Does a quarterback necessarily have to be “elite” to win a Super Bowl? And what exactly is an “elite” quarterback? In regard to the first question, we can answer in the affirmative since at least 1999, when Kurt Warner, Mike Martz and the St. Louis Rams ushered in the current NFL era, where a pass-first offense could roll over teams coached by men who were weaned on the ground-and-pound offenses of the 1960s and 70s. There were a few holdovers from the old days who managed a last gasp, like the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Baltimore Ravens who relied on the run and a potent defense to overcome their deficiencies in the passing game; the 2007 New York Giants fit somewhere in the middle, with the Giants grinding through the playoffs almost in spite of Eli Manning. But they have been the exceptions. Tom Brady, Peyton Manning, Ben Roethlisberger, Drew Brees and Aaron Rodgers are considered “elite” quarterbacks not because they can “manage” games, but because they can slice opposing defenses almost at will with their arms. With a few exceptions, every NFL team wants a quarterback who, when called upon, can overcome all obstacles when the matters look most dire, and nothing else seems to work. The Packers and the Patriots have lived almost exclusively on the pass this season; it takes an elite-level quarterback to run such offenses to overcome defensive schemes that target their one-dimensional nature.
But the problem is that quarterbacks who perform “elite” on a regular basis are rare. The 1991 draft demonstrated just how rare such quarterbacks are; that draft was so horrible that the one quarterback who amounted to anything in the NFL, Brett Favre, produced three-quarters of entire the statistical output of the combined class. However, sometimes a quarterback only has to be “elite” for a year, a maybe even a game—and sometimes only for a play. I have a hard time regarding Eli Manning as an “elite” quarterback, but in between the mostly pedestrian performances he can light it up the scoreboard at the most opportune times, and sometimes only a few plays are necessary, like the occasional long-distance hook-ups with Victor Cruz this year and that seem to arrive like a bolt of lightning and deflate the opposing team.
Other quarterbacks, who are considered on the “cusp,” just don’t seem to be able make that next leap, and there is a question if they ever will. I’m not talking about Mark Sanchez, who was saddled with a running game that produced 40 fewer yards per game than last year, one wide receiver who is a diva head case who dogged routes if he thought he wasn’t “involved,” and another one who after two years out of the league was too slow to get open or make plays on the ball; unlike some “better” quarterbacks, Sanchez actually stepped-up his performances in the playoffs, with a QB rating 20 points higher than the regular season, and 9 TD passes to 3 INTs in 6 games. Rather, the quarterbacks I am talking about are “franchise” players like Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco. On Sunday, Ryan again dudded-out, falling to 0-3 in playoff starts. To begin with, I’m not sure Ryan is as good as billed. I see him as someone who seldom throws the ball downfield willingly, preferring the “safe” dink-and-dunk passes. Atlanta has a better-than-average running game, but does Ryan “step-up” when the running game is ineffective? There is little evidence of that. Against the Giants, as was apparent in his previous two playoff starts, Ryan could barely function; yes, he was harassed most of the game, but he seldom seemed able to make that rapid, decisive action, repeatedly dumping the ball off for little gain. Ryan’s passer rating in the playoffs is a mere 71.2, a stat that hardly indicates his true ineffectiveness—only 584 yards on 70 pass completions; these are hardly what you want from a “franchise” quarterback.
The same goes for Flacco. Although Flacco is 4-3 in the playoffs, this is largely due to the defense holding opponents to an average of 10 points per game in those victories. Flacco himself has been more or less miserable: 61.6 passer rating , 4TDs to 7 INTS. Frankly, I don’t expect next week’s game against banged-up Houston to be instructive as to Flacco’s progress, but if Baltimore actually loses that game, I don’t think there should be any question that Flacco is an average quarterback who does just enough in the regular season, but simply doesn’t have the consistency or intangibles to beat the better teams that prepare for him. Another quarterback whose been receiving a great many accolades is Andy Dalton; but he remains a question mark, with a 1-7 record against teams with winning records.
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I want to take the time now to weigh-in on the Tim Tebow story. There is a lot of talk of his passing mechanics or lack therof, but there is a difference between throwing balls in traffic on short and medium routes, and throwing long balls to receivers who have separated themselves and nobody is likely to catch them except the receiver. Even if you complete only one-third of those passes, the chances that they will be converted into points is sometimes worth that risk. There was no way the Broncos were going to beat the Steelers unless Tebow could convert an occasional huge play, because he couldn’t convert on short passes on anything like a consistent basis. Most quarterbacks require 25 completions to reach 316 yards; Tebow needed only 10 pass completions (Think that’s impressive? In a game against the Colts in 1972, Joe Namath threw for 496 yards on just 15 pass completions—including TD passes of 80,79,67 and 65 yards). This can be a handicap if you are trying to eat-up clock, but the big play has the greater probability of a big pay-off, like the receiver getting behind the secondary and running 80 yards for a winning score. Tebow made relatively few plays against the Steelers, but the ones that he did make broke the back of the Steeler defense because of their deflating nature.
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