We were going to spend this Labor Day lamenting the new trend in NFL blame delegation -- firing underlings after about 15 minutes' thought so as not to have the general manager or owner become interested in your own job security.
Then Turk Schonert, the third of the three OCs to be whacked last week, decided to explain his side of the story. And, knowing the NFL as we do, to ruin his career at that level.
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| If Turk Schonert wants to run his own offense, let him get his own team. (AP) |
Then Schonert spoke and came off like the sort of guy who, frankly, was going to get it sooner or later.
"He wants a Pop Warner offense," Schonert said in a phone interview with WIVB TV in Buffalo. "He limited me in formations, and limited me in plays. He's been on my back all offseason."
Oh, OK. So Jauron's story about Schonert getting canned for a "lack of productivity" was just CYA? Well, maybe not. Maybe the underling got confused about his position relative to the boss.
Both quarterback Trent Edwards (like Schonert a Stanford man) and receiver Lee Evans said Sunday that players were complaining about the offense to Jauron, and no, neither of them said a single word about Owens, so stop what you're thinking right now.
No, according to Schonert, the offense hadn't been dumbed down to Jauron's liking, hence the Pop Warner crack. "He told me the offense wasn't simple enough for him," Schonert told the station. "We had too many formations, too many plays. I didn't simplify it to his liking."
Well, Stephen Hawking, guess what: It's his offense, not yours. You work for him. If he wants 3 yards and a cloud of punt, that's what he gets. If you're worried that people will think ill of you, do what coaches have done through time -- complain anonymously through the beat writer, who will happily transcribe, sanitize and publish your complaints.
Maybe the Bills offense is simple. Maybe it's downright lousy. It was last year, which we presume is why Owens was brought to town. But offensive coordinators who like to see the start of the regular season understand this essential truth of America labor-management relations, namely:
He's got the job, and you don't. So either quit or shut up, and if you can't do either, complain behind his back. That last one is, after all, the true American way.
On the grander scale, coaches canning offensive coordinators this close to showtime is a bad and cowardly idea, as it shows (a) that the head coach is under fire from up the know-littles and cowards upstairs and doesn't have the stones to stand up for his guy, (b) that the head coach wasn't paying attention and/or (c) needs a scapegoat.
In all cases, it is a sign of weakness that players understand and use when things go bad to deflect blame from their own failings. You start that circle, you go 4-12, and everyone's out the door.
But Schonert's case is different because it sounds mostly like he and Jauron couldn't agree on Jauron's offense, and that last adjective is the key. "Jauron's." This isn't even a matter of who knows more about offense, because we assume Schonert is the better versed of the two. It's about who has the say, and in no NFL operation, not even in Dallas, do the assistants dictate terms to the head coach.
And having explained himself so eloquently instead of simply resigning and telling Jauron that he just can't work the way Jauron wants, Schonert will now find himself branded a malcontent, not a team player, a guy who thinks he's smarter than the guy who hired him. In a rigid hierarchical structure like the NFL's, where everyone works at full pucker 24/7, these are all minuses on the résumé.
And when the season starts, and the Bills do struggle on offense, he'll have the satisfaction of saying, "See, I told you" to the family dog while he's raking up leaves.
And the dog will look at him sympathetically and say in that telepathic way dogs have, "I could use a treat right now." Because that's how much assistants who prize their egos too grandly get their ideas heard.
Ray Ratto is a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle.
