QB THREAD - 2x quarterbacky award winner: Lamar Jackson

Seahawks have been smart in locking up their studs already. Hate them. :smh:

Do y'all think Dan Marino is better than Jeff George?
 
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Mister Friendly said:
 
100027 said:
Hopefully not too interesting
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Going from $800,000 to $20,000,000 will be a little interesting
laugh.gif


That's why when people say you could get 10 quarterbacks to do what Russell Wilson is doing, I'm like could you afford them and field a great team?

The value Russell Wilson currently gives the Seahawks is insane
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Yup this aspect is huge... You can do a lot of things when you have a QB playing great football and only costing you pennies on the dollar.
 
Mister Friendly said:
100027 said:
Hopefully not too interesting
Click to expand...

Going from $800,000 to $20,000,000 will be a little interesting :lol:

That's why when people say you could get 10 quarterbacks to do what Russell Wilson is doing, I'm like could you afford them and field a great team?

The value Russell Wilson currently gives the Seahawks is insane
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I doubt his first few years will literally be 20 a year so it affecting the core of the team staying together is probably a moot point

Plus mostly everyone is locked up at this point already except a few guys..and the cap is rising
 
Wilson's new deal will affect the team and personnel; it'd be impossible not to. If not with many starters, than depth. Just the nature of the beast with a good player going from rookie deal to second deal (especially a QB)
 
dmxfury said:
Wilson's new deal will affect the team and personnel; it'd be impossible not to. If not with many starters, than depth. Just the nature of the beast with a good player going from rookie deal to second deal (especially a QB)
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I just dont think the impact will be that big within these next 3-4 years..he wont be making 20 + year those years..(look at Flacco's contract)

Depth will have to be replinished via draft...as it always has

Im not saying it will have no impact, just not as major in the first few years imo
 
I have a feeling that Chester's opinion of Wilson would be drastically different if he was a 49er.


Just taking a shot in the dark here.


Not really.
 
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Didn't Seattle already come out and say that Russ would be the highest paid QB this offseason? Saw it online somewhere last weekend.
 
INDIANAPOLIS -- Andrew Luck's wristband, which serves as his play-calling cheat sheet, was gone, and the suspicion on the Indianapolis Colts sideline was that the Denver Broncos had it. How, no one knew for sure.

"I was in a panic," Colts offensive coordinator Pep Hamilton said.

"Either lost it," Luck said, "or forgot to put it on at halftime."

Given video evidence, the latter is more likely true.

As game tape shows, Luck played with the wristband throughout the first half of the Colts' divisional win over the Broncos on Sunday. When Luck took the field for the first offensive snap of the third quarter, he didn't have it. Several plays went by before backup quarterback Matt Hasselbeck hurled his wristband onto the field. Facing second-and-16 from the Broncos' 40-yard line, Luck jogged over to the numbers closest to the Colts' sideline, picked up the wristband, slid it over his left hand and jogged back to the huddle.

"You could have our playbook, and the coaches have equipped Andrew with enough tools and leeway and bullets in his gun, so to speak, that he still can be right," Hasselbeck said.

That is because the Colts' playbook belongs to Luck now. This season, Hamilton gave Luck the keys to the Porsche. It was a natural progression for the third-year quarterback. Year 1 was about getting Luck comfortable playing in the NFL. Year 2 was about pivoting to Hamilton, who replaced Bruce Arians as coordinator. Although Luck and tight end Coby Fleener played under Hamilton at Stanford, the rest of the team was unfamiliar with his offense. Year 3 was about giving Luck more pre-snap responsibility at the line of scrimmage and trusting that his mind, right arm and feet would turn potentially negative plays into positive ones.

In the huddle, Luck typically calls three plays. At the line, however, he has countless other options -- his "toolbox," as Hasselbeck called it -- from which to choose, depending on what the defense is showing. For the more complicated plays, Hamilton will tell Luck to call them from the wristband.

Luck has an enormous number of plays at his disposal -- substantially more than last season -- particularly for a quarterback who has started only 53 NFL games. But Luck isn't just any quarterback.

