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Raiders' only good thing worth believing: Higgins
Gwen Knapp
Monday, December 22, 2008
After one of those rare Raiders wins, when they've undergone a startling transformation, it's easy to feel like Charlie Brown, running eagerly to the football, knowing that Lucy always pulls it away at the last second, knowing that he will kick fiercely at nothing and then land flat on his back in the wasted effort.
Any hope produced by the Raiders' October win over the Jets dissolved in four straight losses, and the blowout against Denver last month set up only more demoralization.
All in all, it's healthier to be a non-believer.
So tempting as it might be after Sunday's 27-16 win over Houston to ponder the verve of the younger offensive players, we're going to have to decline. The poise of JaMarcus Russell, who had his best game yet as a pro quarterback? Noted, but not set in stone. Probably not even worth writing in ink.
There is one happy observation that seems relatively safe: Johnnie Lee Higgins is a ridiculously fast, wickedly fun diversion from a dismal season. He scored twice against the Texans, on a 29-yard reception and an 80-yard punt return. He has scored on three returns and three receptions, giving him more touchdowns than any other Raider. He has six of the team's 23 this year, two ahead of runner-up Darren McFadden. In the entire NFL, only Reggie Bush matches Higgins' three scores on punt returns.
The first touchdown was followed by a corny "Carlton" dance, a tribute to the stylings of Will Smith's hopelessly geeky cousin on "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." The second touchdown celebration, Higgins explained later, was "the Hooka-Hooka," a dance he described as popular in his native Texas - his way of saying hello to people back home.
Football purists undoubtedly grimace every time, but to those of us on the fence about end-zone dances, Higgins' moves seem wittier than most, too heavy on parody to be patently disrespectful toward opponents. His greatest showmanship, though, is attached to real substance. His explosiveness on the 80-yard punt return would have been stunning to anyone who hadn't seen him before.
"I'm afraid of that man," special-teams colleague Isaiah Ekejiuba said. "I'm afraid of that man."
Imagine how opponents must feel.
Higgins, in his own way, complimented his blockers. "They moved people out of the way for me," he said. "They always tell me: 'Hey, you got to get the kicker.' " Then he lowered his voice like a kid making a confession and said: "And the kicker almost got me."
Higgins' momentum in the game hadn't disappeared when he began his news conference. The man is perpetually on a roll.
Asked what distinguished him as a receiver, he said: "I feel like I'm explosive, like you never know what could happen. 'Oh, it looks like he's down. Oops, he's gone.' "
Told that assistant coach and ex-receiver James Lofton had described him as a 180-pound guy who saw himself as a 250-pounder, he explained that he had played running back in his early teens and said: "I've been a little guy my whole life. ... If I have to run over you, I'll try to run over you. It's who's going to be the biggest bully. You may be the biggest. That doesn't mean you're the hardest."
His devastating speed makes him, in many ways, a classic Al Davis offensive player. But he came to the team as a third-round draft pick, not a Heisman winner or Super Bowl MVP. And, unlike many of his overhyped predecessors, he is producing. He also brings personality to a position that has been moribund in every respect for years.
He has started two games this year, his second in the pros, yet he has the second-highest receiving yardage on the team - 314 on 16 catches, behind Zach Miller's 744 on 54.
Just as important: Higgins plays with exuberance, seemingly immune to the defeatism that this team easily could engender in a young player. Some people might prefer players who take themselves completely seriously, but Higgins seems to know when to be a hard-core athlete and when to be a lighthearted soul.
He showed up at the news conference in enormous sunglasses and gave them to a team official, who promptly put them on. Higgins said he had a huge collection, too big to count: "I came out of the womb like this, with glasses."
Has he ever tried stand-up? "They say I'm not funny. I'm funny looking."
That's just as well. He shouldn't quit his day job.
Raiders' only good thing worth believing: Higgins
Gwen Knapp
Monday, December 22, 2008
After one of those rare Raiders wins, when they've undergone a startling transformation, it's easy to feel like Charlie Brown, running eagerly to the football, knowing that Lucy always pulls it away at the last second, knowing that he will kick fiercely at nothing and then land flat on his back in the wasted effort.
Any hope produced by the Raiders' October win over the Jets dissolved in four straight losses, and the blowout against Denver last month set up only more demoralization.
All in all, it's healthier to be a non-believer.
So tempting as it might be after Sunday's 27-16 win over Houston to ponder the verve of the younger offensive players, we're going to have to decline. The poise of JaMarcus Russell, who had his best game yet as a pro quarterback? Noted, but not set in stone. Probably not even worth writing in ink.
There is one happy observation that seems relatively safe: Johnnie Lee Higgins is a ridiculously fast, wickedly fun diversion from a dismal season. He scored twice against the Texans, on a 29-yard reception and an 80-yard punt return. He has scored on three returns and three receptions, giving him more touchdowns than any other Raider. He has six of the team's 23 this year, two ahead of runner-up Darren McFadden. In the entire NFL, only Reggie Bush matches Higgins' three scores on punt returns.
The first touchdown was followed by a corny "Carlton" dance, a tribute to the stylings of Will Smith's hopelessly geeky cousin on "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." The second touchdown celebration, Higgins explained later, was "the Hooka-Hooka," a dance he described as popular in his native Texas - his way of saying hello to people back home.
Football purists undoubtedly grimace every time, but to those of us on the fence about end-zone dances, Higgins' moves seem wittier than most, too heavy on parody to be patently disrespectful toward opponents. His greatest showmanship, though, is attached to real substance. His explosiveness on the 80-yard punt return would have been stunning to anyone who hadn't seen him before.
"I'm afraid of that man," special-teams colleague Isaiah Ekejiuba said. "I'm afraid of that man."
Imagine how opponents must feel.
Higgins, in his own way, complimented his blockers. "They moved people out of the way for me," he said. "They always tell me: 'Hey, you got to get the kicker.' " Then he lowered his voice like a kid making a confession and said: "And the kicker almost got me."
Higgins' momentum in the game hadn't disappeared when he began his news conference. The man is perpetually on a roll.
Asked what distinguished him as a receiver, he said: "I feel like I'm explosive, like you never know what could happen. 'Oh, it looks like he's down. Oops, he's gone.' "
Told that assistant coach and ex-receiver James Lofton had described him as a 180-pound guy who saw himself as a 250-pounder, he explained that he had played running back in his early teens and said: "I've been a little guy my whole life. ... If I have to run over you, I'll try to run over you. It's who's going to be the biggest bully. You may be the biggest. That doesn't mean you're the hardest."
His devastating speed makes him, in many ways, a classic Al Davis offensive player. But he came to the team as a third-round draft pick, not a Heisman winner or Super Bowl MVP. And, unlike many of his overhyped predecessors, he is producing. He also brings personality to a position that has been moribund in every respect for years.
He has started two games this year, his second in the pros, yet he has the second-highest receiving yardage on the team - 314 on 16 catches, behind Zach Miller's 744 on 54.
Just as important: Higgins plays with exuberance, seemingly immune to the defeatism that this team easily could engender in a young player. Some people might prefer players who take themselves completely seriously, but Higgins seems to know when to be a hard-core athlete and when to be a lighthearted soul.
He showed up at the news conference in enormous sunglasses and gave them to a team official, who promptly put them on. Higgins said he had a huge collection, too big to count: "I came out of the womb like this, with glasses."
Has he ever tried stand-up? "They say I'm not funny. I'm funny looking."
That's just as well. He shouldn't quit his day job.
