HUT HUT-- PARADIGM SHIFT--HUT HUT...

 

               One of the terms favored by people who want to impress is “paradigm shift.”  It’s a fancy way of saying that something has changed fundamentally, at least for a while. One such has been underway in the National Football League for a few years now and has reached full bloom this season. It concerns quarterback, the game’s most important position.

               For just about all of this century and a few years before the beau ideal for the post was Peyton Manning, a tall, rugged, strong-armed sort who knew his place on the gridiron, which was in the “pocket” formed by his protecting linemen. If he carried the ball it was by necessity, when his pocket broke down and no alternative presented itself.  It was as though his career length was measured by the number of times he was tackled, and running served only to increase that risk.

No example is perfect and there were running quarterbacks during Manning’s tenure (1998-2015), Michael Vick being the most prominent. In 2006 he ran for 1,039 yards, breaking the 34-year record for the position held by Bobby Douglass, the lumberjack type who played for the 1970s’ Chicago Bears. Vick was an outlier, though, fit for inclusion in a Malcolm Gladwell book.

But Russell Wilson came along in 2012 and, with the help of the “slide rule” that protects ball carriers who give themselves up feet first, showed that dual threating could be an asset for an NFL signal-caller. In 2018 that rule was extended to include head-first surrenders, increasing the protection option.

 It took a 2014 Super Bowl title for Wilson’s Seattle Seahawks and few more seasons for him to prove his durability, but nine-year-vet Wilson’s role as an exemplar now is firmly established. A cadre of swift, versatile young quarterbacks currently ply their trade in the league and it’s no stretch to say they’re the new models for the post. Listed in no particular order they’re Lamar Jackson of the Baltimore Ravens, Patrick Mahomes of the Kansas City Chiefs, Deshaun Watson of the Houston Texans and Kyler Murray of the Arizona Cardinals. Jackson and Murray are 23 years old, Mahomes and Watson are 25, meaning that, with luck, each has many years ahead of him.

That can’t be said for the pocket passers who ruled the league before them and still might not be through. Tom Brady, newly of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, is 43 years old, the New Orleans Saints’ Drew Brees is 41, the Pittsburgh Steelers Ben Roethlisberger is 38 and the Green Bay Packers’ Aaron Rodgers is 37. They are in various stages of decrepitude, Brady showing the most wear this season, but can’t be expected to stick around much longer under best-case scenarios. Sculptors no doubt already at work fashioning their Hall of Fame busts won’t have to wait long for the unveilings.

               The league’s growing acceptance of dual-threat QBs is reflected in their draft status. Pioneer Wilson wasn’t drafted until the third round of the 2012 draft after a bifurcated college career at North Carolina State and the U. of Wisconsin and I think it’s correct to say the Seahawks weren’t sure what they were getting. Jackson lasted until the 32rd pick in 2018 and Mahomes and Watson were chosen 10^th and 12^th respectively in their years. By contrast, Murray went No. 1 in 2019 after the Cardinals renounced their top pick of the year before, pocket-passer Josh Rosen, to clear the decks for him.  Such an admission of error is rare in the draft-proud NFL.

               Among the above-mentioned new stars the best ball carrier by far is Jackson. He tucks it in (176 times last season) about twice as often as do Mahomes, Watson or Murray, and averages about six yards a try when he does. He has the mentality of a runner, sometimes lowering his shoulder when contact looms, which generally isn’t a good idea for a quarterback. He’s both speedy and elusive, his better runs making up a riveting highlights reel.  

               By me Mahomes is the best all-around QB of the four, elusive on the ground and able to get off accurate passes on the run and from unpromising positions. He’s the best in the league at those latter skills along with Green Bay’s Rodgers, who continues to wow ‘em at his advanced age.

Mahomes has the additional advantage of size, at a listed 6-foot-3 and 230 pounds being officially bigger than Jackson, Watson or Murray, or Rodgers, for that matter. Caveat here, though:  My distrust of program weights and measures is heightened by the fact that Rodgers looks like the bigger man when he and Mahomes are pictured together in those State Farm commercials.

Watson’s skills seem to be a match for those of either Jackson or Mahomes, but he’s played on worse teams so comparisons are difficult. Suffice it to say that I wish my Chicago Bears had picked him (or Mahomes) instead of Mitch Trubisky in the 2017 draft. Watson’s teams haven’t gone far but he is well represented in the NFL record book, among other things being the fastest player to both pass for at least 6,500 yards and run for 500.

Murray is a case apart, at 5-feet-10 a little man in a big man’s game. While Jackson strides with the ball Murray tiptoes, pitter patting prettily around tacklers and along sidelines. I’d love to see a footrace between the two. Because he played only two collegiate seasons as a starter, one at Texas A&M and one at Oklahoma, Murray is still very much a work in progress, especially in the passing department. He’s a thrill to watch, though, and by himself is worth the price of admission.

A specter hangs over the young quarterbacks in the person of Robert Griffin III. He ran opponents crazy in his 2012 rookie year with the Washington Whatchacallits but was laid low by a late-season knee injury and never has been the same thereafter. Football’s a dangerous game in all cases but especially so for running QBs. Be careful guys, it’s a jungle out there.

              

 

AS IT IS UNWRITTEN, SO SHALL IT BE

 

               In a National Football League game a couple of weeks ago the Cincinnati Bengals badly trailed the Baltimore Ravens when, stuck in a fourth-down situation with time expiring, they kicked a field goal to make the final score 28-3. Ravens’ coaches and players made a fuss, asserting that a team avoiding the opprobrium of a shutout in such a manner wasn’t being, uh, polite.

