Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
We had media sideline passes on Christmas Day, 2016. The Pittsburg Steelers and Baltimore Ravens were battling for the AFC North Championship, and the game turned out to be a classic, one firmly set in the venerable football lore of the Steel City. The Steelers came from behind to win the game on a four-yard pass from Ben Roethlisberger to Antonio Brown with just nine seconds left in the fourth quarter.
The announcers concentrated on Joe Flacco, Roethlisberger, Brown, Le’Veon Bell, Mike Wallace, and Dennis Pita as most of the fans did as well.
I watched David DeCastro, Pittsburgh’s starting right guard, a player who stretched the limits of “legal blocking,” tear up the Raven’s inside linebackers with an occasional pancake block downfield on an unwary safety, but the action was at left tackle. If you’re a football fan, and the quarterback is right-handed, it’s all about the left tackle.
Alejandro Villanueva, imposing at 6-9, but relatively light by NFL standards at 277 pounds was in a heated battle with Baltimore’s Terrell Suggs, a 6-3, 265 pound linebacker/defensive end. With the nickname “Hacksaw” you get an idea of how relentless Suggs was.
Suggs broke through on an inside rip and sacked Roethlisberger, the ultimate insult to Villanueva.
“Don’t watch the ball,” I said to Adam, “Do an ISO on Suggs and Villanueva.”
The battle was epic, with Villanueva waiting for his moment. It came on a toss sweep by Bell to the right.
As the other players turned to follow the play, the officials did as well. Villanueva dropped his hips, grabbed Suggs by the inside of his shoulder pads, lifted him into the air, and body-slammed him pro-wrestling style, finishing with a right elbow into Suggs’ throat.
The fight was on. It was one of the most entertaining series of plays I’ve ever watched, and how to watch is what I’m writing about.
You can watch a game as a player, a coach, an official, a sportswriter, or just as a fan. I’ve done all five and they are all different.
As a player, you look for clues on both sides of the ball. Linemen have to know who to block and where to push them, they need to be aware of a variety of blitzes to protect their backfield. Defensive players must read the offensive linemen, the quarterback, and the fullback. Running backs can be deceptive, running counter steps to confuse you, but a fullback and the guards will always take you to a play.
As a coach, I taught my players the same keys I learned. The biggest read in football is an offensive lineman’s stance, where they point their feet and how much pressure they put on their hands.
If a guard or tackle’s knuckles turn white on the grass, he’s coming for you and that means run. If they’re lightly placed, and his feet aren’t pointed directly ahead you can expect him to pull, trap, or cross block. Those are all indicators telling you the direction the play is coming. If he’s just brushing the grass, they’re going to pass.
Line play is an art form, mastered by some teams, but neglected by others. Keith Nate at Cokeville was an outstanding coach and the Panthers always had excellent linemen, even if they only weighed 140 pounds.
One evening a little over a decade ago, I was covering the Riverside Rebels and the Wranglers in Shoshoni.
Riverside had a giant left tackle in senior Brynnt Wood. Wood was blowing holes through a good Wrangler defense, but I started to notice a tendency in his stance. He barely brushed the grass on passes but put half his body weight on his hand in a three-point stance before he blasted a Wrangler defensive lineman.
I started to say “pass” or “run” before each play. It annoyed a couple of the younger coaches, and they said something to head coach Rick Lindblad. Lindblad responded, “Don’t whine to me, ask him what he’s seeing, he’s been right seven plays in a row.”
I noticed another trend last Friday in the tilt between Riverton and Lander. The Tiger linemen have the option of a two-point or three-point stance, but on most of quarterback Pax Hollingshead’s 16 pass attempts that I watched, they were standing in the two-point position. When they went to three-point, it was always a run. I’m sure the Riverton staff and the Wolverine players picked up on it as well.
It wasn’t obvious, but subtle clues can make the difference in a close game.
I’ve watched quarterbacks lick their fingers before a pass play, but not when they hand off the ball.
One year in a junior high game I was coaching at Shoshoni, the Wind River 8th-grade quarterback not only licked his fingers but looked in the direction of where he was going to pass the ball.
I took a timeout and told my two outside linebackers to watch for it. As junior high kids, it was all they could do to get their legs going in the right direction most of the time, but the physicality of football is a great way to focus concentration.
As the Cougars lined up I yelled to Doug, the linebacker on my side to step into the gap. He gave me a quizzical look, but I yelled, “Do it!”
He did, and in the process, he intercepted the pass and took it 65 yards for a touchdown. True to form, in the post-game team meeting a bunch of my players said, “Wow coach, how did you know?” It was a teaching moment and I explained it, but in the maelstrom of hormones that create young adolescent behavior, I doubt it sank in.
Officials don’t watch the game at all. They watch an area, an area for infractions. They are responsible for an area, but if often overlaps with other officials’ zones. The more officials, as in a five, six, or seven man crew, the smaller the area. In a three man crew, you have to cover a huge area of the field. That’s why varsity games demand more officials.
The most popular way to view a game is as a fan. You just sit back and watch, trying to take it all in. If you’re a parent you focus on your son almost exclusively. If you’re a fan of the team you try to catch all the action at once. In football, that’s tough to do.
One of my favorite things to do with my late father, and my son was to watch an NCAA or NFL game together.
Dad played at T.A. Futrell High School in Mariana Arkansas from 1947 to 1950, in the era of leather helmets. Brian played football at Dickinson State University, and I was a Wind River Cougar but a football coach at Lusk, Shoshoni, and Riverton.
Brian and I argued, bet, and baited each other predicting plays by watching formations, knowing the down and distance, and watching how the safety rolled over or where the tight end took his first step among other keys. My dad loved it, and so did we.
These days I’m usually working the sidelines taking notes and looking for key blocks or plays on Thursday, Friday, and sometimes Saturday, that’s the essence of a sportswriter’s view of a game. Saturday afternoon I’m a fan, being frustrated by Wyoming’s continual lack of consistent offense but enjoying the Cowboy defense and special teams.
It’s all in how you view the game.