Chapter 74 73: Heated Discussions
Adam Klein crossed his legs and leaned back heavily in his chair. The plastic stadium seat groaned under his weight, creaking as if in immense pain. To his left sat a white-haired old man, who looked to be around sixty-five, with a chubby face, a chubby beer belly, and a kind, friendly expression.
The two were talking in low voices, occasionally dipping their chins with profound expressions.
Blake Simmons hung up and put his phone in his pocket, but he held back from interrupting them. He waited a short while, and only after the white-haired man left did Blake walk over and sit down next to Adam. His gaze followed the man's retreating back. "What's Wade Phillips doing here? Which defensive player is he interested in? JJ Watt? Or Von Miller?"
The white-haired man was Wade Phillips. From the 2007 to the 2010 season, he was the head coach of the Dallas Cowboys. This year, he officially became the defensive coordinator for the Houston Texans. He was a veteran coach who'd been in the League for forty years, and coaching up a defense was his specialty.
Adam lifted his chin and said coyly, keeping him in suspense, "What do you think?"
'So it's not JJ Watt or Von Miller.' Blake's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Adam carefully. Instead of answering, he simply leaned back in his chair and looked toward the middle of the field, where the rookies were preparing for the next test. "I just got a call. You'll never guess from who." Blake gave him a taste of his own medicine, saying with a grin. But he didn't drag it out and gave the answer directly. "Mike Sura from the Carolina Panthers."
"Are they crazy?" That was Adam's first reaction.
Mike Sura. He's a quarterback coach. For the past three years, he was with the Jacksonville Jaguars, and he just moved to the Carolina Panthers this year.
It was worth noting that the Carolina Panthers had this year's number one draft pick. Their quarterback, Jimmy Clausen, had been an absolute disaster. Almost everyone predicted they would select a quarterback, and Cam Newton was clearly the top choice.
But now, Mike was starting to call scouts—and Blake of all people. The implication was obvious: Lu Ke.
"It's just one Fonderick test. Has everyone lost their minds?" Adam shook his head helplessly, not hiding his astonishment and disbelief. 'Give up Cam for Lu Ke?' Even if it was just a consideration, just a feeler, Adam still thought the Carolina Panthers had lost their minds.
But Blake just smiled. "So, Wade Phillips was here for number eleven too?"
Lu Ke, the rookie quarterback from the UCLA Bruins, had quickly become the hottest name after yesterday's basic tests concluded. The dramatic effect was even more pronounced because absolutely no one had heard of him before. It got to the point where everyone couldn't help but start talking about him, trying to dig up more information.
Lu Ke. That was number eleven's name. In just one day, almost everyone knew it. After simmering overnight, the buzz had grown even more intense. But Blake and Adam still habitually called him "number eleven," as if the moniker still carried the magic of that miracle at the Rose Bowl.
Adam didn't play coy this time. He shrugged. "He came over asking about several defensive players, but, yes, he did ask about number eleven's situation."
Apparently, the Houston Texans didn't want people to know they were looking into quarterbacks for the time being. So they sent Wade, the team's defensive coordinator, to use that as a plausible excuse, create a smokescreen, and hide their true intentions.
"First the Texans, then the Panthers. I also just heard the Browns and the Bills are asking around too." Blake shared the latest news he'd just received and turned to look at Adam. He didn't need to say more; his eyes conveyed the message clearly enough. Adam spread his hands, a helpless look on his face. "The Dolphins seem to be snooping around too."
The quarterback. It's always the most coveted and most important position for any team. Having a top-tier quarterback means the team can build its entire franchise around him for the next decade. Even teams with an elite quarterback will consider their backup situation to guard against injuries, age, a decline in performance, and other such problems.
Especially over the last half-century, as the League gradually changed the on-field rules for reasons like player safety and entertainment value, the power of the running back was diminished. The NFL gradually entered a pass-heavy Era, and the status and role of the quarterback rose accordingly. The core of the offense gradually fell onto the quarterback's shoulders.
Therefore, in every year's draft, quarterback is the most high-profile position. In draft history, quarterbacks have been the number one pick more than any other position—a total of thirty-one times. Running backs are second, having been chosen as the top pick twenty-three times.
