ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, April 20, 1997 TAG: 9704220014
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C-3 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: COMMENTARY
DATELINE: NEW YORK
SOURCE: IAN O'CONNOR
When Orlando Pace ends up pushing pancake mix in the year 2002 - his habit of flattening pass-rushers packaged by Madison Avenue - Bill Parcells might not look as smart as he does this morning. Parcells is in the football business for one reason, unless you count the pay. He lives for the big game. Two bridges away and one decade back, he learned those games are won by great players.
There's no telling whether former Virginia linebacker James Farrior will sack quarterbacks more often than Pace protects them. All we can go on now are the ratings of scouts and the rantings of Mel Kiper. What we know is this: Everybody is saying Pace could elevate the standard at his position, and nobody is making such claims about Farrior.
Parcells had cause to take the first-round plunge, to drop from one to six and from six to eight, stockpiling lesser picks along the way. He needed quantity more than quality. He was suffocated by the salary cap. He wanted to spread the precious dollars around, employing a few warm bodies for the price of one.
But the reasons don't erase the bottom line. The worst team in the NFL had a chance to acquire the best player in college football, and took a pass. Having hired Parcells to make these decisions, the Jets should pray his first one was right. It could be more consequential than any fourth-and-one call in six months.
``Some coaches are good evaluators of talent,'' said Parcells' old boss, Giants GM George Young. ``Some coaches aren't.''
When given a roster, Parcells is without peer. When assembling one, Parcells backpedals toward the field. His draft opinions shot down by the Giants and Patriots are forever revisited: He didn't want David Meggett in East Rutherford or Terry Glenn in Foxboro.
In New England, Parcells also overpaid a quorum of old Giants, eventually losing control of personnel, not to mention his respect for the blustery owner, Bob Kraft. But if the franchise coach isn't a franchise scout, Parcells has been right, too. He took Drew Bledsoe over Rick Mirer. He found Ty Law, Ted Johnson and Curtis Martin in the same draft.
Parcells was way off on Glenn, a receiver who ran the Patriots to the Super Bowl. Though he maintained his choice to trade this year's first pick was driven by the Jets' dearth of cash and talent, Parcells would've loosened the cap and dismissed the roster holes had Peyton Manning left Tennessee.
So this was a judgment call. In Parcells' judgment, Pace wasn't worth the trouble.
``The only way we can replenish players on our team,'' Parcells said, ``is either drafting them or securing them in the college free-agency market. ... I thought it was very important that we at least create an opportunity for ourselves to do that. That doesn't mean we'll be successful doing it.''
History isn't kind to coaches who became kings, regardless of sport. Excepting Pat Riley in Miami, teams have been better off with a system of checks and balances. Jimmy Johnson clashed with Jerry Jones. Parcells did the same with Young and his grumpy lieutenant, Tom Boisture. Combined, these relationships produced four championships. Debate can be good for a marriage.
Parcells didn't want to fight with Kraft, didn't want to surrender a measure of power to Bobby Grier. So he left a young contender for the longest shot in the game. He has respectable people around him in Hempstead, Bill Belichick and Dick Haley looking at players, Mike Tannenbaum poring over numbers. But ultimately, Parcells will listen to Parcells.
``A coach's job now is tougher than it's ever been,'' Young said. ``He's a victim of the cap. There's more problems with players than ever before. He has bigger staffs than ever, more media. He is burdened by so many things that to start getting involved with your scouts and financial people becomes very difficult.
``[The Giants] try to run our business like most corporations in the United States. ... The coach is always worried about the short term. It's usually better to also have somebody responsible for the long-term health of the franchise.''
Parcells thought keeping the No. 1 would've meant improving the Jets at a rate ``that was a little too slow for my own personal health and welfare.'' Neil O'Donnell's health and welfare is a different matter. His high-priced tackles, Jumbo Elliott and David Williams, have had high-anxiety back problems. The Jets could've moved Williams to guard, cut a salary or two, and established the 6-6, 330-pound Pace as their rock.
Instead, they picked a linebacker from Virginia who said the Jets ``didn't really have a lot of contact with me'' before the draft. Farrior looks like a player on the clips, strong to the hole and quick to the sideline. But if Jets fans want guarantees, this is all they get: Farrior won't be ripping Mo Lewis in a bookstore near you.
Parcells didn't just take a player the Giants liked; he opened the door for a player he apparently doesn't, Marvin Jones. The coach needs to alter the nature of the team. The surest way of doing that, Parcells figured, was recouping all the picks the Jets gave the Patriots in exchange for his services.
But Parcells is running against the grain of personal experience. Phil Simms had a Super Bowl like no other quarterback. Lawrence Taylor had a career like no other linebacker.
Great players win big games. If Orlando Pace reinforces the point, Parcells will wish he didn't try to get so smart.
IAN O'CONNOR is a sports columnist for the New York Daily News.
LENGTH: Medium: 100 linesby CNB