Willie Young

No one knows when Willie Young was born, only that history first records his presence sometime around 1738 in rural Georgia. Already an expert carpenter when he first came into the consciousness of his neighbors, Willie was left alone, both on account of the fact that he worked cheap and because there were whispers that he never aged on account of being the result of a union between the daughter of an African Chieftain and a Cheetah Spirit God whose name, unfortunately, has been lost to history.

During the Revolutionary War, Willie at first refused to fight, claiming that no Englishman ever called him a [racial epithet]. When he was reminded that technically, every one of his neighbors was an Englishman, he figured to hell with it, and took to butchering anyone he caught wearing a red coat. This earned him the nickname William the Bloody, a name which followed him throughout the war.

William the Bloody disappeared from local annals towards the end of the 18th century and it was assumed that he had either finally passed away or that he had simply moved on to find more redcoats to slaughter. It would seem that, oddly enough, the idea of killing redcoats had become personal to Willie. This could never be explained, but there were rumors that despite his initial reluctance to fight the British, it was in fact a Sir Lawrence Henry, an Englishman, who butchered Willie's father, the aforementioned Cheetah God after he had taken shape as a cheetah, while on a hunting expedition. According to legend, Sir Lawrence was seen wearing a red coat when he shot and killed Willie's father, the Cheetah God, and later took his mother as his personal concubine back to London. However, that is all rumor and it conflicts with the initial accounts that Willie killed redcoats because of their inherent racism so perhaps it is not true. This should not be attributed to lazy writing or to the writer simply making shit up as he goes along, but rather to the vagaries of history, in which reality and legend are often intertwined, creating a hazy world in which truth and fantasy are often indistinguishable from one another.

Willie next popped up in Florida in the early 19th century, and it is here that he first acquired the surname Young, which seems to have been a joke perpetrated by those who were acquainted with his growing legend. He joined up with Andrew Jackson and spent years hunting and scalping Indians in the Everglades and throughout the Southeast, and at night he would regale his awed compatriots with tales from his previous exploits during the War of Independence.

Willie earned a great deal of respect despite the racial climate of the day, both on account of his commanding personal presence - he was and is a very large man - and because, according to a diary account from a Chester Smalls, a young volunteer from South Carolina:

"No one took a Red Man scalp like Big Willie. He seems to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in the destruction of the Red Man. At times it seems frightening and even our superiors seem taken aback by his frenzied blood lust. Nevertheless, he is an effective ally in these horrible wars, and a true friend. He once saved me from the arrows of the savage when he buried his hatchet in the Indian's face. I couldn't find the words to thank him, but I later brought him a cup of fine ale, which he downed in one gulp. I found the courage to ask him why he took such delight in the subjugation of the Red Man, and he answered me thusly: 'Chester, never trust the color red. It is the color of true evil, the color of that scandalous motherfucker who killed my father.' He then went into a sort of trance, in which he spoke in strange tongues. I left him alone for the rest of the night and when day broke, I was told that he had moved on as an advance scout. I never saw Willie again, but I would occasionally hear stories of his exploits and while they made my blood shiver, it did my heart well to know that he was on my side."

It would seem that at some point during these brutal Indian wars, Willie Young saved the life of Andrew Jackson. Jackson was so grateful that he granted Young vast lands in the bayous of Louisiana. It is here that the Willie Young legend took on new life.

For several years, Willie lived a prosperous albeit mysterious existence in the Bayou. He had amassed a personal army consisting mostly of runaway slaves and illiterate Creoles, whom he guided on raids of the many plantations throughout the South. For years, farmers and businessmen searched for his base of operations, but almost all of them were stymied by the oppressive Louisiana Bayou. Seeking help from the government, they were told that when he became President, one of Andrew Jackson's first acts was ensuring that the federal government would never interfere with the actions of one Willie Young.

Enraged and confused - especially since by now, Willie and his army had begun hijacking shipments down the Mississippi, earning him the nickname The Dread Pirate Willie - the Southern farmers and businessmen created a league designed to stop him. Incidentally, the seeds of the Confederacy can be found in this league, and while that it is a fascinating story in its own right, it is not particularly relevant in this case and therefore no more will be said of the subject.

This league was headed by one Lamar T. Beauregard, a particularly colorful New Orleans businessman who, despite the warnings and protestations of the other members of the league, decided to lead a foray into the Bayou. Accompanied by a team of French mercenaries and armed with the latest in weaponry, Beauregard was never heard from nor seen again. The only record of his expedition came from the recovered journal of one of the French mercenaries, a certain Jacques de Martin. Loosely translated from the original French:

"They are coming. At night, we can hear strange noises, laughter in the trees, howling and ghostly echoes which seem to rise up from the earth itself. Half of our squad has already gone missing - a man here, two men there, seemingly swallowed up by the swamps, disappearing into this unearthly hell. The men are scared, but Mr. Beauregard tells us that we are superstitious fools, that what we are hunting is a mere man of flesh and bone. But the others tell of a legend of a man who does not die, who cannot die, and although I pride myself on being a man of reason, I fear that this horrible place and the witch king who rules it have made me question the validity of reason. What point is there in logic when the very fabric of existence seems to be mocked by this . . . this Willie Young? I can hear them in the trees now. It is awful. They are coming."

Little is known of Young's life over the next century. There were scattered reports during the Civil War of a giant man stalking the back ranks of the Confederate armies, slaughtering men by the hundreds while a fine mist descended, obscuring both him and his personal army of escaped slaves and illiterate Creoles. There can be no doubt that these accounts refer to Young, although they never state him by name. Interestingly, it would seem that Young had an informal meeting with General Sherman during his march across the South. One Union soldier claimed that no one heard what the two men discussed, but that when General Sherman returned to his men, his face was ashen and all he did was whisper that they had permission. One man reportedly asked "From who?" And all Sherman could do was shake his head and mutter "From the devil himself."

It would seem that Young lived as a veritable King, the Bayou of Louisiana his own personal realm, inviolate, until he was finally betrayed in 1930 by a subordinate named Louis Terrell, who was reportedly bribed by agents claiming to work for Huey Long, the man nicknamed Kingfish, who ruled the state of his Louisiana as his own personal fiefdom from his post as Governor. Naturally, the presence of two such gigantic personalities made conflict inevitable. Thanks to the betrayal of Mr. Terrell - whose body was later found hung from a cross made from alligator bones, probably in retribution for his betrayal - a team of mercenaries, armed with flamethrowers and accompanied by ninjas with shotguns, took Willie Young unaware, while he was in the midst of sexual congress with no less than 14 servants. The servants were taken and later sold to a New Orleans whorehouse, while Young's men were butchered in front of him.

In tears, he pleaded for the life of his number two man, James "The Reaper" Arlington, but he was laughed at by The Kingfish's men, who slaughtered Arlington in front of Young and then horsewhipped Young and bound him in chains. They took him to Baton Rouge, but before they could deliver their prize to The Kingfish, Young miraculously escaped, even though it was said that not even Houdini himself could have escaped the many chains wrapping Young.

It was then that Young seemed to disappear from the public record once again. It wasn't until 1944 when Young turned up in a village in France that he was heard from again. There, he saved a young French girl from the advances of a debauched Nazi Colonel. Grateful, the family and its village named Young as their Mayor and Lord Protector, and it was he who greeted American soldiers as they fought their way to Berlin. They relayed his story, and with great interest and fanfare, Young was brought to Washington where he dined with President Harry Truman following the war. It is reported that the two stayed up for long hours over many months, discussing both Andrew Jackson and foreign policy. It would seem that Young was instrumental in the formation of NATO and also advised the President that immediate warfare with the Soviet Union would be a mistake.

Unfortunately for Young, powerful men often breed powerful enemies and it wasn't long before he fell under the microscope of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Rather than being dragged through the mud as a Communist sympathizer and valuing his privacy, Willie disappeared once again. It is rumored that he found his way to San Francisco where he was a key figure in the rise of the hippie culture but that cannot be confirmed as anything more than conjecture. Others state that he went to Vietnam, where he fought against the Vietcong because they had adopted the communist color of red, which awoke ancient grudges in Willie. However, that is also unconfirmed.

