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Bucs

Adios ... and thanks for the Super memories

By GARY SHELTON
Published March 1, 2005

[Times photo, 2004: Bill Serne] Soon-to-be ex-Bucs QB Brad Johnson was 4-11 in his last 15 games before he was benched.

Goodbye sounds insufficient. Good luck sounds insincere.

What, then, are we to say to Brad Johnson on his way out the door?

Do we tell him we are surprised at his impending release?

The thing is, we aren't. This day has been coming for five months now, since the day the Bucs took the car keys away from Johnson and told him to stay out of the way.

Four games into a season, 20 games removed from a Super Bowl, and Johnson was the invisible Buc. He was here, but only sort of.

You rarely saw him. You never heard him. Even though Chris Simms, his replacement, was injured, even though Brian Griese, his replacement, had problems with interceptions, no one considered Johnson. Especially the Bucs. For the final 12 games of last season, Johnson was a double-indemnity clause.

Decreasing skills and an increasing salary are a dangerous combination for a quarterback, and everyone, especially Brad, has known for a very long time this is how his time in Tampa Bay was going to end. The question is not: Why did the Bucs cut Brad Johnson? The question is: Why did it take so long?

As Johnson walks away, then, are we to tell him how he was always loved around here, always appreciated?

That isn't right, either. Tampa Bay applauded Johnson, and for the most part, it appreciated him. But it never fully embraced him.

We want our quarterbacks to thrill us. We want them to run like Michael Vick and throw like Dan Marino and date like Joe Namath. Also, we want them to win like Tom Brady. We want someone larger than life, someone in the middle of the ESPN highlights. We want sword fighters and gunslingers.

Brad? As quarterbacks go, he was a mechanic. His arm was average. His feet were slow. His critics will tell you he plays quarterback the way your grandmother drives, slow and safe.

On the other hand, Johnson usually arrived at the proper destination. In his prime, Johnson was proof that playing quarterback was more than throwing skills in a blender. He kept reminding us all that a fairly talented guy can go a long way with intelligence and preparation, by reading defenses and making proper calls, by refusing to surrender to the scoreboard or the sight of his own blood.

How tough is Johnson? Put it this way: the darnedest discussion I ever had with him was over a report that said he had a fractured vertebrae. Brad didn't think it was important to talk about it.

Wait a minute: The starting quarterback may have a broken back, and that isn't important ?

For the record, Brad played. He never has shown me the X-rays.

As he disappears into the distance, then, do you suggest to Brad that he was done wrong?

No, that isn't quite right, either. Oh, the Bucs could have done better by Johnson. They could have given him a better offensive line, a better running game, a better corps of receivers.

Do you remember the last huddle that surrounded Johnson? The receivers were Tim Brown and Bill Schroeder, and both had lost their flavor long ago. Michael Pittman was suspended. Michael Clayton had yet to become a star. Keyshawn Johnson and Keenan McCardell were scattered to the wind. And on and on.

Yet, Johnson has always been about winning percentage. Mention a team, any team, and he could tell you his won-loss record against it. Bring up his shortcomings, and he would bring up his record.

If it was fair to do so then, yes, it was fair to note that he was 4-11 in his last 15 games when the Bucs pulled him from the lineup. Besides, Johnson is used to the drill. In his two previous jobs, he was run off by retread quarterbacks (Randall Cunningham and Jeff George).

What do you say to a quarterback disappearing into the distance? Do you tell him you will cherish his memory?

That probably isn't the truth, either. In real life, no one applauds the old sheriff as he rides into the sunset. To most Bucs fans, Brad is the day before yesterday's news. Most of the discussions about him have been closed.

He was never John Lynch or Warren Sapp or Warrick Dunn, former Bucs stars who remain beloved long after they changed jersey colors.

On the other hand, Johnson gave Tampa Bay a few days that are worth remembering. History will remember the Bucs' Super Bowl team as being driven by its defense, but over the last 10 games of that season, Johnson was the most indispensable Buc on the field.

A Tampa Bay quarterback has never had a half-season like Johnson had. Head to head, he outperformed Vick, Brett Favre, Donovan McNabb and Rich Gannon.

A Tampa Bay quarterback has never had a better play, either, than Johnson. Remember the NFC title game against Philadelphia in the crusty old Vet, the site so many Buc seasons had gone to die? The Eagles jumped to a quick 7-0 lead, and the ugly old feelings had started to take root again, when Johnson hit Joe Jurevicius with a 71-yard catch-and-run to set up a tying touchdown.

A week later, Johnson and the Bucs won a Super Bowl.

Above all, that was the memorable part of Johnson's stay. Other Bucs' quarterbacks, Doug Williams and Steve Young and Trent Dilfer, went to other places and won a Super Bowl. Johnson won his here.

As he walks away, then, don't talk about the lack of dazzle in his game. Talk about the dazzle on his finger.

What do you say to a quarterback as he hails a cab? You simply say this:

Hey, Brad. Thanks.

[Last modified March 1, 2005, 04:47:06]