Romeo Crennel needs to come home.
I’m not trying to kick current Patriots defensive coordinator Dean Pees when he’s down; I just don’t want him to, you know, be the current Patriots defensive coordinator. It was job-seeking Crennel’s tenure that encompassed three Super Bowls. More importantly, his defenses were fun, creative, unpredictable. It was Crennel’s romances with schemes that helped turn previously mediocre vets like Roman Phifer, Mike Vrabel and Otis (My Man) Smith into studs. And it was Crennel who elicited Peyton Manning’s I-just-threw-another-pick-these-guys-must-be-cheating-or-my-receivers-just-bite face that we used to love so much.
Think about it. The best defensive coordinator we’ve ever had needs a gig. It’s like the Swedish Bikini Team needing a place to crash. You don’t ask questions. You just invite them in. Unless of course my wife ends up reading this, in which case I would turn them away and go buy her flowers and a Snuggie instead.
As this is being written, rumor has it that Crennel is being sought after by the Giants and the Chiefs. That’s troubling because our other long lost super-sized coordinator, Charlie Weis, has set the precedent by joining Team Pioli in the Heartland. Unlike Weis, however, the Buddha of blitz packages set his own precedent for returning to New England. Crennel left the Patriots sideline with Bill Parcells in 1996 only to return per Bill Belichick’s invite in 2001.
Weis, you can argue, would have moved backward professionally if he retraced his steps from his South Bend dream-job-gone-wrong. Crennel has nothing to be ashamed of. His head-coaching struggles came in Cleveland, the NFL’s version of Building 19, the place that allegedly provoked Ichiro Suzuki to say, “If I ever saw myself saying I’m excited going to Cleveland, I’d punch myself in the face, because I’m lying.” We’d all just be glad Crennel is alright and probably hug him a lot.
Now, Double-B still gets the majority of the credit for that period of defensive productivity, and who knows? Without access to the inner workings in the golden years, maybe our round mound of fourth down was just a signal-calling puppet. But I don’t think so.
The Pats' D hasn’t been as respected by fans or opposing offenses since Crennel bounced out of town. For this reason, I’m calling on you all to send fruit baskets — though I’m not sure how much fruit our hero is into — cards, flowers, balloons and teddy bears. We need to let the man know he’s always welcome, that we’d kill the proverbial fatted calf and throw a ring on his finger upon his joyous return.
In order to win another real-life ring, we need him home.