What is known is that Young reappeared in the Public Eye when the movie Highlander was released in 1984. A controversy soon erupted when Young claimed that the movie was written by a man who had gotten him drunk in a bar in New Orleans - where he had reportedly settled down with the descendants of his former personal army - and stolen his life history. The ensuing movie was a worldwide hit, spawning several sequels and multiple television series. While wildly inaccurate, most experts agree that the central character of Conner Macleod is based on Young. A legal battle ensued, and after several years of legal wrangling it was decided that enough of the details had changed so that Young was entitled to little if any compensation. In fact, the only thing that Young received was a replica of a Katana sword - which he still has - with a note attached to it from the writer of the movie, which stated "I did it for my ancestor, the honorable Lamar T. Beauregard. Shove this sword up your ass, old man."

Enraged, Young felt powerless in this new and modern world, and although he received ample compensation when his story was again remade, this time as the hit film Forrest Gump, it was still wildly inaccurate and, Young felt, incredibly offensive. A controversy erupted when Young was caught attempting to break into the home of Tom Hanks, where he planned on "butchering that motherfucker like he was a Goddamn Red Man." It was unclear what that meant, but police speculated that he planned on beating Hanks with the Oscar he won for his performance as the titular Gump.

The only weapon Young had on him at the time he was apprehended was a can of red spray paint and so his sentence was kept light. After spending six months in county lockup, Young emerged claiming to be a new man, and he set about getting himself the formal education that he always wanted but never had. After many years spent in the public school system, Young found that he a natural talent for the game of football. Earning attention from several schools, Young chose North Carolina State University, mostly because one of their chief colors is red, and Young felt that it would be an empowering form of rebirth to don the colors of the man who killed his father. When he was asked if it overwhelmed him to finally come to terms with the color red, Young could only respond by saying "Huh? What the fuck you talking about? That sounds like some queer bullshit to me."

Indeed.

Several years later, after proving himself time and time again on the football field, Young was drafted in the seventh round of the 2010 NFL Draft by the Detroit Lions. On being told that he was going to the Lions, Young reportedly wept and said it was worse than the day that motherfucker Kingfish killed his boy, Reaper Arlington.

HOW HE FITS WITH THE LIONS

Well, Young has decent size and athleticism and his years spent hunting Indians and redcoats show that he has a natural predatory mean streak. However, the Lions are pretty stocked along the defensive line for a change, and so Young is really going to have to show something to the coaches if he wants to earn a roster spot.

However, there has been speculation that Young seems to look like a young Julian Peterson - although, we all know now that he's technically a very, very old Julian Peterson, but we'll let that slide - leading some to believe that he could be used as a big outside linebacker. This is interesting, as the Lions certainly need help there more than at defensive end, but such an adjustment would be a large one, even if Young has shown an obvious versatility during his long and colorful life. He likely lacks the coverage skills to play linebacker in the NFL and his future would seem to lie strictly at defensive end. Whether the Lions have room for him there - I don't think they do - remains to be seen.

Even if they do have room, Young is slightly smaller than what the Lions coaches seem to be looking for in a defensive end. But, I suppose he is a natural to keep around in case the Lions have to play the Redskins or the Chiefs. He claims to be a reformed man, but let's see what happens when he sees the face of an Indian looking back at him once again or an arrowhead mocking him from a helmet.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THIS SEASON

Because of the Lions depth at defensive end, it's highly likely that Young is either cut or sent to the practice squad this season. I doubt that he'd make the team over, say, Jason Hunter, but who knows? The man is certainly an experienced warrior and in these strange and terrible times that can't be discounted.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THE FUTURE

There is a chance that the Lions could develop Young into a useful part, but let's face it, this is but a blip in Young's life. Who knows what the future holds for him? There are some who say he is destined to be the man who delivers mankind from the evils of a coming apocalypse. I don't know about that, but it's possible that in the year 2685, people will be writing rapturous odes to him and his mighty deeds. I wish I could tell you what the future holds for Willie Young, but alas, you are all mere mortals and men like Willie Young and myself both pity you and piss on your mortal dreams.

I suppose all you can do is hope that, while your fleeting time on this planet is still in its prime, Young succeeds as a member of your favorite football team. The man may be tomorrow's savior, but today he is just a man trying to sack the shit out of the quarterback. So it is. And what shall be is unknown to all but the wise and those motherfuckers like to keep shit close to the vest. As Willie Young once told Andrew Jackson: "It's a tough world, hoss, and sometimes even the best of men don't make it. But that doesn't mean the story's over. It just means that this chapter is closed. Tomorrow is another chapter, so go to sleep, Andy, we'll kill some more Red Men in the morning."

Indeed.

Goodbye, Daunte Culpepper

I was going to write about Willie Young, the Lions first 7th round pick, today, but then I realized that I would rather have my scrotum super-glued to the back of a bullet train right before it leaves the station than write about Willie Young. No offense to Willie, and I'll get to him later, but I'm just not feeling it right now. After all, I wrote over 12,000 words on that fucking show LOST over the weekend in exchange for dollar bills tossed at my feet and stuffed in my g-string and I was left feeling both feral and drained, a wild dog forced to crawl into a ditch to rest up before he runs again. I hope you all understand.

I then considered writing another round of gibberish about fandom and the Lions community of fans on the web and I might do that later on, but I'm not so sure I want to do that so soon after writing a similar piece last week. Obviously, as you can see, there isn't a whole hell of a lot going on.

It is to the point where Sean over at Pride of Detroit is breaking down undrafted free agents, most of whom will take one step off the bus at training camp before being executed by the Turk. If something doesn't happen soon, I fear that poor Sean will start providing scouting reports for the hot dog vendors at Ford Field.

But something did happen today, and while it doesn't directly impact the Lions, it does close the door on an awful, rancid chapter in our ridiculous and sordid history. Daunte Culpepper just signed with the Sacramento Mountain Lions, where he will reunite with his old head coach, Dennis Green. By the way, whenever I type Daunte Culpepper I have to fight the initial urge to write JaMarcus Russell. Take that however you want. Also, when I typed "the initial urge to write JaMarcus Russell", I initially typed "the initial urge to fight JaMarcus Russell." I feel, taken as a whole, that those two anecdotes are telling.

You see, that is what Daunte Culpepper is synonymous with to Lions fans - failure. And not just ordinary failure, but failure on a JaMarcus Russell level, which as my boy Harpo can tell you is somewhere between the ninth circle of hell and the devil's anus. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that thinking of Daunte Culpepper makes me write things like the word fight instead of the word write. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but when I think of Daunte Culpepper, I just want to take that pen and jam it somewhere unpleasant.

Obviously, this is not a love note to Culpepper. Not that you could have expected anything else. My feelings about Culpepper are well documented here and I won't go through the vast litany of offenses he committed while wearing a Lions uniform, and hell, even before he put on the uniform. I mean, the most distinguished things he ever did were lead my team to a Fantasy Football championship a million years ago and attempt to purify a bunch of whores in the waters of Lake Minnetonka. I'll just say that he was an utter failure, an unmitigated disaster and trust that you can just accept this without having to resort to troubling things like statistics.

You see, statistics are useful tools, necessary tools, and they do indeed bury Daunte. But they don't show the other shit, the 300 pound Daunte waddling onto the field because he couldn't be bothered to take care of himself during his brief time away from football even though he claimed that he was obsessed with getting back to the NFL to prove he was a starter. And they don't show Culpepper throwing a fucking hissy fit on the sideline on national television, arguing with Martin Mayhew because he wasn't going to start the game even though daddy promised.

Daunte Culpepper is representative of everything that we hate as Lions fans, of everything that makes it tough to be a Lions fan. He's exactly what we think of, what everyone thinks of and makes fun of, when they think of the Detroit Lions. He is a walking, talking, living, breathing Jay Leno joke. He is not a loveable loser. He's just a loser.

