Quarterback Chris Simms was trying to explain to me exactly what his body is going through in returning from a ruptured spleen and last year's season-ending surgery.

Simms said when he needs to throw to his first target, he's fine and his body has no problem following his mind's orders. But when he needs to check off that first read and find a second or third target, his body simply tells his mind to get lost.

"I know where I'm supposed to go, but my body is resisting," he said. "It's only when I have to turn and throw to someone other than my primary target. It's hard to explain exactly why, but it's like my body just won't let me do it yet. I'll eventually be able to, but I just have to be patient and wait until that happens. I hope the Bucs are patient too."

Glazing through the rest of the Sunshine State

I checked out the Jaguars' scrimmage last week, and much to my dismay, that vaunted defense was shredded by Byron Leftwich and friends. Leftwich was a solid 12 of 17 for 180-plus yards before getting pulled.

After the scrimmage, I spent the evening with the Jaguars' coaching staff and loved how head coach Jack Del Rio soaked up all the ribbing the offensive coaches gave their defensive counterparts. It's not often they get to have a laugh at the D's expense so that side of the ball milked it all night long. Plus, Del Rio himself tried to pump some fuel on the fire, stoking the flames of coordinator Mike Smith and crew every chance he could. But even after watching such an impressive showing, something tells me Smith's crew would have gotten the last laugh if the bullets were really flying, not just on their own offense but a lot of offenses this year.

 

At one point, I asked who the baddest dude on that team was and nearly in unison they began telling horror stories of defensive tackle John Henderson. That's my kind of dude - a player who's disciplined enough to be great but scary enough to have his coaches always hold back a bit for fear that one day the wrong brain wave gives off the wrong message and he pillages the team like Godzilla.

 

But I also have to ask this question: I know people love to talk about Deuce McAlister and Reggie Bush and their threatening one-two punch. I'm not taking anything away from them by any stretch, but I'm honestly stuck asking why nobody talks about the one-two punch of Maurice Jones-Drew and Fred Taylor? I'm not saying they're a better one-two punch, but it wouldn't surprise me if they were at least this year. It's at least much, much closer than people give them credit for.

Oddest thing I saw on my tour of Florida

The calves on Jags rookie WR Steve Broussard. Seriously, how he hasn't snapped his leg just walking is beyond me. They've got to be no more than 6 inches in diameter, like little mini-stilts. It's like he's got baby arms for shins (sorry dude, it's true). Yet, little joker had 62 yards against the vaunted defense and apparently is tougher than nails on special teams.

One final note on the Jags. I know coaches don't play, but the addition of Joe DeCamillis as special teams coach could be the difference in another win or two for that team. The longtime Giants and Falcons assistant is THAT good. His players love him as they often boast he puts them in a position where teams cannot predict what they're going to do. Solid, solid free-agent addition by Del Rio.

Only weak spots I saw on this team were at safety and receiver, where somebody will need to step up and shine. They have players with pedigrees over there, but they need someone to become a star on both units.

Making the owner proud

Every team in the league needs to copy owner Wayne Weaver's crown jewel of this stadium - the Bud Zone. For 300 clams people get all the beer they can drink and food they can eat as well as a seat in an elevated end zone area. The Bud Zone is like a mini-mall of drinking inside the stadium. There's a patio to hang and watch games or a huge inside area to watch all the other Sunday action. I had to go up and watch and, of course, grab a beer in order to get through a scrimmage that ends up pitting a bunch of guys who would have ended up in NFL Europa.

Worst place on my trip so far

Found some dive on the water in Hollywood, Fla., one night with some Dolphins buddies. Seemed OK from the outside. But after we sat down I knew that place would be a nightmare. But you know how I really knew this place would not work? Dennis Rodman was there hanging out. That's an instant tipoff. If he likes it odds are that I won't.

But the one good thing about him being in that spot was it allows me to transition into one of the all time off-the-field stories I've ever heard in my life. This is told straight from the mouth of John Welbourn himself with Chiefs fullback Boomer Grigsby as a witness. Just classic tale!

It started in a bar in Newport Beach last year when Welbourn actually knocked out Rodman at the bar. Literally knocked him out cold, on his back, feet flew over his ears and everything. Welbourn launched him over some discrepancy shall we call it and on the way down, Rodman hit his noggin on the bar.

But wait, the story gets better. Not only did he knock him out, he skedaddled out of there quickly and when he got outside, he noticed Rodman's bicycle. Everyone on July 4th weekend in Newport drives bicycles and some, like Rodman's, are incredibly souped up. Get this, Welbourn stole the dude's bike! Beat him up and stole his bike, like they're in fifth grade. But wait, it gets even weirder after that.

