The Chilly Hour, or When Brad Childress' Clock Management Strikes Midnight

The fault, dear reader, lies not in our Favres,

But in Brad Childress...

Analysis of the NFC Championship has been covered from every angle by now. I'm not saying anything new here, but I did want to offer my opinion on what I think is perhaps the least emphasized but most critical aspect of that game.

Brett Favre was like a kid out there, but he looked like an old man in the end. Joe Buck, effusive in his praise throughout Fox's broadcast of the NFC Championship, noted Favre's trademark smile. Favre being Favre is synonymous with loving what you do.

Some of those smiles, however, might have been grimaces of pain as the New Orleans defense knocked Favre back to his days with Jerry Glanville in Atlanta.

While cameras keyed on Deanna Favre as she cringed in the stands, covering her face with her hand, her husband was battered and beaten into the Superdome turf. The Saints were preaching a sermon straight out of the Book of Buddy Ryan: Hit the quarterback—hit him even if you can't sack him. 

You cannot deny that it was effective. 

But in the end, it is hard to gauge whether the much-dissected, ill-starred interception at the end of the game was the result of Favre being battered into submission or of his legendary hubris.

Did he throw it because running on a bad ankle to take one more hit just was not appealing? Did he throw it as he'd thrown so many passes, across the grain and against the book, hoping that it would fall in the right hands? The Gunslinger, the Kid, Gritty Favre, Fun Favre—his legend is built on impossible throws. His reputation also recalls too many irresponsible ones.

This pass was one of the most irresponsible, illogical, stupid throws in the history of football. But Brett Favre should never have been in a position to throw it.

In the days since the title game, the analysis has been endless. There was "The Pass." There was fumble after fumble. There was questionable officiating. A combination of all of these may have cost the Vikings a ticket to the Super Bowl in a game they largely dominated.

Despite the fumbles, however, they were presented an opportunity to win the game as the fourth quarter wound down. That is when Brad Childress's infamously bad clock management came into play. 

It is Brad Childress who deserves the lion's share of the blame for Minnesota squandering that opportunity.

A sweep of the net will show you that Childress has a history of bungling clock management at the end of a game. He is, in that regard, much like his mentor, Andy Reid of the Eagles. Clock management is infamously bad all around the NFL, but there were stories at the end of last season's playoff loss to the Eagles that Childress' sideline was an especially muddled mess towards the end of the game.

Hosting the Packers in Week Four this year, Childress once again mangled the end of game clock management. With the Vikings up 30-20 and needing to chew up time, he sent Adrian Peterson into the line for two very short gains. Then, on third down, he inexplicably had Favre throw deep, risking a turnover. The incomplete pass stopped the clock.

The Packers scored a field goal but were unable to secure the following onside kick. 

It seems illogical and kind of schizophrenic. I think most fans understand wanting to grind out the clock. But the pass? Maybe it was a worthwhile gamble against a defense geared up for the run.

I think it speaks more to Childress getting fidgety towards the end, wanting to be safe and conservative and then suddenly, and inexplicably, forgetting that his primary purpose is to run the clock down. Clock? What clock?

Then there was Childress against Dallas in the Divisional Round. Asked why his team scored late (inviting accusations of running up the score) rather than run out the clock, Childress replied, "Just staying aggressive with it. ... As Lou Holtz used to say, 'It's our job to score points. It's their job to stop us from scoring points.'" He concluded, "It's just taking care of business and being aggressive at the end of the game."

Will the real Brad Childress please stand up? He wants to grind out the clock. He wants to stay aggressive. Flip a coin and watch it land on its side. 

Were the Vikings "taking care of business" in Week Six against Baltimore at the Metrodome? 

The Vikings had been aggressive the entire game. A long bomb put them into chip shot goal range with not quite three minutes left to play, and suddenly Childress put his offense on ice. A run on first down netted a loss. Baltimore burned a timeout. A run on second down for a short gain, and the final Baltimore timeout followed, leaving 2:30 on the clock. On 3rd-and-9, another short run and the two-minute warning.

Childress later explained that this was all designed specifically to get the Ravens to use their remaining timeouts.

They did, and the Vikings kicked their field goal, taking a 33-31 lead. 

Keep in mind, however, that the Ravens would then get the ball with just under two minutes left needing to drive only into field goal range for a chance to win. In the NFL, timeouts or not, 30 to 45 yards is not a stretch in less than 1:50. The Ravens, while inconsistent, were not yet as one-dimensional as they would become later in the season. 

They did indeed drive into field goal range but, fortunately for Childress, missed the potential game-winning kick.

Childress' abuse of the clock is not a freak occurrence. It is a bad habit. 

Flash forward to the title game in New Orleans. 

The Vikings, as they had all game, were driving. Favre was sharp in directing the passing game as Minnesota crossed midfield. A big run put them into Ryan Longwell's range. Fifty yards is no chip shot, but it was indoors, and Longwell has the leg for that kick. 

Then Childress put the offense on ice. The message was clear: He intended to grind down the clock and kick the long game winner. Everyone, including the Saints, recognized this. Gaining nothing on the first two runs against a stout defense, Childress called a timeout. 

Then the ghosts of his muddled, out of sync sideline reared its ugly head. A devastating 12-man penalty (one that is absolutely the fault of the coaching staff) put Minnesota back and made the prospective kick longer. 

Just as the Saints knew that Childress was going to go conservative, they knew now that he was going to throw it. 

Childress knew who was quarterbacking his team. The Gunslinger. The Kid. Mr. Risky Business himself. Even with a relatively safe call, it was one roll of the dice too many.

It was a baffling play call at the end of a baffling series.

Sure, Brad Childress did not make that impossibly awful throw. He was not responsible for dropping the ball on the turf six times. He was not out there throwing flags (but it seems to me the Saints were far more penalized through regulation than was Minnesota.)

The Vikings players did everything they could to throw the game away. 

But despite themselves, they were in position to win at the end. Longwell still had a kick to make, but I suspect his chances were good from 50 or 55.

It was exactly then that Childress's poor clock management, out of control sideline, and an inexcusable penalty stemming from that chaos put his team into a position inviting disaster.

It has not been unheard of for Brett Favre to welcome it in.