That may be harsh, but so what? Daunte Culpepper is a millionaire who has provided me with nothing but misery throughout his career. I don't weep for him. It's not like he's out on the street rummaging through dumpsters so that he and his family can get by. Then again, it's possible that he can be found rummaging through the dumpster outside of the local McDonalds. That wouldn't surprise me and if you say that it would surprise you, then you my friend are a liar.

Daunte Culpepper is everything that has been wrong with the Detroit Lions for a decade now - hell, for longer than that, really. He's a washed up piece of scrap(note the "s" on that word. I called him a piece of scrap, not a piece of crap. I am a gentleman, after all.) that was picked off of the heap and signed because once upon a time he used to be pretty good - or at least he had shiny stats and was kinda famous. For a long time, that was all it took to be signed by the Detroit Lions. The shit merchants who ran this franchise were always behind the curve, always looking for what was hot yesterday rather than searching for what will be hot tomorrow. Teams don't win that way. Teams win by identifying talent that will blossom under their watch, not by desperately trying to preserve whatever is left of a fading and dying rose.

Daunte Culpepper wouldn't shut the fuck up about how he was still a capable starting quarterback. Well, congratulations Daunte Culpepper, you got your wish. Have fun in Sacramento. Maybe you can throw for 4500 yards and your team can finish 8-8 and then in five years you can take over as the starting QB for the local Pop Warner team. Because, damn it all, you're Daunte Culpepper and you once had stats, man.

This has all been mean and vitriolic, but sometimes these are the things that need to be said. Does any of it matter now that Daunte is officially out the door? No, not really. But holding anger inside is bad. It will just end up misplaced and you don't want me inexplicably bitching out Cliff Avril or something in November just because I never took the opportunity to get this shit off my chest, do you?

The way of the gentleman is a tough one and it isn't always noble. Occasionally, you will stumble and be found lying in an alley way, drunk, vomit on the front of your shirt. It happens. Especially to those gentlemen who are also Lions fans. We fall off the wagon sometimes and we brutalize and eat the dead and while it may not be pretty, it is just the way it must be in these strange and terrible times. I should apologize, but I am too wild with malice and insane with bloodlust and I cannot be counted upon for reason. Tomorrow is a new day, but today, let us gnaw on the bones of the wicked, for this is the only way to appreciate true justice.

Jeff Backus, The Detroit Lions And You

In my breakdown of Jason Fox, I got a little carried away with rambling on about Jeff Backus and the broken marriage that is his relationship with Lions fans. I couldn't help myself. The man makes everyone crazy in one way or another and it got me thinking that Backus really is the perfect example of a Detroit Lion. Jeff Backus is the Detroit Lions. Or rather, he's a good litmus test when it comes to figuring out what kind of fan you are.

You see, there are three types of Lions fans. There are the Fuck It, These Dudes Suck And They Will Always Suck Until The End Of Time type of fans. Let's call them Group A. There are the Look, I Know These Dudes Have Sucked But For No Rational Reason I Think This Year Will Be Different type of fans. Let's call them Group B. And then there are the They Suck But I Hope They Won't Suck And I'm Cautiously Optimistic But Let's Try To Stay Rational type of fans. Let's call them Group C.

When it comes to Backus, Group A decided he sucked a long time ago and no matter what happens, they'll always think he sucks. He could pick up Julius Peppers and powerbomb him all over the field for an entire game and they would just shake their heads in disgust because he got flagged for a false start on one play.

Group B on the other hand so badly wants to see Backus do well that they will excuse a game filled with a million false start and holding penalties and point to the one time where he kinda sorta managed to push a backup defensive end around as proof that he deserves all the accolades shot his way by coaches and scouts.

Group C looks at Backus and sees a flawed player, incapable of saving the day all by himself but also a player who can be satisfactory if he just gets some damn help. They want to believe that Backus, despite all his flaws can survive if he has some backup. However, they are also willing to admit that he isn't as good as the coaches try to pump him up as or as solid as Group B likes to pretend that he is.

If you look at your perception of Backus as a player, what you see can tell you a lot about what kind of a fan you are. He is a perfect avatar for the Lions as a whole. Group A is never happy and is forever spouting the same bullshit about Matt Millen and the Ford Family years after it has ceased to be relevant. Group B is always convinced that if one or two magical things happen, the Lions will soar to the Super Bowl and will contort themselves in absurd and obscene ways to get you to see this, torturing logic to the point that Idi Amin would have to look away in horror and disgust. Meanwhile, Group C recognizes the horrors of the past but don't allow it to define them completely as fans. It's always there, but it's not something that needs to be wallowed in all the time. They try to look at the situation as rationally as they can and admit when someone sucks while also pointing out ways that the team has slowly gotten better.

I like to think of myself as someone who belongs to Group C. Then again, I think we all probably like to think of ourselves that way. The truth, of course, is that I have found myself living with the members of all three groups. There have been times - far too many times - where I have scoffed at the optimists and screamed for all the world to hear that my team is made up of inveterate shitheads with no hope for the future. But I have also found myself amongst the members of Group B, screaming All Is Well like Kevin Bacon at the end of Animal House while the parade through the center of town goes all to hell. I am not particularly proud of either of those things, but what the hell, that is the simple truth and I would be completely full of shit if I tried to pretend that I was a coldly rational machine passing dispassionate judgment on everything Honolulu Blue.

And that's the heart of Lions fandom, I think. We all want to be members of Group C, that group that can look at a situation for what it is and react accordingly. No one wants to be a crazy asshole. It can be fun to be a member of Group B for a while, and revel in illogical hope based on the high you might get from, say, Matthew Stafford staggering back onto the field to throw the game winning touchdown against the Browns. That shit will make you high. It will make you forget logic and reality and make you blather like a goddamn buffoon. It's cool to be there every once in a while. In fact, I don't really trust you if you can't allow yourself to go there every once in a while. But you don't want to live there, or else you end up becoming the village idiot and no one wants that.

It's also fine to wallow occasionally amongst the members of Group A. Look, it's fucking hard to be a Lions fan sometimes. It can beat the shit out of you. And sometimes you need to just tell everyone and everything to go fuck themselves and rant and rave about shit that doesn't even entirely make sense. Is it productive? Hell no. But it's also entirely necessary if you want to maintain any semblance of sanity. This is what happens when you watch Daunte Culpepper flop around the field like a beached whale in Lambeau Field while the other team practices high jumping into the stands with alarming regularity. You can't help but feel that the situation is hopeless and that it will never get better. It's okay to feel that way. It is. But if you live there permanently, you just become a crotchety old asshole whose view of the world is permanently distorted and thus, worthless.

The thing about being a Lions fan is that we swing between these different groups like fucking maniacs. One day we're safe in the cozy womb of Group B, enjoying a Candy Land filled with Sunshine and Blowjobs, and the next day we're lying at the bottom of a chasm of hatred and despair, whipping one another and ourselves with chains and whips made of failure and broken dreams, all while a horde of cackling Failure Demons run amok. And then the next day, we step back and assess the situation like we're fucking Spock. It's bipolar as hell and we should probably be collectively institutionalized.

I'm not sure how we smooth that ride out. But I'm not so sure that I want it to either. There is something powerful and unique about it, something that is ours, that we can share and all understand. People on the outside say that it is the losing, the horrible, never ending losing, that defines us. But it's not. What defines us is the fact that we keep getting up even after we get knocked down. We let ourselves feel it all. There's a stupid sort of bravery in that, an absurd nobility. It's utterly foolish and the members of Group A and outsiders will scoff at us and tell us to quit fucking around and just embrace death already, but fuck that and fuck them. I love hoping despite all reason. I love crashing and burning with my team. Because they are my team and that's what having a team means. It's awful and it feels like shit, but at least it's real, at least it's honest, and that's what lies at the heart of all true fandom. It's brutal, it's mean, but it's real and it's honest and sometimes it's wonderful and sometimes you feel like you just got shot in the balls. It is what it is and there is a purity in that that is almost impossible to find anywhere else in this fucked up world.

