SbOrOiNaEnR
8/28/2008, 10:57 PM
Neat article from the Statesman...although the columnist is kind of an a$$jack when it comes to OU. I'll bold the statements that pissed me off the most.
Forty years later, the spread is the new wishbone
Football's latest revolution is hardly a passing fancy
By Kirk Bohls
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Some 40 years ago, I sat in the north end zone of Memorial Stadium — pre-Dodds era — with my bleeding-orange father and watched the future.
We looked on in amazement at this newfangled offense that Darrell Royal unveiled for the first time in the 1968 season-opener against Elmo Wright's dazzling Houston Cougars. We cringed as Texas barely hung on for a 20-20 tie.
Also in the stadium was Irving High School coach Ken Dabbs, who had coached Wright at Sweeney and would later join Royal's staff and almost single-handedly deliver Earl Campbell, as the recruiting coordinator. Dabbs had seen the new offense a few weeks earlier because Russell Coffee — himself a former DKR assistant — had somehow gotten his hands on it and trotted it out for his Garland team in a preseason scrimmage.
"I didn't know what it was," Dabbs said. "I'd never seen anything like it."
Neither had college football. Emory Bellard's invention, with its precision reads and triple options, turned the game on its ear. Royal's top offensive genius had revolutionized the sport, much like the spread offense is doing these days.
Much of the credit for that has gone to Mouse Davis, the innovative free thinker at Portland State, who designed the run-and-shoot, but Rich Rodriguez further popularized the spread at West Virginia and is now adapting it at Michigan, which is a little like seeing Brett Favre in a Jets uniform.
But the wishbone electrified both fans and defensive coordinators for years until 7-on-7 drills, faster athletes and the allure of the NFL forced coaches to rethink the game and modernize their attacks.
Mike Leach is perfecting the spread better than most at pass-giddy Texas Tech, but June Jones used it well enough to inject Hawaii into a BCS berth. Even Texas has deserted a once-total reliance on the ground game in favor of a balanced offense, starting with the I-formation under Fred Akers in 1977, a formation many of us in town still miss.
But on that cool Sept. 21 night in 1968 when Royal shocked the world, the wishbone was born.
Could it ever be born-again?
"I wouldn't rule it out," said new Baylor coach Art Briles, who helped spread the spread offense during his days at Stephenville. "Nowadays, defenses are made up of a bunch of guys who can move pretty well and are not that big. If somebody wanted to line up and pound the ball, I think they'd have a chance to have a little bit of success."
The best defense against the run-and-shoot that I ever saw was concocted by Arkansas' Ken Hatfield, a wishbone practitioner himself. His Razorbacks rushed three, dropped eight into coverage and never missed a tackle against Houston's explosive offense.
Much like the spread relies heavily on an astute, quick-thinking quarterback with poise, so too did the wishbone. The original wishbone quarterback seemed ill-suited for it, and Bill Bradley moved to receiver, then safety.
But his successor was fairly accomplished at it when he took over a couple of weeks later against Oklahoma State. By the time he finished — 20 wins in 20 games later — James Street had developed into the consummate wishbone quarterback.
Others would follow, here at Texas like Eddie Phillips and the remarkable Marty Akins, who was so good he almost beat the Aggies on one good knee.
The wishbone came and went. But in the decade or so in between, Texas won two of its first three national championships. Oklahoma had similar success after DKR shared his offense with Barry Switzer. Bear Bryant spent four full days in Austin to learn the wishbone and talked with Royal on the phone weekly from Alabama. Nebraska ran circles around the competition with its option attack.
Now, 40 years later, the wishbone can mostly be found at the high school level. Kent Jackson uses it at Sweetwater, but says, "We're an anomaly. We're a flexbone, really."
"The new wishbone is the two-back gun," Cedar Park coach Chris Ross said. "We can still run the football, plus have the flexibility of better passing. It's the best of both worlds."
No college program in good standing with any thought of a BCS game would dare line up with three backs clustered in such an intimate area with a field more than 53 yards wide. That would constitute the worst use of space since Norman.
When Royal surveyed a recent Longhorns practice inside the bubble at Denius Fields, Dabbs asked whatever came of a downhill, power running game.
"A thing of the past," Royal muttered.
The wishbone did become a relic, shunted to the wayside of college football by the run-and-shoot, which gave way to the spread offense that has enveloped the game with its shotgun formation, multiple receivers and no huddle. Today, only Georgia Tech and the academies — to my knowledge — still embrace the option game, but Army, Navy and Air Force run the spread option.
There are quarterbacks scattered across the nation who relate the wishbone to a prehistoric era when coordinators viewed actual film on projectors. The wishbone died, of course, when it was deemed incapable of either mounting fourth-quarter comebacks or producing an NFL quarterback.
Maybe one of college football's establishment programs might venture back into that era and dust off the wishbone. Can you imagine an opponent trying to get ready in a week's time to defend that? More likely, the wishbone might make more sense for a smaller school with fewer resources to give it a try. But don't expect it.
Asked if he thinks the wishbone will ever return, Texas defensive coordinator Will Muschamp on Monday said, "I hope not. I don't want to have to face it."
In the meantime, you can bet this year's national champion will use some form of the spread offense, and the wishbone will remain on those grainy, black-and-white films — and in the memories of Royal and Dabbs and one enthralled teenager, sitting in the end zone with his dad.
