Top 10 things Jim Johnson will hear in heaven

(Johnson, for those of you who somehow didn't know, was the Eagles longtime defensive coordinator. Yesterday, he died from cancer at age 68. He will be missed. Like, say, right now.)

10) "You actually have linebackers here."

9) "Here's your Super Bowl ring. Sorry we didn't get it to you earlier -- it was just a test of faith."

8) "Don't worry. We don't allow Cowboys, Giants or Redskins."

7) "From over here, you can hear the lamentations of referees in eternal torment. It's really what makes the place what it is."

6) "In the games up here, you can put yourself in, with the abilities of any player in history. So, who will it be?"

5) "Um, Jim? Can you stop taking Saint Peter out with blindside hits? He's getting kind of annoyed."

4) "But... but... but... how can *you* be here, after all the hell you put me through?"

3) "You know, you don't really have to hang out with Reggie White if you don't want to."

2) "You really had a doubt? Dude, you actually made people in *Philadelphia* happy. We're putting you in First Class Heaven."

1) "Hey, Jim, we're working up some suggestions for Lucifer on what to do with Bill Belichick when the time comes. Can we get you to consult?"

* * * * *

A few words beyond the list.

When you have a great defensive coordinator, there's no flash moment of when you know, the way that you do with a player. And especially not with Jim Johnson, who was always making more out of what he had, seeing as he never really had linebackers, and his defensive linemen, while talented, were never so good that he didn't feel the need to rotate them relentlessly. The man did have corners, and safeties, and he understood the modern game enough to know that you need that more than anything.

So his Eagle defenses were always regular season monsters -- especially when he got his hooks into a young and/or mentally overmatched quarterback; you can count the number of rookie quarterbacks that had fun days against his teams on one hand -- who would be exposed in elimination games. The last game he ever coached for the Eagles saw a previously airtight corner get roasted, with a comeback based on blitzes that wound up failing at the end. There was also a tragic and constant problem in stopping the run when it mattered. But that's not what I'm going to remember about him.

Instead, I'm going to think of the signature Jim Johnson game -- the NFC championship game against Michael Vick's Falcons, when the Eagles went to their only Super Bowl of his tenure. It was 15 degrees outside with a strong wind, which probably felt fairly balmy to the Falcons after winning the week before in Green Bay. The home team won, 27-10, with the defense holding Atlanta to zero points after halftime, 2 for 11 on third down efficiency, and 202 yards of total offense, including an 11 for 24 effort from Vick. The defense had four sacks, which hardly seemed possible given how elusive Vick was at that point in his career, and a Brian Dawkins pick, but the statistics really don't do it justice. In watching the second half of that game, it seemed like there was no chance -- none -- for Atlanta to score. It also seemed like Johnson had so thoroughly gotten into Vick's head that he didn't want to play football anymore. Hell, maybe that game caused the whole dog fighting fiasco; maybe Johnson got that far into Vick's head.

Here's the drive chart from that half. Mind you, the second half started with score Eagles 14, Falcons 10. It's not like Vick was really out of this.

START QTR POSS. YARD PLAYS YARDS RESULT
08:55 3 02:45 ATL 20 5 8 Punt
03:06 3 00:00 ATL 14 1 0 Interception
01:55 3 02:40 ATL 28 6 33 Punt
11:25 4 01:01 ATL 30 3 -1 Punt
03:12 4 01:19 ATL 10 8 47 Poss. on downs

That's what the man did, at his best; befuddle, bewitch, bewilder. That's why he was treasured, why Eagle Fan is convinced that the 2009 defense is doomed, and why color analysts seemed incapable of calling him on it when it didn't work.

Because when Jim Johnson had his stuff working, there was no one better, and he made it all seem inevitable. And unique.

Rest in peace, sir.