I look at Jeff Backus and I see a dude who has pissed me off way too many times to deserve the benefit of the doubt. And yet, here I am, ready to give it to him like a moron. And you know why? Because I have to. Because I have to believe that the coaches - my coaches - are right. I have to believe that if he finally gets some help next to him at left guard, that he can be the player who was drafted in the first round a decade ago. That's part of the fun of it, part of being a fan, putting yourself out there every once in a while even though you know you could tumble horribly to your death.

But it's not like I'm just waltzing out onto the ledge, drunk and stupid. I have my reasons for thinking it will be okay. With a functioning left guard lining up next to him for the first time, I actually believe that there is a chance that Backus can be okay. Not great, but okay. I know that doesn't sound like much but it's a leap of faith for Lions fans, and it's one that defines us. Some of us will make it and if we tumble for a million miles because of it, then okay. That's our fault. We made the decision and now we have to own the consequences. Some of us won't even bother to amble out onto the ledge. They'll just sit back and mock those of us who are out there. If we fall, they'll just laugh and say I Told You So and they can pat themselves on their smug little backs. But if we don't fall, if we somehow stand there and reap the rewards of faith, they'll just have to stand there hating themselves for not having the guts to actually come with us. Sure, a lot of them will celebrate right alongside of us and pretend that they were there all along, but deep inside they'll know that they don't deserve it, that they never earned it. Those will be our bandwagon fans.

So, you see, in a way, Jeff Backus is indeed the Detroit Lions. How we see him is the same as how we see our team, is the same as how we see everything as fans. It's too simplistic to break it down into a simple war between optimists and cynics because we're all optimists and cynics. We all feel the pain, and we all feel the hope. What it all comes down to is allowing yourself to feel the hope while also respecting that pain. That's Group C. That's the ultimate goal. Or at least it should be. You can't let yourself get carried away in either direction. It will happen. On some days you'll find yourself babbling about hope and on other days you'll find yourself screaming about failure. This is unavoidable. The trick is to learn how to recalibrate when you find yourself doing those things.

I don't know how to get you there. I'm just some asshole who tries to make sense of all this. I'm just a dude who's a fan of the Detroit Lions, absurd as that may be at times. Don't follow me. Just let yourself be a fan and you'll be fine. Don't let The Fear own you but don't let yourself get tricked by The Hope either. They are mortal enemies and you are just some poor idiot trapped in between. Don't let them own you. After all, you are a Lions fan, which means you are a son or daughter of Detroit, at least on some level, and the sons and daughters of Detroit don't give a fuck about The Fear and they know better than to trust that trickster known as Hope.

I have babbled too long already, and this has devolved into nonsensical gibberish, but that is what I do. Being a Lions fan does this to a man, but that's okay, because it's part of the package and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Jason Fox

I am not feeling creative at all, so if this thing sucks, well . . . now you understand. Perhaps I am just shook up by the stunning news that Brian Cushing may have tested positive for a PED because he had just blown his load. Of course, this has already led to a stunning amount of jokes about Cushing being busted for jacking-off, but my favorite little note was from someone on Twitter who said that the only way the Ejaculation theory holds up was if Cushing pulled out literally seconds before pissing in the cup. I don't even really have a joke here. Just read that again. Right now, there is a serious controversy going on in the NFL in which it is speculated that a player either jacked off or boned someone mere moments before his drug test. This is such a ridiculous league sometimes.

Anyway, I think the news overwhelmed me, if only because my brain started searching for the best punch line to this whole thing because that's just kinda how my brain works. Now, writing about Jason Fox seems kind of prosaic and it's hard to write when you don't feel that interested about what you're writing about. Once again, this is probably just something that I should deal with on my own. I mean, not many writers or bloggers or whatever the fuck people are calling themselves these days will explain to you why their post or column or whatever sucks copious amounts of dick. They'll just write it and hope no one hates it too much. But that is some selfish bullshit, right there. We are in this together, you and me. I am the writer and you are the reader and I owe it to you to explain why things aren't going so well. I am secure enough that I am comfortable admitting when my shit stinks. Perhaps I should just wait until the mood strikes but I made the idiot mistake of promising my followers on Twitter a post today and I am nothing if not an honest gentleman. If I went back on my word now, then what would we have? Anarchy. That's what. There would be people killing each other in the streets and whipping dogs with chains made of hatred and broken dreams and I cannot be responsible for that. Sure, you might say that is all ridiculous and no one would give a shit whether I posted or not but I am a ridiculous man sometimes.

Okay, I'm not entirely sure what the hell I am even talking about anymore, so let's just get on with this thing before I end up writing 5,000 words about Jason Fox.(Well, 500 words about Jason Fox and 4,500 of utter gibberish. By the way, yeah these things have been kinda long, which is making me worried that my season preview posts will be mini-epics that will turn into Crime and Punishment, only with slightly less murder and more insanity. But what the hell, we are warriors in our hearts and champions of virtue and we can handle such things. I believe in you. I believe in us.)

Anyway, yeah, Jason Fox. If you ask most Lions fans what needs to be fixed in order for the team to be relevant again, you will get a bunch of foaming at the mouth dissertations about the offensive line. Seriously, if you want to see utter hatred, dark and without reason or pity, ask a Lions fan about Jeff Backus. You will think that the dude ate their children or got caught fucking their dog. It's unseemly.

So, naturally, Lions fans were eager to draft a young, stud offensive lineman in this draft if only because they are eager to draft a young, stud offensive lineman in every draft. It doesn't even matter who at this point, if he's not Backus then he's okay. Lions fans have gone utterly retarded when it comes to this point. They are completely incapable of reason and honestly, they should not be listened to anymore. Their endless braying has made their hideous noise forfeit. Seriously, you sound like a bunch of dumb assholes now, so stop it.

No, the offensive line is not perfect, nor is it very good. In fact, it still kinda sucks, but Jeff Backus is not really the problem. The problem is the twin holes known as guards that lineup next to the tackles. I have gone into this before and so I won't go too far deeply into it again, except to say that Backus would magically seem like a different, better player if he had anyone remotely competent lining up next to him at left guard. Thankfully, he seems to have that with Rob Sims coming into town. But that won't stop Lions fans. Backus could cause the entire defense to explode using only his mind like Dr. Manhattan and Lions fans would still say he needs to be replaced. The damage has already been done. It is a sadly unsalvageable relationship.

The good news for Backus is that his coaches are in his corner. The bad news for Backus is that this means that the coaches ignore the caterwauling of the fans year after year, which only makes them even angrier at Backus when the team passes up a Russell Okung or a Michael Oher. It has passed the point of reasoned desire for change into utter madness. No one really gives a shit if the dude who replaces Backus is actually any good or not. They just want to see Backus hauled down and beaten like that statue of Saddam Hussein in Baghdad a few years ago. They want to see him dragged through the streets and tossed in the Detroit River and floated off to Canada. This is not a movement that embraces hope or that is looking to the future. Instead, it is a movement motivated purely by hatred and vile revenge. It is mean, it is stupid and it is pointless.

Look, I have also at times said foul words about Backus. I do not deny this. And it's not like he's a great player. He isn't. But he's a serviceable player, and while that may not be inspiring, it's certainly not deserving of the incredible vitriol which dominates any discussion about him. This is a matter of perspective. I don't really care all that much if you think that the Lions could do better than Backus. There are a lot of days where I'd actually agree with you. It's just that the argument against Backus has passed over into the realm of the absurd and so I'm forced to sit here and defend the dude like he's Lomas Brown. It makes fools and assholes of us all and it has to stop. Let us all try to be reasonable about Backus from now on. Let us recognize his limitations while also acknowledging the things that he's actually good at.

See how this shit gets out of hand? This post isn't even about Jeff Backus. Well, not directly anyway, and yet it is threatening to turn into a post wherein I break down all of Backus' strengths and weaknesses. If I had an editor here, he would be screaming at me right now, telling me to get to the point, but fuck that, he wouldn't understand what it's like to be a Lions fan, the insane madness that it causes and the crazy paths we are pulled down because of it. This is what anger and hatred and The Fear do to us. They make us rant and rave about shit that isn't even material to the point. They make us weak and foolish, gibbering and lost in a wilderness of stupid noise and tangled malice. It isn't even about football anymore. It becomes a dumb war that we fight within ourselves, screaming and fighting with each other, slandering one another just because we have so much anger and disappointment and stupid sports rage. It becomes a pissing contest, a way of forcing one another to acknowledge that we are fans of a horrible team. This post somehow got caught up in the middle of all that and while it has made this a wildly unfocused screed that I should probably delete, I won't, because it is honest and it is important to acknowledge. It may be clunky and it may mar the rest of the post, it is still all too real, and it is something that must be understood if we are to understand our own pain, our own sports anger, and we must come to terms with that if we are going to move on.

