How Georgia Lost the SEC Championship - RB Pass Pro

You either win with fundamentals or you get beat with fundamentals.  Georgia was reminded of this bitter lesson in the 2012 SEC Championship Game that saw them battle toe to toe with defending national champion Alabama.  They valiantly drove down the field in the last minute, only to see the clock run out because of a tipped pass in an awful and surreal ending for the stunned Bulldogs, who expected to be able to see Aaron Murray throw two plays into the end zone with the ball at the 8-yard line and 15 seconds left (Chris Brown at Smart Football analyzes the clock logistics of the play here).  The tipped pass by Alabama LB, C.J. Mosley, was seen as horrible luck, but really the play was preventable with proper fundamentals from the RB position.

Most young RBs have trouble getting on the field because of pass protection—not understanding the scheme of what to do and not being to execute it correctly.  The game of football depends on the execution of all 11 players and a freshman RB made a poor play at the worst possible moment for the Bulldogs (one of many plays from the game that Georgia would like to change, not to pin the entire loss on one player).  I will analyze the play by using the RB Pass Pro fundamentals that I got from a clinic talk by Tony Ball, the RB Coach (from 2006-2009) and now, WR Coach at Georgia, so you will get coached up with the same coaching points this player will be hearing as he watches this film with his coaches.

Here's the film, courtesy of CBS Sports and the SEC Network:

How Georgia Lost 2012 SEC Championship - RB Pass Pro from Barry Hoover on Vimeo.

Fundamentals of RB Pass Protection

1.  Scan the Defense. 

Check.  The RB scanned the defense and knew who to block.

2.  Step with Inside Foot First. 

Check.  The RB stepped first with his inside foot to get inside leverage and to get his body turned correctly. 

3.  Close Space Quickly. 

Big mistake here.  Both the RB and the LB started off 5 yards from the LOS (line of scrimmage), so theoretically they should meet halfway—at or near the LOS.  Instead of expanding the pocket to give room for the QB to throw, the pocket is condensed.

4.  Punch. 

Even with the mistake of the RB not closing the space quickly, he can still do his job and block his man if he punches him at all.  Instead, the defender takes off at the 11-yard line and continues in the air relatively unimpeded and tips the ball at the 13-yard line.

5.  Expand the Pocket. 

After the punch, the RB should continue to force the defender outside to expand the pocket.  The RB "opens up the gate" and lets the pass rusher get upfield vertically instead of widening him.  On a drop-back pass that takes longer to develop, the RB would need to keep his feet working to widen the rusher and expand the pocket.

A critical error was that the RB did not take the protection into account on how he attacked his defender.  The Fade-Flat combination on this pass play is designed to be used with quick protection.  The Georgia Offensive Line did a terrific job of firing out and stopping the Alabama Defensive Line at the LOS.  The Left Tackle cut block the Defensive End, making him a non-factor in the play as well.  All that was left was the RB's block on the blitzing LB to give Georgia QB Aaron Murray's pass a chance to reach its intended target in a play that will torture the Bulldogs for what could have been.

Steve Logan on the shallow cross and blitz-control

Steve Logan, currently with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and formerly the offensive coordinator for Boston College and head coach of East Carolina, has a nice presentation on using "hot" routes in the dropback game. This is a nice companion to my recent discussion on the "shallow," "drive," and "drag" concepts. (I also recently linked to Logan discussing four-verticals.)

Steve Logan on the four verticals

Came across this video by Steve Logan (East Carolina HC, Boston College OC) discussing the route. (Logan is underrated as a passing/offensive guy.) It's a nice supplement to my recent article on the concept with Dan Gonzalez. Logan is focused on "hot reads" and defeating blitzes.



Good video, though shoot me if I ever use the phrase "we want to be very offensive."

Linemen Splits

This doesn't always come up, but one of the most interesting games within the game in football are the splits between the offensive linemen. Some teams use a lot of wide splits, with as much as three to even six feet between linemen, while others keep it closer to roughly a foot, or even toe-to-toe. But like everything else in football, what kind of splits you take is informed both by what the defense does and what your philosophy is.

To understand why splits matter, you need to understand how defensive fronts align. Typically, most defenses are taught to align on the basis of where the offensive guys align, which makes sense because those defenders are trying to get through or around the blockers to get to the running back or quarterback. So defensive linemen and linebackers were told from the earliest days of football to align "on the inside eye of the guard," "heads up the center," or "on the outside eye of the tackle." The linebackers had similar instructions, though they aligned behind the offensive line. Over time, defenses got better at mixing up these alignments, even before the snap. We've all seen linemen shift from the outside eye of the guard to the gap between the guard and center, or simply align late. All this is designed to confuse blocking schemes.

So as offenses became more complex, it became necessary to give linemen rules that would allow the run play to be blocked no matter what games the defense played, and to do that you needed a nomenclature that could be communicated via playbook as well as on the sideline (or at the line) in the heat of a game. This system became known as the assignment of defensive "techniques" to each defensive player. The credit for it is typically given to Alabama's legendary coach Bear Bryant, though he gives much of the credit to Bum Phillips. Below is an example of the numbering system.



Note that this is not the same as "hole numbering," because it is about where the defender aligns not where the run is designed to go. Although it looks a bit confusing, this system is used at literally every level of football, from pee wee football to the NFL. Below is another diagram with slightly different nomenclature, though it also specifies the "gaps." (Hat tip to the USC Trojan Football Analysis site for the image.)

So now that we know that defenses align based on where the offense aligns, and we know that offenses identify defenses based on the alignment, we can discuss splits. It's a bit of an oversimplification, but the choice is basically between tight or wide splits. I begin with tight splits.