"The guy's a bright guy," Indianapolis head coach Chuck Pagano said. "He can handle a lot. We're lucky. We're very lucky, no pun intended."

The pre-snap read begins as soon as the quarterback breaks the huddle. What is the defensive front? Is it an over front? Is it an under? Is the defense showing blitz? Are they trying to stop the run? How much time is left on the 40-second play clock?

At the line, the options vary. Some quarterbacks have two plays from which to choose, a run and a pass, as Luck did for most of his first two seasons. Maybe it's a bubble screen. Maybe it's an inside handoff to avoid a safety.

"Typically you [install plays] systematically so [the quarterback has] got a few when he's very young, and as the year goes on a few more and a few more," longtime NFL offensive coordinator Marty Mornhinweg said. "Once the young man has a great understanding of the options and can put you in the very best play, pretty soon he could go all the way to Peyton Manning, doing that virtually every play.

"I think those kinds of quarterbacks are very unique. I would suspect there's a little bit more than a handful of guys doing it regularly and having success."

Manning. Tom Brady. Drew Brees. Aaron Rodgers. And Luck.

It's no accident that Luck has thrown for more yards in his first three seasons than any quarterback in NFL history. Only Dan Marino threw more touchdown passes than Luck in his first three seasons.

In just his third year, Luck broke Manning's franchise records for a single season with 4,761 passing yards and 10 games of at least 300 yards.

"He can manage ... having to go up and identify front and coverage, get the protection set, get a guy in motion, do this, do that and then remember the snap count," Pagano said. "I can't imagine what a daunting task that is, let alone go to the line with run, pass, run, run to run, this, that and the other.

"All the quarterbacks that are playing right now [in the playoffs] -- the one we just faced, Manning in Denver, obviously -- they're able to go and do what they do at the line of scrimmage. They can identify these kinds of things. They have recall. They manage bad plays and get you in the right play 95 percent of the time. So rather than just calling a play to call a play, they get you out when a certain look isn't going to work. They get you out of it, and they get you in the right play. It's a benefit."

That's the jump Luck took this season.

Hamilton said Luck has more audibles and play options at the line of scrimmage this season. A lot of it has to do with protections, because the last thing the Colts want is for Luck to end up on the turf.

"And then in some cases it is a run to run, or run to pass," Hamilton said. "I think we have the full menu of run-pass checks and options to get us to the best play."

When asked how many more options Luck has this season, Hamilton laughed.

"I don't know if I can quantify that," he said. "I think it didn't have as much to do with Andrew as it did with everybody else being in their second year in the system being able to handle the different options and audibles that we would make at the line of scrimmage, you know?"

Said Luck: "I don't want to make it sound like I can pull from any play at any time. ... But I think, too, with a natural progression of a quarterback, the older you get, the more experienced you get, the easier it is to say, 'Oh, this is the look we can definitely run this play on. Let's do it. We got burned by it before, and now we're going to flip the script.'"

The benefits have been obvious. Luck threw an NFL-high 40 touchdown passes this season, 17 more than last season on just 46 more pass attempts. He completed a career-high 61.7 percent of his passes, and his yards-per-attempt average of 7.73 was a full yard more than in 2013.

That Luck threw 16 interceptions, as opposed to just nine in 2013, was not a function of his having more control at the line, both he and Pagano said. Luck, however, will have to protect the football Sunday in the AFC Championship Game against a New England team that has owned him in three previous meetings. The Patriots are 3-0 against the Luck-led Colts, winning by an average of 26 points per game. In those three games -- two regular-season matchups and one playoff game -- Luck threw six touchdowns and eight interceptions.

"That hasn't grinded on me, in a sense, on my mind this week," Luck said. "You do look back on the film and try and glean some information about scheme, glean some things like that. It's a new game and a new opportunity."

Luck grew up around sports. His father, Oliver, is a former NFL quarterback and worked as an executive for NFL Europe.

