Teacher's Pet

Those are the first words that come to mind when someone mentions former Saints linebacker Sam Mills who sadly died of cancer this week. He was 45. Within that description, of course, are good and bad connotations. First, the good things. Everything that has been written about Mills today is true. He was the proverbial coach on the field of the great Saints defenses of the late 80s and early 90s. Those defenses are remembered for featuring four linebackers who played together as well as any group ever assembled. Pat Swilling was the flash, Vaughan Johnson the muscle, Mills the brains, and Rickey Jackson the heart. Mills's unassuming personality and his 5'9" stature made him a fan favorite. His intelligence and tendency not to complain made him a coach's favorite.
Unfortunately for Saints fans that coach happened to be Jim Mora. Because Mills was Mora's favorite player my memories of him will always be linked to closely to Mora and that is a shame. I had nothing against Sam Mills. He was a good guy and a good player. But as Mora's pet, he reminds me too much of Mora's sins which are legion. Jim Mora held back Saints teams capable of winning championships, practically ruined the careers of talented but less conformist players like Bobby Hebert and Craig "Ironhead" Heyward (aside: Heyward may be my all time favorite football player. Chunky, goofy, constantly beleaguered by those in authority; what's not to like?) and prevented the greatest Saint in history (Jackson) from getting the necessary attention to gain deserved entry to the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Worst of all, Mora was a dull witted temperamental intolerable pompous ass. Um, did I mention I don't care much for Jim Mora?
If I sound like I'm ranting, it's only because Mills and Mora were Saints during my early teen years when football was maybe a little more important than a silly diversion. It's sad when anyone dies so young. Sam Mills, in doing so, has taken another piece of my youth along with him.


The "Field Mouse" calling the signals.