The Toughest Job In Sports

Overburdened offenses. But the biggest reason is how much more complicated offensive systems have become. Thank Bill Walsh's hiring as the 49ers coach in 1978 for that. "The size of offensive playbooks has probably doubled since then," says Mike Lombardi, a former NFL scout who worked for Walsh in the mid-'80s. "Bill started doing so many more things, and then defenses adapted, and then offenses adapted again." The encyclopedic playbooks can impede a quarterback's progress and, worse yet, obscure his talent. Washington Redskins coach Norv Turner says when a quarterback hears the name of a play, it's vital that the play appear in his mind as a Polaroid picture; he must have instant recollection of how the play should unfold. So what if a game plan features 120 or so plays?

"For six months after I was drafted, I had everybody telling me how great I was," says Dilfer, taken with the sixth pick of the 1994 draft by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. "Then I get to Tampa and realize two things: Man, the Bucs have been losing for a long time, and, wow, this offense is complicated! How am I going to learn this in time to play?" He didn't. In his first two seasons, Dilfer threw five touchdown passes and 24 interceptions.

Perhaps no one has asked more of his quarterbacks than Sam Wyche, who as coach of the Cincinnati Bengals and the Bucs between 1984 and '95 liked the hurry-up offense and gave his passers the freedom to call a lot of audibles. To allow the quarterback to communicate with the rest of the offense at the line of scrimmage, Wyche came up with a complicated series of code words. For example, the Bengals had a running play called 61. As they prepared for one game, Wyche announced that Esiason would yell, "Mantle!" to signify the play. When Esiason asked why Mantle, Wyche said everyone knew that Mickey Mantle had hit 61 home runs in a season. "No" Esiason said. "That was Roger Maris." No matter, Wyche said, the Cincinnati players had never heard of Maris, but they all knew Mantle. So Mantle translated into 61.

As coach of the Bucs, Wyche became more and more worried that opposing defenses might decipher his quarterback's audibles and snap counts, so he set up an even more elaborate system. One week, an audible was real only if it was preceded by specific terms relating to Elvis Presley. In other words, the audible was on if Dilfer went to the line and yelled, "Graceland! Graceland!" Or "Sideburns! Sideburns!" Or "Memphis! Memphis!" One week, the snap count was based on the number of syllables in an NBA center's name. If Dilfer yelled, "Ewing! Ewing!" the snap was on two; if he barked, "Olajuwon! Olajuwon!" it was on four.

"There was a genius to what Sam was doing," Dilfer says, "but when so many code words and basic things were changed every week, I found myself trying to learn terminology for hours and hours, not working on my fundamentals. I got the rap of being lazy, but just ask my wife: I was up late, cramming every week."

Dilfer has collected himself under the steadier hands of coach Tony Dungy and offensive coordinator Mike Shula. Last year, helped by a terrific running game, Dilfer threw 21 touchdown passes and 11 interceptions. It looks as if the Bucs may have made the right choice four years ago after all.

But Polian is right: Sometimes fate does intervene. In 1991, Green Bay executive vice president of football operations Tom Braatz traded the eighth pick in the draft to the Philadelphia Eagles for first-round picks in '91 and '92. Braatz was thinking quarterback. He liked Klingler, who was due to come out of the University of Houston in '92, and with two first-round draft picks as trading chips, he figured he might be able to move up and get Klingler.

Also on draft day 1991, New York Jets scout Ron Wolf was pushing hard to get his team to draft an undisciplined, injury-plagued quarterback from Southern Mississippi named Brett Favre. Wolf had watched Favre's workout at Southern Miss a few weeks earlier—run by San Francisco 49ers offensive coordinator Mike Holmgren—but hadn't been very impressed. Wolf was particularly turned off by Favre's cockiness. In his scouting report to the 49ers, Holmgren wrote, "This young man has all the tools to be not only a starting quarterback but a very good starting quarterback. However, he has to display the maturity a quarterback needs.... He also throws every ball like he's going to kill somebody."

Sensing that the group of talent evaluators was disappointed, Southern Miss's pro football liaison, Thames Coleman, sidled up to Wolf and said, "You have to watch his film as a junior to see this guy at his best." Wolf did and was impressed, especially by Favre's athleticism, decision making on the run and accuracy. When he returned to New York, Wolf told Jets general manager Dick Steinberg, "Favre's the best player in the draft, and you know we need a quarterback."

One problem: Because they had taken Syracuse wideout Rob Moore in the first round of the previous summer's supplemental draft, the Jets didn't have a first-round pick. They figured Favre wouldn't be on the board when their turn came in the second round, the 34th choice overall. When Favre was still available late in the first round, the Jets tried to move up. They called the Los Angeles Raiders, but Al Davis wanted to hold on to the 24th pick, because he had his heart set on another quarterback, Todd Marinovich. They called the Houston Oilers, who had the first selection of the second round, but they were set on taking safety Mike Dumas. The Cleveland Browns turned down a trade offer and chose guard Ed King. The Broncos did the same and went for tight end Reggie Johnson. The Atlanta Falcons, picking 33rd, wouldn't deal either, because they too wanted Favre, and they took him. "We were crushed," Wolf recalls. On the rebound the Jets reached for Louisville's Nagle.