| Friday, July 14
By Bruce Feldman
ESPN The Magazine |
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Poor Nate Webster. He's an All-America, the leader of Miami's defense, but as Florida State's Roland Seymour zaps his way through film of the Hurricanes' Nov. 13 Virginia Tech game, Webster is looking downright foolish. In one sequence, Michael Vick eludes him three different times -- on the same play! The linebacker looks like a three-legged dog chasing a Ferrari. Seymour can hardly believe his eyes and he's already seen the FSU film package on Vick a half-dozen times. "Look at that!" he huffs, rising up in his chair. "It's pretty scary when you see Vick run away from Webster when he's coming full-speed."
|  | | Every opponent thought they had an answer for Michael Vick, and all of them came up empty. |
Jamal Reynolds, seated to Seymour's left, just shakes his head. The Seminoles' two fearsome defensive ends admit to being huge Vick fans ever since they watched him beat Clemson on a Thursday night in September. "Back then," the chiseled Reynolds says, almost apologetically, "we didn't think we were gonna have to play him."
Seymour pops another tape into the VCR to marvel at more Vick wizardry. Different opponent. Different scheme. Same result. The 6-foot-1, 211-pound quarterback makes West Virginia look like the Washington Generals. "Damn," Seymour says, freezing the tape. "They have the angle on him. That cat just takes off and he's gone."
Each clip reveals a different dimension: a wicked-quick lefty release, pinpoint accuracy on the deep ball, kamikaze courage. Nothing, though, troubles the Seminoles as much as Vick's wheels. "Most people have to slow down to cut," says Seymour. "Vick cuts at full speed. He's not an east-west guy. He's going towards the end zone. When he tucks that ball under his arm -- Whoosh! That's a whole 'nother level. It's like he's hitting that X button."
Everyone knows that X is the PlayStation button that gives a cyber player a superhuman burst. It's about the only way to describe Vick's ability to accelerate. No one else on the field seems to have that extra gear. The only way to defend it, Reynolds says, is disciplined football. "Once you get your hands on him, you can't afford to miss. You have to wrap him up and bring him down. You can't get too excited if you think you have a kill shot."
Of course, getting your hands on Vick is the tricky part. Every Hokie opponent has had a plan to neutralize the guy. Each came up empty. In just three months, the 19-year-old QB has changed the way defensive coordinators think and talk because of his unprecedented physical talent. He is college football's Freddy Krueger, a bogeyman in cleats who can expose and exploit every weakness. Draw up a scheme to capitalize on his inexperience and it quickly dissolves into a Hokie highlight reel.
Seymour freezes the clip. He's noticed something odd. "See how that right tackle takes a wide split, causing a big gap with the guard," he says. "They're just daring you to come through so Vick can use that speed and blow through the hole." That's why teams haven't used much zone blitz against the Hokies, reasons Seymour, and why FSU will do less slanting than usual. "With a zone blitz, you have some seams, and if he squirts through, you've got a DT on an island with Michael Vick. And that's not good."
Scarier still is the way Vick has improved with each game. The more he learns, the more he showcases the game's quickest release -- a compact wrist flick that is rapidly attaining legend status in scouting circles. "It's effortless," says Temple defensive coordinator Raymond Monica. "And if he can just flick it 65 yards, I'd hate to see him really step into a throw."
"We tried to move around a lot," says Pittsburgh defensive coordinator Larry Coyer. "We wanted him to audible to the option." The ploy worked -- to a point. Vick kept the ball, blurring through the Panther defense for a 46-yard touchdown. Coyer went to Plan B, tossing an end and a linebacker into the alley to neutralize the option. By halftime, it was 27-7. "He sure made believers out of us," Coyer says.
Not that Vick doesn't make mistakes. Hokie coaches are still talking about his third-quarter gaffe against Temple. After leaving the halftime locker room without his wristband, Vick borrowed one from backup Grant Noel. Neither man realized that the plays listed on Noel's band were written for a righty and would have to be inverted for the lefty Vick. So, on a called play fake to the right, Vick found himself rolling to his left -- and turned the
miscue into a scintillating, 75-yard touchdown run.
Statistically, Clemson did the best job against Vick, picking him off three times in a 31-11 loss. But the kid was coming off an ankle injury and playing in only his second game. Still, opponents quickly adopted the Tigers' bring-the-house approach, daring Vick's arm and Tech's young receivers to beat them. They did, time and time again. But don't think the FSU staff hasn't consulted with the folks at Clemson, too. The Tigers' head coach is a Bowden, after all.
Tech's scheme is simple, the 'Noles say. The Hokies use only four formations and they run only one option -- the speed option. The rest is power football. But only Miami had a secondary that could match up with Tech's physical receivers -- and the 'Canes gave them lots of cushion. Too much cushion.
Most teams are reluctant to play a lot of man coverage, because if Vick breaks into the secondary, your D-backs are running with their backs to him. But FSU is not a zone team. Never has been. "We play bump-and-run, and they haven't seen much of that," says cornerbacks coach Chris Demarest. Rangy CB Mario Edwards has practically built an NFL portfolio on his ability to jam wideouts. But when FSU has been upset -- and that's happened only four times in the last 49 games -- a receiver has burned the Seminoles' D for a huge game. In that 23-16 Fiesta Bowl win last year, Tennessee's Peerless Price beat Edwards for four catches and 199 yards, including a back-
breaking, 79-yard TD reception. Earlier in the '98 season, N.C. State's Torry Holt beat the Seminoles for nine receptions, 135 yards and a touchdown. Right now, as you might expect, the FSU staff is getting to know Hokie home run hitter Andre Davis, who averages a gaudy 27.5 yards a catch.
Vick figures to see a lot of the Seminoles' "robber" coverage: The FSU corners match up on the wideouts, leaving safeties Derrick Gibson and Sean Key, a pair of sub-4.4 speedsters, all alone in the secondary. The scheme has produced a nation's best 22 interceptions, but it may also explain FSU's struggles against mobile quarterbacks. Georgia Tech's Joe Hamilton mixed the option with deft touch passing and almost knocked off the Seminoles in Tallahassee. Miami's Kenny Kelly, Clemson's Woody Dantzler and North Carolina's Ronald Curry also caused a few headaches. And none of those guys had Vick's jets.
Then again, Vick hasn't faced the kind of speed he will see in the
Sugar Bowl either. "We're going to give him more pressure than he can
handle," says linebacker Brian Allen. Pressure doesn't do you much good, though, unless you can contain him. Good thing Florida State has the nation's best defensive line. Strongman Jerry Johnson helps two-time
All-America Corey Simon anchor the interior. On the outside, Seymour, Reynolds and part-time starter David Warren all have NFL first-round
draft potential.
But Seymour has a bum right shoulder that's hampered his pass-rushing all season. "I'm playing with one arm," he says. "I just can't be as aggressive at the point of attack."
Warren, a four-game starter, has the most explosive get-off of any Seminoles lineman, and the 6-5, 250-pound junior has earned the nickname "Oilman" for his ability to slide through blockers. But ballcarriers have a tendency to slip through his grasp.
And, as good ol' Nate Webster can tell you, when Michael Vick's the man with the ball, you don't want to give him the slightest bit of daylight. Show him an opening and he'll make you pay big time. Around the Big East these days, it's called getting Vick-timized.
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The Slickest Seminole
