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Buccaneers WR
Keyshawn Johnson
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Last week I was sitting at an Arena football game with some friends from high school
when we saw a receiver go across the middle and hear the footsteps. The ball sailed in,
perfectly leading him, but suddenly, he hit the brakes and out came the alligator arms.
His hands went out, then quickly drew back in toward his torso as he prepared for the
contact. The ball ricocheted off his fingertips and skipped helplessly to the turf. A
defender was nearby, but not close enough to immediately cause bodily harm.
I complained out loud, as the over-the-middle jitters caused the receiver’s team a
first down. I asked my friend Eric, who played quarterback for four years in college, if
he made a habit of getting teammates whacked by throwing across the middle.
"Oh yeah, I did it a lot. It was pretty fun," he said with a crooked smile, I
think only half-joking. "Those were paybacks for when they dropped the wide-open ones
along the sideline."
Seems like an easy way to lose friends.
"Some of them would get pissed if they took a shot, but they got over it,"
Eric said, adding that leading taller wide receivers and tight ends with high passes
across the middle is often the only way to get it over the defensive line.
I’ve watched plenty of practices in college and the NFL, practices in which
players weren’t hitting and weren’t wearing pads. Just helmet, shirt, shorts and
cleats. And still, receivers going across the middle don’t always do it with the
utmost confidence. They know that no one is going to hit them, for fear of catching the
wrath of a coach who doesn’t need any unnecessary injuries. They know they’re
safe from getting unexpectedly tagged, tattooed, labeled or decleated, and yet they still
tiptoe through with a level of uncertainty, as if the hash marks are mines, and
they’re wearing three-inch heels.
So what is it about "goin’ across the middle," or even the thought of
it, that turns some grown men, rough and tough football players, into little more than
puddles of mush and insecurity?
For starters, it’s probably the vivid memory of the last time they got their wind
knocked out by a prowling linebacker or safety, the type who loves nothing more than to be
in the vicinity of a receiver who has his head turned to focus on a spiraling football.
Which is, in the NFL, the whole lot of them. The fear of not knowing is a strong one.
"You just hope (the receivers) don’t see you coming," says Seahawks LB
Anthony Simmons with a hearty laugh. "It’s that much better when they don’t
expect it or don’t see it coming, because they can’t prepare for it."
Preparing for "it" means ducking down, tucking the ball and bracing yourself
— all things that make it significantly less fun for a defender whose eyes light up
like a frat guy’s at the Playboy mansion when a receiver’s rib cage is exposed
and his head is turned.
If a defender is allowed to zero in without the receiver expecting anything, it greatly
increases the chances of knocking the ball out and rattling more than his cage. Not that
you intentionally want to hurt the guy, but, well, you know, this is football.
Every receiver or defender remembers his first time. The time a receiver’s legs
almost keep going while his body is stopped in its tracks. The time both sides see a flash
of light, hear the pads pop and go numb for a second or two, the latter of which is
thoroughly enjoyed by Buccaneers S John Lynch, just so you know. If you ask the defenders,
they will tell you of the most memorable ones. The receivers, however, may refrain from
reliving such an occupational hazard.
Some receivers, like the Rams’ Isaac Bruce, say going over the middle is not that
big a deal. It’s what they’re paid to do, catch the football. Troy Brown of the
Patriots and the Steelers’ Hines Ward aren’t afraid to venture into
no-man’s land. Just ask them. Brown says he actually enjoys it sometimes. And
Keyshawn Johnson? Don’t even get him started.
"You look at the situation, and you say, ‘Well, you know you’re going to
get hit, and you know things are going to happen,’ " Keyshawn says. He believes
there are a lot of guys who claim they’re tough and claim they can go across the
middle and do certain things, fearless things. But composure isn’t always in the
cards when it matters, except for the rare few, like Keyshawn of course.
"For me, it happens because my mentality is aggressive. I attack people,
viciously," says Keyshawn, who I can remember having his helmet knocked off last year
and looking as confused as Anna Nicole Smith in trigonometry class. "I don’t sit
around and worry about being hit. I play the game with anger. I’m not going to sit
back and play it passive. I’m willing to actually be the hunter and not the huntee. I
think that’s the approach that you have to take when you play the game. Otherwise,
people will try to knock your head off."
But isn’t it only human nature for even the best, most vicious receivers turned
huntees like yourself to begin thinking twice after somebody puts a dent in your plans to
meander over the middle for a pass?
"I don’t even think about it," Keyshawn retorts. "I laugh at a guy
when he hits me. It’s funny to me, to be honest with you."
Broncos TE Shannon Sharpe says that most of the time he breaks a pattern off to the
middle, he knows he’s going to get hit, so he might as well concentrate on coming
down with the football. The worst thing that can happen is a dropped pass, because
defenders will be standing over you, telling you you’re scared, questioning your
manhood, among other things less suitable for print.
"If you get a guy whose confidence is up, and he’s on his high horse either
running good or catching the ball well, and you knock him off his feet, you get the guy
looking around because he doesn’t want to get hit like that anymore," Simmons
says.
I wouldn’t imagine. According to Simmons, about 90 percent of the time it feels
bad for both parties. As a defender, you’re a little prepared for it, even though it
happens in the blink of an eye. But if the guy doesn’t see you coming, it’s
twice as bad for him. Maybe more.
"You get up and you’re excited and whoopin’ and hollerin’, but at
the same time you’re like, ‘Ooooh, that hurt a little bit,’ " says
Simmons, who admits he often has to wait a little while before lowering the boom again.
Wait as long as you like, say receivers around the league. After all, it’s hard to
give high-fives with alligator arms. |
