LINDSAY COULD HAVE LAST WORD ON SPLIT
George Paton chose Pat Shurmur over Phillip Lindsay. In Denver. The new Broncos general manager has stones. Give him credit for that much.
But Heaven help him if Lindsay starts tearing it up, Shaq Barrett style, for somebody else. Anybody else.
John Elway got a long leash for the past five years of low quarterback comedy and high purgatory because he’s John Freaking Elway. In Denver. Three rings buy you a lot of slack.
The honeymoon period for Paton and Broncos fans still burns. But after the team and Lindsay — a native son who ran wild at Denver South and for the CU Buffs — announced a mutual parting of the ways Thursday, that candle got a little bit smaller.
In quieter moments, underneath the tears, we could almost make out a slow golf clap coming from the office of Rockies’ general manager Jeff Bridich in Arizona. Misery loves company.
If anything, the divorce told us that Paton is neither a nostalgist nor a populist, at least when he’s got a salary cap to deal with. It reminded us that he’s in lockstep with coach Vic Fangio and with Shurmur, Fangio’s offensive coordinator. For better or for worse.
Exercising Von Miller’s option was as much a football gambit as it was a sentimental one. Given the market for pass-rushers, it
was probably worth giving 58 at least one more ride. If 2021 is a prove-it year for both the Vonster and Fangio, they might as well charge that hill together.
But the worst-kept secret in Dove Valley, even from a social distance, was that Shurmur and Lindsay were incompatible. Especially given a young quarterback in Drew Lock who needs more protection in the pocket and more safetyvalve options when that pocket breaks down.
With a handful of exceptions, running backs are essentially Ziploc bags within the NFL ecosystem. Disposable. Interchangeable. And, if they can’t protect your quarterback, quickly discarded.
Again: Quarterback league. Passing league.
Still, Thursday morning hurt. If Lindsay were a St. Louis kid who tore it up at, say, Arkansas before the Broncos signed him cheap, maybe it wouldn’t cut so deep.
We might see the smaller dude whom The Denver Post charted with four drops in 2019 and another in 2020. We might see how Lindsay whiffed on 12.5% of his targets two years ago, and the 14.3% drop rate last fall. (Melvin Gordon’s rate was 6.8% in 2020 and 7.3% the season before that. Royce Freeman: 0.0% and 4.0%, respectively.) We might see the guy Pro Football Focus graded out below a 40 (out of 100) in pass-blocking each of the last two seasons.
We don’t, though.
Our heads can reason with Paton all day long. Doesn’t stop our hearts from aching.
We see two seasons of 1,000 rushing yards. We see zero fumbles in 534 NFL carries. We see hunger. We see pride. We see that quick shift in gears, a cut through the tiniest of holes. We see a sweet explosion into daylight, exhaust from the afterburners and the dust his chasers were forced to eat.
We never forget the home-run hitters. Ever.
When Lindsay connected, they were moon shots. Of the former CU standout’s 18 NFL touchdowns, seven were from 27 yards out or more. Four scores came from at least 40 yards. He deserves to go where that kind of swing is appreciated.
Thursday was as inevitable as it was sad. It was also personal, largely because we don’t have to imagine the hoops No. 30 had to jump through to get here. We saw them all, up close. We watched every leap. Every surgery. Every fall. Every rebound.
Phillip Lindsay is one of us. Always will be. No matter who’s signing his checks. After all, the NFL loves a good comeback story. So long as that story can catch.