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Cincinnati Sports Medicine

If you need conclusive evidence that the world of pro football as we knew it is desperately out of whack, consider this: It's November, and the Bucs are stumbling and the Raiders are tumbling, and we are writing a story about football in Cincinnati that won't feature one joke about the foolishness of Bungles past.

Instead of giving us laughs, the Bengals are giving us wins, and that's not the only shock. Remember Jon Kitna, yesterday's poster boy for gutsy yet bumbling quarterbacking? My goodness, he's playing so well that just the other day Chargers coach Marty Schottenheimer was falling over himself trying to find the right words to describe the depth of his improvement. And remember all those stories about a franchise so cheap that it made Scrooge look like Donald Trump? Well, president Mike Brown must be cranking out money in his basement the way the team is spending it these days, with more scouts and a gorgeous weight room and all types of perks that other clubs long have considered standard operating procedure.

It gets more surreal. Their best player, Corey Dillon, hasn't performed worth a darn and says he wants out of Cincinnati just when things are improving. So they've got no running game, right? Of course they do. These are the new Bengals, remember.

Backup Rudi Johnson stepped in and gained 412 yards the last three weeks. Dillon, who had been nursing a sore groin, healed enough to gain 108 yards against the Chargers last Sunday, but he no longer is the Bengals' best player. That would be receiver Chad Johnson, who sleeps in the team locker room two nights a week. He guaranteed a win over the undefeated Chiefs on November 16, then caught seven passes to help make such brashness come true.

When these Bengals started 0-3 and were threatening to be as pathetic as their predecessors, you might have expected Marvin Lewis, seeing his rookie year as head coach blowing up before him, to panic and adopt an approach to rival the Panthers in conservatism. Of course, because none of this makes sense, he did just the opposite. But only after he pouts a bit for forgetting a promise he made to himself when he took a job few other sane folks wanted. He had pledged to always stay aggressive by constantly asking himself: Why not? "But I felt like in some ways I got outcoached in those first three games because I got hesitant," he says. So against the Chiefs, with Kansas City having just scored to cut the Bengals' lead to 17-13, Lewis did not pull back. Instead, he approved a field-stretching pass from Kitna to Peter Warrick that resulted in a 77-yard, win-clinching touchdown. "What did we have to lose?" Lewis says.

Of course, he's right. The Bengals, who were 2-14 last year, already are in the bonus round for this season. By beating the Chargers, 34-27, they have won six of their last eight games, including three against then-division leaders. Not since 1990 have they been this far into the season with both a winning record and a piece of first place in the division. But at 6-5 and tied with the Ravens atop the AFC North, that's exactly where they stand. Bengals in the playoff picture? That's no misprint. No wonder Lewis boldly proclaimed after the Chiefs game that the NFL officially has returned to Cincinnati.

"Marvin has got them drinking the Kool-Aid," says Ravens general manager Ozzie Newsome, whose team lost to the Bengals, 34-26, in Week 7. "They have bought into what he wants. He has made them more accountable; he has them hustling to the ball; he has them caring about each other. These aren't the same old Bengals."

They aren't the '72 Dolphins either. They lack run stoppers along the defensive line and a big-time playmaker in the back seven. And as good as Kitna is playing, the future of the franchise still is Carson Palmer, the first pick in this year's draft. But Lewis has to start somewhere, and his why-not style has done much to erase their past.

If nothing else, Lewis has chutzpah. The last 12 years of mismanagement by Brown generated incredible skepticism about everything related to the team, creating a losing atmosphere that saturated not only the franchise but the city itself. Then here comes Lewis, the former Redskins and Ravens defensive coordinator who orchestrated the great Baltimore Super Bowl defense in 2000, with a plan to make it all better. Despite a blank resume as a head coach, he kept asking Brown for changes, and Brown kept saying yes. "I don't think anyone had asked him before," says Lewis. So he eliminated three former Bengals players from the coaching staff and forced out longtime weight coach Kim Wood, who was despised by the players.

