Life on the line, Joe Staley meandered through a thoughtful treatise on the differences between playing offensive line and defensive line. Staley and his fellow blockers often must react to their foes, he explained, while defensive linemen can play more aggressively.
Staley eventually reached the punchline.
“You have to be a lot more intelligent to play offensive line,” he said.
Ray McDonald, standing about five feet away, promptly protested.
“I don’t know about that,” he said.
They both smiled, enjoying the byplay during a joint interview last week in Santa Clara. This was one time a massive offensive tackle, and similarly large defensive tackle, had no interest in slamming each other to the ground.
It’s natural to watch the 49ers, or any NFL team, and keep your eyes fixed on the so-called skill position players – Alex Smith throwing, Frank Gore running, Randy Moss catching. But football, at its primitive core, still hinges on oversized humans trying to knock the stuffing out of each other.
Life along the line of scrimmage is rugged and mysterious, mostly lost in the shadows (unless a lineman commits a costly penalty). The line also is where many games are decided – where 6-foot-5, 315-pound offensive tackles, like Staley, ruthlessly grapple with 6-3, 290-pound defensive tackles, like McDonald.
“There’s a little bit of craziness to it, yeah,” McDonald said of his job.
So, in attempt to gain some insight into the craziness, we convened Staley and McDonald for a conversation about life on the line. How violent is it? What’s the strangest trash-talking exchange they’ve ever had? What’s the dirtiest play they’ve ever seen?
This seemed like a relevant time to pose the questions, with Lions defensive tackle Ndamukong Suh coming to town Sunday at Candlestick Park. Suh tends to plant himself in the middle of the madness, most notably when he stomped on the arm of Packers offensive lineman Evan Dietrich-Smith last season.
(McDonald didn’t even try to defend his defensive colleague on that one. “I thought it was kind of dirty,” he said.)
First things first: Staley quickly sought to counter any easy assumptions when viewing players his size, or McDonald’s.
“I think everyone has the perception of linemen as being these huge meatheads,” Staley said, “like we’re out there saying, ‘Grrrr!’ and we’re all belly-bumping and trying to muscle each other. But there’s a lot of technique and strategy and different things you have to do.
“You have to play calmly and with aggression, too. We don’t listen to a bunch of heavy metal music and psych ourselves out. Offensive linemen have to be mellow, make quick decisions and be very focused. It’s kind of like a quarterback – you have to react really quickly.”
That was Staley’s polite way of saying he doesn’t listen to music to energize himself before games. Still, he and McDonald both acknowledged a transformation takes place on the field, because their positions require a distinctive mix of pre-calculation and brute force.
Staley and McDonald spend hours upon hours watching film during the week, hoping to learn an opponent’s tendencies. Last year, Staley noticed that one upcoming adversary put his head down, every time, before trying to bull rush. When the player kept his head up, he always tried his other move.
Armed with this knowledge, Staley shut him down.
McDonald, a soft-spoken sort, insisted he does not engage in trash talking on the field (he pointed to teammate Justin Smith as a skilled trash talker). That occasionally makes for awkward moments, as was the case in a Sept. 2009 game against Minnesota.
The Vikings were double-teaming McDonald, keeping him from reaching quarterback Brett Favre. The guard began taunting McDonald, peppering him with obscenities to describe his struggles. McDonald, in a deadpan and flabbergasted tone, replied simply, “You’re getting help.” (as in, ‘Why the hell are you yapping?’)
Staley shared the story of former 49ers offensive lineman Tony Ragge. As legend has it, then-Raiders defensive tackle Warren Sapp wildly dug into the pile when he thought there was a fumble. Ragge apparently turned to Sapp and said, “Chill out, there’s not a hoagie in my pocket!”
Not surprisingly, these duels often become heated. McDonald complained about offensive linemen routinely using chop blocks, skirting the rules by having one lineman stop blocking (high) just as another blocks low. That maneuver once left McDonald with a sprained ankle and sidelined him for two or three weeks.
The dirtiest play Staley ever saw occurred last season, against an opponent he wouldn’t name.
“The guy pulled up my helmet and started punching me under the pile, in the jaw,” Staley said. “Then, on the next play, he pulled my helmet up again and put all his weight on my jaw. I thought he was trying to break it. I fought on that one.”
All this, and Staley happily chugs along at left tackle. He savored his rare chance to catch a pass last season against Cleveland, but he knows what keeps him employed in the NFL.
“I enjoy playing offensive line, because it’s what I’m good at,” he said. “I couldn’t play anything else. If you ask a D-lineman if they want to play offensive line, I don’t think they’d say yes.”
“Noooo,” McDonald said quickly.
Here, the byplay between Staley and McDonald became good-natured and lively. Asked if they had ever played another position, Staley said, “I moved to offensive tackle when I was a sophomore in college. I was a tight end my freshman year and a wide receiver in high school.”
McDonald: “I was always a defensive lineman.”
