Timid in Tampa

We've all done it. You know, spouted thoughts in the heat of the moment that we will eventually regret deeply. Or, at the very least, things that we recognize after-the-fact to be patently false. We just hope no one remembered them.

They can vary in severity, indicating either a mere lapse in your verbal filter, or outright brain damage. Simple flubs could be as innocent as "Pabst beer doesn't taste all that bad," or "the Jets are a Super Bowl contender." Some are more serious: "I wouldn't mind seeing that new The Fast and the Furious movie," or "let's move in together." ("That was the greatest Super Bowl ever" certainly fits in somewhere this year, considering the quality of what would remain without the last 12 minutes of the game or the last play of the first half.)

But one statement during the Super Bowl XLIII still remains as valid as when it was first muttered between a gulp of beer and another barrage of potato chips across the country: "The Cardinals need to give up on running the ball and at some point throw to, I don't know, the best player on the field."

We all love to play Monday morning — or even Sunday evening — quarterback. Most such naysayers know as much about quantum physics as they do putting together a game plan.

But no amount of deep, self-critical introspection has led me to believe that the Cardinals offensive strategy was correct in basically any way. Kind of interesting for a sought-after offensive coordinator, Todd Haley, that just became the coach of the Kansas City Chiefs.

Much was made about the lack of any apparent desire to get Larry Fitzgerald the ball. They threw to him zero times in the first and the third quarters. He caught one (1!) ball before, finally, his fourth quarter Chernobyl nearly obliterated Pittsburgh's dreams. But Fitzgerald's absence not withstanding, the entire offense reeked of conservatism unbefitting a Ken Whisenhunt-led team.

To be fair, let's play devil's advocate. Say Larry Fitzgerald was being triple-covered every play. Let's even go crazy and pretend that a triple-team would actually stop Larry Fitzgerald. The Steelers are a great defensive team, and if they want to take one thing away from you, it's not unrealistic to believe they will. So what do you do? Arizona chose to run the ball and made sure not to throw more than five yards downfield. Interesting choice, with two more 1,000-yard receivers on payroll.

Turns out Pittsburgh can stop the run, and the matching dink-and-dunk aerial attack that came with it. This surprised no one. But Arizona persisted, running into the same Steel wall over and over. Albert Einstein, having defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, would have had the Cardinals committed. They didn't throw any intermediate routes to try to keep the Steelers honest. They didn't throw deep to try to stretch them out further. The whole situation has only become more mind-boggling in the week that has passed.

Kurt Warner would finish the day ahead of Joe Montana and John Elway in career Super Bowl passing yards, and in fewer games. With him as your quarterback and three different 1,000-yard receivers, trying to run-and-dink down the field is like the Fonz trying to pick up the hottest girl in the joint by showing off a stamp collection while wearing the a ski mask.

Then desperation time set in once the fourth quarter started. The Cardinals started running a hurry-up offense. They threw the ball downfield. Sure enough, the Fonz dropped the stamps and the disguise, popped his leather jacket, and with a thumbs-up "heeeeyyy," started laying down his "A" game.

The Steelers, with all their defensive might, had no better luck stopping it than the Falcons, Panthers, or Eagles. Let's not forget the latter two had pretty strong units, too.

It took three quarters to even try this approach? How? Yes, the Cardinals' running game was improved (read: less miserable) in the playoffs. Yes, they wanted to keep the Steelers off-balance. But come on, when you do one thing better than anything else (pile up passing yards with a trio of serious weapons), then you have to lead with that. The Cardinals are built to setup the run with the pass, not setup the pass with two-yard runs.

We'll even give Haley a pass for calling that slant through traffic to Anquan Boldin that was picked at the goal line and housed nearly 1/17th of a mile later by James Harrison. We'll even neglect that the fade to Fitzgerald might be the most unfair and unstoppable play since Kareem's sky hook, a fact confirmed in the fourth quarter. It was just a 10-14-point swing, but hey, no big deal. They still almost won. And who really would blame a single play (even one that monumental) when the entire offense was in the witness protection program for 48 of 60 minutes.

