SECTION 11
vibraslap
Pretty good article. I think our O-line could be solid, weak or pretty much anywhere in between this season. I'm still up in the air, and am pretty curious to how they handle Sapp and Washington coming up.
http://msn.foxsports.com/story/2686868
Lunch line: What makes an O-line tick?
Dennis Dillon / TSN
Posted: 43 minutes ago
Sit down to lunch with three-quarters of a ton of NFL offensive linemen, and you quickly gain an insight into their personalities, interests and quirks. Not because of what they consume but because of what consumes them. That's the case today, as five healthy appetites fill the lone table in a spacious banquet room in Rodli Commons on the University of Wisconsin-River Falls campus.
The occupants: Willie Roaf, Brian Waters, Casey Wiegmann, Will Shields and John Welbourn -- left to right, the starting line for the Chiefs. The bill of fare: Japanese seafood soup, marinated grilled chicken with roasted corn and bean salsa, pesto cream ravioli, Jasmine rice, snow peas, creamed corn and salad. The topics: football, speed, the sun and politics.
This morning, the linemen heard a rumor that President Bush, who is stumping in Wisconsin, is coming through town. He might even stop to address the Chiefs' coaches and players.
"I have a question," says Welbourn, who has a degree in rhetoric from Cal. "I'd like to ask if he could define jobless recovery for me. I'm interested in how we're going to have a recovery in this country without having more jobs."
The Chiefs faced a jobless recovery situation in March when John Tait, their right tackle, departed for Chicago as a free agent. Tait had been part of a line that started 32 consecutive regular-season games over the past two years, the longest streak since the Chargers had 40 in the early '70s. His departure left a big hole on the starboard side.
On April 25, Day 1 of the draft, Chiefs coach Dick Vermeil asked offensive line coach Mike Solari to look at tape of Welbourn, then the Eagles' left guard. Solari could find only one game of Welbourn playing tackle; it was the final preseason game of 1999, Welbourn's rookie year. Solari also watched Welbourn in two playoff games from last season. Vermeil and Solari decided he fit the Chiefs' profile and could fill the right tackle vacancy. So the Chiefs traded two draft picks (fifth round in 2004 and fourth round in 2005) to the Eagles for Welbourn.
The Chiefs acquired a lineman who has a nasty attitude on the field and a wry sense of humor off it. When the lunch-table discussion turns to the best offensive lines in the NFL -- one ranking had the Chiefs No. 1, followed by the Packers, Ravens and Seahawks -- Welbourn jumps on his cue. "The Eagles had a hell of a line the last few years," he says, "but they're just a bunch of pretenders now."
What makes the Chiefs' line so good? Having two perennial Pro Bowl links in the chain certainly helps, but one of those links defers to the talent at the skill positions.
"I think it's because of the running back," says Shields, referring to Priest Holmes, who has rushed for 4,590 yards in his three seasons in Kansas City and had an NFL-record 27 rushing touchdowns last year. "And the quarterback (Trent Green). Those guys make it easy."
The Chiefs offensive linemen spend time breaking bread together, in addition to breaking bones on Sundays. (SportingNews)
When it comes to themselves, the linemen spread the superlatives, even if they sometimes are tongue-in-cheek. Everyone agrees Waters is the strongest. Roaf deems Wiegmann the best looking. "He is dashing," Welbourn says.
Who's the fastest? That question touches off a running debate between Shields and Roaf, who play different positions but whose football careers follow several parallel lines. In 1992, Shields (Nebraska) won the Outland Trophy; Roaf (Louisiana Tech) was a finalist. Both were '93 NFL draft picks -- Roaf in the first round by the Saints and Shields in the third round by the Chiefs. Each has gone to nine Pro Bowls.
"I said I wanted to race him in the 40, but he wants to race me in the 100 because he thinks I'm going to slow down," Roaf says. "I'm faster than him because he's too old." Roaf, 34, is reminded that he actually is a year and a half older than Shields, which evokes laughs around the table. "Yeah," he says, "but he's played more games than me."
There's no question Roaf is the fastest eater. Barely five minutes into lunch, his plate is clean. Roaf also has an unusual habit of looking up at the sun when he's on the football field. None of his linemates can explain it. They just accept it.
"It was a big day when both the sun and moon were out," cracks Welbourn. "That was special."
The beginning of the 2004 season will mark the re-emergence of the offensive line's kangaroo court. As the player with the longest tenure, Shields is the self-appointed judge and levier of fines. Finable transgressions range from a player having his name or picture in the paper to using a cell phone in the meeting room to jumping offside in a game. (This story would have led to multiple fines if it had been published during the regular season.)