[email protected]; 445-3772
Forty years later, the spread is the new wishbone
Football's latest revolution is hardly a passing fancy
By Kirk Bohls
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Some 40 years ago, I sat in the north end zone of Memorial Stadium — pre-Dodds era — with my bleeding-orange father and watched the future.
We looked on in amazement at this newfangled offense that Darrell Royal unveiled for the first time in the 1968 season-opener against Elmo Wright's dazzling Houston Cougars. We cringed as Texas barely hung on for a 20-20 tie.
Also in the stadium was Irving High School coach Ken Dabbs, who had coached Wright at Sweeney and would later join Royal's staff and almost single-handedly deliver Earl Campbell, as the recruiting coordinator. Dabbs had seen the new offense a few weeks earlier because Russell Coffee — himself a former DKR assistant — had somehow gotten his hands on it and trotted it out for his Garland team in a preseason scrimmage.
"I didn't know what it was," Dabbs said. "I'd never seen anything like it."
Neither had college football. Emory Bellard's invention, with its precision reads and triple options, turned the game on its ear. Royal's top offensive genius had revolutionized the sport, much like the spread offense is doing these days.
Much of the credit for that has gone to Mouse Davis, the innovative free thinker at Portland State, who designed the run-and-shoot, but Rich Rodriguez further popularized the spread at West Virginia and is now adapting it at Michigan, which is a little like seeing Brett Favre in a Jets uniform.
But the wishbone electrified both fans and defensive coordinators for years until 7-on-7 drills, faster athletes and the allure of the NFL forced coaches to rethink the game and modernize their attacks.
Mike Leach is perfecting the spread better than most at pass-giddy Texas Tech, but June Jones used it well enough to inject Hawaii into a BCS berth. Even Texas has deserted a once-total reliance on the ground game in favor of a balanced offense, starting with the I-formation under Fred Akers in 1977, a formation many of us in town still miss.
But on that cool Sept. 21 night in 1968 when Royal shocked the world, the wishbone was born.
Could it ever be born-again?
"I wouldn't rule it out," said new Baylor coach Art Briles, who helped spread the spread offense during his days at Stephenville. "Nowadays, defenses are made up of a bunch of guys who can move pretty well and are not that big. If somebody wanted to line up and pound the ball, I think they'd have a chance to have a little bit of success."
The best defense against the run-and-shoot that I ever saw was concocted by Arkansas' Ken Hatfield, a wishbone practitioner himself. His Razorbacks rushed three, dropped eight into coverage and never missed a tackle against Houston's explosive offense.
Much like the spread relies heavily on an astute, quick-thinking quarterback with poise, so too did the wishbone. The original wishbone quarterback seemed ill-suited for it, and Bill Bradley moved to receiver, then safety.
But his successor was fairly accomplished at it when he took over a couple of weeks later against Oklahoma State. By the time he finished — 20 wins in 20 games later — James Street had developed into the consummate wishbone quarterback.
Others would follow, here at Texas like Eddie Phillips and the remarkable Marty Akins, who was so good he almost beat the Aggies on one good knee.
The wishbone came and went. But in the decade or so in between, Texas won two of its first three national championships. Oklahoma had similar success after DKR shared his offense with Barry Switzer. Bear Bryant spent four full days in Austin to learn the wishbone and talked with Royal on the phone weekly from Alabama. Nebraska ran circles around the competition with its option attack.
Now, 40 years later, the wishbone can mostly be found at the high school level. Kent Jackson uses it at Sweetwater, but says, "We're an anomaly. We're a flexbone, really."
"The new wishbone is the two-back gun," Cedar Park coach Chris Ross said. "We can still run the football, plus have the flexibility of better passing. It's the best of both worlds."
No college program in good standing with any thought of a BCS game would dare line up with three backs clustered in such an intimate area with a field more than 53 yards wide. That would constitute the worst use of space since Norman.
When Royal surveyed a recent Longhorns practice inside the bubble at Denius Fields, Dabbs asked whatever came of a downhill, power running game.
"A thing of the past," Royal muttered.
The wishbone did become a relic, shunted to the wayside of college football by the run-and-shoot, which gave way to the spread offense that has enveloped the game with its shotgun formation, multiple receivers and no huddle. Today, only Georgia Tech and the academies — to my knowledge — still embrace the option game, but Army, Navy and Air Force run the spread option.
There are quarterbacks scattered across the nation who relate the wishbone to a prehistoric era when coordinators viewed actual film on projectors. The wishbone died, of course, when it was deemed incapable of either mounting fourth-quarter comebacks or producing an NFL quarterback.
Maybe one of college football's establishment programs might venture back into that era and dust off the wishbone. Can you imagine an opponent trying to get ready in a week's time to defend that? More likely, the wishbone might make more sense for a smaller school with fewer resources to give it a try. But don't expect it.
Asked if he thinks the wishbone will ever return, Texas defensive coordinator Will Muschamp on Monday said, "I hope not. I don't want to have to face it."
In the meantime, you can bet this year's national champion will use some form of the spread offense, and the wishbone will remain on those grainy, black-and-white films — and in the memories of Royal and Dabbs and one enthralled teenager, sitting in the end zone with his dad.
[email protected]; 445-3772