Read an Excerpt
Go Deeper
Quarterback the Toughest Job in Pro Sports
By Pat Kirwan, David Siegerman Triumph Books
Copyright © 2015 Real Sports Content Media, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63319-447-2
CHAPTER 1
Young Guns
»Has the quarterback position reached an evolutionary crossroads?
"Times change. Circumstances change. And that's the reality of playing in the NFL."
His delivery may have been a little shaky, but, as usual, Peyton Manning was right on the money.
When he made that point, Manning wasn't yet a full minute into his final press conference as quarterback for the Indianapolis Colts. After 14 seasons, 141 wins, 7,210 passes, nearly 55,000 yards, 399 touchdowns, four MVP awards, about as many neck operations, countless commercials and one Super Bowl title, Manning's voice crackled with emotion as he prepared to move on from the only professional football organization he had ever known. The uncertainty of Manning's health and the certainty of a $28 million roster bonus due if he were still on the Colts' roster a few days later conspired to bring an end to a great chapter of one of the NFL's greatest careers.
Manning, of course, wasn't done. He moved on to Denver, where, in his first three seasons, all he did was set NFL single-season records for touchdown passes (55) and passing yards (5,477), become the league's all-time leader in touchdowns and take his new team to the Super Bowl.
But he was right. Times change. Circumstances change. Manning proved he could thrive after a change of scenery and system. And the Colts proved they, too, could adapt to their changing circumstances, replacing Peyton with Andrew Luck, who came out of Stanford regarded not so much as the second coming of Peyton Manning as Peyton 2.0. The next generation quarterback prototype.
Indianapolis, of course, could have gone a different direction with that first overall pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, bewitched by the world-class athleticism of Robert Griffin III. Just as there had been debate (if only media-manufactured outside the Colts' war room) that perhaps they should take Ryan Leaf with their first pick in 1998 over Manning, there was a growing case to be made for the Colts taking Griffin.
And why not?
A year earlier, Cam Newton had captured the imagination of every coach without a pocket passer on his roster with a rookie season as prolific as it was unprecedented:
• 4,051 passing yards (breaking Manning's own rookie record)
• 21 passing touchdowns (3-most all-time by a rookie QB)
• 706 rushing yards and 14 rushing TDs (most in a single season by any quarterback, not just a rookie)
As a passing quarterback, Newton was impressive. As a running quarterback, he was unheard of. Not only was Newton the Panthers' leading rusher that rookie season (he gained four yards more than DeAngelo Williams on 46 fewer carries), Ron Rivera used to tell me all the time that his quarterback was Carolina's entire running game in the red zone.
What intrigued the league most about Newton was the combination of dimensions: a quarterback who could dominate games with his arm and with his legs. Suddenly, fans and the media and coaches and front offices started to wonder whether an opportunity had emerged for a different breed of quarterback to succeed at football's highest level.
After all, there never have been enough elite passers to go around. Maybe the alternative to a middling passer was a different breed of quarterback altogether?
By the time the 2012 draft rolled around, more than a few decision makers convinced themselves they saw in Griffin the sequel to Newton's blockbuster debut. Ultimately, Washington paid the Rams a ransom for the right to take Griffin one pick after the Colts would take Luck.
In their excitement over this potential Next Big Thing, the Griffin enthusiasts overlooked a few critical considerations.
First, Griffin wasn't Newton. The rookie-year production turned out to be reminiscent (Griffin threw for 3,200 yards, rushed for 815, accounted for 27 total touchdowns and a rookie record 102.4 QB rating). But he didn't have Newton's physique (at 6'2", 212 pounds, Griffin was four inches shorter and 33 pounds lighter). And when Griffin's rookie season ended, crumpled on the Fed Ex Field turf with a buckled knee, that distinction could not be overstated. Newton was built to handle the pounding he took as a runner; Griffin and his sprinter's body were not.
The other key point was that, in 2012, a running quarterback did not represent a new way to win in the NFL. It still doesn't.
It never has. To date, there have been 49 Super Bowls played; not one was won by a run-around quarterback. Plenty of mobile, athletic quarterbacks won championships, from Roger Staubach to Joe Montana, Aaron Rodgers to Russell Wilson. Steve Young was probably the best runner of them all, but he was still a Hall of Fame passer, first and foremost. John Elway didn't win a Super Bowl until his most mobile days were behind him. Run-first quarterbacks are still 0-for-ever.
So much for the supposed running quarterback revolution. Times and circumstances change, but if you want to win a Super Bowl, you still need a quarterback who can win from the pocket.