Tight Splits

Tight splits are the most common. In fact, most people probably don't think of them as tight, but merely notice when they see "wide splits." Below is an example of a typical alignment.

The advantage of tight splits are easy to see: Linemen are close to each other so you can get good teamwork between them; there are few or at least narrow gaps between them; and the line is constricted to keep defenders away from outside runs and quick outside throws.

The teamwork part cannot be underemphasized. One reason that tight splits are so common is because zone running and slide protection is so popular today. Zone running requires linemen to step in a direction, double-team guys in their area, and then one of them works up to block the linebacker. If the linemen are too far apart, you cannot get a good double-team, and the play won't go. For slide protection, linemen slide into a gap, and work together to create a fence for the QB. Any unblocked rushers must come from the outside, as the priority is to prevent a blitzer or linemen up the middle.

The point about gaps is similar. But the point about constricting the line for outside plays is underemphasized. Most teams, when they want to run an outside option play or a sweep of some kind, will have their line condense in by cutting their splits. That way a fast runner can get outside quickly.

Wide Splits

Wide splits are more interesting. Traditionally, the teams with the widest splits were option running teams. That might sound surprising, but the reason was is that they used a lot of man blocking rules (i.e. block your man, rather than zone an area). More importantly though, by splitting out, because the defense aligned on the basis of where the offensive linemen were, the guy the QB was reading was split out. So if on the triple option you wanted your QB to first read the defensive tackle ("T") and then the defensive end ("E"), you'd split your linemen out to give him more time to make each successive read. (Hat tip: Hugh Wyatt)


You also simply created wide running lanes inside by having your linemen split out so wide. If you watched the old Nebraska teams, while they didn't take enormous splits, they did have wide ones for both their inside option plays and inside man blocking runs.

But there's a new trend for wide splits, and that's with air-it-out passing teams like Texas Tech. Traditionally passing teams took very narrow splits to stop inside penetration, Texas Tech takes exceptionally large splits. Their rationale is a few-fold: (a) make the pass rushers come from farther away and enlarge the pocket, (b) open up throwing lanes for the quarterback, and (c) because they throw so much, all they need is a block or two to have an effective draw play -- the defensive ends aren't even really a factor. They can do this because they are almost exclusively a "man" pass protection team, just as the old Lavell Edwards BYU offenses were. (Indeed, Mike Leach's offense is a direct descendent from BYU's offense, he spent time there as an assistant, and many of his other coaches had experience at BYU as players or coaches when Edwards and Norm Chow were there.)

The obvious concerns are that if one guy gets beat in pass protection then there is no help, and also that there are wide gaps for linebackers to shoot through. For the latter, Tech feels like they can hurt that in other ways, through quick passes, screens, outside run plays, and traps. And they also feel that they can simply teach their linemen to be smart and reactive, and still stop that kind of penetration.

For the former problem though, the answer is simply that they have to have good blockers. They freely admit that they put their linemen one on one a great deal of the time, but their philosophy is that if someone gets to the quarterback, everyone knows who got beat. More and more teams have been adopting this strategy.

As a side note, I observe that Leach went to this trend after he got away from having a two-back formation as his primary one for passing downs. With a two-back offense you can stop a lot of overload passing threats to either side, but with a one-back formation -- Leach's current primary version -- the wide splits were necessary to take those extra rushers out of the play. For more on all this, see my old article here. And you can get a flavor for what Texas Tech does in the video below:

Conclusion

So in sum, the choice of what splits a team uses will vary by play. Some will rely on teamwork and overwhelming force to overpower the defense, others will play games with varying them to set up the play they have called, and others, like Texas Tech, build it into their philosophy. As a final thought, many of you might think: Hey, if you always go tight splits for outside runs and wide for inside runs, won't the defense catch on? The response is the same one Bill Walsh would give when he heard this concern: If you have built a tendency (like running inside whenever you go wide splits), you simply self-scout, figure that out, and then confuse the defense by breaking your own tendency. Some of his biggest plays came when he broke his own tendencies.

Pass Protection, the Super Bowl, Tom Brady, and the Blind Side

Question: What is the second highest paid position in the NFL? (Quarterback is first.) Cornerback? Wide receiver? Don’t guys like Randy Moss and Terrell Owens make ridiculous money? What about linebackers? Wait, it must be running back: guys like Clinton Portis and LaDainian Tomlinson command huge salaries.

No.

Answer: The second highest paid position in the NFL is left offensive tackle. It’s not really even close. Since the highest paid position is QB, it stands to reason that you’d pay a lot to protect him. Interestingly, until free agency arrived, all offensive linemen were paid the same. Centers, tackles, and guards all earned similar salaries. And, as a whole, linemen fell somewhere in the middle of the NFL salary hierarchy. When free agency hit, the age of the highly paid left tackle arrived.

Why Left Tackle?

There is a two word answer to why left tackles are now paid so highly. The first word is “Lawrence” and the second word is “Taylor.” Under Bill Parcells and Bill Belichick, Lawrence Taylor destroyed opposing quarterbacks and helped the Giants win two Super Bowls. One legend tells of an opposing Quarterback calling a timeout because he couldn’t find number 56 before the snap. Identifying LT was typically necessary since the Giants moved him around on defense. But that time, the timeout was wasted: LT was simply catching a breather on the sideline. Whoops.

But LT’s hits did more than just derail a team’s passing attack for the afternoon. LT derailed careers. He knocked Joe Montana out for a season and, most famously, LT basically ended Joe Theisman’s playing career by inflicting some kind of multi-break spiral fracture of the likes not seen since the middle ages.

