing fear into quarterbacks.
Then he tore the rotator cuff in his right shoulder in Week 11, and his comeback screeched to a halt. It was the first extended period of missed action in Sapp's 11-year career, and he hated nearly every minute of it.
"Being at home watching football on TV is a helpless feeling, and that's something I hadn't ever experienced," Sapp says. "It's not something I want to experience again."
Sapp is his usual looming presence at minicamp, but Shell and his staff treat him with caution. Sapp takes part in all of the D-line drills, the pad-swiping and the strategic walkthroughs. But when it is time to face competition -- even friendly competition -- he heads to the sideline.
Not surprisingly, Sapp fills his downtime with a steady stream of chatter. He baits offensive linemen, calls holding on nearly every play from scrimmage and comments loudly on the circumference of certain teammates' rear ends. At one point, Sapp laughs with a visitor on the sideline. What are they discussing? The NBA playoffs; Sapp is touting the Clippers over the Suns.
The big man says he's at "80 to 85 percent" and could line up tomorrow if the context were important. In the meantime, this three-day exercise has its value.
"The thing that you have to do in minicamp is just get reintroduced to the game, get your footwork down, learn certain sets and certain drops," he says. "It's just coming together as a defense. And being able to realize, 'I know you're going to be there.' "
When the Raiders gather again next month, Sapp says, he definitely will be there.
cont'd...
