What makes a quarterback elite?
This question is going to come up a lot in the next two weeks. Many classify Dan Marino as one of the best of all time, though the Miami Dolphins front man never won a Super Bowl. Neither did Jim Kelly, another solid performer for the Buffalo Bills, though, God help him, he tried. These two men were considered among the elites of the game, but it’s doubtful they would look at their careers with a complete measure of satisfaction after coming so close to the Dance and walking away without an offer, a kiss, or a pinch on the ass.
But is winning the big game ultimately a fair way of determining who the elites are?
Few would place Jim McMahon in the same tier as Peyton Manning, but these two have exactly one Lombardi Trophy each. Does McMahon have the same right to look back on his career with the same pride and gusto that Manning does? In the eyes of the Great Lombardi, they are one and the same. While some would argue one of these QBs deserves a seat at the Table, and the other was simply in the right place at the right time, we here at The Rugged disagree.
Let’s think of professional football as what it really is for a few moments: a job. Talk to any old-time NFL football player, and he’ll admit college holds the fondest memories in his heart because it was football “before it was a business.”
That’s not to say there aren’t a lot of guys playing the game, or a lot of guys, who have played the game, that didn’t have one hell of a good time doing it. But for the vast majority that come through the system, the business aspects have corrupted the innocence of a game that was once about glory and fun.
With that said, try to think about your own career, if you’re to that point of your work life yet, where you actually have one. I’ll use myself as an example.
When I’m not doing this, people call me a journalist. I write for The City Wire in my home state of Arkansas, and between that and freelancing, I make a nice living. Do I give a shit if I win the Pulitzer Prize or not? Do I care if something I write changes the world in some way or exploits corruption or fixes a broken system? Well, yeah, sure. I’d love that. But am I going to look back on myself as a failure or as someone, who “wasn’t good enough” if I fail to receive the highest honor?
Of course not. Nor should I.
Here’s the thing about special accolades, such as a Pulitzer, an ‘atta boy, or a Super Bowl: they’re fleeting. They mean something in the moment, but very little one, two, three years down the road.
Don’t believe me? Look at the Indianapolis Colts. In one season, they went from being one of a handful of perennial powers in the AFC to becoming a laughingstock destined to be at the top of the heap for first round draft pick selections.
The Super Bowl they won off the Chicago Bears. The three- and four-win seasons. What have you done for me lately?
Here’s what I’m trying to say: if you’re using Super Bowl victories to determine who “the elite” quarterbacks are in the NFL, you’re being very short-sighted. Another thing to think about as far as that goes: Super Bowls are won with talent, teamwork, drive, determination, and good coaching, yes. But they’re also won with a single, vital, pivotal ingredient.
Luck.
Every team, who ever won a Super Bowl, did so because they got lucky in some small way during the season. That’s not to take anything away from them. Teams actually make a lot of the luck that eventually finds them by doing and having all the things mentioned above.
But luck plays a part.
You’re dealing with 32 teams, and only 2,000 of the best athletes in the world. (There are a hell of a lot more than that.) They’ve got to be lucky just to get drafted. Only stands to reason a little luck is involved for a team that makes it to the Super Bowl and wins. Again, that’s not to take anything away from the other qualities that a championship team possesses. My Pittsburgh Steelers have won six Super Bowls, more than any other team in the league, and I’m the first to admit the luck factor applies to every one of those championship seasons.
So what does this mean when applied to all the discussion over the elite quarterbacks of the NFL? It means it’s a silly argument, because they’re all elite. Getting drafted automatically makes you one of “the elite.” Everything else is just gravy.
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