A lot of fans are going to read this and dismiss it as inflexible and out of touch, a resistance to change.
Here's the reality ... quarterbacks who want to run are not new to the NFL. Fran Tarkenton ran around all over the place. Everyone loved watching him. It was entertaining. But he didn't win a Super Bowl. Neither did Randall Cunningham. Nor Jake Plummer. Or Mike Vick. Or Colin Kaepernick, though he came closer than any of the run-first QBs.
Quarterbacks with Griffin's skills may be revolutionary. But if those guys want to stay upright and in the league, they're going to wind up revamping their game more than redefining the way the position is played.
Ask any defensive coordinator what they fear more, a pocket passer with a quick delivery who can read coverage or a quarterback whose inclination at the first sign of trouble is to take off and try to beat you with his legs. To a man, they'll tell you that a good coverage reader is their nightmare opponent. A passer who will stay in the pocket and read through his progressions will find the matchup that best favors him; that guy will find a way to take advantage of the most vulnerable weakness of your defense. When a quarterback beats your coverage throwing the ball, he beats you for big gains. A running quarterback doesn't pose as big a threat.
And here's the essential thing to keep in mind ... Griffin would be the first to agree. I talked to him throughout the pre-draft evaluation process, around the draft, over the summer before his rookie season. All along, even back then, he expressed a genuine understanding of and commitment to taking his game where it needs to be. Whereas Newton has proven himself to be a pocket passer who can run (whose carries have declined every season), Griffin remains what he's always been – a runner still trying to become a pocket passer.
It's just not that easy to do. In fact, it's harder than ever, thanks to the predominance of the spread offense at the college level.
So many colleges run a version of the spread offense because of the many ways it makes a quarterback's job easier. Quarterbacks lined up in a spread formation can identify favorable matchups in their pre-snap read. The vast majority of the time, they find their first read is wide open, and they're able to make and complete their throw without having to think twice or progress to the next receiver. Spread offenses are designed to create no-brainer decisions for their quarterbacks; the unintended result is a generation of highly efficient college quarterbacks who don't develop into NFL-caliber decision-makers before they leave campus.
Consequently, the NFL winds up with an influx of quarterbacks like Geno Smith. As a senior at West Virginia, Smith passed for 4,205 yards, led the nation with 42 touchdowns, threw only six interceptions and completed 71.2 percent of his attempts (2nd best in the country). Then you look at how uncomfortable Smith appeared in his first two NFL seasons, when he completed less than 58 percent of his passes in his first 30 games with the New York Jets and threw more interceptions (34) than touchdowns (25). Smith didn't suddenly forget how to throw the football once he arrived in Florham Park; he just confirmed he wasn't yet comfortable behind the wheel of an NFL offense.
The spread isn't going away any time soon. Coaches at every level – not just in the NFL but in high school and college, too – are under pressure to win. A spread attack provides a framework for an offense to move the ball without depending on the presence of an elite quarterback talent. Which are as difficult to find at every level as they've always been. A college coach who can't recruit a blue chip passer turns instead to a guy who has the athletic ability to make plays with his feet, who also can make the easy throw designed for him by the spread.
The more teams play the spread, the more athletes they need to play receiver. A whole generation of 6'3" basketball players – guys probably too small to get a basketball scholarship – are now playing receiver in high school and college spread offenses. They're big, athletic targets, which benefits the quarterback, and they're playing a system that throws the ball 50 times a game and doesn't ask them to block a strong safety every other snap like in seasons past. Spread offense is basketball on grass, closer to the 7-on-7 game becoming popular across the country than it is to more traditional power football based on running the ball.
The more weapons like that you give a quarterback, the more he thrives in the spread. It becomes all he ever knows. Then, he gets to the NFL, where those one-read-and-done opportunities rarely exist. Defenses are too sophisticated and talented and fast. And you wind up with Johnny Manziel 2014. Johnny Football became Johnny Bench as he learned that none of the magic tricks that routinely worked at Texas A&M can survive at the next level.
The other issue with the spread is that it tempts the quarterback with running opportunities. The defense is spread all across the field, creating juicy running lanes that beckon for the quarterback to take off as soon as he sees his first-read receiver isn't open. Too many quarterbacks learn to run instead of read, and their long runs deep into a helpless defense will never discourage them from tucking and running.
