Everett Should Stop Deflecting Responsibility

The jersey is red, same as a stop sign, and it sends the same message.

Halt.

Hands Off.

Don’t Even Think About Coming Closer.

Jim Everett wears the red jersey during practice, but that’s the only time, and that’s the problem.

Everett would like to wear it before practice, after practice, on Sunday afternoon and, especially, on Monday morning when he sits down to crack open the sports section.

Everett has been blitzed in the wake of the Rams’ 1-2, 1-2-3-and-punt start, and he has pleaded immunity.

He says he is not the root of the Rams’ offensive evaporation.

He says he threw footballs in 1989, when he threw for 4,310 yards and 29 touchdowns, the same way he throws them now (three games, 444 yards, no touchdowns).

He says he is an innocent sufferer of motion sickness--tight end Pete Holohan’s move to Kansas City, tackle Irv Pankey’s move to Indianapolis, quarterback coach Dick Coury’s move to New England, guard Tom Newberry’s move to center, tackle Robert Jenkins’ move to injured reserve.

He says the Rams should share the blame, unlike the wealth, being that Everett’s base salary of $2.4 million is more than his offensive line put together.

Do not touch the quarterback?

Rams, Ram coaches and Ram watchers know better than that, including the Ram named Everett.

Blending into the scenery might have been safe and secure and reasonable, once upon a season past, but there comes a time to put away childish things. Everett turns 29 in January. He is in the midst of his sixth professional season. Potential is no longer the buzzword. As an athlete, Everett has hit his prime. As an impact player in the National Football League, Everett hears the alarm on his clock ringing--and hitting the snooze button is not the correct choice of responses.

One’s view of Everett has always depended on the angle. Everett prefers a low field of vision--he’s just one of 47 names, a capable ensemble actor only as good as his cast, a critically acclaimed rhythm guitarist uninterested in playing lead.

That barely overlaps with the consensus view, which sees the prototype build and the whiplash arm and expects so much more. The media keep waiting for the appearance of Montana South, of Namath ’91. Everett tells the media, “Now the expectations you guys have, I don’t really give a . . . about.”

What about Everett’s coach? In the Rams’ 1991 prospectus guide, John Robinson is quoted thusly: “Jim Everett is one of the premier quarterbacks in the NFL.” No should-be’s or could-be’s. And how does Everett measure up against the other premier quarterbacks in the NFL?

Joe Montana had won two Super Bowls by the end of his sixth season. Dan Marino won a conference championship in his second season, Boomer Esiason in his fifth. Before his 30th birthday, John Elway had played in three Super Bowls.

Everett reached the NFC championship game at 27 and lost it, 30-3. Including that loss to San Francisco in January of 1990, Everett is 6-14 in his past 20 starts. That’s a batting average of .300--or two points higher than Wally Joyner’s.

Of course, Everett shouldn’t be required to go it alone, as he has reminded us. In 5-11 1990, The Year of Living Without a Defense, Everett held up better than most, passing for 3,989 yards and 23 touchdowns amid the blowouts.

But the Rams also lost six games by a touchdown or less--games that depended on a step forward by Everett that never came. Everett had the ball in overtime against Cincinnati and couldn’t drive into field-goal range. Everett had the ball inside the 10 on the last play against New Orleans but couldn’t find a receiver. Everett had 40 throws against the Falcons’ 28th-ranked pass defense in Atlanta and could complete only 13, none longer than 16 yards.

Win those three games and the Rams’ 1990 epitaph gets a complete makeover--from catastrophe to NFC wild card.

This season, Everett has been caught in the middle of a philosophy switch, with grind-it-out replacing air-it-out, and he looks lost. Everett swears he’s throwing no differently, but tell that to his receivers. His long balls, once elegant strokes of rapid-fire precision, now wobble and float. His timing throws over the middle are either too quick (into the turf) and too late (behind Henry Ellard’s back).

He has had some balls dropped, too--most noticeably by Flipper Anderson, deep down the left sideline, against the Saints. But Flipper had to be stunned to see a pass headed his way. After two receptions in three weeks, Flipper might have trouble identifying a football in a police lineup.

No doubt, the new system has constricted Everett. But what has Everett done for the system? He had his worst game as a Ram in New Orleans and the offense went catatonic. He had his third-worst game as a Ram at the Meadowlands, but was spared by three Giant turnovers.

The Rams could run the wishbone and Everett ought to be better than the 25th-ranked quarterback in the league.

The Teflon years are over. If Everett isn’t part of the Ram solution, he’s part of the problem, and until he steps up in the pocket, he must accept a chunk of the responsibility.

Don’t pass the buck, Jim. Pass the football.