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NFL
McNabb's public adores him at last
By JOHN ROMANO
Published January 24, 2005
PHILADELPHIA - Donovan McNabb broke free around midfield. He cut left near the 20, and headed straight for the sideline. It was there he pulled up.
Rock music played. Fireworks boomed. Confetti was about to fall. The Eagles had just won the NFC Championship Game on Sunday, and McNabb had cut through a crowded field to stand near the bleachers as fans shouted his name.
It was a scene of complete adoration.
And, perhaps, belated absolution.
How long did he wait for this? You can go well beyond the loss last year to Carolina in this same stadium. Beyond the loss to Tampa Bay in the final game at Veterans Stadium the season before. Beyond, even, the loss at St. Louis in his first NFC title game appearance three years ago.
You can probably go back to April 17, 1999 when he was just a kid out of college, sitting in the front row at the NFL draft in New York.
Philadelphia took him with the second pick, the commissioner announced McNabb's name and Eagles fans in the room booed.
If that was his introduction, then Sunday was his response.
McNabb has taken the Eagles back to the Super Bowl for the first time in 24 years, and the second time in franchise history.
The kid Philadelphia never wanted is now the player the Eagles cannot live without. He was, without doubt, the difference against the Falcons on Sunday. He scrambled with more grace than Michael Vick, and he threw with little regard to the 30 mph gusts and the wind-chill below zero.
His numbers were not spectacular but then they rarely are. He is not the ultimate fantasy league passer. He is not the record-setter sitting home in Indianapolis. McNabb is simply the quarterback everyone wants.
Six years in the league, five Pro Bowl appearances, four NFC title games and, now, his first Super Bowl.
"Donovan had a tremendous game," Falcons coach Jim Mora said. "He showed his maturity, and he showed his poise."
Strange how people rarely talk about McNabb's poise. They'll mention his size. Probably his athleticism. But they'll also talk about his low completion percentage and his growing reluctance to run the ball.
And, in doing so, they miss the best parts.
You want to talk about poise?
His interception rate is the second-lowest in NFL history. And isn't that what every coach wants? A quarterback who takes care of the ball?
McNabb's career winning percentage (.709) is also the highest among current quarterbacks with at least 75 starts. And isn't that the only statistic of true value?
As of this morning, McNabb also has a Super Bowl in his future. So any talk about him choking in the conference title game is moot too.
McNabb, 28, took the Eagles to the end zone on their second drive and kept them just out of Atlanta's reach the rest of the day.
He dodged pass rushers. He converted on third down. He hit the only deep pass he threw all game, going 45 yards into the wind to Greg Lewis.
"I'm very happy for Donovan," Eagles coach Andy Reid said. "When you're playing quarterback ... you're going to get some of the good and some of the bad. And he handles the whole thing so well."
Really, he had no choice. Either learn to handle the pressure in Philadelphia or go the way of Tim Couch and Akili Smith, the quarterbacks who were drafted just before and after him and are out of the NFL.
It's not like he could write off the draft day ugliness to a few dozen drunks who had driven to New York to jeer him. The entire Philadelphia area, it seemed, felt the same way. With the Browns already set to choose Couch, everyone knew Heisman Trophy winner Ricky Williams was available.
A City Council member introduced a resolution to draft Williams. Mayor Ed Rendell - now governor of Pennsylvania - told anyone who would listen that the Eagles needed Williams. The morning of the draft, the Philadelphia Daily News ran the enormous headline:
"Take Ricky"
All these years later, the draft day humiliation seems out of place. Philadelphia fans have long since accepted McNabb as the cornerstone of the franchise. Maybe, even, the best player the Eagles have known.
Still, something drives him. Something that makes him feel less appreciated, less respected, than others.
It's true, he doesn't have Peyton Manning's numbers. Or, for that matter, Tom Brady's rings or Brett Favre's history.
So, bit by bit, McNabb seems intent on changing perceptions. On carving his own place in history. Of convincing people, a game at a time, what he's worth.
Maybe that's why he stood in front of the bleachers in the corner of the stadium Sunday evening. Maybe he was looking for something in the faces of the screaming fans. His teammates were heading to a makeshift podium near the center of the field, but McNabb crept closer to the fans.
He paused for a moment, pointed skyward, and then moved on.
[Last modified January 24, 2005, 06:44:29]
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Fifty years ago, they were screwed-up kids sent to the Florida School for Boys to be straightened out. But now they are screwed-up men, scarred by the whippings they endured. Read the story and see a video and portrait gallery.
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