So the football reason that tackles are so highly paid – and the reason most practical to us here – is that an effective pass rush, particularly from a pass rusher that you cannot block, can totally shut you down. Such pass rush takes away large portions of your offense and forces you into predictable responses. The most sound of pass protections usually start out with the understanding that if the defense rushes five or six guys, you can pick them up, but your blockers will have to be able to block at least one defender one-on-one. No pass protection scheme can count on double teaming all possible rushers. If you can’t handle Lawrence Taylor man-for-man, then a five man rush becomes like a seven or eight man blitz, but also with sound coverage behind it.

I do just want to touch on the point about injuries and give credit for the above where it is due. Much of this discussion is the thesis of Michael Lewis’s book, The Blind Side.* Once modern passing teams became dependent on throwing the ball, the Quarterback, it became understood, became indispensable to team success. And once “pass rushing specialists” began to appear, one absolutely had to have guys who could block them. If your team can’t block them, it’s either going to be a long afternoon of sacks and incompletions, or your QB might end up in the hospital (taking your program or your team’s financial investment with him). Indeed, sport has no parallel for the quarterback who is consistently hit during his pass set-up and follow through. Imagine a freakishly large and fast linebacker like Shawn Merriman slamming full speed into a baseball pitcher in the middle of his wind-up, or Lawrence Taylor drilling Tiger Woods in the middle of his backswing. Remember, even LT’s 1990 New York Giants had to win the Super Bowl with their backup quarterback because their starter, Phil Simms, had gone down with an injury late in the year.

Blitzing: The All-Out Blitz

Contrary to what you might hear on TV, football is not really about “creating one-on-one matchups.” Sometimes this works, like if you’re a high school team and you have a future Randy Moss and they have a 5’10” guy who runs a 5.1 forty-yard dash at cornerback. Then one-on-one sounds great. But the better strategy is to force one defender into dealing with two offensive players. Think of option plays (one defender and two ball carriers), double-team blocks (two blockers and one defender), and good zone stretching pass concepts where one defender must account for two receivers (such as when a single free safety must deal with two receivers releasing free down the seams). An offense creates these two-for-one’s by forcing the defense to overcompensate somewhere else, such as where the defense is forced to commit two to cover one, or three to cover two receivers. One-for-one across the board will not get an offense home. Indeed, the Giants were always praying that they could get LT on a “one-on-one matchup.”

When most think of blitzing they think of all-out blitzes. It’s a truism that a defense may always bring one more guy than the offense can block: the ballcarrier’s counterpart. If an offense protects with ten the defense could still blitz eleven; if the offense protects with nine, releases one, and the QB stood back there the defense could still blitz ten. (See diagram.)

This has theoretical significance but is also (somewhat) practically irrelevant. The theoretical significance is that you can’t beat a defense by simply adding more blockers. But don’t make too much of this. On the one hand, you can’t solve blitzing problems by just adding more blockers because of the ball carrier’s counterpart problem evident in the diagram. But on the other hand, teams are less likely to blitz more people the more blockers you add. If you blocked with five most defenses might blitz six people 35% of the time; if you block with six they might blitz with seven 25%; if you protect with seven they might be willing to blitz eight 5-10% of the time; and if you protect with eight the likelihood of blitzing nine drops to almost nil.

Why that is, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s a matter for cognitive psychologists, in that there is an irrational risk aversion to creating the same scenario – a single extra rusher – that arises when the D must rush eight or nine that isn’t present when the defense only needs to rush six or seven to get that extra rusher. Some offensive guys think it is extremely irrational (and thus an exploitable irrationality) because an all-out blitz against a spread set gives their QB more places to go with the football, more receivers to criss-cross and rub, and more opportunities to get an open man. Other offensive guys play the perceived irrationality the other way, knowing that if they protect with seven or eight then they will deter blitzing.

Then again, maybe this behavior from defensive coaches is rational, because more blockers might create the same scenario – a free rusher – but that free rusher might have to come from farther away, thus giving the QB more time to find an open guy. I tend to think the picture is complicated, but there is much merit to this last contention. A 15-25 yard completion against a blitz is far more threatening (and thus a better deterrent) than a 5-8 yard completion which a spread set might require with only five or six blockers.

There are excellent passing teams that take a “protect-first” approach, where the idea is to hit big passes against all-out blitzes and to play the percentages that a defense will get deterred from blitzing, and there are spread-teams that rely on hot routes, multiple receivers and quick passes. These teams seek to invite the blitz, betting that if they can get athletes the ball in space then they will break for big gains. There are good teams that mix and blend the two approaches, and there are inefficient and weak passing teams that lack focus and discipline across this spectrum. Like much in football, it is only partially a matter of what you do and more significantly an issue of how well you do whatever it is you do.

But the upshot is that the all-out blitz is not really where the action is at, at least among evenly-matched teams in high school, college, or the pros. Dealing with the all-out man blitz is a threshold question: if you can’t beat it, your offense will be shut down; if your defense gets burned every time (and you keep going to it) you will have a long afternoon. In this way, the all-out blitz battle between offense and defense is an example of constraint theory playing out.

Basic Principles of Dropback Protection

This is a deep and varied subject, but we have to have a little background to understand how the pass rush/protection game plays out. There are two types of protection schemes: (1) area or zone schemes, and (2) man schemes. Some protections blend these two approaches, either explicitly or implicitly.

(1) Area Schemes: An area scheme is where a group of blockers set up in a given areas and then sort and pick-up whatever “trash” comes through. For example, if the center, guard, and tackle are responsible for one side of the protection, and the defense crosses and twists a couple defensive linemen and a linebacker. This is probably the soundest “protect-first” approach, and good teamwork will allow the line to deal with defensive creativity with a simple sound approach.