"There's much more to playing quarterback than standing in the pocket and throwing the ball," said Oliver, who recently left his job as West Virginia University's athletic director for an executive vice president position with the NCAA. "There are skills you can learn playing baseball, soccer and basketball with the triangles you have to work. ... My preference for kids would be to play multiple sports. Certainly for quarterbacks, it helps."

That's what Andrew did. He was born in Washington, D.C., but while living in Germany and England during early childhood, he played soccer and baseball. He was fluent in German. His two sisters, Mary Ellen and Emily, who would both follow him to Stanford, were born in Germany. His brother, Addison, who is a junior in high school and an accomplished soccer player, was born in England.

Growing up overseas allowed the Luck children to learn about different cultures and ways of life. In part because he saw so many unique sports venues, Andrew decided to major in architecture at Stanford. He is naturally curious and, as Hasselbeck noted, "just into learning."

Luck didn't start playing organized football until the family moved to Houston when he was in fifth grade. For two years, Oliver was an assistant coach on Andrew's Pop Warner team. Then he backed off, trusting Andrew's coaches to teach him.

There is no doubt the coaching Andrew received over the years helped him greatly. He has learned from some of the brightest minds in the game: Jim Harbaugh, Hamilton, David Shaw, Greg Roman, Arians and Pagano. But those who know Luck best credit his intelligence and football IQ for his success.

"He doesn't care at all what defenses are doing," Hasselbeck said. "He's going to use his cadence and just snap, snap a play, and he can never be wrong, basically. They can never get him. Because if they want to slow play it and disguise, we run a play quickly. If they want to disguise, he can use his cadence, and it's pretty good. You just need enough time on the play clock, that's all."

Said Hamilton: "He was a dominant college football player, and now I think he's gotten to the point where he's consistently controlling football games and making plays that a lot of quarterbacks can't do. He's gotten better as he's gained experience in this league. He's a little ahead of schedule."

That's scary for the rest of the NFL.

"He's a good player," one AFC coach said. "You also see his eyes. Year 1, he's staring down receivers. Year 2, he's still staring down. Year 3, he's starting to look people off and make a throw opposite field. Year 4, he'll be putting people in pickle jars. It's crazy."

It should be, as long as Luck can hold onto his wristband.
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New England being Luck's kryptonite, just like they were Manning's, is just unfair. Colts gotta hate those guys somethin serious by now. :lol:
 
Disclaimer: We’re dumb for spending THIS much time caring about laundry. We’re dumb for caring about athletes 100 times more than they care about us. We’re dumb for creating self-serving narratives, searching for bad blood that doesn’t really exist, pitting athletes against one another just because it’s fun to compare them, or judging their entire careers by certain games or certain moments. And we’re really dumb for using words like “we” and “our” and pretending that we’re on the team too.

That hasn’t stopped Patriots fans since 2001 from desperately wanting Tom Brady to steal the “Best QB of His Generation” crown from Peyton Manning. That desire spawned from a bitter place: We immediately resented Manning as our then–AFC East rival, the no. 1 overall pick, Archie’s son, the Golden Boy, the kid designated to be the next Marino even though he hadn’t done anything yet. Our own version of that franchise guy (Drew Bledsoe) hadn’t fully worked out. We hadn’t won a single Super Bowl. We hadn’t won any sports title since 1986. We were pissed about everything. Hating Peyton Manning? That felt right. Let’s hate this guy.

And then … this.

Brady emerged from a generic sports movie script, just a handsome, steel-chinned sixth-rounder holding down the fort for a hopeless team. His first NFL start doubled as a glorious home thrashing of, you guessed it, Manning’s Colts. I was living in Boston that year; suddenly, you couldn’t go three minutes without overhearing a “Brady or Bledsoe?” conversation. Three weeks later, they crushed the Colts in Indy by 21 points — with Brady throwing for more than 200 yards and three scores — and after that, only Bledsoe loyalists cared when Bledsoe came back. Those two Colts games and an unexpected AFC East title put Brady over the top; the Snow Game pushed him to another level; the Super Bowl cemented something well beyond flash-in-the-pan status; and “Brady or Manning?” slowly became a thing.

