The Chargers are not David with the sling. They are not Samson wielding the jawbone of an ass. They are not the Brits cornered at Dunkirk. If they overcome what they have to overcome, it will not be biblical or historic, because what they're chasing seemingly can be caught by a three-toed sloth.
They are but a football team, after all, and not a very good one. Is there such thing as a four-toed sloth?
True, if you put a finger aside their neck, you can feel a pulse, but there are no heroes here. They aren't playing in Iraq and Afghanistan.
It may sound stupid to say – why not me? – but they're lucky. Bad as they are, they're fortunate to still be standing in the muck that is the AFC West. Now all we can do is see if they have the gumption and wherewithal to get out of it.
“We're alive,” General Manager A.J. Smith says. “When you're alive, you can say it. When you can't, you're dead.”
Call them delusional, but they are kicking. It's still possible their Dec. 28 meeting here with Denver could decide the division championship. They're two games behind the Broncos with five to play, and the hill wouldn't be considered a Himalaya if they knew how to win close games.
But they don't. They can't. Their coach, Norv Turner, has a horrible record in close ones. And when you keep losing them, one can't help but feel that, while you may be lucky to be where you are, you can't be good.
You can waltz out every Monday and say you fought hard, played the other guys close. But ineptitude in the red zone and failure to stop the opposition when the game is on the line is going to get you beat most of the time.
Unless you're lucky. And, in the Chargers' case, their luck is divisional, not on the field. Dame Fortune can play hard to get when you're not very good, which is why I firmly believe they will be sitting at home in January.
They probably will wonder how this happened to them, but it won't be hard to figure. Inconsistency can be found in nearly every drawer of their bureau. They haven't been coached very well, nor have they played very well, and that adds up to 4-7.
For weeks we've been hearing they're still alive, how there's hope, but if it's lit a fire under them, they're wearing asbestos britches. They've won one of their last five games, and they might have lost to Kansas City if the Chiefs weren't so horrible coach Herman Edwards chose a two-pointer (that failed) instead of a crack at overtime.
If you want to blame Turner, go right ahead. We can use Sunday night's 23-20 last-second loss to the Colts as an example.
A coach's job is to give his team the best chance to win, and Turner didn't do that.
Down 20-17 and driving, quarterback Philip Rivers completed a third-and-15 pass to tight end Brandon Manumaleuna that covered 13. Turner thought it was very close to the first-down marker, which probably would have meant he would run a play instead of going for the tying field goal from Nate Kaeding. So, he called a timeout with 1:35 remaining in regulation.
A coach on the sideline can't always see everything. Turner needed help from his people upstairs, and needed it quickly. He was two yards short. If he had known, he could have run much more clock – or force the Colts to use their final timeout – but in stopping it, he allowed Peyton Manning and the Colts just enough time to get in range for the winning field goal.
Communication, man.
At the end of the first half, after Indianapolis scored to tie it at 10, the Chargers, with three timeouts remaining, got the ball on their own 27 with 34 seconds to play. Turner called a running play to LaDainian Tomlinson that gained seven yards. Guess the Colts are without a jugular?
You have to put your foot to the throat. Turner didn't do it Sunday night. Clock management is the most overlooked thing in football.
That may seem a little thing, but little things turn to big things, and that's what this season has been for the Chargers: Little things here and there that have grown into a pile of manure.
And yet they are alive. I won't say it's sad but true, because if they were to win this division, they would deserve it. That's how it is sometimes.
“As coach (Bill) Parcells says, 'You are what your record is,' ” Smith says. “We can poke holes in that, but that's who we are. It's disheartening. Discouraging. But we are a very lucky football team.
“We have a chance. It's not mythical. It's not made up. It's right there. We're talking about a real football situation. We've had a chance to notch it up and failed, but let's deal in reality again. Do not fracture. Do not lose faith and hope. Nobody has said we're out of this, because it's true. We're not.”
This season is like Rasputin. Hard to kill.
Nick Canepa: (619) 293-1397; nick.canepa@uniontrib.com