Okay. I sorta turned into an insane Jedi there, didn't I? I was like Yoda if Yoda had finally just cracked and started shit talking everyone and then shit on the floor or something. I apologize, and let's just move on.

Okay, Jason Fox. All of the above gibberish is important to understand if you want to understand why it is that Jason Fox doesn't just seem like an ordinary fourth rounder to a lot of Lions fans. He is a fresh start, a new hope, someone who can one day take over for Backus and heal these violent riffs that lead to such epic craziness as the weird bullshit above. It's a lot to ask from a fourth round pick. Too much. And it has already skewed his career before it has started. That is the poison of The Fear, of venom run amok. Hating Jeff Backus like many fans do has made it so that even the people who could potentially replace him are tainted by it. They suddenly are drawn into a whole stupid maelstrom of desperation and weird anger. Jason Fox is no longer Jason Fox. He's Jason Fox who could one day supplant Jeff Backus. That's his identity in the mind of a lot of Lions fans and it's unfair.

But just who is Jason Fox? Who is he independent of Jeff Backus, independent of the whole stupid drama his name has already been pulled into? Well, I'll tell you.

Jason Fox was a four year starter at Miami. That, by itself, says a lot. Sure, Miami hasn't quite been Miami for a few years, but they still haul in an incredible amount of talent year after year and for Fox to step in and be the man for four straight years is impressive. You don't get to start for four years at Miami without having some obvious gifts.

What are those gifts? Well, Fox is a very good athlete, a former tight end turned tackle. He has the ability get out on the corner and take on pass rushers, and he also has the ability to get up the field in a hurry, getting out to the second level to make blocks to spring a running back. He has good footwork and should be able to handle edge rushers better than your average stiff.

All that sounds pretty good, so why did Fox fall into the fourth round? Well, he had some injury issues, particularly a nagging knee injury that he finally had fixed a few months ago and even scarier, an irregular heartbeat.

Thankfully, doctors told him the irregular heartbeat was likely a one time thing and the knee has healed up enough so that he's considered ready to go, so I'm not sure if we should really be worried about those. All things considered, it feels like we kind of got a steal here.

Of course, none of this means that Fox is a perfect player. He doesn't seem to be the sort of player who's going to beat anyone up. He might not have that bit of nasty to him that all great linemen have. He'll want to use his athleticism to redirect defenders rather than bashing them backwards. That's fine, but the problem is that in the NFL almost everyone is a great athlete, which means that the edge will go to the person who's willing to kick the other guy's ass. I'm not so sure that Fox is willing to do that.

Fox seems like the sort of player who has all the tools to succeed but he might not have the attitude. He might be too delicate, too unwilling to latch onto a guy and just beat him up for four quarters. I am this close to making a clichéd It Ain't Ballet comment here so I'll just stop. You get the point.

All in all, I love Fox as a fourth round pick. He's a talented player with a ton of experience at a big time program who fell simply because of bad timing with an injury. He's someone who you can either choose to develop as your left tackle of the future or he's someone who can probably step in and play right away without getting completely overwhelmed. His technical and athletic ability will allow him to survive and perhaps even eventually thrive, but I fear that he'll never be as good as he could be unless he develops a meanness to him that, from just about every scouting report I've seen, he just doesn't seem to have. I like Fox. I do. But to be honest with you, I think there is a good chance that he washes out of the league. On the bright side, though, I think there is just as good a chance that he becomes a starter down the road. But this is what you get with a fourth round pick.

HOW HE FITS WITH THE LIONS/WHAT IT MEANS FOR THIS SEASON

The team has already said that it plans on using Fox as their third offensive tackle, meaning that he will slide between the left and right side depending on where the team needs help. It's possible that he could steal the right tackle job away from Gosder Cherilus if Cherilus doesn't step up his game or if his recently revealed knee injury isn't healed up.

Backus is the starting left tackle. Let's just get that out of the way right now. And I think that the team likes Backus enough that he'll be the left tackle for a few more years. They aren't looking to replace him so we might as well make our peace with that.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THE FUTURE

Well, it means that Fox is likely primed to be Backus' successor when Backus finally does get the boot. Of course, that's all contingent upon Fox actually making it as a viable NFL offensive tackle.

In the meantime, I wouldn't be surprised to see Fox push Cherilus. I have a feeling the team would like to replace Cherilus and if they can get away with sticking Fox there for a few years, then I think they'd like to do that. That way, when Backus finally does leave, they can either slide Fox over to left tackle or keep him on the right side and take another stab at an elite prospect on the left side. Either way, if Fox works out, the Lions are well positioned for when Backus does finally leave town.

Of course, there is always the possibility that Fox doesn't make it, in which case the team needs Cherilus to make it and then they need to start searching for Backus' eventual replacement all over again.

This post was weird. I will admit that, but I warned you up front. I didn't expect it to turn out quite like this. The first half or so was fairly volatile, all charged up but unfocused. The second part, the Fox part, was listless and half-assed. I will admit this. I was on auto-pilot and should have given more to it, but fuck it, even the best of us are beaten sometimes. Perhaps it is weird that I have essentially critiqued my own post, but it is important to be self critical. It is the only way to stay on top of things in an ever changing and absurd world. I think I hate this post, and yet there is enough in it that I think it is still worthwhile. That may not be an inspiring statement, but like with Jeff Backus, sometimes, you just to have accept the situation for what it is and not get all pissed of because it's not what you want it to be. This post is my Jeff Backus. Hopefully, the next one will be better but for now, I suppose this is good enough. Blah.

Amari Spievey

I could tell you right here that the Lions cornerbacks were bad last season, but you already knew that. Besides, bad is a hysterical understatement. The Lions cornerbacks over the last couple of seasons have been apocalyptically terrible. Watching them has been exercise in maintaining my hold on reality. They are so terrible that it feels like some sort of weird inter-dimensional wormhole between our world and some demon hell world has been opened up leading to the inevitable chaos which ensues, a fucked up sort of purgatory where the players all appear to be men but could very well be Failure Demons in disguise. Every time an opposing quarterback gets the ball away, I half expect to see some asshole with horns and goat legs sprinting across the field, cackling maniacally.

So yeah, it's been bad. To illustrate my point further, and much less ridiculously, I only have to point to the news that the 49ers signed Will James yesterday, which led to a spate of comments about how James was the best cornerback the Lions had last season. James will be competing just to make the roster in San Francisco. Or, as I put it on Twitter last night(and by the way, feel free to follow me on Twitter at twitter.com/armchairlb), Dick "Night Train" Lane would have been the best Lions cornerback last season. And I'm not talking about Dick Lane from his prime, I'm talking about Dick Lane now, and that dude is 83 years old. Also, I would be remiss if I didn't point out how awesome a name like Dick Lane is. That's the sort of name you just don't see anymore. Very Post-War Don Draperesque Americana right there.

The point of all that gibberish is that coming into the draft, the Lions really, really needed help at cornerback. That is not exactly a revelation gleaned from the Burning Bush(I could make an absolutely filthy joke right here, but I am a gentleman and so I will refrain.), and if you asked any Lions fan on the street what the Lions need in order to get better, you would first hear a million jokes about how they never will and then a bunch of lame hackneyed comments about the Ford family and maybe a few potshots at Matt Millen and probably some bitching and moaning about Jeff Backus and then after a round of tears and possibly even some vomiting the word cornerback would be thrown around.