My generation of Boston fans was weaned on the “Russell or Chamberlain?” question. We backed Russell for obvious reasons, but also because winning mattered more than numbers. Russell was a winner; Wilt was a loser. That’s what we believed. Was it unfair to Chamberlain? I broke down their rivalry for my NBA book and found out that, actually, it wasn’t unfair at all. Wilt WAS selfish. Wilt WAS obsessed with numbers. Wilt looked down on Russell for being so obsessed with winning. Wilt believed that whatever was best for him was best for his team.2 Wilt’s teammates felt like props; Russell’s teammates would have fought to the death for him. Wilt’s opponents thought Wilt was a selfish loser; Russell’s opponents revered him. Everyone from their generation would have rather played with Bill Russell. Everyone.

Boston fans (myself included) desperately wanted Brady-Manning to play out like Russell-Chamberlain. We wanted to pigeonhole Manning as the selfish loser, the numbers-only guy, the one who kept crumbling on the biggest stage. And we wanted Brady to become our new Russell — the “winner” who couldn’t be measured only by numbers, the one who ascended whenever it mattered, the one who kept proving that “clutch” DID exist. But Brady wasn’t quite Russell, and Manning definitely wasn’t Wilt. Their turf war evolved into the finest sports rivalry of the decade, loaded with twists and turns, football’s version of a 15-round war.

Those head-to-head Manning-Brady seasons mirror actual boxing rounds. Manning won 2000 by default. Brady grabbed 2001 (and a ring). Manning took 2002, then Brady roared back for three straight (including two more rings). In 2006, Manning won the fight’s most thrilling round (and his first ring). Brady tagged Manning with the 16-0 season in 2007. Manning won a 10-8 round in 2008 and took 2009 too. Brady won 2010 and took a 10-8 round in 2011. And Manning won 2012 and 2013. That left them tied at seven not-so-fictional rounds apiece heading into 2014. We would “settle” everything in this month’s AFC title game. But they had to survive the divisional round first.

On Saturday, Brady upped the ante with the most emotional home victory since Saving Private Ryan. The Patriots became the first playoff winner to rally from two different 14-point deficits. They beat Baltimore without a whiff of a running game or pass rush,3 which seems impossible, but it happened. They even dusted off a Belichick rarity — the Kitchen Sink — which yielded a momentum-changing drive from a goofy four-man offensive line, followed by Julian Edelman’s receiver-to-receiver bomb that they’d been hiding in Gillette Stadium’s attic for six years.

This was Belichick at his devious best: patching **** together, playing to limited strengths, conceding weaknesses, doing whatever he needed to survive. Baltimore’s banged-up secondary had one undeniable weak link — beleaguered cornerback Rashaan Melvin, plucked off Miami’s practice squad two months earlier — so naturally, the Patriots went after him like Jamie Foxx destroying Doug Williams on a roast dais. It was that kind of game. Scrap, claw, fight, do whatever it takes.

Not counting the three Super Bowls, this was the second-greatest Patriots victory ever, as well as their second-most-exciting victory ever and second-best home win ever. (Trailing only the Snow Game over Oakland in January 2002.)4 And it was the best Gillette Stadium victory ever; by all accounts, the much-maligned Gillette (an acoustic nightmare) turned into Boston Garden during the Edelman-to–Danny Amendola touchdown. The place was shaking. That’s what everyone said.

Meanwhile, Brady hadn’t pulled a playoff victory out of thin air since January 2007, in San Diego, with Reche Caldwell, Jabar Gaffney and Ben Watson as his receivers and Troy Brown playing nickelback.5 Manning outdueled him one week later, just one season after Jake Plummer had handed Brady his first playoff loss. Uh-oh. The following year, the Helmet Catch ruined a possible 19-0 season. Bernard Pollard wiped out 2008, then the Pats blew home playoff games in 2009 and 2010. In 2011, they barely survived the Ravens and gave a fourth Super Bowl away thanks partly to Brady’s semi-shoddy second-half performance. In 2012, Flacco defeated him at home. In 2013, Manning walloped him in Denver.

