Secret Base - The worst-coached play in the history of organized football

Starting in about 2016, toward the tail end of every football season there was a groundswell of attention paid to then-Buccaneers wideout Mike Evans' annual receiving yardage pursuit, and eclipsing of, the almighty round number of 1,000. Back in 2020, by the slimmest of margins he became the first player in NFL history whose receiving yardage total necessitated a comma in each of his first seven career seasons.

After the 2021, 2022, and 2023 seasons, Evans extended his own record, becoming the first player to record X receiving yards in each of his first eight, nine, and 10 career seasons, respectively (and that actually became the case as soon as X was a number as low as 928, despite the ubiquity of the focus on the roundness of the number 1,000). Then came 2024, and the narrative became whether or not he could tie Jerry Rice by recording an 11th consecutive 1,000-yard season period, not just to start a career.

Entering the Bucs’ final game of the regular season on 1/5/25 against the rival Saints, Evans had 915 receiving yards. Seemingly unbeknownst to the entire world at the time, before the game even started Evans had already tied Rice as the only players to record X receiving yards in 11 consecutive seasons, with X being any number between 824 and 915 (824 since that weeds out Travis Kelce and the 823+ receiving yards he reached in 11 consecutive seasons). The invocation of those extra 176 receiving yards simply represents a cushion above what was necessary, even if it's never framed that way.

But with no one paying attention to the fact that he’d already secured the core accomplishment of reaching in 11 consecutive seasons a number of receiving yards that only Jerry Rice ever has – and with so much hoopla surrounding the round number – Evans and the Bucs were dead-set on getting those 85 necessary yards and the comma (and contract bonus) that came along with ‘em. At the same time, New Orleans naturally very, very much wanted to prevent it.

Personal accolades aside, this was a critical game for Tampa as they entered this regular-season finale leading the NFC South, but would cede the division crown to Atlanta if they lost and the Falcons, playing at the same time, won. For the Saints, they were out of the playoff picture and were led by interim coach/longtime special teams coordinator Darren Rizzi after they fired Dennis Allen in the wake of a seven-game losing streak. Rizzi had given the team a shot in the arm, with three wins in seven games as he sought to even his record as head coach at 4-4.

For years he'd been a legitimate prospective head coaching candidate, having interviewed for the top job with the Dolphins in 2019 and those very Saints in 2022, while also being days away from doing so with the Jets. So Rizzi surely had eyes on landing the ultimate promotion, and thus surely had no reason to not regard this game as extremely important for said endeavor. No reason to not go all-out, balls-to-the-wall for another résumé-building win.

Unfortunately for Rizzi, his Saints were set to lose when, trailing 27-19, they turned the ball over on downs with 36 seconds left and only one timeout remaining. All quarterback Baker Mayfield and the Bucs had to do was kneel once or twice, and you could stick a fork in this one. But Tampa didn’t emerge from their huddle in victory formation. They emerged in a shotgun formation.

The reason was obvious to every fan in the stands and every viewer watching on TV and every alien in every other galaxy of the universe: Evans had so far racked up 80 receiving yards in the game and was sitting at 995 for the season (again, 995 still represented a tie for most consecutive seasons with that many receiving yards, even if “that many” is a number that happens to not be super round).

Now, in the last 30+ years, if not since the 1978 Miracle at the Meadowlands, I can only recall two other instances of a team possessing the lead, the ball, the ability for kneeldowns to drain the clock down to triple zeros, and forgoing doing so in the name of facilitating a statistical accomplishment.

One was in a 2014 Jags-Steelers game in order to get Antonio Brown, who’d gone a record 20 consecutive games with at least five catches for 50 receiving yards, a fifth grab to extend his record with a 21st such consecutive game. The other was in a 2021 Ravens-Broncos game, when the Ravens were sitting on 97 rushing yards and with three more would tie the record for most consecutive 100-yard rushing games. And in a similar vein to the aforementioned Evans 824/928 receiving yardage examples, even without that 5th catch Brown still held (and would’ve extended) the record even with a four-catch threshold as opposed to five; and the Ravens still would’ve tied the record for consecutive games reaching a certain rushing total, it’s just that said total would’ve been 97 yards as opposed to 100 yards. But I digress.

