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Bucs SS
John Lynch
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A lot of us may remember our first day of school, our first kiss or the first time we
drove on our own without a parent sitting in the passenger seat to remind us that we were
accelerating a little too fast.
John Lynch, strong safety for the Buccaneers and arguably the league’s hardest
hitter, probably remembers all those things too. But one of his most vivid childhood
memories could be his first big hit as a football player. It happened in his Pop Warner
league in California. He was 11 years old.
"I was playing linebacker, actually, and the quarterback went to scramble, and I
just caught him under the chin and his feet went flying up in the air," Lynch says,
his voice resonating like a child’s on Christmas Day. "It was a rush, it really
was. It’s still to this day one my best hits of all time. I wished they taped those
games because it was a … well, it was Pop Warner, and it was something special."
Lynch is still getting a rush 19 years later, and now, they do tape his games. And
he’s gathered quite a reputation in the process, as have a number of other defenders
who thrive on the feeling of lowering the boom on whoever may be unfortunate enough to be
holding the pigskin.
The best hits, or slobberknockers, as Tampa Bay’s defensive coordinator Monte
Kiffin calls them, can sometimes give defenders a feeling of numbness. Not numb like the
minutes prior to facing a dentist’s drill. Numb like total body numb.
"I liken it to when you hit your farthest home runs, and you almost feel nothing
in your hands," Lynch says. "There’s some home runs when you get jammed a
little bit, and your hands will sting. But if you talk to Mark McGwire or someone like
that, they’ll tell you when they hit their biggest ones, there’s that sweet spot
where you don’t feel much at all."
The NFL has made a hard push toward making sure that sweet spot doesn’t involve
defenders leading with their helmets. In little more than a whisper, Lynch admits he did
too much of that when he came into the league. He credits former Bucs DB coach and current
Jets head coach Herman Edwards with making him into a more fundamentally sound tackler as
opposed to just a one-man wrecking ball. Now, with three visits to the Pro Bowl on his
résumé, Lynch is considered one of the best in the business.
Securing the sure tackle is key versus the explosive offensive players of today, but
there still are times when delivering the punishing blow is deemed a necessity. It needs
to be done to send a message and possibly swing the momentum of a game. It has to be done.
"There is that time when you’re going to go for the big hit, you’re not
going to wrap up and you’re just going to go and try to knock someone … you
know," Lynch says with a chuckle that could send a cold shiver down the spine of the
most reliable receivers.
The one thing Lynch tries to think a lot about and tells kids when they ask him about
tackling is how the great hitters hit through people. Think about that for a moment from
the safety of your kitchen table or office desk: He instructs kids to hit through people.
A lot of defenders just hit people and stop. But if you can envision the play before it
happens and hit through someone, that’s when you become a good tackler and a great
hitter.
Former 49ers great Ronnie Lott relayed that message to Lynch when Lott was visiting his
former coach, Bill Walsh, while Walsh and Lynch were at Stanford.
"I try to envision sometimes that there’s three or four guys there, like a
three-dimensional or four-dimensional being," Lynch says, "and I’m trying
to hit through to that last guy."
And if all goes well, the last guy in the four-dimensional being ends up smarting more
than the first one. At least that’s the hope.
With a big hit comes respect. But it isn’t necessarily visible in those blurred
few seconds after the collision. A hitter can always taunt the offensive player by staring
him down or flapping the jaws a bit on the way back to the huddle. But according to most
hitters, the real respect factor emerges later in the game when the opposing running back
hesitates in falling forward for the extra yard or a receiver is not so sure about coming
across the middle.
"That’s when you know," Lynch says. "If you can have someone or a
team thinking about that, then they’re thinking about something they shouldn’t
be thinking about. You’ve taken their mind off what they’re trying to get
accomplished.
"Let’s face it, we play a physical, physical game, and part of it is some
intimidation in there. If you can intimidate someone, you’ve done your job and helped
yourself out and made it easier on you and your team."
But sometimes Lynch doesn’t make it easier on his team. His nickname is
"Friendly Fire" because some of the bruises that make it hard for teammates to
get out of bed in the morning are courtesy of Lynch, playing the Buccaneers’
aggressive style of defense that has people flying to the ball.
"Part of our deal is knocking the pile back, so there’s going to be times
when my own teammates have the guy held up and they’ve got to take one for the team
to move the pile back," Lynch says, laughing again.
He says he doesn’t hit his own teammates as often as he used to, but don’t
think for a minute that he doesn’t like the moniker. Even if teammate Derrick
Brooks’ ribs are hurting.
One has to wonder if Lynch ever thinks about that quarterback. The one from Pop Warner
he hit under the chin and knocked flying through the air back when he was 11.
"I don’t even know who he was, to be honest with you," Lynch says.
What if Lynch gave the poor kid nightmares? What if the quarterback still wakes up in a
cold sweat after seeing John’s little face storming after him? Or what if that
quarterback sits around with his buddies on Sunday afternoons, telling his version of the
hit over and over, believing in his heart that he helped start Lynch off on a
guided-missile rampage that has just about everyone on the field hearing footsteps.
"I was really a quarterback back then, just playing a little defense," Lynch
says.
Hundreds of slobberknockers later, it’s safe to say the rest of the NFL wishes he
still was. |
