Post by TheShadow on Apr 23, 2009 4:46:50 GMT -5
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By Paul Gutierrez
At some point Saturday afternoon, and with much fanfare and forced celebration, a young man will be given the keys to a football franchise. His face will become that of said organization as he is anointed the team's savior, if not its hopeful replacement of a revered and long-since-gone signal caller.
Because the NFL is a quarterback-driven league, there is a fascination, a borderline obsession with drafting QBs high, paying them ungodly sums of money and making them the instant franchise player, even with questions and doubts surrounding their readiness to assume such a mantle.
Such is the lot of a quarterback selected in the first round of the annual meat market known as the NFL draft.
Ready or not, here comes Georgia's Matthew Stafford, physically ready but mentally has many wondering if he's the one.
Then there's USC's Mark Sanchez, who has a cannon for an arm and unquestioned leadership skills but has started all of 16 games in a truncated college career. And, perhaps, there's Kansas State's Josh Freeman, a large lad at 6-foot-6, 250 pounds who is more enigma than answer.
"The quarterback position is the most scrutinized position in all of sports," said former Raiders coach Tom Flores. "In baseball, you can knock a pitcher out of the box, and three days later he comes back and he's cheered. In football, the quarterback has a bad day and is removed, and the next time you see him he's booed.
"The expectation of a young quarterback taken in the first round is unrealistic. It's impossible to live up to those expectations. The system is not conducive to nurturing and bringing a quarterback along."
As such, staying power might be just as improbable.
"A lot of quarterbacks are drafted in the first round," said former 49ers general manager John McVay, "and half of them don't pan out."
Indeed. Of the 28 quarterbacks taken in the first round of the draft since 1999, 14 are with their original team.
And of the eight who are their respective team's unquestioned starters – Philadelphia's Donovan McNabb, Cincinnati's Carson Palmer, Pittsburgh's Ben Roethlisberger, Washington's Jason Campbell, Green Bay's Aaron Rodgers, the Raiders' JaMarcus Russell, Atlanta's Matt Ryan and Baltimore's Joe Flacco – three were drafted in the past two years.
Talk about your self-fulfilling, pressure-filled prophecies.
"I couldn't afford to take a shot at No. 1 where, if I'm wrong, I think I set the franchise back another five years," NFL Network draft analyst Mike Mayock said on a conference call.
In his initial run with the 49ers, from 1980 through 1996, McVay and the late Bill Walsh didn't use a first-round pick on a quarterback. Of course, with Joe Montana and, later, Steve Young under center, and with quality and capable backups along the way, such a selection would have been folly.
But advising the 49ers in 1997, Walsh suggested they draft Arizona State's Jake Plummer, McVay said. Instead, San Francisco went with Virginia Tech's Jim Druckenmiller.
"Kids get thoroughly checked out, up and down, inside and out," said McVay, who was in his first retirement when the 49ers took Druckenmiller. "You do your due diligence and then hope and pray to God that he can perform.
"The philosophy that Bill engineered was to get the best available player we could get and to draft a guy that fits what we do, our style of offense; let's make the kid fit us. When we first got there, we didn't have high picks because of the O.J. (Simpson) trade."
So it was with a third-round pick, No. 82 overall, in 1979 that San Francisco selected Montana.
With a veteran presence already in the fold in Steve DeBerg, and with no "first-round" pressure on Montana, Walsh was able to break in the future Hall of Famer at a more relaxed pace.
"He put him in situations with a chance to succeed 90 percent of the time, instead of third and 14 at his own 10," McVay said. "Bill grew his confidence; he wasn't thrown to the wolves."
Having the luxury to do that reflects a far more patient world.
When Oakland selected Marc Wilson out of BYU with the 15th overall pick in 1980, Flores said the Raiders had no intention on starting him until "three, four, five years later."
"Things were different then," Flores laughed. "Teams are a little paranoid now; they want to find a Tom Brady."
Meaning, a cheap sixth-rounder who blossoms into a Hall of Famer.
So what's different? Why do owners, fans and media alike have to see immediate returns on the most glamorous, difficult position to master?
Money.
"He's got to be your guy, sooner, rather than later … because of what you're going to pay him," Flores said. "But at the same time, it's not fair because you can't bring him along until he's really ready."
As general manager of the Seattle Seahawks, Flores used a first-round pick on Dan McGwire in 1991 and the No. 2 overall pick on Rick Mirer in 1993. McGwire was a bust, Mirer an Offensive Rookie of the Year.
"You can't tell your owner you're going to pay a guy $10 million a year to sit on the bench," Flores said. "The contractual structure is all wrong."
Perhaps a rookie salary cap, similar to what the NBA instituted, could remedy such financial pressure.
"Ideally, you give him a year to sit," McVay said, harkening the example Cincinnati set with Carson Palmer in 2003. "Is that possible? I wish I could say yes."
If and when Stafford, Sanchez and Freeman are getting beat up in the fall for a bad team, they'll have the same wish.