I don't care what looks the Steelers were giving Arizona. If you argue that they were somehow taking away all the intermediate and deep routes, I would counter that they seemed to be taking away the run and short stuff pretty effectively, too. And when you leave your biggest assets on the shelf, you are effectively bringing a knife to a gunfight. And that knife better be getting you more than 2.8 yards per rush.

Not to say that there weren't other culprits in the loss. The Cardinals allowed the Steelers the first 10 points while providing about as much resistance as a thick fog. They were penalized 11 times for 106 yards. A stingy distant cousin of Satan owns the team. (Did I mention I grew up football-less in St. Louis in the early 1990s?)

But against a great defense, a great offense has to do what it does well.

This is not to say Haley can't coach. He has risen fast through the coaching ranks. As a receivers coach, he got a Bears wideout to the Pro Bowl (seriously!), and helped build up Tony Romo for his recent tumble from grace. He helped turn the Cardinals into one of the most dangerous offenses in the league. But this game he made a big mistake by leaving the defining element of the entire team out of the blueprint for the first three quarters.

There is good news for Haley: the Chiefs don't have a defining element to neglect.

Other Random Super Bowl Thoughts

Santonio Holmes was the rightful MVP. That performance spoke for itself; he took over the game at points, slashing and burning the Cardinals when it mattered most.

One for the other thumb: While this article focused on Arizona's curious use of strategy, the Steelers still came out on the other end of a brutal schedule that really didn't let up until the Super Bowl. Go figure: they played nine games against teams that finished with fewer losses than their Super Bowl opponent. They didn't play the greatest game themselves, but over the course of the year, they were consistent, one of three teams never to lose twice in a row (Panthers, Patriots). The better team won. The more passionate (albeit annoying) fan base won. And the classier owner won.

But wow, they sure couldn't run the ball. Pittsburgh quietly was more useless on the ground than Arizona. At 2.2 yards per carry, they proved inept in short yardage situation that could have ended the game before it started.

David Tyree's catch is still the best in Super Bowl history. Sorry, Santonio. And for all you "best ever" knuckleheads, this game is probably in the top 10, but not in the top five greatest Super Bowls. (I'll admit, I had it higher in the immediate afterglow of that finish.) It shouldn't be over, in no particular order, Rams/Titans, Patriots/Rams, Giants/Patriots, Patriots/Panthers, Broncos/Packers, Giants/Bills, and Steelers/Cowboys II. (I guess there were more of these great ones than we tend to think.) The teams combined for 162 penalty yards, but just 91 rushing yards. That's not greatness. That's sloppy.

But Harrison's 100-yard INT runback was the best defensive play in the game's history. Not too easy to argue against that one. Meanwhile, as Harrison continues to catch his breath, Antrel Rolle was still trying to forget the memory of being too close to the field and getting in the way of a pursuing Fitzgerald on the sidelines. The bump slowed Fitzgerald, before he later brought Harrison down literally on the goal line. I'm sure there won't be any tortured nights for Rolle this offseason.

Warner's final play may well have been a fumble, and the Cardinals composed themselves well by not complaining. But how in the world is that not reviewed? It was nearly as bad as the Brett Hull overtime game-winner in Game 6 with his foot in Dominik Hasek's crease to win the 1999 Stanley Cup Finals for Dallas. You don't even look? What's replay there for?

The league, confirming what we already knew, said they should have reviewed it. They also said Santonio Holmes should have been flagged 15-yards for excessive celebration after salting his hands with the football and tossing it in the air after a SUPER BOWL-WINNING TOUCHDOWN. Really? Two questions; first, why bring up a mistake no one was accusing you of? Secondly, every week we watch guys flamboyantly celebrate first-quarter sacks, routine special teams tackles, and batting away under-thrown passes despite the fact that the receiver had three steps on the corner, leaving burn marks. Are we really supposed to be bothered by a brief pantomime after a title-winning play like that? Are we supposed to potentially change the outcome of the Super Bowl with 15 free yards on that? Why are circumstances never taken into account with regard to excessive celebration?

Speaking of celebrations, Larry Fitzgerald might have the most organic, genuine ones of any big-time receiver in 20 years. So there isn't a clause that says you have to be a jackass to play WR in the NFL.

So that's it. Like Fitzgerald, I go with an understated end to the season. Yup, it's all over. Enjoy the Pro Bowl.

Just kidding.