Rich McKay and Jon Gruden may disagree, but they should realize with them the Bucs are ...
By GARY SHELTON
Published November 27, 2003
You imagine a table like most others. Except this one has a Lombardi Trophy in the middle.
You imagine a turkey pretty much like yours. Except this one has a pet name: Keyshawn.
You imagine a carving knife like the one you use. Except this one has a name, too: Chucky.
And, at the head of the table, drawing pass plays in the mashed potatoes, sits someone else.
Jon Gruden, it's time to give a little thanks.
The current NFL standings aside, it has been a good year for Gruden. His team won a championship. He went on Letterman. Bon Jovi sent him tickets. He has money, celebrity and a nice family. His foot, as we have found out, is bigger than Keyshawn's keister.
As Gruden gives his appreciation, it's time for him to be thankful for one more thing.
For Rich McKay. Who, by the way, should be thankful for Gruden.
The whispers are growing louder now. Pay attention and you will become convinced, the way the rest of the NFL seems convinced, the relationship of Gruden and McKay is headed toward a parting. Soon, one of them will be Paul Simon and the other will be Art Garfunkel. Gruden gets first choice.
Everyone who is anyone is talking about the rift. Emmitt Smith. Jimmy Johnson. Keyshawn Johnson.
I have no doubt that if the turkey in my refrigerator were to say something to me, Butterball to butterball, it would say this: "So, did you hear about Gruden and McKay? Also, have you considered trying the ham?"
If little green men landed on the White House lawn, they'd ask about Gruden and McKay. If a monk in a French monastery broke his vow of silence, he'd want to know about Gruden and McKay.
And so it simmers.
It has gotten to this: There is so much smoke, the rest of us are advised to find a fire extinguisher. It is easy to get the idea that when the season is complete, so is McKay's time here.
Gruden has said a hundred times that he doesn't want to be a general manager. What he hasn't said is whether he wants a different one from the one he has.
McKay has said a hundred times he hasn't met with the Glazers to ask for permission to go elsewhere. What he hasn't said is whether it's likely he'll be somewhere else next year.
The Glazers have said a hundred times that, hey, if you're interested, they'll have some more Manchester United stock. What they haven't said is anything Bucs fans can believe in.
Has there been head-butting between Gruden and McKay? Of course there has been. The jobs are constructed so there will be head-butting.
A coach works on a stopwatch and a general manager works on a calendar. The coach wants to win this week and nothing else matters. A general manager points out there will be games in the future, too. A coach wants to be Attila. A general manager wants to be Ming.
Still, you hear Gruden and McKay are at odds. You hear Gruden wanted this player and McKay didn't. You hear McKay won this battle and Gruden won that one. You hear Gruden is driven and McKay is driven crazy.
On the other hand, there is an old saying: If two men agree all the time, then one of them is unnecessary.
Bottom line: This works. If the principals don't believe it, they should count the rings on their fingers.
There are two simple questions that need asking by the Glazers, by Gruden, by McKay.
Are the Bucs better off with Gruden or without him? Easy answer. They're better off with him.
Are the Bucs better off with McKay or without him? Easy answer. They're better off with him.
Even for two men who have known each other their entire lives, since their fathers coached together in the name of the same franchise, this lack of harmony isn't new.
Once, the Giants had a general manager named George Young who did his job as well as anyone in the game. And he was good enough for the Giants to win two Super Bowls. It didn't matter. Young drove Bill Parcells, his coach, batty. In the end, Parcells left.
Once, the Redskins had a general manager named Bobby Beathard, a guy who could find the best of players on the most obscure of campuses. Still, he butted heads with his coach, Joe Gibbs. Even winning Super Bowls didn't make up for it.
Then there was that fun couple, coach Jimmy Johnson and owner Jerry Jones, who thought of himself as the team's general manager. Those two were like a vaudeville duo trying to elbow each other off center stage. Again, success only made things more insufferable until they separated. Neither of them has been as well off since.
Today, of all days, Gruden and McKay should remember what happened in those three instances. Split up a winning combination and sometimes it's the winning that changes, not the combination.
As football men, there are differences between Gruden and McKay. McKay is more inclined toward younger players than Gruden. That's to be expected. Younger players guarantee the natural cycle of a roster, and the more players under their first contract a team has, the more it can pay its stars.
Gruden, on the other hand, likes a player with scars across the bridge of his nose and a little salt in his hair. He's less likely than McKay to be cautious about a player who has off-the-field problems, such as former Raiders defensive tackle Darrell Russell.
Yeah, it's a little different. No, it isn't insurmountable. Harder compromises have been reached.
I know this. I know the Bucs need a coach such as Gruden to push things, and Gruden needs a general manager such as McKay to tell him no every now and then.
One man built a team. The other took it to a championship. The franchise is better off with both.
Thankfully, these two are smart enough to come to the same conclusion.
