In these hard times, when the Orange Crush has turned to mush, the “D” gets an “F” and scoring 30 points no longer guarantees victory for Denver, it’s enough to make a depressed Broncomaniac wonder:
Can a nasty defender be made? Or must a man be born to tackle?
So I asked Karl Mecklenburg. You remember him. He caused Rocky Mountain Thunder by slamming quarterbacks so hard to the stadium turf that the Earth moved and bleachers shook at old Mile High.
When did Mecklenburg realize that creating football mayhem was his life?
At age 10, the son of a physician wanted to see if he had an appetite for a sport of violent collisions. All these years later, Mecklenburg laughs when he recalls one of the first father-son chats about the game
“Karl,” his Pop asked, “what do you think about football?”
“Dad,” replied the young Mecklenburg, “I really like to smash people.”
That kid would grow up to be 6-feet-3, 240 pounds and play linebacker for the Broncos from 1983-94. He wore No. 77 and was fondly known as “Meck.”
As in Wreck.
The problem with the current Denver defense, whether it’s being toasted by New Orleans quarterback Drew Brees or getting squished under the cleats of Kansas City running back Larry Johnson, is pretty simple.
The Broncos don’t appear to have anybody who really loves smashing people. Sure, linebacker D.J. Williams can go sideline to sideline in the blink of an eye, and cornerback Champ Bailey tackles as well as he covers the pass. But the heavy-impact defenders are gone from town.
Linebacker Al Wilson so loved throwing his body in harm’s way that it cost him his health and forced the backbone of Denver’s defense into premature retirement from the NFL.
While maybe it is true John Lynch could no longer run, when he walked away from the Broncos during training camp, there went a safety capable of making running backs wince at the mere thought of being hit by him.
Defensive lineman Trevor Pryce and his 80 career sacks now reside in Baltimore.
Wilson, Lynch and Pryce would mess people up.
And you wonder why Denver’s defense is so messed up?
New defensive coordinator Bob Slowik can scribble all the defensive fronts, schemes and coverage packages he wants in a game plan. It’s just so much doodling unless there’s a tackler who jumps off the grease board and strikes fear in the hearts of foes.
“A physical defense can have a huge influence, if offensive players start tip-toeing, looking for where the next big hit is coming from,” Mecklenburg said.
“I remember (Buffalo Bills running back) Thurman Thomas being asked, ‘What team did you like to play the least?’
“And he said: ‘The Broncos. That Dennis Smith. He’s crazy.’ ”
Mecklenburg has a theory of why the big hits have quit coming for Denver. It’s not that the players lack talent. But in the constant churn of change, the Broncos have lost their defensive identity.
From Ray Rhodes to Larry Coyer to Jim Bates to Slowik, the Broncos have fired, dismissed or parted ways with so many defensive coordinators there’s smoke still rising from the fingers of blame pointed by Mike Shanahan.
You want a consistent pass rush? Well, it’s difficult when from 2003-07 the team had a revolving door at right defensive end, a blur of personnel upheaval that shuffled through Bertrand Berry, Reggie Hayward, Pryce, Ebenezer Ekuban and Elvis Dumervil.
Since stepping in at left corner four years ago, Bailey has tutored at least 10 starters who have regularly manned the other three spots in Denver’s secondary.
When the Orange Crush made a name for itself a generation ago, the coordinated madness of Randy Gradishar, Louis Wright and Barney Chavous was tattooed on the psyches of opponents.
In an NFL ruled by free agency, nothing stays the same. But, too often, this Broncos defense appears to be 11 strangers all looking for individual recognition.
“Everybody wants to make the ESPN hit,” Mecklenburg said. “But big misses aren’t a big help.”
Get the picture? It’s impossible to be a brick wall when a defense is never given time to jell.
That’s messed up.
Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com
