Vices
In Defense of Dan Campbell
Under the windowsill in my bedroom I have an IKEA shelf whose top holds two of my most beautiful possessions— boxes handmade by my godmother. Their exteriors are carefully hand-crafted mosaics of color-coordinated broaches, pins, and buttons arranged in a way so thoughtful you can’t help but place them on center stage to sparkle in the sunlight. Their beauty demands only the nicest of treasures to be held inside their chest, yet I abandon that notion. They hold the stuff I can’t throw out— and I can’t throw anything out.
I have a horrible tendency to create emotional relationships with utterly meaningless inanimate objects that some day I think I will need. Box from a Funko Pop from 5 years ago? Check. Clothing tags from sweaters purchased in the Obama administration? Check. Gift cards whose money I’ve already used up but feel guilty throwing out the plastic? Check. You need the receipt, I definitely have it.
This horrible vice of mine creates conflicting moments for me when I am forced to clean my room and come face to face with my collections of misfit objects. Most of the time I am haunted by it. It causes disorder and piles of useless items that end up getting stuffed into drawers and boxes until I look at them again 3 years later and wonder what was the reason Grace from 3 years ago for keeping this? What even is it?
Yet, I continue to indulge in this habit because every so often one of those little things I kept reminds me of a moment that otherwise I would have forgotten— a day that would have faded out of sight, a memory that would have drifted away from a sea of new ones. Instead, it now lives, immortalized in the ticket stub, business card, or menu I now hold in my hand from that day. The special ones get plastered to my wall if they really take me back— it's quite a gallery up there now.
The pros and cons of this vice have kept me in a war with myself. I try to be mindful of what I really need, yet always end up saving something I don’t anyway. Despite the chaos and overwhelming nature of it, it brings me joy— a life fighting to be unforgotten by objects that everyone else forgets—so it lives.
The last drop of golden foam from the espresso shot drips down into the glass below the machine. Snatched up by the barista, it gets dumped into the venti cup filled to the brim with Pike Place roast and the other shot. It's the first of two orders of the drink for the 6’3 250 pound man standing across the counter in the black Lions hat— he says his name is Dan.
Back in September, the Lions head coach shared this as his daily coffee order with the team’s press room. As
pointed out on Twitter at the time, it is equivalent to 10 Red Bulls every morning or 1,100 mg of caffeine. For reference, the FDA recommends 400 mg a day as an amount “not generally associated with dangerous, negative effects”.Campbell’s caffeine vice is just a peak into his larger-than-life personality that has been present from the start of his tenure as the Lions head coach. We will never forget the infamous introductory kneecaps press conference, a moment in time for Detroit sports fans who likely thought to themselves “either this guy is off his nut and we're going to be the utmost laughing stock of the league, or we’re winning the Super Bowl”. But that’s what Detroit so desperately needed— an identity. For so long a sports town without a breath of life— their last pro championship coming in 2008— needed a spark of something, someone who could embody what it means to live, work, eat and breath the city of Detriot. The grit of Detroit.
Dan Campbell is all that and then some.
Steely eyed and highly caffeinated, he paced the Lions sidelines on Sunday night and watched as his team collapsed before him. They entered the half leading 24-7. CJ Gardner-Johnson was waving the Niners crowd home goodnight when there was 6 minutes left in the 2nd quarter. They were now losing, 24-27 with 9:52 left in the 4th— their lead gone with the wind.
4th & 3rd on the San Francisco 30 yard line— he took just a second to think about it before making the decision. He refused to go down without a fight. This wasn’t a quick tussle or a slow burning war with heavily calculated battle plans and well timed ambushes. No, this was a fist fight— a blow for blow, punch for punch, bar for bar boxing match— and the only way to guarantee a win in a fist fight, was with a total knockout.
On 4th & 3rd, instead of kicking the 47 yd game-tying the field goal, Dan Campbell elected to go for it. In response, Jared Goff and Amon-Ra St. Brown were unable to connect on the pass and forced a turnover on downs. This was one of two times in the game where Campbell’s choice to go for it on 4th down cost the Lions 3 points— 6 points in total that would have won Detroit the game.