"Willie won the title last year," Wiegmann says. "He paid the most money."
If staring at the sun is peculiar, Roaf's other habit is, well, downright offensive. He has a propensity for flatulence in the meeting room. At $5 per emission, it can be costly.
Fines are collected and the money goes into a kitty to be used for entertainment purposes at the end of the season. Last year, all of the offensive linemen and their wives or girlfriends used it for a night of bowling, laser tag and Putt-Putt golf. Guess who paid for the Putt-Putt?
Watch these offensive linemen closely, and you can tell whether they are developing chemistry and cohesion, two critical components to their success. The same thing is happening at 31 other training camps. The foundation for in-season chemistry is laid in the offseason, when players push each other during workouts on the field and in the weight room. It continues building at training camp, where they lift each other physically and spiritually in order to survive the Groundhog Day monotony of practices and meetings.
Sometimes, the signs are subtle. When the Chiefs' five starters are not involved in on-the-field activity, they always can be found within a few feet of each other, as if they were tethered by a rope. "It's sort of weird how we end up migrating together," Shields says.
When Solari or assistant line coach Irv Eatman asks for volunteers to act as defensive linemen during a drill, Shields and Wiegmann frequently push the second- and third-string players aside and jump in.
Last season, Waters suffered a torn AC joint in Week 11 against the Bengals. Although he was unable to practice the following week, he started the next game against Oakland. Waters had seen his linemates play through injuries -- gout (Roaf), ankle (Tait) and assorted bumps and bruises (Shields and Wiegmann) -- and he wasn't about to take a day off.
"They won't let each other down," Solari says. "Their unbelievable brotherly love to each other is so unique."
It's a diverse band of brothers. They come from Pine Bluff, Ark., (Roaf); Waxahachie, Texas (Waters); Parkersburg, Iowa (Wiegmann); Lawton, Okla., (Shields); and Rolling Hills Estates, Calif., (Welbourn). Wiegmann enjoys listening to Jimmy Buffet. Shields is a gadget freak; whether it's a computer, iPod or cell phone, he has the latest model. Roaf's mother is a former member of the Arkansas State Supreme Court. Waters has a self-described "semi-foul mouth. My words aren't unusual, they're just very blatant and to the point."
Welbourn and Waters are grapplers who outmuscle opponents. Wiegmann, who makes the line calls and adjustments, is adept at pulling outside on runs and screens and getting to the second level. Roaf is an explosive pass blocker with long arms and an unorthodox first step. Whereas most left tackles take their first step by moving their left foot back, Roaf steps laterally then kicks back.
Then there is Shields, the prototypical guard of his era, who has started 175 consecutive games. Only Packers quarterback Brett Favre (189) has a longer active streak. Welbourn knew Shields was an excellent player, but he didn't get a real appreciation for what Shields does until he started lining up next to him every day.
"Playing guard, I was always a big set-punch guy who would always hit a guy hard and tend to play really smash-mouth football," Welbourn says. "That was my style. Will has about 10 different styles and 10 different moves, and he mixes it up all the time. After being around him, you can see why the guy is a nine-time Pro Bowler and a shoo-in for the Hall of Fame."
Now there's a new addition to the band. While Welbourn learns a new position, the other linemen can learn something from Welbourn, who went to the last three NFC championship games with the Eagles.
"He's played in some wars, played in some championship games," Waters says. "So he brought to us some things we hadn't had."
Different backgrounds. Different personalities. Different skills. But when they are on the field, the linemen must be as synchronized as a marching band. Five hearts beating as one. That rhythmic beat will be what keeps the blood flowing in the Chiefs' offense.
Talk to a coach about his offensive linemen, and he'll tell you how vital they are to the success of the team.
"They dictate," Vermeil says. "That's true with any offense. If you don't have a good offensive line, you're not going to have a very good offense."
Vermeil should know. He coached Super Bowl teams in Philadelphia and St. Louis. The Rams won Super Bowl 34 due in large part to an offensive line anchored by Orlando Pace, one of the premier tackles in the league. But from one end to the other, Vermeil thinks the Chiefs' line has more athletic ability.
"They're talented, mobile, bright athletes," he says. "They're all big, and they can run. They are unlimited in what you ask offensive linemen as a core group to do."
As he speaks, Vermeil straddles the bicycle he rides to and from practice. The night sky above the campus in River Falls is lit by a fireworks display that concludes Family Fun night at training camp. There's a football analogy in the air.
A weak line can reduce an offense's potency from that of a Roman candle to a wet sparkler. That shouldn't be a problem in Kansas City, where the pyrotechnics should be on display all season.