It's become a perpetual problem, an issue on par with the offensive line in the minds of Lions fans. And like the offensive line, it has threatened to become a reflexive issue, one that people don't even think about before spouting off venomous nonsense. It will likely be this way even after the situation has stabilized and will continue as an echo that never quite dies for many Lions fans for years and years and years. No matter what happens, there will always be that vague feeling down deep that the Lions cornerbacks aren't good enough. They could win back to back Super Bowls and people would still wish that things were better back there. This is what failure breeds, The Fear, and no position on defense has been infected with The Fear more than the cornerbacks.

Normally, this would cause people to flip out and demand that the Lions take a cornerback with the first available pick. That didn't happen this year for a couple of different reasons. First of all, Ndamukong Suh's overwhelming status as King of the Draft led people to not only accept but demand his selection with the second overall pick. And secondly, for those hold-outs who are owned by The Fear, cornerback still hasn't reached the level of irrational savagery inspired by the offensive line, and more specifically, left tackle. So, the general consensus amongst Lions fans was that the team should draft Suh, with a minority of perpetual sadsacks demanding that the team draft a left tackle like Russell Okung.

This created a situation where the top cornerback prospects in the draft were sort of ambiguous names to Lions fans, floating somewhere in the ether. Fans were aware of them, but they weren't following them like the Stage 4 Stalkers top cornerback prospects usually have up their asses. A name like Joe Haden seemed agreeable but only as a last resort in the event of a trade. The name Kyle Wilson was thrown around, but not until the second round. There were others, but there wasn't really one particular cornerback prospect who Lions fans salivated over.

There were the expected rumblings from the expected places when the Lions traded up to take Jahvid Best, grumblings from the perpetually dissatisfied that the Lions should have stood still and taken a cornerback with their second round pick. Of course, had they done that, people would have then freaked out and bitched that the Lions reached for the best available corner and Oh Lord, what about running back and linebacker and . . . you see, it really didn't matter what the Lions did there, people would have found a reason to be unhappy.

The way I look at it is like this - the Lions wanted Jahvid Best and they reached out and grabbed him. I discussed all of this in my last post about Best so I won't go too far into it here. But if you refer back to what I said in that post about taking a guy you want versus taking a guy you need, I think it should become clear that the Lions made the right move by not standing pat and taking a cornerback with their second pick. If they had, it would have been a guy that they took because they needed him, not because they wanted him. Again, refer back to my last post to see why that's an important distinction.

The harsh reality facing the Lions, though, is that they still did need a cornerback and they weren't going to be able to continue patching things up with one year deals given to retread free agents. That shit hasn't even come close to working. At some point, they needed to draft a young player who they could groom to be a long time starter. They really haven't done this since drafting Bryant Westbrook in 1997. That's an absurdly long time to go without ever developing a starting cornerback on your own and it goes a long way in explaining why the cornerback position has been so terrible for so long.

It's true that there have been players drafted at cornerback since then. Andre Goodman, Keith Smith and Stanley Wilson were all third round picks the team planned on developing but they never bothered to get around to doing so. All three languished in a kind of weird purgatory before either migrating to other teams or disappearing from the football map altogether. At some point, you have to draft a player and you have to stick him on the field. You can't be constantly searching for a better solution while hoping and praying that your young prospect will magically develop thanks to the kindness of a genie or magician. Goodman, Smith and Wilson were always sort of stuck away in some weird "Break Only In The Event Of An Emergency" case until they withered and became useless so that when the emergency did come, that case was broken and its contents just crumbled into dust.

All of this long and drawn out lead-up is a way of explaining that the Lions needed to draft a cornerback in this draft but they had to pick the right time to make this happen. Pick a guy too early and you reach for an inevitable dud. Wait too long and you end up with just another body to be thrown on the pile and then burned after yet another massacre of a season. Unfortunately, this is an incredibly difficult thing to do. You need to have the right player and the right time synch up in order for it to work. It's easy to mess up if you're not completely competent and even if you are, circumstances beyond your control can ruin it for you.

And so that's the situation the Lions found themselves in when they drafted Amari Spievey, a cornerback out of Iowa. Spievey(and oh yeah, it's pronounced Spuh-vay for some ridiculous reason)was never considered a top prospect in the draft. He is what he is, which is a third or fourth round prospect. There is no real boom or bust potential here, just a hard nosed, blue collar player with some limitations who was going to be an effective player for whoever drafted him. He'll likely never be a star - which is why he was always considered a mid-round pick - but he's not just a raw athlete with a 10% chance to be great and a 90% chance to flame out like so many of these guys are. He's a football player, he knows his job and he can do it reasonably well.

Look, I know that's not all that inspiring, but for a third round pick at a position of need, I'll take it. We need stability here. We need base-hits, not home runs, because we're down by 12 runs in the bottom of the 8th inning and this shit is going to take time, you know? You have to have the Spieveys before you can freak out and start going for the future Deions and Champ Baileys.

But what exactly does that mean? What are we really getting with Spievey? Well, let's take a look, shall we?

There is a pretty clear consensus about Spievey in the scouting reports, which is that he is probably a perfect cornerback for a Cover-2 system. He's tough, he's physical, he's smart and he tackles really, really well. In fact, he was second on Iowa's team last year in solo-tackles, a shocking achievement for a cornerback. But he's also not the best at matching up man to man with a receiver. He's not the sort you're going to see mirror a receiver and run his route for him and he's susceptible to being beaten deep one on one.

The picture that is painted is of a cornerback who is perfectly suited to playing in a zone, a player who can come up and stick a ball-carrier or sit back and jump routes. And when a receiver does make a catch, he should go down right away. From excellent Iowa blog Black Heart Gold Pants:

he usually puts his shoulder right through the receiver's thigh. Play over, gain of four, second down.

Again, not exactly uber-inspiring, but that's the sort of solid, attention to detail sort of play that every team needs as its foundation.

The obvious thing here would be to mark Spievey as a bit of a fish out of water with the Lions. He's probably not going to be a lockdown cornerback in man coverage, and he's ideally suited for a system the Lions don't run, the Cover-2, so why draft him?

Well, for starters, he's almost exactly the sort of cornerback that Jim Schwartz has always loved, the smart, physical kind that can step up and tackle. He's got good size, another thing that Schwartz looks for in his cornerbacks, and he should be able to stick with most players in the league by virtue of his sheer physicality.

According to New Era Scouting, he should be able to hold up in press coverage, even if he hasn't had a lot of opportunity to do so thanks to the system he played in at Iowa:

Because of his long arms and physical playing style, it stands to reason that Spievey could hold up in press situations, but it might not ever be his strong suit.

There has already been some talk of Spievey playing exclusively at nickleback, matched up perhaps on a slot receiver, someone who probably isn't going to burn him deep. This probably isn't the best idea since, again, from New Era Scouting:

Doesn’t have the best change of direction ability, so he can be beaten by smaller, quick receivers.

So that's probably not the best idea. You can easily see a receiver breaking out of the slot and curling in front of Spievey while Spievey struggles to adjust. Therefore, as a cornerback, I think Spievey's future lies on the outside, playing press coverage on bigger, more physical receivers. I think that there will be a lot of wars involving Spievey and his receiver. He's going to beat the other dude up and make him work for everything and, hey, that's okay. You can win with a guy like that.

But what about his lack of speed, his tendency to get burned? Won't that hurt him if he lines up one on one with a receiver on the outside in man coverage? Well, Black Heart Gold Pants assuages those fears a little bit:

At Iowa, he was the most special cornerback we've ever watched. He got torched once against Illinois in '08 and once against Penn State in '09. Those happened and you're free to read as much as you please into those plays, but also consider that they're the only two times that he got torched. It's not as if he's just plain too slow.

So, yeah, it sounds like he should be okay on the outside. He might never be a number one lockdown cornerback, but he should be fine as a dude who's matched up with bigger, more physical receivers. And when he does come up against a guy whose speed can give him problems, he should be able to beat the guy up a bit, get in his head and take him out of the game that way.

There has been speculation that Spievey's future could lie at safety, and for a while I was kind of thinking the same thing. After all, his strengths - the tackling, size, physicality, etc. - could all be accentuated at safety, while his weaknesses - pure covering ability, pure speed, comfort in man defense - could be masked there. But the more I looked at Spievey and, hell, even since I started writing this breakdown, the more convinced I became that his future was at cornerback and that he should be a good one. He'll almost definitely never be a great one - his limitations are probably too much to overcome - but he should be a good one. And for a third round pick at a position of extreme need, that's more than okay.

