PHILADELPHIA — Once again, Andy Reid’s coaching errors overshadowed a weekend’s worth of wonderment. Once again, much of Philadelphia rejoiced. Once again, it’s a sad sight to see.
Joe Burrow’s comeback brilliance in an overtime win sent the Bengals to their first Super Bowl since Cris Collinsworth wasn’t obnoxious. Instead, it is Reid’s failure to protect his team’s 18-point lead Sunday that mattered more. It’s the third time in Reid’s nine years with the Chiefs that he has blown a playoff lead of at least 18 points, the latest in a series of exquisite regurgitations.
This episode’s key dramatic moment: Not kicking a field goal with 5 seconds to play in the first half with the ball on the Bengals’ 1-yard line. The Chiefs, who had driven 80 yards in 1:05 to get there, held an 11-point lead. They had scored touchdowns on their first three drives. The obvious answer, analytics be damned, was kicking a short field goal. Simple.
If they ran another play from scrimmage, any number of miscues could sabotage it: bad snap, sack, interception, fumble, tackle short of the goal. As it turned out, it was the last: Patrick Mahomes threw short of the goal line, Tyreek Hill got tackled, time expired. Mahomes struggled for the rest of the game, the Bengals forced overtime, and won.
Afterward, Reid wouldn’t even admit that he should have kicked. Instead, he said, “I probably gave him the wrong play first of all. I could’ve given him something better than that.” Yeah. It’s called a chip-shot field goal.
The arrogance, Reid’s calling card since Jeffrey Lurie hired him in 1999, remains staggering.
Still, there’s room for sympathy.
That’s because, by any standard, Andy Reid gave Philly its best years of football; and, by football standards, Andy Reid’s a pretty good guy. He’s a wonderful teacher of the game to both players and coaches; his coaching tree is unmatched by his contemporaries. Employees of both the Eagles and Chiefs remain loyal and grateful for his generosity and fairness. He’s good to the little guy.
He’s also a Hall of Fame shoo-in, a Super Bowl winner, and the second-best coach of his generation. But he’ll be 64 in March, and unless he snags a couple more rings, Reid will be remembered more for his blunders than for his genius.
Instead of being revered and respected, Reid has become the affable, bumbling uncle who always hits the garbage cans when he parks his car at Thanksgiving: You’re happy to see him, but you know before the pie gets cut he’s going to do something dumb.
Groundhog Day
Between his chronic clock mismanagement and his momentary lapses of reason, Reid has, in his 23 years on wearing the headset, become a curious combination of big-game qualifier and big-time choker. As ESPN producer Paul Hembekides noted, he has lost five conference championship games as the favorite. That’s the most all-time — but then, only Tom Landry (10) and Bill Belichick (13) have reached more championship games than Reid’s nine.
Getting close and failing can be its own curse. Reid has become Marv Levy plus Doc Rivers, with a dash of Kyle Shanahan.
Reid’s first three trips to the playoffs, after the 2000, 2001, and 2002 seasons, ended clumsily, but those losses can be forgiven, given Reid’s inexperience as well as that of quarterback Donovan McNabb. They weren’t ready. Then, they were. Or were they?
The Eagles scored three points and McNabb threw three interceptions — all to the same guy — in the NFC title game after the 2003 season, erasing the divisional-round euphoria of the fourth-and-26, Freddie Mitchell miracle.
The next year, in the Super Bowl, Reid didn’t use two timeouts at the end of the first half, costing the Birds a chance to score, then slow-played a fourth-quarter drive and surrendered the game to the Patriots. Reid did the same thing — slow-played and lost to the Pats — in the divisional round after the 2015 season, only this time he was coaching the Chiefs. It was like Groundhog Day.
Reid’s detractors cannot forgive the agony of near-misses in Philadelphia, but he’s brought as much pain to the plains. Sunday’s meltdown was only the latest of his Kansas City legacy.
His Chiefs teams blew a 28-point lead to the Colts in the wild-card round after the 2013 season, then blew an 18-point lead in the wild-card round of the playoffs after the 2017 season.
Those are the biggest L’s. There were others: most notably, given his cultish devotion to analytics, with the Eagles after the 2006 season, in New Orleans for the divisional round, trailing by three points, Reid punted on fourth-and-15 from his own 39 with less than 2 minutes to play. He never got the ball back.
Philly hate
In Philadelphia, there’s a lot less sympathy than hate for Andy Reid. It stems from issues deeper than on-field misfires.
He’s been downright glib in KC, but he was an obtuse, dismissive interview in Philly. There was no excuse for his frequent rudeness and condescension.
He’s often seen as a hypocrite — a family man with strict morals who hires ne’er-do-wells and whose two oldest children have now made his parentage a punchline.
Garrett, the oldest, overdosed on heroin on team property at training camp while acting as a strength coach, with steroids in his bedroom. Britt, the second child, currently faces DUI charges in connection with an accident last February that left a 5-year-old girl with a severe brain injury. It happened after he left the Chiefs’ facility, where he was a coach (he has since been dismissed). In fairness, both of Reid’s sons committed their worst sins as grown men — but yes, not only were they close to their father, they were on his payroll.
Like many coaches, Reid welcomes tainted players onto his roster ... but Reid’s somehow seem particularly unsavory. Michael Vick became an Eagle after he served felony time for running a horrific dogfighting ring. Hill pleaded guilty to beating his pregnant girlfriend in college, then, after the Chiefs drafted him, Hill was investigated in connection with his 3-year-old son’s broken arm (charges were never filed). Defensive end Frank Clark was charged with domestic assault in 2014 and pleaded guilty to disorderly conduct, and now faces two gun charges. Reid’s morals seem to operate on a sliding scale.
On the field, he has been despised for his devotion to the passing game. He has been ridiculed for an addiction to gimmick plays: it’s like the shovel pass earns him royalties or something.
There might be some resentment because his best days came after he left his 14 years in Philadelphia, but, to be fair, most coaches who last a while perform better in their second job than their first. So do you. So do I.
So did Bill Belichick.
Anyway, I feel kind of sorry for him. At his base, Andy’s a hard-working guy who’s very smart and pretty brave. He takes care of the people close to him. He tries to do the right thing. He’s extremely kind, hilariously self-deprecating in private, and careful of his power and position.
That earns my sympathy, even if it doesn’t earn yours.