               That rough-tough football types can turn into Emily Posts might have caused some to snicker, but really it was old stuff in the sporting realm. As just about every fan older than age eight knows, all sports have two rule books-- one written and official and the other unwritten but supported by custom and based on notions of sportsmanship. A competitor breaking the former is punished immediately by the refs, umps, etc. One breaking the latter is supposed to be judged in the courts of peer and public opinion.

               I’ve been around for a while but I found the Ravens’ beef with the Bengals surprising. What’s the big deal about a shutout, anyway? I guess it’s because taking offense is much in style these days. Everyone’s soooo sensitive.

               One funny thing about sports’ unwritten rules is that they often are written about— just check the Internet. Another is that agreement about some of them isn’t close to unanimous. Take the one about how BASEBALL FANS SHOULD THROW BACK OPPONENTS’ HOME RUN BALLS. That’s the custom in some ballparks—Chicago’s Wrigley Field for one—but not others. Further, it’s common knowledge that some Wrigley bleacherites bring balls with them to throw back should a foe’s home run land in their laps.

               There is agreement about how winners should behave in lopsided games, which is that THEY SHOULDN’T RUN UP THE SCORE. In baseball that means not stealing bases, bunting or hitting on 3-0 counts in the late going, in football abjuring the pass and in basketball slowing things down and dribbling out the final seconds. Trouble is, the definition of what constitutes “lopsided” varies; in baseball, is it 8-0 after inning seven, 10-0 or 12-0? It’s especially a problem in basketball where triple-digit scores and 30-plus-point margins are common. It’s my observation that except for that final-possession thing hoopsters will head hoopward.

               Also on the good-winner’s list are codes of individual behavior best summarized in the baseball dictum DON’T PIMP YOUR HOME RUNS, which means don’t celebrate individual triumphs excessively. That one has come to be honored mostly in the breach across the sports spectrum. It’s especially true in football, where the slightest achievement is marked by dancing, muscle flexing, chest pounding or other display. Baseball used to take the line seriously but no more, as witnessed by the late World Series. Bat flipping after home runs now is de rigueur, as are pitcher fist pumps after key strikeouts. Baseballers haven’t advanced to football’s level of choreographed touchdown celebrations, but I don’t doubt they soon will.

               Just as there are rules about winning, there also are rules about losing graciously or, at least, stoically. Baseball pitchers are expected NOT TO SHOW DISPLEASURE WHEN A TEAMMATE MAKES AN ERROR and all baseballers are obliged NOT TO RUB THE AFFECTED AREA WHEN HIT BY A PITCH. As little sense as that last one makes it’s almost universally observed.

 On a team level, losers are instructed NOT TO LEAVE THE FIELD OR FLOOR BEFORE A GAME OFFICIALLY ENDS.  A violation there sparked one of sport’s most-notorious feuds, between the basketballers Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls and Isiah Thomas of the Detroit Pistons. It began when some Pistons headed for the lockers before the final whistle after being swept in a 1991 NBA playoff series by the Bulls, a team it had bedeviled for several years previously.  Jordan blamed it on Thomas, the Pistons’ team leader, and is said to have used his considerable influence to keep Thomas off the 1992 U.S. Olympic “Dream Team.” The bad blood between the two greats continues to this day.

Athletes sometimes lose their tempers in the heat of play and turn to fisticuffs. That’s a topic of a couple of seemingly contradictory unwritten rules. One is that TEAMMATES MUST RUSH TO ONE ANOTHER’S AID WHEN A FIGHT BREAKS OUT. The other is that LATECOMERS TO THE FRAY MUST NOT THROW PUNCHES.  That last dictum makes special sense at the pro level because the last thing a highly paid jock needs is to risk injury in someone else’s silly fight. The funny thing about team fights is that they seem to be the least frequent in football, the sport where the most legal man-to-man combat is allowed. My guess is that’s because a footballer with a beef against a foe can take it out in one of the game’s every-play pileups.

Baseball pitchers are expected to RETALIATE WHEN A TEAMMATE IS INTENTIONALLY HIT BY A PITCH, but since pitchers rarely admit to hitting someone the “intentional” part often is in question, and as in real life the notion of revenge easily can get out of control. Further, giving a foe a free baserunner hardly adds up to settling a score.

Baseball leads all sports in unwritten rules and nothing in the game surpasses the prospect of a no-hitter to roll them out. Teammates are ordered NOT TO SAY A WORD TO THE PITCHER AFTER THE FIFTH INNING, and broadcasters are cautioned never to say that a no-no is in progress after that point. I don’t know what goes on in the dugouts but, in recent years at least, broadcasters seem to never have heard of the ban. That’s a good thing.

More controversial is the rule that BATTERS SHOULDN’T TRY TO BREAK UP A LATE-INNING NO-HITTER BY BUNTING. That one came up most prominently in a 2001 game between the Arizona Diamondbacks and San Diego Padres when D-back pitcher Curt Schilling took a perfect game into the eighth inning only to have it ruined by a bunt single by Padres’ Ben Davis.

 The D-backs went ballistic during and after the contest. Davis wasn’t having it, pointing out that the score was 2-0 at the time and his hit brought the tying run to the plate. Interviewed years later the otherwise undistinguished catcher said the still-famous incident worked out well for him. “It’s better to be known for something than for nothing,” he said.