Which of the following, on average, would you guess is the second highest paid position in football (behind the QB)?
a) Wide receiver
b) Left tackle
c) Running back
d) Middle linebacker
The answer is (b): the second highest paid position in the NFL is the left tackle. Why?
1. Because of Bill Walsh. You could say, more generally, the West Coast Offense. But there were two versions of the West Coast Offense: one went deep and the other (Walsh’s version) went wide. Spread out the field. Send four or five receivers out for shorter passes, raising your completion percentage and extending the run after the catch. Sending more people out, however, left the quarterback more vulnerable.
2. Because of rule changes in 1978. No longer could a cornerback “bump-and-run” with a receiver all the way down the field. Now he’s limited to five yards. And offensive linemen, who formerly were forced to block looking like clothes hangers, were suddenly allowed to use their hands.
3. Because of Lawrence Taylor. If you still wince when you hear the name “Joe Theismann,” then you’re probably a football fan. Taylor was a QB-destroying machine. The new profile for the blind side pass rusher became that athlete who is large, fast, and violent. In other words, someone not easily blocked by a running back.
Michael Lewis’s The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game
tells the story of why the left tackle, the person who guards the blind side of the quarterback from the Lawrence Taylors of the world, has become such a valuable position.
The new profile for an NFL left tackle is what Lewis says the scouts call “a freak of nature.” He’s tall (6′4″), big (320+), quick, and has a wide butt, long arms and big hands. Think Orlando Pace or Jonathan Ogden.
Like Michael Oher, now a left tackle for Ole Miss. Much of this excellent book tells his story.
It’s the story of Memphis — a city with an invisible Berlin Wall between white and black. Lewis talks about the Christian academies that sprang up quickly with forced integration so wealthy white children wouldn’t have to go to school with black children. He talks about the pilgrimage east — as far away from the problems of West Memphis as possible.
But this story is specifically told through one young man: Michael Oher. He was a child who seemed to have no hope.
He was one of ten children of a crack cocaine-addicted mother. At times they had no shelter. When asked what he remembers about his first years of life, Michael says: “Going for days having to drink water to get full. Going to other people’s houses and asking for something to eat. Sleeping outside. The mosquitoes.”
For a few years they lived in Hurt Village — a community of about 1000 with no — count them, ZERO — two-parent families. Seventy-five percent of the adults there had some mental illness. Drug lords waited with crack in hand at the first of the month when welfare checks arrived in the mail.
By the time he was 15, Michael Oher hadn’t been to school much. He’d been tested, and his IQ came out to be 80.
But all that changed. I’ll leave the details for you to enjoy the book. But the short story is this: he fell victim to the love and nurture of one wealthy, white family in East Memphis. Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy (a former basketball player and a former cheerleader at Ole Miss) welcomed him into their family. He suddenly had a family, including a sister his age and a younger brother. He had a school to attend — Briarcrest Christian School. He had clothes and food. His IQ rose from 80 to 110.
Whether you’re a football fan or not, you’ll love the chapters on the recruiting of Michael Oher. Every college coach in the country began salivating when he saw tapes of Oher treating large opponents as if they weren’t there. In one game Briarcrest played, every offensive play consisted of giving the ball to the running back and telling him to stay behind Oher’s butt until he heard a whistle. They destroyed their opponent on that one play.
This is a hard book because of the despair. You realize that most people in the Hurt Villages of our inner cities don’t have a Tuohy family to help them.
But it’s also an inspiring read because this one family — this one white, wealthy, Evangelical family — brought a monstrous kid into their lives before anyone knew he had athletic super-talent. He was lost, and Leigh Anne Tuohy was going to care for him.
Michael Oher became what Lewis calls “a freak of nurture.”