HOW HE FITS WITH THE LIONS

Well, ideally, Spievey wouldn't have to carry a huge load as a rookie, but he might have to anyway. He's already drawn a lot of comparisons to last year's third round pick, DeAndre Levy. Both were starters for good Big 10 programs who were fairly unheralded and both were considered solid prospects with obvious limitations. Last year when the Lions drafted Levy, everyone fretted - myself included - worried that the Lions had reached with the pick. But then Levy went out and played really well as a rookie, enough so that most of us are completely comfortable with the idea of him starting at middle linebacker in his second year. If the Lions are able to duplicate their success that they had with Levy as a third round pick with Spievey this season then we'll be overjoyed.

Of course, there is no real reason to compare the two beyond the fact that both were Big 10 defensive players picked in the third round. It's just an easy thing to point to, a beacon of hope floating somewhere in the wrecked landscape that lies behind us. We can look at that and say "See? These guys know what they're doing after all." It makes us believe that Spievey will be fine because hell, it worked with Levy, right?

But that's not fair to Spievey. Levy wasn't thrown right into the fire as a rookie. He was able to sit behind and learn from Larry Foote. Sure, he played a lot and by the end of the season he might have been the Lions best linebacker, but the pressure wasn't on him to come in and make a difference like it is on Spievey.

You see, for Spievey there is no Larry Foote. There is nothing but the wreckage of a thousand dead bodies, smoldering heaps of flesh left over from the terrible massacres which have plagued this land for years. He is being counted on to come in and stabilize a position that has spun so far out of control that 100 Spievey's couldn't stabilize it in one season.

Spievey is in a tough situation. The Lions need him to perform well and they need him to do it right away. Right now, there is Chris Houston and little else. The Lions also brought in Jonathan Wade, but he's not a starter. Houston has his own problems and limitations. In many ways, he's the exact opposite of Spievey, a burner who doesn't bring a whole lot else to the table. But maybe that's okay. Maybe Houston can match up with the speed receivers. He can keep tight coverage and if he learns to get his head around on the ball he could be okay. Meanwhile, Spievey can take on the sort of receivers who would give Houston problems, the tough, physical assholes who will beat up on a defensive back to get open. Spievey should have no problems beating them up right on back.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THE FUTURE

Spievey is probably never going to be star. I have said that, or a variation of that, many times in this post, but it's important both to say and accept. If we expect Spievey to be something that he's never going to be then of course he will seem like a disappointment. But if we see him for what he is, which is a solid, tough cornerback who will mostly get the job done even if he gives up a deep ball from time to time, then we'll probably end up being pretty happy with him.

Spievey is a foundational player, the kind of player you need to become a winner. They can't all be stars. Some of your starters have to be the fairly anonymous blue collar types who somehow still manage to get the job done. This is Amari Spievey and hopefully he'll be here doing that here for several years.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THIS SEASON

Well, Spievey is going to be tossed right into the fire. He's going to play right away and he's going to play a lot. Even if he doesn't start, he'll still see the field simply because there isn't anyone else. A cynic would say that this is a recipe for disaster. But we are not cynics. We are poor, doomed romantics, optimists who have had our hearts broken year after year and, as such, we desperately want to believe.

Do I believe? Yeah, I do. But aside from simply wanting to believe, I think that Spievey has the sort of mental toughness and mental sharpness that Jim Schwartz loves. That's why he drafted him and that's why he should be able to survive his journey into the inferno.

I said something over and over again last year in my draft recaps: Welcome to Hell. Well, Amari Spievey, welcome to Hell. It's hot, it sucks, but we're fighting back and even though many brave souls will perish in the flames, you are now a warrior of light in a dark and terrible place and the only thing you can do is fight, and fight hard. Welcome to Detroit.

Jahvid Best

Even before Kevin Smith's knee exploded like he stepped on a landmine late in the season, there were serious questions about his ability to handle the load as the Lions premier running back. After a promising rookie season that saw me compare his numbers to those from Emmitt Smith's rookie campaign(I am nothing if not bold, hyperbolic and completely ridiculous), Kevin Smith struggled mightily, finding himself stuffed and stuffed time and time again behind the Lions putrid line.

Aha! The line. That is what everyone will say when they look at Smith's sophomore struggles, and while the line certainly wasn't very good, pointing at them as the primary culprits for Smith's curious decline is, frankly, bullshit.

Smith averaged only 3.4 yards a carry for the Lions. Compare this to his backups, Maurice Morris and Aaron Brown, who averaged 4.1 ypc and 4.9 ypc respectively. Now, we can probably leave Aaron Brown out of this. After all, he only carried the ball 27 times so sample size is an issue. But Morris carried the ball almost 100 times and came away with almost 3/4 of a yard better than Smith every time he carried the football.

So those are the numbers. They tell a story of a starting running back who, for whatever reason, could never quite get on track, and of a backup who came in and managed to be an effective replacement for said starter, all while running behind the same shitty offensive line. When you throw in Brown's playmaking - sample size aside - it looks even worse for Smith.

There are some obvious reasons for Smith's struggles - the line wasn't very good, he played with a rookie quarterback, allowing teams to load up to stop him, and he battled numerous injuries throughout the season before his knee committed suicide - but really, the injury bug is the only one which holds a lot of water when you take into account Morris' performance and to a lesser extent, Brown's. So what we're left with as an excuse for Smith's struggles is the million different injuries which he suffered throughout the season. It seemed like every part of his body was beaten up and left for dead, and while that does count as a legitimate excuse, it's also troublesome for a player whose biggest asset is his consistency and his ability to carry the ball 300+ times during a season. If you take that away, then really, what's left?

It's not his speed. The numbers above tell a large part of the story but they don't tell all of it. All you had to do was watch Smith game after game to see what the real problem was. The dude simply doesn't have that extra gear to turn 3 yards into 7 or 7 yards into 15 or 15 into a touchdown. He can't do it. There were many, many runs during the season when he would seem to break free only to be swallowed up or tripped at the very last second. Bad luck? Maybe a little. But the more obvious reason - and the more sobering one - is that Smith simply can't turn it on when he needs to.

So, with all that said, going into the draft, the Lions knew that they probably needed help at running back. Not only was Smith injured, and injured badly, but he wasn't all that effective when he was healthy. Many people figured that the Lions might be looking at a short-term solution, someone to carry the ball until Smith returned to full speed, but they already have that guy in Maurice Morris. If they were going to take a running back, it would have to be someone who would play a larger part in the grander scheme than just temporary fill-in. The Lions were looking for a new starting running back.

Enter Jahvid Best. I have already referenced Jim Schwartz's, uh, gushing admission that he got sprung over Jahvid Best highlights on Youtube, and I won't devolve into a bunch of senseless barbarism about Coach Schwartz's masturbatory habits again, but I want to bring that back up if only to show just how much Schwartz and the Lions loved Jahvid Best.

You see, there are a lot of people who think the Lions reached for Best, that they should have just stayed put with the 34th pick instead of trading up for the 30th pick. They felt that either Best would have slipped to the Lions at 34 or, if he was snatched by another team, they could have just drafted the best available cornerback, linebacker or lineman. That's fine, except it ignores an obvious truth that has come out since the draft ended, and that's that the Lions really, really wanted Jahvid Best.

This was not a case of a team realizing they had a hole to fill, panicking and trading up to fill that hole. No, this was a case of a team identifying a player who they were in love with and making the move they felt like they needed to make in order to get him. There is a crucial difference there. It is the difference between need and want, and it is a vast chasm that often separates the bad from the good.

A team that drafts a player just because they need him will do so regardless of fit, even if they aren't exactly sure how they will use him. He's good, he plays a position that they need someone to play, so hell, draft him. But a team that drafts a player they want does so knowing exactly how that player will fit into their plans. They already know how to use him, how to accentuate his strengths and mask his weaknesses. They are a million little steps ahead of that team that grabs a guy just because they need him.