Dennis Dillon is a senior writer for Sporting News. Email him at [email protected].
http://msn.foxsports.com/story/2686868
Lunch line: What makes an O-line tick?
Dennis Dillon / TSN
Posted: 43 minutes ago
Sit down to lunch with three-quarters of a ton of NFL offensive linemen, and you quickly gain an insight into their personalities, interests and quirks. Not because of what they consume but because of what consumes them. That's the case today, as five healthy appetites fill the lone table in a spacious banquet room in Rodli Commons on the University of Wisconsin-River Falls campus.
The occupants: Willie Roaf, Brian Waters, Casey Wiegmann, Will Shields and John Welbourn -- left to right, the starting line for the Chiefs. The bill of fare: Japanese seafood soup, marinated grilled chicken with roasted corn and bean salsa, pesto cream ravioli, Jasmine rice, snow peas, creamed corn and salad. The topics: football, speed, the sun and politics.
This morning, the linemen heard a rumor that President Bush, who is stumping in Wisconsin, is coming through town. He might even stop to address the Chiefs' coaches and players.
"I have a question," says Welbourn, who has a degree in rhetoric from Cal. "I'd like to ask if he could define jobless recovery for me. I'm interested in how we're going to have a recovery in this country without having more jobs."
The Chiefs faced a jobless recovery situation in March when John Tait, their right tackle, departed for Chicago as a free agent. Tait had been part of a line that started 32 consecutive regular-season games over the past two years, the longest streak since the Chargers had 40 in the early '70s. His departure left a big hole on the starboard side.
On April 25, Day 1 of the draft, Chiefs coach Dick Vermeil asked offensive line coach Mike Solari to look at tape of Welbourn, then the Eagles' left guard. Solari could find only one game of Welbourn playing tackle; it was the final preseason game of 1999, Welbourn's rookie year. Solari also watched Welbourn in two playoff games from last season. Vermeil and Solari decided he fit the Chiefs' profile and could fill the right tackle vacancy. So the Chiefs traded two draft picks (fifth round in 2004 and fourth round in 2005) to the Eagles for Welbourn.
The Chiefs acquired a lineman who has a nasty attitude on the field and a wry sense of humor off it. When the lunch-table discussion turns to the best offensive lines in the NFL -- one ranking had the Chiefs No. 1, followed by the Packers, Ravens and Seahawks -- Welbourn jumps on his cue. "The Eagles had a hell of a line the last few years," he says, "but they're just a bunch of pretenders now."
What makes the Chiefs' line so good? Having two perennial Pro Bowl links in the chain certainly helps, but one of those links defers to the talent at the skill positions.
"I think it's because of the running back," says Shields, referring to Priest Holmes, who has rushed for 4,590 yards in his three seasons in Kansas City and had an NFL-record 27 rushing touchdowns last year. "And the quarterback (Trent Green). Those guys make it easy."
The Chiefs offensive linemen spend time breaking bread together, in addition to breaking bones on Sundays. (SportingNews)
When it comes to themselves, the linemen spread the superlatives, even if they sometimes are tongue-in-cheek. Everyone agrees Waters is the strongest. Roaf deems Wiegmann the best looking. "He is dashing," Welbourn says.
Who's the fastest? That question touches off a running debate between Shields and Roaf, who play different positions but whose football careers follow several parallel lines. In 1992, Shields (Nebraska) won the Outland Trophy; Roaf (Louisiana Tech) was a finalist. Both were '93 NFL draft picks -- Roaf in the first round by the Saints and Shields in the third round by the Chiefs. Each has gone to nine Pro Bowls.
"I said I wanted to race him in the 40, but he wants to race me in the 100 because he thinks I'm going to slow down," Roaf says. "I'm faster than him because he's too old." Roaf, 34, is reminded that he actually is a year and a half older than Shields, which evokes laughs around the table. "Yeah," he says, "but he's played more games than me."
There's no question Roaf is the fastest eater. Barely five minutes into lunch, his plate is clean. Roaf also has an unusual habit of looking up at the sun when he's on the football field. None of his linemates can explain it. They just accept it.
"It was a big day when both the sun and moon were out," cracks Welbourn. "That was special."
The beginning of the 2004 season will mark the re-emergence of the offensive line's kangaroo court. As the player with the longest tenure, Shields is the self-appointed judge and levier of fines. Finable transgressions range from a player having his name or picture in the paper to using a cell phone in the meeting room to jumping offside in a game. (This story would have led to multiple fines if it had been published during the regular season.)
"Willie won the title last year," Wiegmann says. "He paid the most money."