The statistical impetus in those two examples wasn’t nearly as conspicuous or significant or talked about as Evans and his quest for another season with at least 1,000 receiving yards. While it’s basically impossible to imagine there’s any way in the world that the Saints could’ve not immediately realized what the Bucs were up to the instant they broke the huddle, Tampa then did something not even those ‘14 Steelers or ‘21 Ravens did that sets this situation apart: they called timeout. Not only was this absolutely grounds for the Saints to take umbrage at the late, unnecessary stoppage, but it gave them, yanno, time.

Not just time to have it be even more obvious and truly sink in (if it somehow hadn’t before with the Bucs having telegraphed that they weren’t gonna kneel in a scenario where teams essentially always kneel) that the Bucs wanted to pass to Evans to pick him up five more yards, but also time to deploy their defense in the ideal manner to thwart that salt in the wound. If the Bucs wanted to risk throwing away the division title with a potential interception by passing to a guy who the whole universe knew was about to get targeted, that was their prerogative, even if I think that was quite a foolish decision by coach Todd Bowles that entailed enormous risk – because remember, this was just an eight-point game.

The Saints would have more than a puncher’s chance to win the dang game if they could get their mitts on the ensuing pass. And to do so they were armed with the ultimate knowledge as to how their opponent was about to attack them than perhaps any other defense on any other play in the history of organized football. They had bestowed upon ‘em the the ability to operate as though there was a one hundred (100) percent chance the Bucs were gonna throw to Evans. This was manna from heaven.

Knowing this, my initial thought watching this live was that New Orleans should quite literally put all 11 defenders on Evans. Actually bring this picture to life. I then figured it’d also be understandable to peel off some of those 11 to rush the passer. But that’s it. There was absolutely, positively zero reason for even one of the 11 defensive players on the field to have any assignment other than “get after the QB” or “plaster Mike Evans.”

Even if Mayfield hypothetically threw to one of his wide open other receivers (which he wouldn’t – if he were disinclined to pass to Evans, he surely would’ve just given himself up), what’s the worst that could happen? Tampa simply scoring a touchdown when they could’ve otherwise simply kneeled the game away anyway? The Saints had nothing to lose, that’d be no more skin off their back.

So even merely quadruple-teaming Evans would be beyond negligent. We’re talking about a scenario here that calls for at least an octuple-team. Instead, what brilliant idea did Rizzi and defensive coordinator Joe Woods come up with to combat the most predictable playcall in football history?

A completely normal alignment and play. A defensive playcall as though they weren’t armed with such unprecedentedly priceless knowledge as knowing exactly what their opponent was gonna do. That no matter how many defenders they stuck on a certain player, their opponent was still gonna throw to that player (and, if somehow not, would still be of zero consequence).

And not only did the Saints not octuple-team Evans or even quadruple-team him … they didn’t even double-team him! They rushed five and left cornerback Alontae Taylor singled up on him! And Evans got wide-ass open. They gave not one, not two, not three, not four, but a full five (5) guys a defensive assignment other than rush the passer or plaster Evans … which is to say over 45% of their defenders were given a completely and utterly worthless and useless assignment that provided zero value or purpose whatsoever.

I think if I could interview any figure in sports right now, it’d be Rizzi and/or Woods, just so I could ask them what the hell their rationale was in deciding to allocate players to cover, say, Payne Durham or Sean Tucker in that moment. What could their response possibly be? I truly don’t know what’s worse: Rizzi/Woods somehow not realizing – even after Tampa lined up in shotgun and then called timeout in a kneeldown situation – that which the entire rest of the world immediately realized, orrrrr indeed realizing the Saints were 100% locked in on throwing to Evans, knowing you can’t be burned by anything else, and still deciding to give five Saints a thoroughly pointless assignment. It is almost certainly the latter, especially given the army of lieutenants on the coaching staff who surely were aware of the Evans benchmark and, with it not even being a hectic, heat of the moment situation, could’ve gotten in Rizzi’s ear … at any point during a timeout.

It’s counterintuitive on the surface, but in not employing a comically hyperbolic defensive alignment, by simply operating as if it was a normal play where there weren’t gifted with any special knowledge, there has never existed a more inexcusable coaching decision.

Perhaps as perplexing as the completely gobsmacking defensive call was the stunning lack of pushback against Rizzi/Woods that I saw amongst fans, reporters, and talking heads. Start with Tom Brady, the man providing color commentary for the game. Like everyone else in the world (with Rizzi and Woods maybe somehow possibly representing the lone exceptions), he was well-aware of what the Bucs were about to do, with the 1,000 yards and the logistics of the Bucs throwing him another pass, etc. all heavily discussed in the leadup to the play. Despite making around $2 million per game called, Brady didn’t offer a peep of criticism toward the Saints over Evans being single-teamed. Great insight there, Tommy.

