The Blind Side

Lewis asks what contributed to football’s evolution such that a high school football player with hardly any playing experience could generate such frantic interest. Though he acknowledges football strategy evolved in ways too complex to parse fully, Lewis cites a December 1975 playoff game between the Oakland Raiders and the Cincinnati Bengals as “a seminal moment” (84). Calling offensive plays, Bill Walsh, then a Bengals assistant coach, witnesses a blind side rush bury his quarterback. Having unsuccessfully used a running back to block, he decided “there had to be a better way” (85). Six years later, Walsh tried a different strategy as San Francisco 49ers head coach playing against Parcells’ Giants. It was Lawrence Taylor’s rookie year, and Taylor presented the “greatest systematic threat Walsh’s offense had ever faced” (85). How Walsh addressed it informs “the future of football strategy” (85).

The week before, the Giants had beaten the favored Eagles because Taylor dominated the Eagles’ left tackle. Walsh fretted over how to neutralize Taylor and allow his quarterback, Joe Montana, to run Walsh’s “intricate little passing came” (86). Atypically, Walsh believed quarterbacks “were only as good as the system they played in,” a conclusion he arrived at while coaching the Bengals as an AFL expansion team incapable of attracting top talent (86). To compensate for then-Bengals’ quarterback Virgil Carter’s weak arm, Walsh developed a sideline-to-sideline game plan comprised of short pass routes designed to reduce the amount of time the quarterback held the ball, increase his accuracy, reduce his risk of interceptions, and require fewer decisions from him. Considered “dull and safe,” it was called the “nickel-and-dime” offense (87). Carter succeeded in the system, and Walsh later discovered it could not only compensate for a weak quarterback but also utilize the strengths of a talented one.

When Walsh became the 49ers head coach in 1979, the team had the NFL’s lowest payroll and worst rated quarterback, Steve Deberg. Under Walsh, Deberg’s completion percentage rose from 45.4 to 60 percent, and his interception rate dropped by half. The following year, Walsh drafted Montana, who many believed too small and weak-armed to succeed in the NFL. Montana went on to led the league in completion percentages and avoiding interceptions. The success of Walsh’s quarterbacks “suggested a radical thought,” that the “system was the star,” though it remained an unpopular view (91).

Walsh’s system led to a movement away from running the ball. Consequently, the running game in the NFL stagnated while the passing game evolved. In 1960, a running play’s average yield was approximately four yards per carry. That statistic remained the same thirty years later. Meanwhile, the average pass play in 1960 yielded 4.6 yards—slightly more than a running play, but not enough to make the increased turnover risk worth it, as pass plays were twice as likely to end with a turnover. Further, while quarterbacks in the 1960s hit fewer than 50 percent of their passes, by the early 1990s, the average NFL quarterback was hitting 60 percent of his passes. At the same time, interception rates dropped from six to three percent, making fumbles no less likely than interceptions.

Two 1978 NFL rule changes also contributed to the passing game’s evolution: NFL linemen were allowed “to use their hands when they blocked,” and defensive backs were prohibited from making contact with receivers five yards past the line of scrimmage (94). As the passing game became more effective, it also became more exciting for audiences to watch, so the NFL created rules to encourage more passing. Head coaches throughout the league adopted Walsh’s approach, now termed “the West Coast offense” (95). As the quarterback’s importance increased, so did that of the players around him. Lewis cites these changes as part of the larger story that explains why Michael Oher became so valuable.

Another turning point Lewis cites is a January 1982 playoff game between Walsh’s 49ers and Parcells’ Giants. The two coaches represented diametrically-opposed approaches: brain (Walsh and his passing attack) vs. brawn (Parcells and his Taylor-led defense). Taylor’s speed presented a threat to Walsh’s quick passing scheme, which could not get the ball out of the quarterback’s hands fast enough. Walsh fired his left tackle, Ron Singleton, for seeking a raise and accusing Walsh of being racist for not giving it to him. Walsh did not believe in attention-seeking linemen and chaffed at the racism accusation. Yet Walsh also realized that a premiere left tackle seemed the best way to stop Taylor. Walsh turned to John Ayers, the 49ers left guard, who was big, had a low center of gravity, and was quiet and comfortable in the background. Soggy weather conditions favored the 49ers, and they won 38-24. The Giants defense had never allowed so many points, but Ayers’ moment was fleeting. Walsh knew a left guard would not work in dry conditions and on turf, where Taylor could leverage his speed.