Bengals earning stripes with Lewis

CINCINNATI – In the closing minutes of another lopsided loss in 1992, rookie coach Dave Shula exhorted the Bengals’ defense to buck up and keep the other team from scoring again.

The reaction: Linebacker Gary Reasons grabbed the bill of Shula’s baseball cap and condescendingly jostled it side-to-side. All Shula did was rearrange the cap, look back at the field and overlook one of the moments that would come to define the Bungles.

Not a word of reprimand. Not a hint of embarrassment. Shula never even considered punishing Reasons.

“I don’t think it was that serious of an incident,” said Shula, who was in the process of losing 50 games faster than any coach in NFL history.

Fast-forward to last weekend. The resurgent Bengals are pushing the Baltimore Ravens around. Receiver Chris Henry catches a touchdown pass that all but clinches a 21-9 win, then takes off his helmet and draws a 15-yard penalty.

Does coach Marvin Lewis congratulate the rookie on his important play? Does he shrug off the penalty as a rookie mistake? Does he pretend it didn’t happen?

Not a chance. Lewis forcefully grabs the rookie’s facemask and reprimands him, then slaps his helmet and sends him on his way.

Those two contrasting sideline images best capture why the Bengals (7-2) have risen from punch line to playoff contender at their bye week. There’s a reason why they’re in first place in the AFC North at the season’s midpoint.

Like their coach, these Bengals don’t mess around.

“Instead of nonchalant, it’s more like business,” offensive guard Bobbie Williams said. “It’s like, ‘Let’s go get this.’ Seeing is believing. Players see what happens once we play hard, once we get after people. Wins occur.”

Other stuff occurred during the last 14 years. The Bengals changed coaches and quarterbacks and stadiums, but couldn’t win. Their ongoing streak of 14 seasons without a winning record is one of the longest in NFL history. Tampa Bay also went 14 years without a winning record from 1983-96.

The New Orleans Saints went their first 20 years without a winning record, gaining notoriety as the Ain’ts while setting the bar extremely low. Before Lewis arrived and got more clout than his predecessors, the Bengals looked like they were in position to give the Ain’ts a run for their record.

Only 13 players remain from the team that Lewis inherited in 2003. He got rid of malcontents in the locker room, upgraded a coaching staff weighed down by cronyism and got a recalcitrant front office to start acting like the rest of the league.

Enough pieces were in place when his third season began.

“He had to get who he wanted in,” said Williams, signed as a free agent from Philadelphia in 2004. “He had to bring in the right people and put them in the right places. Now that he’s got the players in there, it’s coming together.”

It’s more than that, of course. With the Bengals, nothing is ever simple.

They went 8-8 in each of their first two seasons under Lewis, who grew frustrated over their fragile confidence. Every time they got close to breaking through, they’d break down.

So, he cracked down from the first day of training camp last summer. No mistake was overlooked in practice. No late arrival to a meeting was forgiven. Players were given shirts that said, “Do Your Job,” the motto Lewis picked for the year.

He became the antithesis of Shula. He held players accountable. He demanded respect. He told them not to look beyond the next game. He limited their availability to the media, afraid they’d get distracted like they had in the past.

At first, it was a bit much.

Chatty receiver Chad Johnson bristled and compared Lewis to authoritarian coach Tom Coughlin. The Pro Bowl receiver became Lewis’ toughest sell, reluctant to constrain his fun-loving attitude, fondness for the spotlight and his love of lists that bring attention and motivation.

Lewis hates the receiver’s who-covered-me checklist so much that at one point, he told reporters the laminated chart taped to the side of Johnson’s locker doesn’t exist.

“There is no list because it’s not relevant,” Lewis said. “Just a figment of the imagination.”

The two contrary spirits – Lewis is old-school, Johnson comes from the school of trash talk – seem to be coming to an understanding. Johnson has become more careful with his words, making sure he doesn’t become divisive like the Eagles’ Terrell Owens.

“I’m not going to be T.O.,” Johnson said. “I’m not going to be Randy (Moss). I’m not going to moan. I’m not going to talk about my teammates. I’m going to be the fun guy.”

And Lewis is cutting him some slack. He confiscated one of Johnson’s inflammatory locker lists before the Ravens game, then gave it back after the win, pleasing the receiver.

Of course, it’s easier to have the right touch when the team is in first place.

“Everything is good when you win,” said right tackle Willie Anderson, who made the Pro Bowl but not the playoffs in nine previous seasons with Cincinnati. “You can find a million things to complain about when you lose.”

Either way, Lewis doesn’t want to hear it.