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<UID>
9501280867
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<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
950914
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Thursday, September 14, 1995
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
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<PAGE>
1D
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<ILLUSTRATION>

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<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
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<AFFILIATION>

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<MEMO>

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<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1995, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
FOOD FOR THOUGHT: LIONS MISUSE SANDERS
</HEADLINE>
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Barry Sanders eats by his locker. Carrot sticks and oranges. I remember
when he ate Big Macs. I remember when he ate two giant chocolate chip cookies
that he mooched from Jim Arnold. To me, it looks  as if Barry has changed his
diet.

  "You're eating health food now?" I say.

  He smiles and squeezes an orange section through his teeth. ''Not
necessarily. You just caught me on an off-day."
 Well. That seems to be the topic of the week, doesn't it? Barry's off-days?
Those days like last Sunday, when he gained just 35 yards all afternoon -- and
got stuffed far too often? Why do they happen?  How can the best back in
football be stopped so completely? Why do we keep asking this question year
after year after year?
  Personally, I don't think Barry Sanders ever has an off-day. He is
electric,  lightning in a bottle, he leaves tacklers in the dust before they
know they're on the road. He almost never fumbles. He's almost never hurt. He
doesn't stay out late or do drugs or drink. He's always  in shape and he never
gripes or mopes. So how could he have an off-day? It seems impossible.
  Now, the blockers in front of him? And the coaching staff behind him? I
think they have off-days. And  that's where those bleak rushing numbers come
from. Between bad schemes, lack of adjustments, ineffective blocks and no
counterattack, games like last Sunday's are entirely possible.
  And here we  go again.
  "Doesn't it seem like we're doing the same story over and over?" I ask
Barry. "What's the right way to handle you? How many carries? How many
passes?"
  He bites another carrot stick.  He grins. "Maybe."
  All that health food must put him in a generous frame of mind.
Nobody does it better 
  Look. Football is a simple game. Each side has 11 players. If the defense
puts eight  of those players on Barry Sanders -- as some have done -- that
means only three are left to cover the rest of the offense. And since that
offense has at least two receivers and a tight end who can catch  the ball,
and since those people are hard to cover one-on-one, you would figure the
offense would always have an advantage, right?
  "I'll go along with that," Sanders says. "We should have scored  more
points Sunday."
  Or, as offensive tackle Lomas Brown puts it: "Every time they put eight
guys up to stop Barry, we should be hitting Herman Moore with a touchdown
pass."
  Oh, if it were only  that easy. Instead, Moore caught just four passes
Sunday against the Vikings, only one for a touchdown. And Barry carried only
13 times. And the TV announcers spent much of the day saying, "Why aren't
they giving the ball to Sanders?" 
  Funny. They said the same thing last year.
  Yes, it's true. Minnesota, at home, just seems to have the Lions' number --
even though the Lions now have the Vikings' defensive line coach and one of
their best defensive linemen.
  But it's not just Minnesota. The fact is, over the years, Sanders has been
a Rubik's Cube to Wayne Fontes and his coaching staffs. Sometimes  they get
all the colors lined up, and things work fine, and other times, they
completely miscalculate. Rarely has a running back with this kind of skill
been as much of a puzzle to his coaches.
  "I  don't get it, he's not the first superstar in the NFL," Brown says.
"How did the Bears do it with Walter Payton? When he was there, he was pretty
much their only threat. I'm sure other teams were gunning  for him. But he
usually got his yards.
  "Same goes for Emmitt with the Cowboys. He gets his yards and everyone knows
what a threat he is. Sure they have Michael Irvin to throw to, but we have
Herman  Moore."
  These are good points. I pose them to Barry. I ask why is it that guys such
as Emmitt Smith and Thurman Thomas -- who are no better than Sanders -- always
seem to get at least a couple yards  a carry, while Barry sometimes is swarmed
into zero or negative yards.
  He sucks down another orange section. "Mmmmm," he slurps. "Are you sure
about those numbers?"
  I say I don't have them in  front of me. So I go home and check them out.
And here is what I find:
Lies, damn lies and statistics 
  Comparing Barry in his first two weeks to Smith of the Cowboys and Thomas
of the Bills -- widely  considered the cream of the backfield -- we find the
following:
* Number of times he carried for zero or negative yards: Sanders, 10 times;
Smith, five  times; Thomas, five times.
* Percentage of carries  that were for zero or negative yardage: Sanders, 29
percent;  Thomas, 13 percent; Smith, 10 percent.
* Total yards: Smith, 277; Sanders 143; Thomas 137.
  So what does this suggest? That Barry gets  stopped more often, but makes
up for it with a few big bursts? That Dallas and Buffalo have better offensive
lines? Or that it's only the second week of the season?
  Sanders doesn't seem too upset.  "It was worse when I first got here," he
says. "There are things we could do that would get me more yards, but it would
involve a lot of changes."
  So? I say, do them. Get more creative. Sweeps. Different kinds of screens.
Play-actions. Delays. Something.
  "Shouldn't a guy with your talent be a mystery to the opposing team -- and
not his own?"
  Barry takes another bite and smiles.
  They say carrots  improve your vision.
  I think the wrong guy is eating them.
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