Problems with area schemes arise when you introduce runningbacks, tight ends, or H-backs into the equation. The problem is twofold:

(a) An area scheme could leave you with a terrible match-up, such as a runningback on a defensive end (or Lawrence Taylor).

(b) An area-assigned protector who is also a skill player (like a tight end, H-back, or runningback) has a difficult time releasing into the route if the defense does not blitz. So any of those skill players who you have assigned to an area scheme likely will not get out into the route, and you might only have three receivers trying to get open against seven pass defenders. For example, see the diagram below.

Above, we put the guard, tackle, and Y (TE) on an area scheme, making them responsible for the defensive tackle, the defensive end, and the Stronside linebacker (Sam or “S”). If they were to stunt or twist, we’d be in good shape, but look what happens here: the DT and the DE just rush, and the Sam linebacker drops into coverage. So now the Y has to stay in to protect (where he is matched up with a defensive end!), the tackle blocks no one at all, and, at most, we can only get four men into the route. There are ways around this, but I want to highlight the concern.

(2) Man Schemes: The offensive front will identify their counterparts on defense and block them where they go. This is not always absolute. Typically linemen will still employ a modified area scheme (where they will trade defenders who twist), but running backs and the like, because they are set back further away from the line, can go where their counterpart goes easier than a lineman can. Look at the diagram below, the RB is assigned to the Weak (“W”) linebacker on a “man” principle. Wherever he goes, he is responsible for blocking him. If Will does not rush, the RB will release into the pass route. Similarly, H is responsible for the Strongside linebacker (“S”), and if he does not rush, then H will release into the route.

Man blocking seeks to eliminate the problems we identified with area schemes: as in the diagram above, a “BOB” approach - short for “Big on Big” and “Back on Backer.” The idea is that the linemen will take the big defensive linemen (who also tend to rush the passer on most plays), while the runningbacks or H-Backs will block the linebackers, who are both more their size and less likely to rush the passer than a defensive lineman. So you avoid both area scheme problems: the matchups should be better for the offense and, if the defense only rushes three or four, your skill guys can still get out into the route.

(3) Combo protection: An extremely common protection is to area block one side of the line and man block the other side, typically the side with the runningback. There is some dissension among coaches, but my view is that almost all six-man protections employ this concept, whether they do it explicitly (as I advocate) or implicitly, as others do. The idea is that most teams find it advantageous to teach their linemen to area block stunts and twists, so you wind up with a combo concept. I first explained this protection years ago here. Note that this protection employs my preferred form of "area" or "zone" protection, which is the "slide" protection. The details are explained below, but each area-blocking lineman "slides" to the gap away from the callside. I advocate a "full-slide" for many quick game routes, but below is my half-slide, which is the most useful and versatile protection I know of.

The base rules for this protection are as follows: Linemen to the callside [here, the right side] block man on until the first bubble (i.e. uncovered linemen, though the term "bubble" helps prevent against confusion due defensive players stunting). [Here the first uncovered lineman is the center.] From the bubble to backside the other will linemen will all slide away from the callside to that gap, and, as we like to say, pick up trash. For example versus a standard four man front, with the center uncovered, the center, backside guard and tackle will slide that way. The playside guard and tackle will block man on. The RB blocks LBs inside to out, from the bubble to outside rusher, or if you like Mike to Sam. If they don't come he releases.

There’s another very important concept, the dual-read. The dual-read is simply where a blocker is responsible for two-men. Usually there is a one and two: if one comes, he gets blocked, if two comes, the blocker must wheel out and block them. If they both come, he will only block one and the quarterback and receivers must complete the pass before two can get to the QB. This is easy and common for runningbacks. In the 1980s and for much of the 90’s it was common to do this with linemen (such as guards), but the practice has significantly decreased because it’s hard for a guard to wheel out and block an outside rusher. It became much more difficult in the late 90s and 2000s because defenses became good at freezing the lineman so he couldn’t get out there.

The Pass Protection Chess Match

So after this romp across protection concepts, we’re ready to understand some basics about the chess match between offense and defense. But first, a few preliminary remarks.

More than any other factor, sacks are primarily a function of the QB holding onto the ball too long, protection be damned. Any coach worth his salt is going to hold a stopwatch any time his QB drops back in practice. TV announcers who seek out what lineman to blame often miss the point: the QB needs to get rid of the ball quickly. The QB has just a couple of seconds to release the ball. Only a small percentage of sacks in the NFL and college can fairly be laid at the linemen’s feet. Now, the QB may get pressured, or have to throw it away, but most sacks are the QB’s fault.

Further, it is up to the playcaller not to make the QB a sitting duck. No one should ever call four straight drop-back (or play-action dropback) passes in a row. If the defense is going to take target practice, you should at least make your quarterback a moving target. I mean, “that’s [your] quarterback.”

The two best changeups – other than the run game – are the three-step passing game (see also here) and the screen game. But remember: the three-step game, as Bill Walsh said, was designed to take away obvious opportunities from the defense, such as loose outside coverage. Three-step passes are not necessarily sufficient to sustain your offense, and further, good defenses will bait you into throwing quicks and then will come up to make the tackle. Similarly for screens, if a defense is prepared for it, it’s often a negative play. So it’s all about finding the proper mix. This is all consistent with constraint theory.

Finally, do not forget about half-rolls and sprintouts. The run-and-shoot was based entirely on the half-roll principle, and I explained the sprint-out sometime ago here.

