Left Tackles: The Baddest Of The Big Uglies

I always chuckle when the media calls six of the players on a football team's eleven man offensive unit "skill position players," as if the other guys, the five linemen, were chopped liver. By way of background, the so-called skill position players, according to the media, are the quarterback, the running backs, the wide receivers and the tight end. The remaing five are interior linemen, more precisely the left tackle, the left guard, the center, the right guard and the right tackle. Sometimes those five are affectionately referred to as "the big uglies." Other than the quarterback, who is usually the most highly compensated player on his NFL team and the brains of the outfit, the big uglies as a group are the smartest guys on the squad. It is not unusual for a rookie to play important minutes, maybe even start, if he is a skill position player other than QB, or else if he's on the defense. Not so for rookie offensive linemen. You will seldom see a rookie starting as an interior lineman, especially in the first two-thirds of the season. There is too much to learn in terms of the playbook, blocking schemes, audibles, defense recognition, footwork, leverage and other technical requirements. Perhaps the biggest reason why rookies don't often play much in the interior line is chemistry. It is the only unit in football which requires five guys to be on the same page for every play. If one of the starting five goes down to injury, things don't run nearly as smoothly when a sub comes in, because each guy on the line has a feel for how the guy(s) next to him do their jobs. That chemistry is not perfected overnight, maybe not even in the course of an entire season.

Of the five positions on an offensive line, the most important one and the spot requiring the most unique talents is the left tackle. This is not to say that the other four guys are second class. As noted above, the O-line functions as a unit and depends on a chemistry developed over a long period of time among the five. But the key guy, the baddest of the big uglies, is the left tackle. That explains why he is paid more than his buddies. You may ask, what makes the LT so valuable? To the typical fan in the stands, or TV armchair quarterback, all five of those guys toil in anonymity, they all look the same, and (except for the center snaps) they never touch the ball. What's the difference between the role of a LT and that of his linemates? Good thing you're reading this post, because I'm about to tell you.

Most NFL teams invest literally millions of dollars in their quarterbacks. Most QBs do not make a habit of running the ball. Instead, their bread and butter is the passing game. When a QB gets injured, it is usually because he was sacked. When a sack occurs, that's a result of one of two events: either the quarterback holds onto the ball too long (a "coverage sack") or a breakdown has occurred in the pass-protection blocking. Since most QBs are right-handed, their blind side is from the left side of the line of scrimmage. A left tackle's main responsibility is to protect his millionaire QB's blind side. Defensively, teams typically put their best pass rusher at right end, so that guy and the offensive left tackle are nose-to-nose for sixty to seventy snaps a game.

If blocking the other team's right defensive end was the left tackle's only responsibility, that would be tough enough. But there are a lot of other things which that big ugly must master. The footwork and leverage required for drive blocking on running plays is totally different than they are for dropping into pass protection. Unlike guards or centers, a left tackle usually is not involved in double-team blocking schemes. He is expected to beat his man one-on-one. The great left tackles (such as D'Brickashaw Ferguson of the Jets or Joe Thomas of the Browns) do not need blocking help from their tight ends. This frees up the tight end either to go out on a route as an additional receiver or to stay behind the line of scrimmage for max pass protection, perhaps helping out the right tackle. Sometimes the left tackle is called upon to seal-block on a sweep, which requires him to get outside the defensive end who is already lined up outside the tackle's left shoulder. Other times he has to check-block and then quickly get out to the flat to set up a screen pass. More screen passes are run to the left side than the right because they are basically counter plays. The idea is to get the defense flowing to its left (i.e., the offense's right), then tossing the ball against that flow to a receiver on the other side of the field. Guess who is in front of the guy catching the pass? You got it, the left tackle! The defense can be susceptible to this because most offenses run more to their right side, and the screen pass play starts out looking like a sweep to the right.

Once an offensive lineman is set, he is not permitted even to twitch. To do so results in a false start penalty. This is especially tough on the road, where eighty thousand of the home team's fans are screaming at the top of their lungs, rendering the QB's signals inaudible. The defense, on the other hand, can move around before the snap all it wants. This makes blocking assignments for the big uglies that much tougher. If the defense "shows blitz," a tackle might have to block a linebacker (instead of the right end) who has built up a head of steam before the collision with the LT. Since most linebackers in the NFL weigh anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds less than the left tackle, the latter needs quick feet and usually a long wingspan to keep the LB from speed rushing around him on a path to sacking the quarterback.

The two attributes identified at the end of the immediately preceding paragraph (quick feet and long winspan) are identified by O-line coaches in their pre-season evaluations of whether to place one of their behemoths at LT or RT. A man who is not blessed with either, but is too big to play guard or center, will probably be designated for RT. In defense of RTs, they may be better at drive blocking than their teammate at LT. Also, sometimes with a year or two of experience at RT, the coaches might move him to the more difficult LT spot.

The fastest way for an offense to score is with "the long bomb," that is, a pass which is in the air at least forty yards. In order to pull that off, a QB has to take a five or seven step drop to give his receiver time to get down field. This can only be accomplished if the big uglies keep the defenders at bay. If the O-line is getting manhandled by the defense, the offense will be relegated to three-step drops and a quicker release by the QB. The result is shorter timing passes and no long bombs. Once the long bomb is, for all intents and purposes, removed from the playbook, the safeties can play up closer to the line to stop the run. If you think all that sounds like a domino effect, you're right. The entire offensive game plan can be shredded if the O-line has a bad day.

When you watch the Super Bowl this Sunday, do yourself a favor. Instead of watching the ball every play, keep your eyes on the battle in the trenches, i.e., the line of scrimmage. The team with the more effective offensive line will probably win the game.