Bend, Don't Break

For almost 12 quarters of football, the Alabama defense didn't allow their opponents to score a touchdown. For almost 200 minutes of game time, the defense kept opposing offenses in check, pushing back potential drives, whether by the sheer force of their defensive line, the ferocity of their linebackers, or the step-for-step man and scheme coverages of their secondary. Throw in a few penalties here and there by the offenses and close-to-the-goal-line became at-least-we-got-three. The defensive philosophy in Tuscaloosa is akin to the string of a hunter's bow: bend, don't break.

Instilling this philosophy and folding it into the ability and psychology of the Alabama defense has been a work in progress for Nick Saban, but one that's seen fruit early on. During last year's regular season, the team began to show signs that the philosophy was translating into the playing. Though the heralded offensive line of a year ago garnered the vast amount of attention for leading the hit-you-in-the-mouth attitude and performance, the defense wasn't that far behind. Actually, it was primed to hit even harder.

Key to its development was Rolando McClain's second year as signal caller for the defense; an amazing feat considering he was doing so in his actual second year with the team. His comfortability in that role allowed him to tutor true freshman Dont'a Hightower during the 2008 season. Entering 2009, McClain and Hightower had had a year together of playing in the system and it's no wonder that Alabama bullied its way to a No. 1 defensive ranking in the country. The loss of Hightower was feared to not fully show up until this past week's Tennessee game; it could be argued that his absence was most felt in the lack of pass rush provided by the acclaimed defense as they battled the Volunteers.

What was obvious, especially in Tennessee's first few drives, was their offense's ability to connect on quick slant routes and passes to their running back, whether in the flat or sneaking out of protection to streak down the sidelines. These were the passes that killed the Tide against Florida and Utah to finish last season; they were the passes that brought significant yardage for Tennessee; they are the passes that have the most potential to break the defense.

While the secondary does a (mostly) good job in man coverage, these slant routes can cause quite a bit of trouble, especially if the linebackers are rushing the quarterback. The secondary, though, is still quite stout, even in the face of those routes. Mark Barron has done a wonderful job stepping into Rashad Johnson's shoes in the safety role vacated by the now-NFL talent. Javier Arenas is a great lock-down corner and has emerged as a leading tackler; his blitzes from the edge have contributed greatly to the Tide's pressure on the quarterback. But when the secondary is in man coverage or in a zone scheme, slants are where this defense bends, trusting its linebackers and secondary to use its speed to contain those routes to four to seven yard gains.

On Saturday, after spending almost seventy percent of the second half on the field, the defense snapped. It was a crossing route over the middle; there was confusion on the coverage; the Vols did what two previous teams could not by getting in the end zone. It was a great run and, in the end, a lot to ask a defense. Playing smash-mouth football for all those minutes, carrying an offense over the last few games, and holding itself to such a high standard (McClain was quoted as being frustrated at giving up any yardage) wears out unit, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I fully expected the field goal to make it through the uprights. The kicker had already missed one and had another blocked. Tennessee hung in a game many thought they had no business being in; the matched Alabama's toughness and stinginess, with fewer studs in their stables at that. The famed football gods seemed to have been calling for the end of Bama's run through the regular season; they seemed to be calling for accountability for its lack of offensive output, its over-reliance on it defense; its at-times suspect special teams; and its confident-sometimes(ok, more often than not)-arrogant fans. It seemed too poetically correct not end with a Tennessee victory.

And yet it didn't. The football never made it past the line of scrimmage. It never rose higher than the extended arm of Terrence Cody, who was flanked behind by a ridiculously-high-flying Julio Jones in case Cody's paw missed. But it didn't. Cody had broken through the line again; he had blocked a field goal yet again.

On a day when the defense finally bent and broke, it also recovered. It dug deep within, looked itself in the mirror, and said, "Our season is not yet finished." 

Marcel Dareus and Brandon Deaderick plowed through the line from the max block scheme. Jackson and Arenas sprinted around the edges, diving like cross-fired missiles in front of the attempt. Cody made his way through as well, swatting away the football and holding onto to destiny.

To battle with LSU. To the cowbells of Mississippi State. To a date with Chattanooga. To the plains of Auburn.

But first, and more importantly, to an off week for recovery. So the bow can be restrung.