A time to laugh, a time to cry

SHELTON E-mail: Click here Archive

© St. Petersburg Times
published January 19, 2002

The first reaction should be laughter.

Across the league, across the nation, people are laughing at the Tampa Bay Bucs. Why should you feel left out?

Later, you can worry. For now, laugh. Laugh until the tears roll down your cheeks. Laugh until your sides hurt. Laugh until little spots appear in front of your eyes.

Bill Parcells said no.

Again.

Parcells, the NFL's runaway bride, has jilted the Bucs at the altar. Again. At this moment he is riding a white horse into the distance, his bridal gown trailing in the wind.

The Glazers messed up. They trusted Bill. And they learned what the rest of the league found out a long time ago. That no deal with Bill is ever done until he's sitting in the office. And, sometimes, not even then.

If you are the Bucs, you are left with anger, with confusion, with betrayal. And with questions. For instance:

Why did Parcells change his mind?

How loud is Tony Dungy last-laughing today?

Where do the Bucs go from here?

And, mostly, there is this: Has any team, in any sport, ever had a worse week than this one?

The Bucs are the league's laughingstocks once more. The country hasn't had a good belly laugh at the Bucs' expense since Sam Wyche was yucking it up on the sideline.

Frankly, the Glazers got what they deserved in this deal. This is what happens when you weave tangled webs. One moment you think you are the spider, the next you are the fly.

Poetic justice? There hasn't been this much poetic justice since Elizabeth Barrett Browning spent a weekend shacked up with a cop.

Treat people badly, and sooner or later someone returns the favor. Do your deals in the shadows, and eventually you will stumble around in the dark. Lay down with Tuna, and you get fleas.

Look, everyone always knew Parcells might leave the Bucs before he reached the Super Bowl. But not this Super Bowl. Of all the misinformation passed around this week, you have to give Parcells this much: When he said it wasn't a done deal, he wasn't kidding.

"I just don't want to try to do this for only one or two years," Parcells told the Newark Star-Ledger. "I just don't think I can make the commitment."

What happened? There are a few theories. Mike Tannenbaum obviously didn't see a lot he liked upon arrival in Tampa Bay. Maybe it was the facilities. Maybe it was the owners. Maybe it was the threat of tampering charges. Maybe over the last 12 months his agent oversold Parcells' desire to return. Maybe it was the lure of the Hall of Fame, which has promised to move his bust into a different room each week. Maybe someone told him that, in last weekend's playoffs, the Bucs weren't the team in green.

Poor Parcells. This is going to be his legacy. More than the two Super Bowl champions, more than the drive, more than the Hall of Fame, people are going to remember that he went whichever way the wind blew.

No team should know that more than the Bucs. Parcells is the guy who once reduced late owner Hugh Culverhouse to warbling That's What Friends Are For at a news conference in which he announced Parcells wasn't coming. In all, you can count four years (1991, '92, '01 and '02) in which the Bucs went after Parcells.

Well, shame on Parcells for being a tease.

And shame on the Glazers for not knowing better.

Just consider the past seven days. The Bucs' season ended badly. Dungy was fired. The owners were ridiculed. It was announced the general manager would be back, and the next day, the team started interviewing replacements. Oh, and the team lost three of the best coaches imaginable. It fired Dungy. Steve Spurrier, who would have taken the job, went to the Redskins. And now Billy the Wanderer has scorched the team. All things considered, John Walker had a better week, and all he did was join the Taliban.

Where do the Bucs go from here? And when they get there, does Dungy open the door?

"Um, Tony, you didn't think we were serious about all that firing stuff, did you? "Aw, come on Tony. If Bill can change his mind, why can't we change ours?

"Tony, can't you take a joke? "Tony?"

If you are a Glazer, you have never needed Rich McKay more. You need McKay to forget that Tannenbaum spent Thursday in McKay's office, trying out the swivel chair. You need McKay to take charge and keep the boat afloat.

Once you do that, you turn into the world's biggest New England fan right about now. You want the Patriots to beat the Raiders 70-0, 90-0, 170-0. You want Al Davis to get so angry he fires Jon Gruden on the spot.

Where else do you go? To Play-It-Again Sports and see what kind of mileage Marty Schottenheimer has on him? Jim Mora? Norv Turner? Do you go after Jimmy Johnson's boat as if it were the Red October? Do you go after LSU's Nick Saban, long admired by the Bucs front office?

From now on there will be no Ron Zook jokes in Tampa Bay. Just frustration the Gators got there first.

Look, we knew Tony Dungy had brought stability to the Bucs. What we didn't know was that he was going to take it with him when he left. Today, the Bucs have the look of a vulnerable franchise that has taken a lot of wrong turns.

Joel, you sing the part of Keep smilin'. Bryan, you pick up at Keep shinin'. Come on. Everybody sing.

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