My last article on the NC State offensive line spring watch led to a tangent on my appreciation for said position. Before I knew it I had five paragraphs unrelated to the Wolfpack; instead I was focusing on what an asset the five guys up front can be. Or, a hindrance when they’re not cutting the mustard.
When the O-line is clicking, the rest of the offense can fall into place. No matter what scheme you’re running, if the wall up front is vulnerable, then you aren’t getting anything else done.
The line gets the most descriptive, visual nicknames too: Tunnel Workers, Big Uglies, Electric Company, Hogs.
Even the flashiest of these, The Electric Company (pictured above), is named after a blue-collar utilities service that quite simply keep the lights on. You gotta have lights and water in your house, and if you don’t you can bet someone will notice and alert you (re: kid whose Xbox won’t turn on).
The guys in the backfield and out wide won’t make a bit of difference unless the offensive line has itself in tip top shape. The O-line is a comically unsung group of beasts in the world of football.
When Eric Fisher of Central Michigan went number one overall to the Kansas City Chiefs in the 2013 NFL Draft it was just as sexy as a runny nose. Three of the first four picks in that draft were offensive tackles, so it goes to show what a hot commodity these guys are. It’s just that they aren’t sexy because, put bluntly, if the average person knows the name of an offensive lineman, it might be a bad thing.
Growing up in the bluest of blue-collar households, I’ve kept my father’s sense of work ethic and philosophy: if I never see or hear from the boss man, I’ve done a good job. The O-line is the blue-collar job that’s the nucleus of the whole offensive operation. The people down in the mines filling their lungs with soot are paving the way for the success of businesses and in some cases, entire mining towns.
In the above-mentioned draft, only two skill position players were selected in the top ten. I would bet the only semi-household name from those ten picks would be defensive end Barkevious Mingo, mostly due to his all-name team status.
Sexy pick or not, it’s the position that if we’re not talking about them, they’ve done their job.
When sack totals come out at the end of a season, and the O-line has kept their quarterback safe, the big fellas get their collective pat on the back (or a an LED curved TV).
Quarterbacks and linemen have a long history of beautiful symbiotic relationships. Many quarterbacks treat their linemen the way they should: like valuable bodyguards.
The position is honored in the postseason with their respective awards like the Outland Trophy, Rimington Trophy, and Lombardi Award. The latter includes offensive linemen in its eligibility, however defensive players seem to take the lion’s share of the wins.
The linemen are clanging and banging up front, mashing their brains in to the equivalent of a minor car accident. The skill players have to hold up their end of the bargain to make all this suffering up front worth it, and when they do yards and touchdowns pile up.
Targeting rules are helping to minimize the bone-crunching blows to the head that wide receivers endure when left vulnerable on a catch. These single shots are gruesome and can end a career in a heartbeat.
There is not much to be done to minimize the impact of two 300-pound men wailing on one another at the line of scrimmage. The kicking, spitting, and clawing going on in these scrums come with the territory.
We may never see an offensive lineman with groupies or kids waiting for autographs outside the stadium after a game, but you might see a grizzled fan in the nosebleeds with a pair of 15X binoculars peering into the mass of humanity on a goal line push. That’s the war we love in football.
For every spread offense that’s focused on running enough plays to make the defense puke its guts out, there are still offenses that want to make the defense puke from one good shot.
Either style is deserved of respect, especially if your team can out hustle my team and run a play before I can even get in a three-point stance, by all means run that play.
But there’s something to be said of a team that can still get in a huddle, call a play, break the huddle, line up and let that play clock run down to two seconds, then BAM! The firing off the ball at the snap is the gunshot at the start of a horserace, but instead of a slew of mustangs running, it’s a set of goliaths imposing their will on one another.
Even knowing the issues with our beloved contact sport we still love this aspect. Forty to 50,000 people will stand in unison on a 3rd or 4th and short. All the fans, too. We want to let these guys know we’re with them, and we’re gonna make enough noise to raise the dead (or cause an earthquake).
The offensive lineman plays the role of bassist or drummer in the rock band of football. You appreciate their work, but somehow they go unnoticed to the majority of fans, until they screw up. Ringo is a lovely Beatle, but if someone says their favorite Fab Four track is “Octopus’s Garden” buy ‘em a pint and get a new perspective on Abbey Road.
If you meet someone and their favorite NFL player of all-time is an offensive lineman, you buy them a pint as well because you’ve met someone truly unique to sports fandom.
If you meet someone whose favorite Beatle is Ringo and whose favorite player is an O-lineman, look around to see if I’m there putting them up to it. I don’t know if that person exists outside of my mind.