The Brady Kool-Aid drinkers never discussed our concerns publicly. But privately? We talked about it all the time. We didn’t know if he still had “it.” Those 37 years and 200-plus games had taken their subtle toll. He couldn’t move around or throw deep like he once did. His head-butting, shoulder-slapping, F-bomb-dropping intensity came and went depending on the game. His numbers remained superb, but every so often, he’d miss a simple throw or stumble through a three-and-out and you’d think to yourself, Oh no.

In my lifetime, I watched three legitimately great Boston athletes lose “it” because of injuries: Orr’s knees, Bird’s back, Pedro’s shoulder. Each time, you knew. But Brady still LOOKED like Tom Brady. He seemed healthy enough, keeping himself in phenomenal shape, even revolving his eating/sleeping/working-out routines around football and only football. And he was playing an increasingly skittish sport that protected quarterbacks to comical degrees. Why couldn’t this keep going? Why couldn’t he play through the decade?

After a hideous September culminated in that god-awful Kansas City loss on Monday night, for the first time we seriously contemplated a football future without no. 12. And it was freaking petrifying. You look around and see the Kyle Ortons and Brian Hoyers and Josh McCowns and think to yourself, My God, that’s gonna be us. Of course, we forgot about The Infrastructure. The Brady-Belichick Patriots and Duncan-Popovich Spurs are built like skyscrapers; yeah, they might sway during earthquakes, but they’re never crumbling. How many times have we looked stupid betting against The Infrastructure? Within a week of the K.C. game, New England’s battered offensive line belatedly meshed, Gronk turned back into Superhero Gronk, and our old buddy F-Bombing, Fist-Pumping, Shoulder-Slapping Tom Brady even showed up. Twelve wins, another AFC East title, another no. 1 seed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And yet … we still didn’t know.

Would you trust 37-year-old Tom Brady if he were trailing by three points at home with less than 10 minutes to go, with no running game whatsoever, while knowing the Ravens would close the game if they got the football back?

We answered that question last weekend: best drive of the day, best throw of the day (the touchdown to Brandon LaFell), total command. Tom F---ing Brady. Just like old times. And here’s the thing: He needed it. He needed a Legacy Game. If the comeback from that ghastly Chiefs loss had already regalvanized (if that’s even a word) every Boston fan behind Brady, then Saturday’s game-winning drive was the belated payoff. It sounds like the chorus to a Counting Crows song, but it’s true — you don’t know what you’re losing until you feel like you might actually lose it.

There was one unforgettable moment, right before the two-minute warning, on a crucial fourth-and-3 for Baltimore coming out of a timeout, when Gillette’s speakers blared a cheesy-but-lovable ’80s song as everyone in the stadium belted the chorus. Nearly 30 years after they peaked, the Outfield finally had their finest moment: 60,000 Patriots fans working off nervous energy by happily belting out the “Your Love” chorus at the top of their frozen lungs.

I just want to use your love … TOOOOOOOOOOOOO-NIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!!!!!

I don’t want to lose your love … TOOOOOOOOOOOOO-NIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!!!!!

It was the perfect song for about 30 different reasons, and the perfect moment too. The Patriots ended up getting a stop and winning by four. Tom Brady still had it.

Twenty-four hours later, Brady officially won the 15th round when a broken-down Manning labored through four painful quarters against the Nobody Believes In Us Colts. They treated Manning like NBA defenses treat Josh Smith — basically, they stacked the paint (in this case, the line of scrimmage), left Manning alone behind the 3-point line and dared him to shoot (in this case, throw deep). He couldn’t do it. When it goes, it goes. They built that Broncos team much like the K.G.-Pierce-Allen Celtics were assembled — three contending years, at least, then cross your fingers and hope for one or two more. You need luck to win Super Bowls, and they never quite got it. Now it’s over.