If staring at the sun is peculiar, Roaf's other habit is, well, downright offensive. He has a propensity for flatulence in the meeting room. At $5 per emission, it can be costly.
Fines are collected and the money goes into a kitty to be used for entertainment purposes at the end of the season. Last year, all of the offensive linemen and their wives or girlfriends used it for a night of bowling, laser tag and Putt-Putt golf. Guess who paid for the Putt-Putt?
Watch these offensive linemen closely, and you can tell whether they are developing chemistry and cohesion, two critical components to their success. The same thing is happening at 31 other training camps. The foundation for in-season chemistry is laid in the offseason, when players push each other during workouts on the field and in the weight room. It continues building at training camp, where they lift each other physically and spiritually in order to survive the Groundhog Day monotony of practices and meetings.
Sometimes, the signs are subtle. When the Chiefs' five starters are not involved in on-the-field activity, they always can be found within a few feet of each other, as if they were tethered by a rope. "It's sort of weird how we end up migrating together," Shields says.
When Solari or assistant line coach Irv Eatman asks for volunteers to act as defensive linemen during a drill, Shields and Wiegmann frequently push the second- and third-string players aside and jump in.
Last season, Waters suffered a torn AC joint in Week 11 against the Bengals. Although he was unable to practice the following week, he started the next game against Oakland. Waters had seen his linemates play through injuries -- gout (Roaf), ankle (Tait) and assorted bumps and bruises (Shields and Wiegmann) -- and he wasn't about to take a day off.
"They won't let each other down," Solari says. "Their unbelievable brotherly love to each other is so unique."
It's a diverse band of brothers. They come from Pine Bluff, Ark., (Roaf); Waxahachie, Texas (Waters); Parkersburg, Iowa (Wiegmann); Lawton, Okla., (Shields); and Rolling Hills Estates, Calif., (Welbourn). Wiegmann enjoys listening to Jimmy Buffet. Shields is a gadget freak; whether it's a computer, iPod or cell phone, he has the latest model. Roaf's mother is a former member of the Arkansas State Supreme Court. Waters has a self-described "semi-foul mouth. My words aren't unusual, they're just very blatant and to the point."
Welbourn and Waters are grapplers who outmuscle opponents. Wiegmann, who makes the line calls and adjustments, is adept at pulling outside on runs and screens and getting to the second level. Roaf is an explosive pass blocker with long arms and an unorthodox first step. Whereas most left tackles take their first step by moving their left foot back, Roaf steps laterally then kicks back.
Then there is Shields, the prototypical guard of his era, who has started 175 consecutive games. Only Packers quarterback Brett Favre (189) has a longer active streak. Welbourn knew Shields was an excellent player, but he didn't get a real appreciation for what Shields does until he started lining up next to him every day.
"Playing guard, I was always a big set-punch guy who would always hit a guy hard and tend to play really smash-mouth football," Welbourn says. "That was my style. Will has about 10 different styles and 10 different moves, and he mixes it up all the time. After being around him, you can see why the guy is a nine-time Pro Bowler and a shoo-in for the Hall of Fame."
Now there's a new addition to the band. While Welbourn learns a new position, the other linemen can learn something from Welbourn, who went to the last three NFC championship games with the Eagles.
"He's played in some wars, played in some championship games," Waters says. "So he brought to us some things we hadn't had."
Different backgrounds. Different personalities. Different skills. But when they are on the field, the linemen must be as synchronized as a marching band. Five hearts beating as one. That rhythmic beat will be what keeps the blood flowing in the Chiefs' offense.
Talk to a coach about his offensive linemen, and he'll tell you how vital they are to the success of the team.
"They dictate," Vermeil says. "That's true with any offense. If you don't have a good offensive line, you're not going to have a very good offense."
Vermeil should know. He coached Super Bowl teams in Philadelphia and St. Louis. The Rams won Super Bowl 34 due in large part to an offensive line anchored by Orlando Pace, one of the premier tackles in the league. But from one end to the other, Vermeil thinks the Chiefs' line has more athletic ability.
"They're talented, mobile, bright athletes," he says. "They're all big, and they can run. They are unlimited in what you ask offensive linemen as a core group to do."
As he speaks, Vermeil straddles the bicycle he rides to and from practice. The night sky above the campus in River Falls is lit by a fireworks display that concludes Family Fun night at training camp. There's a football analogy in the air.
A weak line can reduce an offense's potency from that of a Roman candle to a wet sparkler. That shouldn't be a problem in Kansas City, where the pyrotechnics should be on display all season.
Dennis Dillon is a senior writer for Sporting News. Email him at [email protected].