The Zone Blitz, the Hot Read, and the Dual Read

Hot Reads

I think the “zone blitz” is maybe the favorite term of the uninformed football commentator (second only to that abominable word, “trickeration”). But what is a “zone-blitz”? A defense does not zone blitz every time a defensive lineman drops into pass coverage. In fact, the defense does not even have to drop a defensive lineman at all to zone blitz. (I set aside here the abstract theoretical question of what to call it if a defense has no defensive linemen on the field at all.)

Instead, as the name implies, a “zone-blitz” means exactly what it says: a defense “zone-blitzes” anytime it “blitzes” or rushes linebackers or secondary players and plays a zone – as opposed to a man – coverage behind it. That sounds simple, right? I suppose commentators try to fancy it up since it’s obvious that teams have played zone behind blitzes for as long as teams have thrown the football. But, nevertheless, for much of the last century, most “blitzes” were tied to man coverage.

The reason is that most zone blitzes left intolerable holes in the coverage. If the defense blitzed two guys from the same side, a receiver to that side would run a route to wherever those defenders had just left, catch a quick pass, and pick up nice yardage. So defenses would typically bring their blitzes with man coverage in an attempt to take away these quick passes, and the game largely became about personnel and a QB’s poise under fire. And the Run and Shoot, among other offenses, relied on their screen game to deter all-out blitzes, because if the defense blitzed and the RB carried out his fake block properly, there was no one to cover him and he romped for a big gain. As Homer Smith has explained:

[L]earn from the great Run-And-Shoot teams that did not get blitzed for 20 years. Block a known rusher with an inside receiver and keep a second defender at bay with a delayed pass threat. (The Run-And-shoot singleback would block the end-of-line rusher and break off of the block four times a game for screen passes. Not until the advent of the zone blitz was the vaunted offense blitzed.)

So why is talk and usage of the zone-blitz so ubiquitous now? The reason is that, especially if you do have athletic defensive linemen, you can play games with where you bring your blitzers from and solve the two historical problems. See the diagram below for the basic “Fire Zone,” the most common variety ofzone-blitz.

(1) You notice in the above diagram that the defense is “blitzing” the Middle (Mike, or “M”) and Strongside (Sam, or “S”) linebackers. Under the old way, before the modern zone-blitz became prevalent, a common strategy would be to try to hit a receiver from the spot where the defense just left. Either the TE on a quick pass or, as here, the outside receiver on a slant. But, the strong safety is able to rotate down and take that away. Why can he do that? Because the backside defensive end has drifted out to the flat, and allowing the coverage to rotate towards the side the blitzers have come from. This makes the QB’s reads very murky, and murky is bad when big defensive guys are about to crush you.

So it is not the mere fact that a defensive end has dropped out and this “confuses” the QB and he throws it to some big lineman, though that sometimes happens. Defensive coaches do not want to actually put their defensive linemen in the spot where they think the ball might go – they recognize that they are not good pass defenders. The hope instead is to “hide” that defender, but still use him to allow the rest of the guys to get in a basically sound zone. Here, if the QB throws the slant, the safety will pick it off and take it the other way.

The other thing you will notice, is that by blitzing the Mike and the Sam the RB – here “F” – must stay in and protect the QB. That is significant because somewhere else on the line, either the backside tackle or guard, or possibly the center based on the stunt, will wind up blocking no one. In coach-speak this is called “blocking air.” So the defense has gained an advantage in yet another way: despite only bringing five guys, which presumably the offense would like to handle with its five offensive linemen while releasing the five receivers, the offense is protecting with six and can only release four receivers into the route. This is the chess match.

As another point, I mention that zone blitzes - since they only rush four to six defenders - are really designed to destroy six-man protections, which have traditionally been extremely popular with pass first teams. Even two-back, one TE teams like Bill Walsh's 49ers typically used six-man protections. I touch on some of the other counters to the zone-blitz in this article, but the simplest, and most effective, is to simply use a 7-man protection scheme (one is diagrammed above under "Man Schemes"). Although it is more likely that you might lose a possible receiver to a protection responsibility, it is better that than to give your QB a difficult hot or sight adjustment read or that he gets sacked. Moving on.

(2) The second point is more basic, which is that the screen to the RB that Homer Smith referenced above, which against a man blitz required two defenders to watch, is now largely neutralized – or at least its effects mitigated – because like a normal defense you have linebackers and safeties reading the play who can come up to tackle the back if they read screen.

Dual Read

In 2004, the Pittsburgh Steelers made an impressive run through the NFL playoffs, beating the Indianapolis Colts (an offensive juggernaut) along the way, and polishing off the Seattle Seahawks in the Super Bowl. I’m sure the terrible-towel wavers found this significant for many reasons, but for me, it signaled another nail in the coffin of asking offensive linemen to dual read.

As shown above, it’s not uncommon to ask a running back or even an H-back to “dual read,” or read two different men to see whether they blitz. The QB knows that if only one or the other blitzes, then it should be taken care of. He only has to read “hot” – i.e. an expedited throw – if both blitz. In theory.

Now, many coaches still teach their linemen to dual read, but it is not easy to do. The Steelers repeatedly used this tactic to gain an unblocked or free rusher. Both the Seahawks and the Colts consistently used had their guards and center dual read, and the results were not good. Below is representative of what the Steelers would do:

The left guard, shaded in green, would be responsible for blocking either of the inside or outside linebackers to his side. In theory, if the inside linebacker dropped and the outsider backer blitzed, the guard would wheel out to block him. No doubt they practiced this all the time. What the Steelers did – and this was not revolutionary – was the inside linebacker would take a step or two up, thus “freezing” the guard, while the outside linebacker came flying towards the quarterback. The guard would try to recover, but too often he was late, and the play was destroyed.