If I could ask Brady any question about anything, this is what I would focus on. “Tom, do you agree that on the play where New Orleans knew with certainty a pass to Evans was coming (with no consequence if hypothetically not) that 5 Saints defenders should’ve had an assignment other than rush the passer or cover Mike Evans?” If the answer is yes, “explain your completely nonsensical belief.” If the answer is no, “why on God’s green earth would you have not then brought any attention on the broadcast to the beyond ludicrous defensive tactic?”

At his postgame presser, Rizzi never had the topic broached to him of what the hell the defensive thought process was by not only not throwing the kitchen sink at Evans, but inexplicably single-teaming him. At some point he said that they intended to double him and the defense simply failed to execute the plan. But even if they had, Rizzi’s acknowledging that plan was to put only two of the 11 Saints on Evans. That is necessarily implying he thought there was a reason to cover other Bucs! So even if his plan had been properly executed, it still couldn’t have made less sense. Even a quadruple-team with five rushing means you’re still just wasting two guys’ presence out there.

And while I’m sure this list isn’t comprehensive, it represents every source of pushback for the defensive strategy employed that I saw on the world wide web when I extensively searched:

• Former Saints linebacker Scott Shanle said he would’ve doubled Evans, seemingly an attempt to convey that as an extreme position. But double-teams happen all the time in every game. It’s basically just the same flawed belief shared by Rizzi as only doubling Evans would still mean Shanle thinks other Bucs for some reason should’ve been covered.

• On the Rich Eisen Show, the idea of quintuple-teaming him was mentioned, one of only two prominent instances I’ve seen of someone seeming to realize there was no need to waste bodies covering anyone else in correctly suggesting there should’ve been a hyperbolically heavy coverage on Evans (even if probably even more than five guys should’ve been put on him). Then that notion was maddeningly immediately dismissed as “the game’s over” and “what’s it matter,” apparently implying the Saints should’ve let Evans get the 1K or something.

But the game was not over! Let me say it in all caps for the people in the back: THE GAME WAS ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM OVER. It was a one-possession game! Sure it would’ve been over had the Bucs decided to just kneel on the ball, but with a pass being thrown, the Saints were very much alive due to the potential for an interception. And they should’ve been more alive but for not defending it for what it was: the most obvious instance in football history of where a team was gonna throw the ball.

It's almost impossible to fathom wanting a pick that badly combined with having the basically unprecedented luxury of knowing with absolute certainty where the football is about to be thrown when no play even needs to be run in the first place/having nothing to lose, and not doing everything in your power to exploit that unprecedented level of knowledge. It's truly mystifying.

If Mayfield indeed forced the ball into octuple-coverage, a pick-6 would’ve put New Orleans within a 2-pointer of tying the game in the blink of an eye. Even without much of a return, an interception still would’ve meant they’d only need to advance 30 or so yards in 30 or so seconds, with a timeout in their pocket. Very, very realistic.

As for the laziness of attempting to excuse the Saints’ inexcusable defense as “what’s it matter”: even if the Bucs had been up by 50 and the game truly had been decided, why would that be any reason to defend it irrationally by covering guys who you know won’t be thrown the ball/wouldn’t matter if they were? Even if this wasn’t a division rival who just called an unnecessary timeout in a kneeldown scenario to instead (from the Saints’ perspective anyway) rub it in with a pass to a guy with an extensive history of beef with the best defensive back in your franchise’s history. Which it was.

So hell yea even if it had been a blowout – which it very much wasn’t – I’m still doing everything humanly possible if I’m the Saints to keep Evans from getting the 1K. You always hear in sports how if you don’t want someone to do something or you don’t want someone to showboat, then you simply gotta stop ‘em.

And the Saints did try like hell to stop Evans from conquering the round number, as Evans himself stated: “They knew what was at stake, they were talking the whole time. They said ‘stay on 13, outside leverage, I got your help inside.’ They kept saying it over and over. We knew that they were aware of the record.”

So for every play prior to that, the Saints did everything in their power both to try and win the game and prevent Evans from hitting 1,000. Why should their objectives have all of a sudden changed on the final play? Before that play, their objective to win meant they couldn’t have stuck, like, eight guys on Evans every play because they had to worry about covering other players too.