What had been a toothless, useless offseason conditioning program attracted unprecedented player attendance. Lewis convinced Brown to avoid the team's usual first-pick holdout and sign Palmer; to hire more scouts; to reduce the scouting load on the coaches; to employ an advance scout; to house players in a hotel the night before home games, and to let the team travel to West Coast games on Friday, not Saturday. Most remarkable, he requested that the head coach, and no one else, be the public voice for the franchise. Brown gladly shut up and retreated into the background.

"Marvin told us none of the changes would win us games, but at least it would get us even with everyone else," says veteran tackle Willie Anderson. "We swear Marvin has this big book called 'Football 101' that has all of his plans mapped out, step by step."

Solomon Wilcots, the former Bengals defensive back who now is a CBS analyst, asked Lewis before his hiring if he was sure he wanted the job. "It was ugly there, and I had seen how the job ate up Dick LeBeau and I didn't want that to happen to Marvin," says Wilcots. "But he told me the Brown family was at the point where they needed and wanted help, and he said, 'I know how to fix it.'" No one had anticipated Brown finally would see the errors of his past. Yet, by handing over significant authority to Lewis, he gave him the power and credibility to execute a thorough makeover of the franchise. The Bengals always had talent; they just yearned for proper leadership.

Lewis has gone about his purge with a tough-love approach. "He's not accepting mediocrity,' says Chargers fullback Lorenzo Neal, a former Bengal. "He's not accepting guys getting together and not following the rules and just saying everything goes and not paying attention and being late to meetings."

Lewis cut veterans and brought in 21 new players, including free-agent linebacker Kevin Hardy and four other defensive starters. Lewis is an incredibly demanding, high-energy perfectionist who is obsessed with athletes following their assignments, not whether they think he is a players coach. In the heady days after the Chiefs game, he turned up the pressure, fussing loudly during film sessions, telling his assistants their practice cards had to be drawn better, grinding at everyone to work harder or risk a defeat in San Diego that would negate the progress. His fingerprints are everywhere, on every aspect of the team and game plan. Each game call on offense and defense is filtered through him. "Sometimes I have to pull back," he says. "I don't want to overcoach my assistants."

"Marvin is like taking medicine that tastes bad but is good for you;' says Redskins defensive end Renaldo Wynn, who played for Lewis last year. "He gets on your nerves, but he is going to make you a better player. I am sure those guys are sick of him talking, but they see the results."

Yes, they do. "I was deprived my first two years of the proper NFL experience, but Marvin has given it to me," says Chad Johnson.

"He's got us focused and pulling together, and that hasn't always been the case here," says linebacker Brian Simmons.

"It's just nice to have something to play for in November," says Anderson.

Kitna, boosted by the faith Lewis placed in him by not starting Palmer when the team was 0-3, has 16 touchdowns and four interceptions over the last eight games. The Bengals had a minus-15 turnover differential in 2002; this year, they are plus-2. "I'm encouraged," Lewis says. "I can see by the smiles from the veterans that all the hard work is worth it because they are experiencing success for the first time. I see how games now mean something to their families. We're getting there."

Even with their fans, who justifiably watched this rebirth with some caution.

"Who can blame them?" asks Wilcots. "It's a great football town. They just need to believe." They are, gradually. The Bengals drew the season's third sellout, and the largest crowd in Cincinnati sports history--64,923--for the Chiefs game at Paul Brown Stadium, which had sold out eight times in 29 previous games. And the two Johnsons, Chad and Rudi, drew standing-room only crowds in separate personal appearances last week.

The Bengals haven't been in the playoffs since the 1990 season and with a three-game stretch against Baltimore, San Francisco and St. Louis coming up, a postseason berth is iffy. But this is no tease. Give Lewis another year or so, and the Bengals will represent what is sane about the NFL. Imagine that.

E-mail senior writer Paul Attner at pattner@sportingnews.com.

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