Observe how powerful that is for the defense. They only rush four, maybe five defenders, and the other six or seven all drop into coverage. The secondary can watch the Quarterback’s eyes, and he is under incredible duress from an unblocked rusher. Indeed, if the defense can get an unblocked blitzer with only four rushing, they often would blitz someone the back was responsible for, figuring that the one-for-one trade in taking the RB out of the route was a good one. See, how one-on-one matchups does not win you the game, but instead this was an example of the defense winning a numbers game.

(As an interesting aside, in the Super Bowl against the Patriots the Giants cleverly inverted this concept: Linebacker Kavika Mitchell lined up over the center, while an outside rusher lined up in threatening position away from the side the running back was responsible for. At the snap, Mitchell head-faked as if he was dropping back into pass coverage, and the center – who no doubt had a dual read and was responsible for the outside rusher, and who knew he needed to move quick if he had a prayer of getting out there – cleared out. Mitchell, instead of dropping back, blitzed directly up the middle and sacked Tom Brady. Mitchell made a great fake, but the reason it was so open was because the center had protection responsibilities besides Mitchell. Again, dual reading by a down lineman is never easy. It is much easier for a running back who has more time to see the defense in front of him.)

The Sugar Bowl and the Super Bowl: Sometimes it’s Not About Xs and Os, It's About - Yes I Get It - Jimmies and Joes. Well Guess What? Joe sucks.

In both the Super Bowl and the Sugar Bowl, high-flying spread offenses (the Patriots were basically a spread team) were largely shut down because of an inability to protect the passer. And in both, there really wasn’t a lot of clever scheming going on, it was just lots of the Lawrence Taylor phenomenon: Who do you have that can block my guy? The answer for both the Patriots and the Hawaii Rainbows was, nobody. This was doubly surprising because both offensive lines had really performed quite well through the year: both units were disciplined, hard working, and did not blow assignments. Yet, they were exposed. The reality is that sometimes, good offensive line play is not enough. At the higher levels of football, if you’re going to deal with freaks of nature on defense, you need your own freaks of nature to block them. That’s why the best left tackles get paid so much, and why, as Michael Lewis’s book (link, amazon) chronicles, coaches at every level are searching for those kids who somehow combine behemoth size with incredible athleticism.

But there has to be something you can do, right? Football is about reacting to and neutralizing the other team’s strengths. The most striking thing about the Super Bowl and the Sugar Bowl was that neither team – the Pats nor Hawaii – ever seemed that interested in trying to add H-backs or extra running backs to “chip” protect on their way out. (I.e. while they release on a pass route they get a small block or “chip” on the good pass rushers to help the other linemen make their blocks.)

I will leave it to say that I was surprised that neither team did it more. But I think a partial answer is that what made those teams excellent was a complete commitment to a particular style, especially in Hawaii’s case where they were coached by the excellent June Jones. Their offense is based out of that four-wide set, and to suddenly put tight ends and other blockers on the field, well, then you’re not a Run and Shoot team. Nevertheless, the problem of exceptional pass rushers is not isolated, so there have to be a few other things to do. I can’t cover them all here, but he’s a few.

The first thing is you must use the defense’s aggressiveness against itself. The first thing to do against aggressive defenses is to trap them. Below is a diagram of the quick inside trap, and you can read about the famous “Draw Trap” here. The theory behind the trap is that the defensive linemen will come hard charging thinking it is a pass, and the linemen directly across from them will bypass them to block a linebacker, while another linemen comes over and basically surprise-blocks them into oblivion. When done correctly, this can open up huge holes.

I already mentioned quick passes. For quick passes, I advocate a simple 6-man slide or area protection, which forces the defense to come from the furthest away to reach the quarterback. Of course, as I said above, some defenses may blitz and bait you into throwing the quick passes, so one must be cautious. But most passing teams will deliver a steady diet of quick passes to any blitz-heavy opponent.

Another approach, most famously used by Texas Tech’s Mike Leach, is to spread his linemen’s splits out wider and wider. The idea, as explained by Michael Lewis (him again):

The big gaps between the linemen made the quarterback seem more vulnerable - some defenders could seemingly run right between the blockers - but he wasn't. Stretching out the offensive line stretched out the defensive line too, forcing the most ferocious pass rushers several yards farther from the quarterback. It also opened up wide passing lanes through which even a short quarterback could see the whole field clearly.

This approach obviously requires offensive tackles with some ability, but the logic is sound: I will make the path to my QB as far for you as possible. And if we run our offense correctly, the ball should be gone. (Remember what I said at the beginning about how most sacks are the result of the QB holding onto the ball too long? Leach has transformed this rule of thumb into a philosophical mantra.)

Finally, the screens. The best modern play in football is the jailbreak screen. (By modern, I mean that it is one of the few genuine innovative ideas in the game, though by that I mean it is less than thirty years old, compared to most of what else we do which is, at minimum, fifty or sixty years old.) Properly executed, it turns a normal offensive play into a kickoff return, uses the defense’s aggressiveness against it, and it is particularly good against zone blitzes, where the play uses the fact that defensive linemen are poor in space to the offense’s advantage.

The screen involves an outside receiver taking a quick upfield step, and then he comes down the line underneath the blocks of inside receivers and the linemen. He cuts the ball up, find the alley, and goes to score. Again, this is probably the best deterrent there is against the zone blitz, as you use the defense’s aggressiveness against it, and those dropping defensive linemen don’t look too good trying to make tackles in the open field. With any luck, maybe it’ll look like one of the jailbreak screens below:

It's only fitting that I conclude with some highlights of the jailbreak screen:

Conclusion

In no way is this article an exhaustive report on the intricacies of pass protection. But it gets us far towards the end. Out of all of football, it is probably the most interesting "mini-game" within the game. The techniques are difficult - pass protecting is an essentially unnatural act that must be learned - and it is the defense that can move around, shift, and redo their alignment at will. Many a passing attack has been grounded from lack of protection. Sometimes from personnel, sometimes from scheme. Hopefully this article has shown how the two work together.