Rodman went to Welbourn's house to get his bike back. Knocked on the door, let himself in the house and went over to Welbourn's refrigerator. Who knows why this guy does what he does but went into the fridge, took out mozzarella cheese and started throwing it all over the 6-6, 310-pound lineman's kitchen. Welbourn said he grabbed him by the back of his neck and his belt, walked him over to the door, kicked open said door and threw Rodman onto the front lawn.

Folks, you can't make this stuff up.

Every year during my training camp travels it just seems to happen. Every single year I get stuck in some situation where I find myself pretty much dumbstruck thinking, "It can only happen to me!" This year didn't disappoint. 

 

During my travels to Ravens camp I was told the best place to stay is a certain very low end hotel chain. I'm taking the high road in not revealing the name of the hotel because the manager and others who worked there were extremely nice in getting me a new spot and I don't want any repercussions to befall this man. However, his spot should be condemned.

 

OK, here's the scene. I check in and the manager informs me all they have remaining at my $79 a night hotel is a double bed smoking room and "I'm pretty sure the people who stayed there before you smoked." The rest of the Fleabag Chalet was completely booked.

 

It turns out smoke was the least of this room's problems.

 

I entered the room and was immediately smacked with the scent of smoke and... um... well... death. I give a quick sweep of the room and find French fries on the floor, the right corner of the window completely covered in spider webs along with a couple of big old menacing arachnids and pieces of wallpaper were torn off and replaced with holes that looked like someone was trying to dig out of this joint.

 

But that folks was nothing! Nothing compared to what I noticed next!

 

I immediately shot out of the room grabbed the manager and asked him to come down to the room with me.

 

Upon re-entering I pointed out the fries and the spiders and webs along with holes in the wall. But oh yeah, sir, "What the heck is the deal with the blood splattered all over your wall!!!! Dude, are you kidding me? There's dried blood all over the wall!"

 

To which said manager nonchalantly replied, "Oh, I better talk to housekeeping about that."

 

Housekeeping? How about you talk to the local sheriff, CSI, anybody in law enforcement. Last I checked Jack Bauer isn't working for housekeeping. He was totally calm, as if slaughters took place on a regular schedule in this hotel.

 

I finally told him there's no way I'm staying in this joint and he needed to find another place for me without, you know, PLASMA!

 

He told me there's another really nice bed and breakfast in town named the Westminster Inn. Turns out this place is one of those hidden gems that I'll forever stay in as long as I travel camps. For under a hundred clams my room in this former school house had a four poster oak bed with a full four-person Jacuzzi. It also boasted a wonderful little amenity called NO BLOOD ON THE WALL!

 

Unfair, simply not fair

Last year upon completion of my tour I proclaimed Maurice Drew Jones the most impressive youngster I saw. This year, I don't need to finish my tour to make declaration.

 

I predict that when all is said and done Ravens second-year defensive tackle Haloti Ngata will make eight to nine Pro Bowls. Sound a little overzealous? I've never seen a guy with his power, size, speed ratio who also kept his humility. This fireplug is in the 350-pound range and is actually fast enough to where defensive coordinator Rex Ryan has been putting him in packages at linebacker.

 

The coaches showed me some plays on film where they line him up and send him on a blitz and you could basically see these poor linemen shuffling just to get out of the line of fire.

 

"In all my years, I've never had a kid like him," said Ryan. "Never! I don't think I've ever even seen anything like it."

 

They showed me another play from last year against the Bills when his new teammate Willis McGahee tried to block him on a stunt. Not only did he never break stride while completely running through the gritty back, McGahee was sent to his back and spun around a few times as if he was break dancing.

 

"Guys like that only come around once in a blue moon," said Ray Lewis. "He has the quickest feet. When we put him back there at linebacker, somebody is going to get hurt."

 

I'm on record folks if he stays healthy -- at least eight Pro Bowls when all is said and done.

 

Pleasant shock

During my travels I also like to regale you fine folks with the best food or drink I come across and much to my shock the single best appetizer I've come across in years I got in the tiny town of Westminster.

 

The Gaelic Shrimp at O'Lordan's Irish Pub is worth a special trip. Unbelievable! I went with a few coaching buds from the Ravens and we couldn't believe our taste buds. The item is a bowl that's actually made out of garlic bread. The very top of the bread bowl is smothered in a creamy garlic sauce topped by perhaps the tenderest and most succulent shrimp I've ever had in my life. Look, I know most of you won't be venturing into Westminster any time soon but if you're ever close it's so worth the stop.