The Blind Side

In 1985, in one of the most famous football moments of all time, Joe Theismann, the Washington Redskins quarterback, faced off against the New York Giants. Theismann passed the ball to his running back, John Riggins, and then waiting for Riggins to pass the ball back, confusing the Giants’ offense. In the four seconds it took for the Giants’ player Harry Carson to run toward Riggins, Carson realized that Theismann, not Riggins, had the ball—as a result, he ran for Theismann. Theismann quickly stepped out of Carson’s way, at which point he could no longer see Carson at all.

That year, the Giants had one of the most feared players in the NFL, a tackle named Lawrence Taylor. In 1981, his rookie year, Taylor proved himself to be adept at “sacks”—i.e., tackling the quarterback behind the line of scrimmage before he passes the ball. Taylor was so talented at sacking that because of him the NFL began keeping sack records for the first time in its history. All by himself, Taylor changed the game of football—before long, he’d become so admired and feared that he could feel the opposing team glancing at him nervously between plays.

Why was Taylor unique in the NFL? To begin with, he was exceptionally fast and big. Second, Taylor—unlike many professional athletes—was genuinely concerned with winning, rather than simply keeping his high paycheck. Taylor was also headstrong and reckless—midway through his career, he came a cocaine addict—but this made him a great player.

Lewis returns to where we were at the beginning of the chapter: the 1985 Redskins-Giants game. By this point, teams had learned to line up in special ways just to deal with Lawrence Taylor. Nevertheless, Taylor sprinted past the blockers and tackled Theismann. For most quarterbacks, Theismann included, their left side is the blind side, since turning to throw the football blocks their view. That night, Taylor tackled Theismann from his blind side, ending Theismann’s football career. Taylor broke Theismann’s leg, essentially pinning it to the ground.

The obvious question, following Theismann’s legendary injury, is: who was supposed to stop Lawrence Taylor from getting to Theismann? When interviewed later, Theismann said that Joe Jacoby, the Redskins left tackle, was defending him that night. Joe Jacoby, a big, 300-pound player, was one of the best linemen of his era. However, at the time, linemen weren’t a highly valued part of the game—everybody knew they were important, but nobody could agree why. In any event—and contrary to what Theismann thought—Jacoby wasn’t even playing in the game; he’d been subbed out earlier.

With Jacoby out of the game, the lineman who was supposed to protect Theismann from Taylor was named Russ Grimm. Grimm was smaller than Jacoby, so the coaches assigned another player, the tight end Don Warren, to help Grimm. If Taylor moved on the inside toward Theismann, he was Grimm’s responsibility; if he moved on the outside, it was up to Warren to stop him. But during the play, Taylor went outside and raced past Warren and Grimm. When Taylor tackled Theismann, there was a sound like a gunshot; the sound of Theismann’s right leg breaking.

A study later determined that 77 percent of broken bone injuries in NFL games, including Theismann’s, occur during passing plays. Taylor had broken players’ legs before. However, on the night he hurt Theismann, he seemed frightened by what he’d just done—indeed, when he leapt back, he clutched his own leg. Lewis says it was the “only known instance of Lawrence Taylor imagining himself into the skin of a quarterback he had knocked from a game.”