This year was no exception. At least half the teams, if not more, were in need of a quarterback. The twenty-one quarterbacks at the combine would be thoroughly evaluated before teams decided on their draft choices. Now, an unknown variable had appeared, and nearly every team was starting to stir.
A perfect score on the Fonderick test was indeed an irresistible temptation. A wild card emerged on the very first day of the combine, and all the teams began to get restless.
Blake studied Adam's expression intently. "You don't look like you approve. What's wrong? I thought this was a good thing. Haven't you been keeping an eye on number eleven all day?"
"I just think they're going to be disappointed," Adam said earnestly, his tone tinged with a bit of worry. As a veteran scout, he knew exactly how cruel this League was, and he genuinely hoped that players with talent and ability could have a bright future. "Those teams are just jumping on the bandwagon. Look at the old foxes—the Patriots, the Colts, the Packers. Have any of them made a rash move? If they're paying attention just because of a perfect Fonderick score, they're bound to be disappointed. Look at number eleven's forty-yard dash time..."
Adam didn't finish his sentence, but Blake understood immediately. The higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment. Number eleven had no foundation to speak of. Under this wave of bandwagon hype, if his upcoming combine tests weren't satisfactory, he'd quickly fall off every team's radar, and making a comeback after that would be next to impossible.
Today was the second day of the combine, and the first event was the forty-yard dash. It's a bit like the 100-meter dash in Olympic track and field—a contest of pure speed and explosiveness, arguably the most exciting event.
The football forty-yard dash is much the same. Every rookie participates in this test, which measures a player's speed, power, explosiveness, and some aspects of their physical conditioning. The test also includes timing points at the ten and twenty-yard marks to measure a player's explosive burst. The data from the ten, twenty, and forty-yard splits holds different significance for players at different positions.
For example, the ten-yard split is particularly important for the Offensive and Defensive Lines, because in an actual game, they rarely run more than ten yards. Their initial burst of speed is what's key.
The current League record for the forty-yard dash is 4.24 seconds, set by Chris Johnson in 2008.
4.89 seconds. That was Lu Ke's forty-yard dash time.
For a quarterback, the forty-yard dash isn't the most important metric, but it is a showcase of physical ability. The overall average for quarterbacks is 4.87 seconds, but Lu Ke's time didn't even meet the average. Let alone compare to this year's top prospect for the number one pick, Cam Newton—Newton's time of 4.59 seconds was terrifying for his size, practically on the level of a bulldozer.
Blake, however, sat up straight and said earnestly, "But speed and power aren't number eleven's strengths. He'll definitely perform better in the 20-yard shuttle and the three-cone drill. More importantly, number eleven's greatest assets aren't his physical traits. It's his grasp of the on-field situation, his ability to read defenses, and his passing accuracy. Those are the most important qualities!"
Adam glanced at Blake. "But no one else can see that information."
Blake was at a loss for words. Even for scouts like them, the only data they had was game tape from just two games. To be precise, it was fifteen minutes plus two minutes of game time footage. Including all the timeouts, the total tape ran for less than half an hour.
Now, Blake finally understood what Adam meant—Adam was, in the end, worried about number eleven. He ultimately hoped for a more comprehensive and in-depth evaluation of number eleven, rather than seeing him become a circus clown under all the gimmicky hype and his Aura.
'That perfect Fonderick score... was it a good thing or a bad thing?'
Blake couldn't help but sigh heavily. "Let's see what happens tomorrow." Tomorrow would be the position-specific drills, where players would showcase the talent, technique, and ability for their respective positions.
Just as Adam had predicted, the buzz around Lu Ke lasted for only one tumultuous day before dying down. The Aura from his perfect Fonderick test score vanished completely after the second day of tests. Overnight, the ugly duckling who hadn't even had time to fully transform into a swan was right back where he started.
The tests included a total of seven events: the forty-yard dash, the 225-pound bench press, the vertical jump, the broad jump, the 40-yard shuttle, the 60-yard shuttle, and the three-cone drill.
Of the seven events, players were not required to participate in all of them. For instance, quarterbacks and wide receivers didn't have to do the bench press, but it was mandatory for the Offensive and Defensive Lines. As another example, the 60-yard shuttle was a required event for wide receivers, but there was no strict requirement for other positions. Quarterbacks could choose to participate based on their own abilities.
In the end, Lu Ke's results were far from impressive. They were even a bit below average, which was a disappointment.