Endnotes/Postscript

* A few notes on the Blind Side and Michael Lewis. I highly recommend all of Lewis’s books. The Blind Side is good, but not as good as Moneyball or Liar’s Poker, though probably much more personal than either. It’s a unique story to football, and a good read.

The Shotgun, The 'Gun, and the Shotgun Spread Offense

Ferment is abroad in football. The possibilities widen; new ideas are accepted and implemented within hours of conception. People are interested now in not just who their favorite players are, but what are these fascinating schemes. With the internet comes accessibility: now your high school runs what your favorite college team is not sophisticated enough to do. The ideas come from everywhere. The innovators are born on disparate staffs and the ideas ebb, flow, and crash together constantly, daily, hourly. Now even the big, famous schools must wade into the waters to hire those comfortable with its movements: Rodriguez to Michigan, Tony Franklin hired by Auburn.


This ferment is ideal. A decade ago ideas were stagnant. Football was only for the purists, and if you failed to replicate the Platonic ideals, then you hadn't been schooled properly. Five years later, the beginnings of the ferment - turbulent, muddy, a vigorous undercurrent. Ten years later - today, now - the waters are flooding, spilling onto that once sacred ground.

Rich Rodriguez, the Johnny Appleseed of the Spread, has been hired by Michigan. The Pundits talk of the "the Spread," the "Gun Spread," the "Gun Option," the "Airraid," the "Zone Read," and the "Pistol." The coaches talk of these too, but they also talk of the "Gun Jets Sweep," and the "Gun Jets," the "Gun Veer," and the "Gun Triple."

The ideas stir. They stir football itself. This reexamination of all that came before - restless, relentless. The search for good ideas, new ideas, ideas never before dreamed of. This - the ferment - is not a fad. It cannot be. It is football itself: there's been a synthesis.

The 'Gun and its history.

The shotgun itself, the perceived center of all of this "newness," has its roots in the beginning of football, however.
Most commentators, of course, seem to deify the "shotgun" itself as an entire offense rather than what it is - a particular way to align your quarterback and perform the center-exchange. Ironically, however, they also take a restricted view of the gun’s presence in football history, presuming it was invented, alternative, in the 60s (Red Hickey), the 70s (Tom Landry), the 80s (pick somebody), the 90s (pick somebody), or the 2000s (whoever they root for, or often Urban Meyer or some passing coach). Regardless, it's somewhat silly.

The point of this article is to show that (a) the shotgun itself has ancient roots, and is not some passing fad, (b) and, thus by inference, the ferment and change I spoke of in the introductory paragraphs is not as limited as how you align your Quarterback.

Indeed, I imagine that the shotgun's history would surprise many such commentators. The “gun” was in many ways the standard back in the early days of football. Especially consider that the under-center snap was not invented until at least a decade or so after football itself was invented, if not longer. In fact, in the fairly early days, players had to actually short-kick the ball with their heel (don’t ask me!) back as a form of snap. Also, the gun and the pass have been around since 1908-1910 or so, since the forward pass was legalized and encouraged by rule changes due to the “brutal” nature of football at a time when the “single-wing” and almost all offenses involved shotgun type snaps which lead to melees resulting from attempts to advance the ball.

To demonstrate the trends, I think there are four good “watershed” type games that either were representative for the time or helped us get where we are today, though there are surely others.

1. Notre Dame vs. Army Part I

In 1913, Notre Dame traveled to West Point to face the heavily favored Army. Final score: 35-13, Notre Dame. Knute Rockne, the famous future coach but then little-known end, caught an array of passes from one Gus Dorais, who that day nearly revolutionized the position. The legend grows larger over time, and the forward pass had been legal for roughly eight years, but that day Dorais completed 14 of 17 passes for 243 yards and three touchdowns. Dorais even completed a pass to Rockne that, at the time, was the longest pass play ever. But more importantly, this game was the coming out party for the forward pass. Although this story might be collateral to the shotgun story – indeed Dorais was already operating out of the “gun” – but few would question that the forward pass still defines football today.

2. Notre Dame vs. Army Part II

By 1925, Rockne was Notre Dame’s coach. We all have heard these famous lines:

Outlined against a blue-gray October sky, the Four Horsemen rode again. In dramatic lore they are known as Famine, Pestilence, Destruction and Death. These are only aliases. Their real names are Stuhldreher, Miller, Crowley and Layden.

The four horsemen were four backfield mates who played for now-coach Knute Rockne. Most people forget the next few lines from that paragraph:

They formed the crest of the South Bend cyclone before which another fighting Army football team was swept over the precipice at the Polo Grounds yesterday afternoon as 55,000 spectators peered down on the bewildering panorama spread on the green plain below.

Notre Dame won 13-7. To our story, this game was not so much a watershed as it was representative of the time: Notre Dame ran an all-shotgun offense known as the “Notre Dame Box.” The “box” was a shotgun formation where the center could snap to any one of four guys, depending how they lined up. So, the most famous galloping backfield of all time played in the Gun, however bizarre it would appear by today’s standards.



This should serve as a firm rebuttal to the argument that the shotgun is currently new or (more popularly) was invented only to pass. This is flatly wrong. From the beginning of football, the shotgun was about running the football and faking. Indeed, it was even about power. Just ask the Four Horsemen.

