The legend of the Broncos’ defense is a worm. The legend worms its way into the hearts and minds of NFL foes. The worm eats confidence and turns it to fear.
When the Denver defense takes the field for an NFL game, there is a distinct aroma in the stadium. It smells like fear. I smelled it Sunday, when the Broncos played at Cincinnati. More important, cornerback Chris Harris smelled it on the Bengals, too.
After the Broncos exposed Cincy as weak and afraid during a 29-17 victory, I sought out Harris after the media pack had shuffled elsewhere in the locker room, and asked him what he thought of the Bengals’ painfully conservative offensive game plan.
Harris smiled like a cat that wants a peek at the dessert menu after a big canary dinner.
“Dude, they had been leading the league in passing!” said Harris, punctuating his statement with laughter.
After averaging 366 passing yards through two games of the season, throwing the football on nearly 70 percent of the team’s snaps, Bengals coach Marvin Lewis let the orange worm get in his head. Lewis made like a frightened turtle and drove back to the 1970s behind the wheel of an AMC Pacer. Against the Broncos, Cincinnati was afraid to fly, running 28 times and allowing quarterback Andy Dalton to attempt only 18 passes through three quarters.
“They changed their offense, because they didn’t want to throw on us. They had been going with three-receiver sets every game. But they come to play us, and they changed their whole offense,” said Harris, suggesting that’s the real way you spell R-E-S-P-E-C-T in the NFL.
During the summer, months after dominating the Super Bowl, safety T.J. Ward was asked to envision what this defense could possibly do for an encore.
“There is no ceiling,” Ward insisted. “We can be as good as we want to be. We can become the best defense of all time.”
It sounded like hype. But the hype slowly has become reality in the minds of teams shaken by nightmares of Von Miller rushing off the edge or Aqib Talib returning a pick for six. The Denver defense has done more than earn respect. It has instilled fear.
Fear is the calling card of a truly intimidating presence in sports. At the height of his powers, when Mike Tyson stepped in the boxing ring, his opponent was already looking for a soft spot to land. When LeBron James tosses talcum powder prior to tipoff, there’s real magic in that dust, and the other team is already behind by three points before anybody starts keeping score.
There’s no guarantee how long this supply of orange magic will last. But why try to save it when the Broncos are having so much fun? The Denver defense can make a coach shred his game plan and cause a quarterback to flinch before kickoff.
This magic the Broncos have is real. It’s powerful. It’s the stuff from which legends are born.