Throughout his coaching tenure, Campbell has deemed a disposition entrenched in the relentless pursuit of aggressiveness. On Sunday night it played a part in costing the Lions a trip to their first Super Bowl. The 6 points that would have brought them to Vegas were left on the Levi’s Stadium grass with the missed opportunities of those 4th & short conversions. Josh Reynolds’ drop and Jahmyr Gibbs’ fumble didn’t help either, but the game was lost at the hands of Campbell’s decision making.
Yet Campbell’s aggressive tendencies helped lead the Lions to the NFC Championship game. In a close Week 16 matchup against Minnesota with their 1st division title since 1993 on the line, Campbell twice called to go for it on 4th & 1 during a drive that eventually led to the go-ahead touchdown score in the 2nd quarter. He did it again countless times during the season in the red zone— notably in their first round Wild Card matchup against the Rams for the go ahead touchdown before the half.
His aggressiveness, though belligerent at times, is at the core of who this Lions team is. Gritty, scrappy, hungry— junkyard dogs in Honolulu Blue. To ask the coach that resuscitated a team— a sports town—that was halfway to the graveyard, to give up the mindset that rebuilt the franchise into a legitimately fearful opponent— now that’s just not fair, even despite its recent unfavorable results.
You cannot have Campbell without his vices. He will continue to coach aggressively because coaching aggressively is his identity. He said it from the moment he walked in the door. Total knockout mindset, home run or bust— kneecap, kneecap, and a hunk out of em’. Sometimes it will work and he will be deemed an analytical genius, other times it will fail and he will be blamed for letting analytics overly influence his decisions. But aggressiveness is at his core as a coach and as a leader, and he's not going to turn it off when the lights get brighter— in fact, he's going to turn it up— for what is football without guts?
There comes the time in the game where the road splits and that choice has to be made. The seconds feel like days as the decision that holds the emotions of thousands sits your hands, rings in your headset. You know you need the knockout— the total and complete strike that seals it— sends it over the edge, pushes you to greatness. You cannot be pushed to greatness by punting on 4th & 3. You will not win championships playing gutless football. You need that moment of sheer insanity that leads you call the play only those with cast iron stomachs would have the conviction to call. The call that leads to champions being crowned, legends being created, cities being reborn. The call that wouldn’t have happened without the person who believed the only path to glory, is with guts.
Dan Campbell has guts, even if they didn’t lead to glory this time.
These vices we tie ourselves too, they keep us chained to our humanity. The constant reminder that we are not perfect people, and we will continue to make mistakes to learn from and need people to help us understand them. Caffeine, aggressiveness, and attachment. Energy and heart attacks. Incredible wins and devastating losses. Piles of useless junk and memories of days otherwise forgotten. The flip of a coin decides the fate of our vices— so the best way to live with them, is to embrace them.
Lions fans, continue to embrace Dan Campbell and all his vices— you will get your glory, because boy do you have the guts.
Don't ask how I found this post just now, but I'd like to comment anyway. Isn't it interesting how the bastion of analytical football is a man who looks and talks like Dan Campbell?
It's amazing to me that it's taken so long for an NFL coach to admit 'we don't have the talent, let's try to win anyway' in the way that Dan does. The Lions were never going to beat the 49ers by playing conventionally, so where most coaches would've simply gone down with the ship, Dan refused and did what he thought was necessary for his team (generally accepted as the far worse of the NFC's final two) to attempt to steal a win and a Super Bowl appearance.
It's underrated how courageous of a decision this was, because he spent a whole season subjecting himself to a lot of scrutiny by choosing to play the way he did. Trying to win in the NFL is not popular, because it often involves admitting you don't have the talent to win, and playing in an out-of-the-box way to attempt to make up for this discrepancy, and people don't like this, which is why most NFL coaches elect to just lose rather than to try to shake it up.
I hope the NFL sees Dan Campbell as an example of how actually trying to win (I refuse to label this 'overaggressiveness' in the way that some have) actually works, but they probably won't. They'll stay losing in their comfortable conservative shells.
Agree.