But on that final play, when the objective to win allowed -- nay, demanded -- that they stick around that many guys on him because there was no need to worry about getting burned by anyone else – which also just so happens to conveniently coincide with their objective to hold Evans under 1,000 yards – they mystifyingly failed to do so. And in only single-teaming him, they failed to do so with the most flying of colors

Also, as mentioned before, Rizzi had extreme incentive to win, as each dub represented a precious résumé-building jewel. Dovetailing off that, regardless of the fact that the Saints weren’t going to the playoffs, it’s certainly not as though they were tanking. This wasn’t the Bucs-Saints game to close the 2014 season when Tampa desperately wanted to secure the 1st overall draft pick. The Saints didn't yank their top guys and competed to the best of their ability all game long before the inexplicable final play. Rizzi knew he likely wouldn’t reap any benefit from a slightly improved draft position provided by a loss due to the probability that he wouldn’t be retained, and any chance he did have to land New Orleans’ head coaching job on a full-time basis would’ve been boosted by cobbling together a 4-4 record as opposed to 3-5.

• There was a thread on the Saints’ Reddit questioning why there weren’t five defenders on Evans, which mostly prompted similar lazy replies espousing rhetoric like “who cares, just let him get it, bob loblaw” which completely overlooks the possibility of both the Saints still winning with an interception and the fact that all game long New Orleans wanted to prevent the 1,000 yards from being reached, so why would their mindset magically change on that particular play? When you know what your opponent is gonna do and you try to stop it, that isn’t called being petty or something similar that many apparently seem to think. It’s called playing sports.

• Finally, there was this post made which does acknowledge the light coverage and the fact that the game was not decided, even if that’s another instance where calling for a double-team still wildly shortchanges the number of guys that should’ve been on Evans. It also shortchanges how much of a pulse the Saints would’ve had with a pick even if they didn’t mount much of a return.

That is basically the extent of the pushback I saw to whatever the hell compelled Rizzi’s Saints to single-team Evans. Not nearly enough of a light has been shined on it. As to the Bucs, It was awfully reckless for them to eschew kneeldowns to throw a pass to a completely predictable target in a one-possession game with their division on the line. It would’ve been slightly understandable with a lead of nine or more. But eight or fewer? No way. And I won’t even say it was done for Evans to tie Rice’s 11-season streak record, because again, he already had done so! This was simply to tie a rounder number version of what was fundamentally the same exact record.

Regarding the aforementioned facsimiles, while the 10/5/14 Jaguars could’ve thrown everyone at Antonio Brown, or the 10/3/21 Broncos could’ve stacked the line of scrimmage with all 11 defenders, they have the two reasonable built-in explanations: not just that their opponent’s records (consecutive games by a player with at least five catches for 50 yards and consecutive games by a team with at least 100 rushing yards, respectively) weren’t nearly as obvious or prominent as Evans and his 1,000-yard streak, but also that they were caught off-guard in the heat of the moment by the lack of victory formation. As opposed to Rizzi’s Saints getting a look at the offense’s intention before that very offense called timeout, which enabled maximum defensive preparation. That takes it to a whole 'nother level entirely.

While round number enthusiasts might disagree with me, I will never understand how its siren song could be so powerful that it’s worth taking a very real risk of going from a certain division championship to missing the playoffs altogether (a Wild Card spot wasn’t in play). I’m a Niner fan, and I can’t even begin to explain the level of conniption I’d have if they cost themselves a playoff spot because they threw a pass that got picked off in a scenario where they could’ve otherwise kneeled the game away. Maybe that makes me a bad fan for caring more about my favorite team winning than I do about round numbers, but so be it. ¯\(ツ)/¯

However as stupid as I think the risk Tampa took was, it still pales in comparison to the Saints letting ‘em off the hook by doing absolutely nothing to capitalize on the golden opportunity of said Tampa stupidity. Rizzi’s Saints would’ve been kneecapping themselves for no reason whatsoever by having even one defender on the field with an assignment other than rush the passer or cover Evans. In reality, they had five (5) such defenders while leaving one (1) Saint on Evans.

If my math is wrong and 27 minus 19 is equal to a number greater than eight, then maybe I could buy that it'd be a bit less egregious (though still monumentally dumb). But if my math is correct and 27 minus 19 is indeed eight, and thus it was indeed a one-possession game, there should be zero qualms about calling that the worst-coached play in the history of organized football.