At Baylor, Griffin became a runner, either by design or out of necessity, nearly 600 times – 510 carries plus 75 times he was sacked. That's roughly 15 times a game over his career when he either crossed the line of scrimmage as a runner or was stopped attempting to cross the line. Extrapolate that over a 16-game NFL season and you'd have about 240 plays when Griffin would be carrying the football instead of throwing it or handing it off. That's about as many times as Matt Ryan ran the ball in his first seven seasons. Only nine NFL running backs had that many carries in 2014.
Running the ball in the NFL guarantees a quarterback is going to get hit, which exposes him to getting hurt. The worst part of Griffin's rookie season knee injury wasn't the damage to the lateral and anterior cruciate ligaments (which required reconstructive surgery and significant rehabilitation). What hurt Griffin the most was the learning opportunity cost. The offseason between a quarterback's first and second NFL seasons typically is the most important in his development; Griffin wasn't healthy enough to take a single snap or run a single drill during that critically important window.
You hear all this, and you wonder how Mike Shanahan could have decided to trade three first-round draft picks plus a second to move up four spots and take a guy like Griffin, whose very strength would have to change to succeed in professional football. Shanahan got to the AFC Championship Game in 2005 with Jake Plummer as his quarterback in Denver; he knows as well as anyone that you can't win in today's NFL with that Plummer Package.
Why, then, would Washington have gone all-in for Griffin and not just been satisfied taking Kirk Cousins in the fourth round and developing him?
Easy ... because they believed Griffin's peerless running ability would become a huge asset once he developed his pocket skills. They weren't trying to reinvent the position; they saw promise that Griffin would develop into the kind of passer worthy of the second pick in the draft. So far, his spread pedigree – and the fact that he'd always been the best athlete on the field in every game he'd ever played before getting to the NFL – has proven too tough to overcome.
Which brings us to the challenge more and more head coaches across the NFL are facing when they bring in a young quarterback: How do you turn a promising dual-threat prospect from a spread system into a pass-first pro quarterback?
THE YOUNG QUARTERBACK'S LEARNING CURVE
Coaches need look no further back than 2011 for an example of one successful model. Carolina brought Newton along deliberately, setting a foundation and adding onto it as he became comfortable at each step. Because of the lockout that year, Rivera didn't get to work with Newton and the rest of the team he was taking over until training camp. So, he was forced to turn to Auburn's playbook, looking for things Newton was familiar with and could run confidently at the NFL level. Rivera found enough of what he needed to build them into the Panthers' offensive identity.
When they finally got to camp, Carolina slowly introduced the NFL offense to its #1 pick. First, they had Newton throw the deep out to Steve Smith – a pass every NFL quarterback has to make. Fortunately, most quarterbacks come into the league able to throw that ball, and having a target like Smith made it an easy first step for Newton. Once he could do that consistently, they added an option for the receiver – he could run the deep out or convert to a slant, depending on what the coverage dictated. Newton, who rarely had to read defenses at the line of scrimmage against overmatched college opponents, began to get the picture. Smith would run the slant when the corners lined up in off coverage and run the deep out when the corners were up. Eventually, the coaches added a Sluggo route – a slant-and-go. And then Newton learned to pump fake to freeze the corner. Step by step, he expanded his comfort zone and his repertoire and his effectiveness as a passer.
The Redskins did something similar with Griffin in 2012. And when they got to this point in Griffin's development, they took away that receiver he felt most comfortable throwing to. In 7-on-7 drills, they would triple-team that #1 option, forcing Griffin to reset his feet and find his second read – something he almost never had to do at Baylor. The eventual goal would be for the quarterback to learn where that second read is, and then build up to finding reads three and four. That's what successful NFL quarterbacks do. It can take pure pocket passers, like Eli Manning, years to develop this part of their game, and they have a huge head start over their spread counterparts.
All the while, Griffin would have been forbidden to run, under any circumstances. Perhaps the biggest challenge of Griffin's first training camp (and throughout his rookie season, no doubt) was learning to ignore that alarm in his head sounding whenever pressure came: "Run! Time to go!"
The coach's quandary in such situations is how to take things slowly enough for their young quarterback to develop at a comfortable pace but not so slowly that he's not learning enough of the offense to win a game.
Think about how this learning process applies to something as basic as running the bootleg. The bootleg is meant to surprise a defense – you'd have sworn it was a run play, but the quarterback kept the ball and broke to the edge, looking either to make a play downfield or tuck it and take off. It was a staple of the Plummer Package from Shanahan's Denver days, and something that, theoretically, would fit the skill set of an athletic quarterback like Griffin.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Go Deeper by Pat Kirwan, David Siegerman. Copyright © 2015 Real Sports Content Media, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Triumph Books.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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