3. Chicago Bears vs. Washington Redskins – The day the shotgun died.

In 1940 Bears Coach George Halas unleashed his under center offense on the Redskins on the way to a modest 73-0 victory. The Bears utilized the then-fairly rare “Tee Formation,” where the Quarterback (remember, he was originally so named because of how far back he aligned - the term was a rugby term before it was a football term) would in line up under center with three backs behind him in a straight “Tee.” Using this formation, along with a series of fakes, counters, traps, bootlegs, and other deception Halas’s Bears crushed the Redskins to win the NFL title. Note that the Redskins had beaten the Bears earlier that season.

For the next thirty to forty years, the unequivocal primary method for hiking the ball was the under center snap. This game is also important because it shows that faking, deception, and using multiple ball carriers is not new, nor is it exclusive to the shotgun. It is simply a distinct concept.

After this game the shotgun made a few appearances, most famously with Red Hickey with the 49ers and Tom Landry with the Cowboys. And in the 80s and later in the 90s teams as disparate as the Miami Dolphins with Marino, Purdue with Joe Tiller and Drew Brees, and the Hal Mumme Kentucky Wildcats (with the support of Mike Leach) set quite a number of passing records in the gun. But this modern revolution came about, I believe, because people had to see how you could throw and run from the shotgun.

Although Rich Rodriguez probably deserve smore credit than anyone for spreading the concepts themselves, it was Northwestern’s late-coach Randy Walker who I think turned the football coaching world on its head one blue-skied afternoon in November, 2000.

4. Northwestern vs. Michigan – The Modern Era Dawns.

Northwestern defeats Michigan 54-51. This is shocking enough. Northwestern scored fifty-four points against a Michigan team known for great defense and great defensive talent. Doubly shocking. Quarterback Zak Kustok threw for 322 yards and four touchdowns. Not so shocking from a spread QB in victory. Don’t they always have to throw for this much to win? That’s why they get in the gun, right?

But wait, there’s another stat.

Northwestern Rushing: 332 Yards; 6.64 average per carry. 332 yards.

What? Three-Hundred and Thirty Yards rushing?

How did they do that? Yes their running back had a huge day, but the yards that also made everyone sit up and take notice were the 55 yards from Northwestern’s quarterback, Zak Kustok – hardly Vince Young or Pat White in raw athleticism. But the light went off across the country. If Zak Kustok can do it, maybe my guy can too. And even if he’s not Vince Young, just the threat that he can make the defense pay if they over pursue by getting me eight yards, then let’s do it.

Obviously, not everyone running the spread now saw this game. Even Gun Guru Urban Meyer didn’t start running this offense until his Bowling Green days sometime after this game, and he admittedly went out to others to learn the offense. The shotgun run-game didn’t bubble up inside anyone like a well-spring. But this was the game that changed the landscape.

Where we are are now.


So Randy Walker and Rich Rodriguez blew the doors off. The gun is now fully part of the arsenal for nearly every team, and the sky is the limit on what you can do. The all-eleven offense, the pistol, and the single-wing itself are all part of the calculus. Who knows, maybe we’ll see a major team running the Notre Dame box.

I thought I’d provide a quick summary of some of the factors in the calculus for when you want to use the gun. Observe that many of the factors come from Coach Homer Smith, so I can’t too much credit.

Advantages of the Shotgun

- The QB can get deeper in a given amount of time (whether the 3 yard “pistol” snap or a 7-8 gun for passing)

- Lateral play faking (but not drop back style play action, at least so easily) can be achieved

- Relatedly, the zone-read is a kind of “bootleg-plus” in that instead of calling a blind bootleg, you make the backside defensive end wrong every time)

- Some QB's can see better (i.e. wider field of vision)

- The depth of the QB often forces the defense to expose its pressure plans more clearly

- The RB might be able to pick up a blitz better (i.e. no dropping QB to bump into)

- It does not need a snap count and helps mitigate crowd noise factors (though many still use a snap count)


Disadvantages of the Shotgun

- The QB has to take his eyes off the pass defense and has to watch the ball into his hands. This effect also somewhat reduces the QB’s ability to see the coverage and read changes (Cover 2 to 1, etc.) until after the snap. This is particularly acute for 3-step passes, where you have to catch and throw almost immediately. The read becomes almost exclusively pre-snap.

- The Shotgun alignment makes some lead-plays more difficult. I also would argue that the “gun-option,” as such, is not completely structurally sound in the way other veer plays are. Some gun teams have tried to develop the veer from the gun. Time will tell whether they are successful. (This requires more discussion than I have space for.)

- It becomes a crutch for the QB and an easy way to avoid improving footwork and play faking. I think this is an underrated problem. Footwork in the gun is (a) easier, because it is less, but is (b) prone to getting very, very sloppy. If there is any knock against “spread gun” QBs who go to the Pros, this one of the few viable ones, but can be simply overcome with good coaching.

- It retards the notion of a power run game and shifts more towards deception based delays, options, or draw type run plays. This is not a bad thing, though true.

- It can amplify your QB’s athletic skills, in either direction. If they are very athletic, it can improve their ability to make plays, but if they are not athletic many traditional QB plays – bootlegs, play action, and certain lead-option type run plays - are almost entirely out of the question.

- The footwork of the QB changes as does timing for pass plays. The "mesh" point for hand-offs to the RB change as well. Now Florida offensive coordinator Dan Mullen says this is one reason they run shotgun almost exclusively, so they can practice just one thing and get good at it.

So there are pros and cons. What this mostly counsels is a commitment to what you do, an organized, systematic approach to your offense, and an acknowledgment of where your weaknesses are as well as your strengths. The great shotgun teams work on this consistently, the haphazard teams will consistently both live and die by their sword-of-the-moment.