By Paul Gutierrez
At some point Saturday afternoon, and with much fanfare and forced celebration, a young man will be given the keys to a football franchise. His face will become that of said organization as he is anointed the team's savior, if not its hopeful replacement of a revered and long-since-gone signal caller.
Because the NFL is a quarterback-driven league, there is a fascination, a borderline obsession with drafting QBs high, paying them ungodly sums of money and making them the instant franchise player, even with questions and doubts surrounding their readiness to assume such a mantle.
Such is the lot of a quarterback selected in the first round of the annual meat market known as the NFL draft.
Ready or not, here comes Georgia's Matthew Stafford, physically ready but mentally has many wondering if he's the one.
Then there's USC's Mark Sanchez, who has a cannon for an arm and unquestioned leadership skills but has started all of 16 games in a truncated college career. And, perhaps, there's Kansas State's Josh Freeman, a large lad at 6-foot-6, 250 pounds who is more enigma than answer.
"The quarterback position is the most scrutinized position in all of sports," said former Raiders coach Tom Flores. "In baseball, you can knock a pitcher out of the box, and three days later he comes back and he's cheered. In football, the quarterback has a bad day and is removed, and the next time you see him he's booed.
"The expectation of a young quarterback taken in the first round is unrealistic. It's impossible to live up to those expectations. The system is not conducive to nurturing and bringing a quarterback along."
As such, staying power might be just as improbable.
"A lot of quarterbacks are drafted in the first round," said former 49ers general manager John McVay, "and half of them don't pan out."
Indeed. Of the 28 quarterbacks taken in the first round of the draft since 1999, 14 are with their original team.
And of the eight who are their respective team's unquestioned starters – Philadelphia's Donovan McNabb, Cincinnati's Carson Palmer, Pittsburgh's Ben Roethlisberger, Washington's Jason Campbell, Green Bay's Aaron Rodgers, the Raiders' JaMarcus Russell, Atlanta's Matt Ryan and Baltimore's Joe Flacco – three were drafted in the past two years.
Talk about your self-fulfilling, pressure-filled prophecies.
"I couldn't afford to take a shot at No. 1 where, if I'm wrong, I think I set the franchise back another five years," NFL Network draft analyst Mike Mayock said on a conference call.
In his initial run with the 49ers, from 1980 through 1996, McVay and the late Bill Walsh didn't use a first-round pick on a quarterback. Of course, with Joe Montana and, later, Steve Young under center, and with quality and capable backups along the way, such a selection would have been folly.
But advising the 49ers in 1997, Walsh suggested they draft Arizona State's Jake Plummer, McVay said. Instead, San Francisco went with Virginia Tech's Jim Druckenmiller.
"Kids get thoroughly checked out, up and down, inside and out," said McVay, who was in his first retirement when the 49ers took Druckenmiller. "You do your due diligence and then hope and pray to God that he can perform.
"The philosophy that Bill engineered was to get the best available player we could get and to draft a guy that fits what we do, our style of offense; let's make the kid fit us. When we first got there, we didn't have high picks because of the O.J. (Simpson) trade."
So it was with a third-round pick, No. 82 overall, in 1979 that San Francisco selected Montana.
With a veteran presence already in the fold in Steve DeBerg, and with no "first-round" pressure on Montana, Walsh was able to break in the future Hall of Famer at a more relaxed pace.
"He put him in situations with a chance to succeed 90 percent of the time, instead of third and 14 at his own 10," McVay said. "Bill grew his confidence; he wasn't thrown to the wolves."
Having the luxury to do that reflects a far more patient world.
When Oakland selected Marc Wilson out of BYU with the 15th overall pick in 1980, Flores said the Raiders had no intention on starting him until "three, four, five years later."
"Things were different then," Flores laughed. "Teams are a little paranoid now; they want to find a Tom Brady."
Meaning, a cheap sixth-rounder who blossoms into a Hall of Famer.
So what's different? Why do owners, fans and media alike have to see immediate returns on the most glamorous, difficult position to master?
Money.
"He's got to be your guy, sooner, rather than later … because of what you're going to pay him," Flores said. "But at the same time, it's not fair because you can't bring him along until he's really ready."
As general manager of the Seattle Seahawks, Flores used a first-round pick on Dan McGwire in 1991 and the No. 2 overall pick on Rick Mirer in 1993. McGwire was a bust, Mirer an Offensive Rookie of the Year.
"You can't tell your owner you're going to pay a guy $10 million a year to sit on the bench," Flores said. "The contractual structure is all wrong."
Perhaps a rookie salary cap, similar to what the NBA instituted, could remedy such financial pressure.
"Ideally, you give him a year to sit," McVay said, harkening the example Cincinnati set with Carson Palmer in 2003. "Is that possible? I wish I could say yes."
If and when Stafford, Sanchez and Freeman are getting beat up in the fall for a bad team, they'll have the same wish.