For Manning, the question isn’t “Can I play well anymore?” Of course he can. Steve Nash described this dilemma so eloquently in The Finish Line — Nash knew he could play world-class basketball once a week, but three or four times per week had become impossible. Manning knows his creaky, high-mileage, surgically repaired body can produce world-class football for six to eight straight weeks, but for five straight months? At that position? No way. He’s not done, but he IS done.

And then there’s this: Last weekend, Brady had Belichick, who graduated from the “greatest football coaches ever” conversation and threw his Patriots ski cap into the “greatest sports coaches ever” conversation after that Baltimore game. Manning had John Fox … who “mutually parted ways” with Denver 24 hours after they lost. And if you watched both games closely, you noticed a decidedly different urgency from the Patriots and their fans — they could feel the Grim Reaper coming, not just for that day, but for the entire Brady era. And they ramped it up accordingly.

Compare that experience to what Manning had on Sunday — frustrated fans, receivers jogging aimlessly through do-or-die routes, a coaching staff inexplicably lacking any sense of desperation. Same dire situation, totally different outcome. Manning has played for four coaches; Brady has played for one. Brady’s coach would have rolled out the Kitchen Sink during that Colts-Broncos game. Manning’s coach just stood there and watched.

That not-so-subtle difference helped to swing the 15th round, as well as a few of the other rounds. It made up for Brady’s 14-year revolving door of running backs, receivers and tight ends, or all the seasons spent learning how to run a new offense and/or click with new personnel. Now, he’s two more playoff victories away from true immortality: four Super Bowl wins, six Super Bowl appearances, nine AFC title games, the 50,000-Yard Passing Club, the 16-0 season and a staggering playoff record of 21-8 (not to mention nine first-round byes).

Brady had Belichick; Manning had a bunch of guys who weren’t as good as Belichick. It wasn’t a totally fair fight. Forty years from now, I won’t feel nearly as passionate about “Brady or Manning?” as those crusty Celtics fans who staunchly defend Russell over Wilt. Someone will ask Old Man Simmons who was better. I will forget the details and stammer a little. All the games will blend together. I won’t remember who won what and who beat whom. And I’ll probably end up muttering something like, “They were pretty damned close. They were both great. Really great. But Brady had Belichick, and he won more Super Bowls.”

Maybe that’s how this ends, and maybe that’s how this should end. But one other not-so-tiny piece matters here. Manning belonged to Indianapolis, then to Denver, and his career probably ended when his old team vanquished his new team. That’s sports-as-laundry. It’s the very definition of it. Colts fans loved no. 18, now they love no. 12. And eventually, no. 12 finished off no. 18. Laundry.

But Brady accomplished the rarest of modern football feats — he doesn’t just belong to one of the 32 National Football League franchises. It goes so much deeper than that. It’s about what Elway means to Denver and Jeter means to New York. It’s about some imaginary mountain in Western Mass. showing off the heads of Brady, Bird, Orr and Russell. It’s about the most successful football run since Lombardi’s Packers. It’s about one more Lombardi Trophy burying every Spygate joke and every a-hole comment from the Ray Lewises of the world. It’s about holding on to a 14-year run (and counting) that will absolutely, positively never happen again. What are the odds of landing one of the greatest football coaches ever AND one of the greatest quarterbacks ever? Do you know how lucky that is?

Believe me, Patriots fans know. There was an endearing desperation about those last three quarters on Saturday, a vulnerability that hadn’t seeped out before. Over everything else, that’s what caused Belichick to roll out that Kitchen Sink, and that’s what caused Brady to reach back into the vault for that game-winning drive, and that’s what caused 60,000 people to sing “Your Love” a little more loudly than usual. They loved their team, their quarterback, their coach, everything. They didn’t want this thing to end yet. And it didn’t.

So yeah, Belichick can break out his monotone voice and his “On to Indianapolis” routine. But he knows better. And so do we. We’ll always have the Baltimore game. The 15th round was gravy.
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