Staley: “He was always fat.” (laughter)
McDonald: “I was actually pretty skinny in high school. I didn’t get fat until I got to the league and they started giving us all this good food.”
Staley eventually reached the punchline.
“You have to be a lot more intelligent to play offensive line,” he said.
Ray McDonald, standing about five feet away, promptly protested.
“I don’t know about that,” he said.
They both smiled, enjoying the byplay during a joint interview last week in Santa Clara. This was one time a massive offensive tackle, and similarly large defensive tackle, had no interest in slamming each other to the ground.
It’s natural to watch the 49ers, or any NFL team, and keep your eyes fixed on the so-called skill position players – Alex Smith throwing, Frank Gore running, Randy Moss catching. But football, at its primitive core, still hinges on oversized humans trying to knock the stuffing out of each other.
Life along the line of scrimmage is rugged and mysterious, mostly lost in the shadows (unless a lineman commits a costly penalty). The line also is where many games are decided – where 6-foot-5, 315-pound offensive tackles, like Staley, ruthlessly grapple with 6-3, 290-pound defensive tackles, like McDonald.
“There’s a little bit of craziness to it, yeah,” McDonald said of his job.
So, in attempt to gain some insight into the craziness, we convened Staley and McDonald for a conversation about life on the line. How violent is it? What’s the strangest trash-talking exchange they’ve ever had? What’s the dirtiest play they’ve ever seen?
This seemed like a relevant time to pose the questions, with Lions defensive tackle Ndamukong Suh coming to town Sunday at Candlestick Park. Suh tends to plant himself in the middle of the madness, most notably when he stomped on the arm of Packers offensive lineman Evan Dietrich-Smith last season.
(McDonald didn’t even try to defend his defensive colleague on that one. “I thought it was kind of dirty,” he said.)
First things first: Staley quickly sought to counter any easy assumptions when viewing players his size, or McDonald’s.
“I think everyone has the perception of linemen as being these huge meatheads,” Staley said, “like we’re out there saying, ‘Grrrr!’ and we’re all belly-bumping and trying to muscle each other. But there’s a lot of technique and strategy and different things you have to do.
“You have to play calmly and with aggression, too. We don’t listen to a bunch of heavy metal music and psych ourselves out. Offensive linemen have to be mellow, make quick decisions and be very focused. It’s kind of like a quarterback – you have to react really quickly.”
That was Staley’s polite way of saying he doesn’t listen to music to energize himself before games. Still, he and McDonald both acknowledged a transformation takes place on the field, because their positions require a distinctive mix of pre-calculation and brute force.
Staley and McDonald spend hours upon hours watching film during the week, hoping to learn an opponent’s tendencies. Last year, Staley noticed that one upcoming adversary put his head down, every time, before trying to bull rush. When the player kept his head up, he always tried his other move.
Armed with this knowledge, Staley shut him down.
McDonald, a soft-spoken sort, insisted he does not engage in trash talking on the field (he pointed to teammate Justin Smith as a skilled trash talker). That occasionally makes for awkward moments, as was the case in a Sept. 2009 game against Minnesota.
The Vikings were double-teaming McDonald, keeping him from reaching quarterback Brett Favre. The guard began taunting McDonald, peppering him with obscenities to describe his struggles. McDonald, in a deadpan and flabbergasted tone, replied simply, “You’re getting help.” (as in, ‘Why the hell are you yapping?’)
Staley shared the story of former 49ers offensive lineman Tony Ragge. As legend has it, then-Raiders defensive tackle Warren Sapp wildly dug into the pile when he thought there was a fumble. Ragge apparently turned to Sapp and said, “Chill out, there’s not a hoagie in my pocket!”
Not surprisingly, these duels often become heated. McDonald complained about offensive linemen routinely using chop blocks, skirting the rules by having one lineman stop blocking (high) just as another blocks low. That maneuver once left McDonald with a sprained ankle and sidelined him for two or three weeks.
The dirtiest play Staley ever saw occurred last season, against an opponent he wouldn’t name.
“The guy pulled up my helmet and started punching me under the pile, in the jaw,” Staley said. “Then, on the next play, he pulled my helmet up again and put all his weight on my jaw. I thought he was trying to break it. I fought on that one.”
All this, and Staley happily chugs along at left tackle. He savored his rare chance to catch a pass last season against Cleveland, but he knows what keeps him employed in the NFL.
“I enjoy playing offensive line, because it’s what I’m good at,” he said. “I couldn’t play anything else. If you ask a D-lineman if they want to play offensive line, I don’t think they’d say yes.”
“Noooo,” McDonald said quickly.
Here, the byplay between Staley and McDonald became good-natured and lively. Asked if they had ever played another position, Staley said, “I moved to offensive tackle when I was a sophomore in college. I was a tight end my freshman year and a wide receiver in high school.”
McDonald: “I was always a defensive lineman.”
Staley: “He was always fat.” (laughter)
McDonald: “I was actually pretty skinny in high school. I didn’t get fat until I got to the league and they started giving us all this good food.”