The Lions got a guy they really, really wanted, and I see no reason why people should complain about that. But, ah, I can already hear you saying that the Lions could have still gotten Best at 34. I think that's a wild assumption, though. If the Lions made the deal, then it stands to reason that they didn't think they could get him there, and that one of the four teams ahead of them wanted Best. The Lions targeted Best, saw that they could get him and did what they had to do to ensure that they would. Wouldn't it piss everyone off a lot more if the Lions wanted Best but just stood around passively waiting for him only to see some other team snatch him up? The Lions were decisive and aggressive and I fail to see how that should be looked at as a bad thing.

But just why did the Lions covet Best so damn much? Well, again, refer to the image of Schwartz rubbing lotion on his hands in front of his computer. Got it? Sorry. More importantly, though, is what Schwartz would have seen once he sat down to watch those highlight tapes.

What he would have seen was a guy with explosive speed, speed described like so by David Syvertsen of New Era Scouting:

Has top notch stop and go ability. Can reach his top speed in a blink and explodes through the smallest of windows. Has the advantage even when a linebacker has the initial angle on him in traffic.

and . . .

Has been clocked under 4.4 in the 40. Big time speed once he breaks free in to the second level. Has the extra gear in the open field that makes it very difficult to catch him from behind. Homerun threat every time he touches the ball, has several long touchdown runs.

That stands in stark contrast to Smith's decided lack of game breaking ability. Not only is Best fast, but he's elusive and he sees the entire field. Again, from Syvertsen and New Era Scouting:

Sees the field exceptionally well. Does not have tunnel vision that a lot of backs possess. Can turn a broken play in to a big gain because of his ability to see the entire width of the field. Reads blocks and knows when to run north-south or east-west. Has such a smooth running style with no wasted motion as a result of his tremendous balance.

Sounds like the total package, no? Well, there are some concerns too. Virtually every scouting report that I have read on Best(and believe it or not, I do read them)points to not only his game breaking speed and elusiveness but also to his lack of size and toughness. Unfortunately, in that respect he also seems to be Smith's polar opposite.

But in those strengths and those weaknesses we can begin to see how Best fits in with the Lions plans going forward. Obviously, he gives them a dynamic that they haven't really had in a long time. Sure, they have Aaron Brown, but he's still way too raw to be counted on as anything other than an occasional diversion. Best is that explosive home run threat that other teams must respect every time he is on the field. That will open up the field not only for the running game but for Matthew Stafford and the passing game as well.

But it also means that there is a place on this team still for Kevin Smith, or at least a Kevin Smith type, someone who can get the tough yardage that Best probably won't get. Best is going to fall down when you hit him. Smith will drag someone a yard or two. That combination is vital here. Smith and Best will make each other better, or at least make each other look better. They complement one another perfectly, and people will be less likely to jump on them for their weaknesses when they know that the other one is picking up the slack. Each one has a role to fill and each one is now perfectly situated to fill that role.

Jahvid Best brings something to the Detroit Lions that we haven't had in a long time. He brings explosiveness and speed and rockets attached to his feet and the ability to dance into the end zone, laughing at the poor sad bastards who try to chase him down. We saw some of that in Aaron Brown last year. But Best is a rich man's Aaron Brown, an Aaron Brown who can be counted on to produce regularly. New Era Scouting, which I have referenced numerous times in this post(And by the way, that's not my usual style, although I should probably do it more. But I like to read everything and then synthesize it all into my own unique voice and style. I'm not a journalist and, really, I barely consider myself a blogger. I like to think of myself as a writer and a fan, and I like to frame things from that perspective, instead of from the cold and clinical, slightly detached view of the journalist, and, increasingly, the blogger. But that is a whole different topic for a different day, one that I could probably ramble on about for a million words, and so I'll force myself to stop now, and I apologize for the incredible length of this parenthetical break. Okay.), compares Best to Brian Westbrook, and the thought of a young Brian Westbrook running wild alongside Matthew Stafford and Calvin Johnson for the next decade is one that makes me smile. Yes, yes it does.

HOW HE FITS WITH THE LIONS

Best should be the starting running back, but he won't be a 300+ carry kind of back. Unfortunately, the Brian Westbrook comparison also fits here. Best simply isn't built to take the pounding that most feature backs get. The good news is that his superior elusiveness means that he will avoid much of that pounding. The bad news is that, like Westbrook, Best seems to be injury prone when he does get hit. Most famously, and the one that gave fans and scouts alike the most pause, was the hellacious hit he received going over the goal line against Oregon State, a hit that left his brain with the consistency of pudding.

Obviously, the concussions are a concern. One more knockout blow like that and Best might be spending the rest of his life chasing butterflies and having the drool wiped away from his mouth by friendly nurses. But we are gentlemen and lady gentlemen and we are optimists in our hearts and we will not fear such things.

Still, Best is obviously not built for the long haul, and this will mean that Kevin Smith should still get plenty of chances to show that last season was an aberration. Best will probably get the majority of carries this year, but I wouldn't be surprised to see him get slightly less than 200 carries while Smith picked up somewhere north of 100 carries and Morris grabbed another 50. Best is dynamite, but sometimes dynamite blows up when you don't want it to. It will be important that the Lions know exactly how and when they want to use that dynamite to their advantage. Thankfully, they drafted Best because they wanted him, not because they needed him, as I explained earlier, and so I think they know exactly how and when to use him.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THE FUTURE

Not only will Best give the Lions the true game breaker they have lacked ever since St. Barry drifted out of town on a river of tears(And really, even Barry wasn't all that fast. He could be caught from behind.), Best should also have an effect on the game in other ways.

His speed will force teams to key on him, which should open the field up for every other skill player. The Lions can now effectively use misdirection to make things happen. A playaction pass using Best as a decoy will get teams to freak out and jump at him, opening up the field for Matthew Stafford. A pump fake to Best coming out of the backfield on a swing route or on a screen will have an even more devastating effect. Further, Best gives Stafford a serious weapon as a safety valve out of the backfield. If a play is covered, Best should be there to give the Lions not only an outlet, but also a chance to make something happen.

Just by virtue of being on the field, whether he gets the ball or not, Best's speed and ability will make the Lions offense much more dangerous and much more diverse. He could be the key that opens this whole offense up.

WHAT IT MEANS FOR THIS SEASON

Well, it means that the Lions have another weapon that defenses must respect. And since Smith will likely not be 100% right away, it means that Best will get the chance to hit the ground running. Let's just hope he keeps on running once he starts.

I think more than anything, Best will signal to the rest of the league that the Lions are not a team that you want to play anymore. Along with Stafford and Calvin Johnson and Brandon Pettigrew and Smith and Tony Scheffler and Nate Burleson, etc., the Lions have opened up the field in a way that they haven't had since the mid-90's when St. Barry was running wild while Herman Moore and Brett Perriman were hauling down passes.

But those weapons will take time to mature. This season will be about seeing how they mature and evolve together, so that hopefully, by the time the 2011 season rolls around, they will be ready to run wild on the league.

EXTRANEOUS BULLSHIT FOR WHICH I APOLOGIZE BUT WHAT THE HELL, WE'RE ALL FRIENDS HERE, RIGHT?

By the way, one quick note before I get the hell out of here: this is probably the most subdued post I have ever written about the Lions. I'm not sure whether to be pleased or dismayed by this. Perhaps this is an internal dialogue that I should just keep to myself, but I like to keep you all informed of my state of mind while writing these things. It keeps it honest. I want to be able to discuss things in a rational and intelligent way from time to time, but I don't want to become detached and lose whatever small thing it is that makes me unique here. I think I'm a pretty good writer. I think I have something to say and I like to say it. The language may be a little bizarre at times, the imagery wild, but beneath it all, there is a dude who loves stats and other nerdery. It is a strange dichotomy, one that at times can make my writing appear a bit bipolar. Sometimes you get thoughtful anaylsis and sometimes you get digressions about blowing werewolves and Hitler wrestling polar bears. It is what it is. I just wanted to be clear about these things.