We finally made it. This marks the last installment of the Grand List, a countdown of the top one thousand players in pro football history (who spent at least some time in the NFL). I began publishing this list in March 2020, right after the NFL’s centennial season, and had the aspirational goal of publishing the full list before the 2020 season started. By the beginning of the season, I had 399 players remaining. I focused on the 2020 season live rather than trying to work on the list while the season was still ongoing, and I picked back up in March 2021. In order to be fair to active players named in the first 600 players, I made the choice to ignore the 2020 season entirely when moving forward with the list. That means I had to pretend dominant performances from Mahomes, Rodgers and Donald didn’t happen, or that Brady didn’t win another title with a new team and scheme. When I am done with the list, I will make an update to include not only the new information form the 2020 season, but also more film study I hadn’t yet conducted for older seasons. ^[1]Players who had great 2020 seasons will see their status rise—sometimes significantly. There are some older players for whom I had only seen a handful of full games, and adding to the body of … Continue reading

My typical caveats apply here:

• These are based solely on my opinion. I’d like to think that it is a pretty well-reasoned and informed opinion, but it is an opinion nonetheless. As my late grandfather, who got me in to studying the game thirty years ago, used to say: “Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one, and they all stink.” I haven’t sniffed everyone’s opinion, but I think it’s fair to say we all have one others would consider less than rosy. If you find mine appalling and would like to let me know, do so in the comments. Undue praise and deserved criticism are welcome. Please send personal attacks to DeleteSansReading@gmail.com.
• Ordinal rankings tend to imply a level of separation that is sometimes essentially nonexistent. I could see arguments for players 2-6 to be in any order. Ditto players 9-20. At some point, it comes down to preference and best-guessing.
• Building on that, rankings are somewhat fluid. Because of the amount of time I have spent studying and thinking about football, I can easily talk myself into and out of an argument for or against a player. With the exception of number one, my placement of most players moved around, sometimes significantly, while constructing the list. When I publish the update, many players will see large changes in rank.
• It’s just football. It probably seems silly to say something like this after writing 200,000+ words for a trivial list, but it’s just entertainment. This stuff doesn’t really matter to me beyond that.

Previous articles in the series

The Grand List, part 1: Includes honorable/special mentions and players 1000-990.
The Grand List, part 2: Includes players 989-965.
The Grand List, part 3: Includes players 964-940.
The Grand List, part 4: Includes players 939-901.
The Grand List, part 5: Includes players 900-876.
The Grand List, part 6: Includes players 875-851.
The Grand List, part 7: Includes players 850-810.
The Grand List, part 8: Includes players 809-780.
The Grand List, part 9: Includes players 779-750.
The Grand List, part 10: Includes players 749-700.
The Grand List, part 11: Includes players 699-650.
The Grand List, part 12: Includes players 649-600.
The Grand List, part 13: Includes players 599-550.
The Grand List, part 14: Includes players 549-500.
The Grand List, part 15: Includes players 499-450.
The Grand List, part 16: Includes players 449-400.
The Grand List, part 17: Includes players 399-350.
The Grand List, part 18: Includes players 349-300.
The Grand List, part 19: Includes players 299-250.
The Grand List, part 20: Includes players 249-200.
The Grand List, part 21: Includes players 199-150.
The Grand List, part 22: Includes players 149-101.
The Grand List, part 23: Includes players 100-51.
The Grand List, part 24: Includes players 50-21.

Let’s wrap it up.

The Grand List, continued

20. Forrest Gregg (1956-1971)
Offensive Tackle
Green Bay Packers, Dallas Cowboys

Vince Lombardi presided over a team full of legends, but it was of his exalted tackle that he said: “Forrest Gregg is the finest player I ever coached.” Gregg was relatively small and unathletic for a football player, but he more than made up for his physical shortcomings by honing his skills and beating defenders with technique and preparation. His position blocking was marvelous, and he was able to gain the advantage on heavier, stronger, or faster defenders. And his long arms came in handy to keep defenders from getting inside his pads, which was a big issue for many tackles of his era. Gregg worked hard to master his craft, and he worked his way into one of the most technically proficient blockers ever. His footwork was superb, what they call blue in scoutspeak. It allowed him to get into position smoothly and play without being thrown off balance.

Blockers in the Lombardi offense had to be great run blockers, by necessity. But Gregg was also a premier pass blocker on the right side in an era the top pass rushers attacked the offense’s right. To a man, the great ends of the day all cite Gregg as the best tackle they ever faced. Starr had a tendency to hold the ball a second longer than he perhaps should have, and he needed his tackle to maintain integrity in pass pro. Gregg got the job done. He earned the nickname Iron Man for starting a then-record 188 consecutive games, and he did it at a high level even when playing out of position. In 1965, injuries along the line necessitated a move from right tackle to left guard. Gregg responded by earning all pro honors there too. I gave him four Guardian Awards for best offensive tackle in his career, and I named him the winner of the Sweetness and World awards in 1962. ^[2]The Sweetness is for offensive player of the year, and the World is for most outstanding player. After retirement, he went into coaching and helped guide the Bengals to their first Super Bowl appearance.

19. Joe Greene (1969-1981)
Defensive Tackle
Pittsburgh Steelers

Many consider Mean Joe Greene greatest defensive tackle of all time, and I wouldn’t give much argument against that opinion. Brought in by legendary coach Chuck Noll, Greene helped change the losing culture in the Steel City and became the cornerstone of a juggernaut. With incredible raw power, unbridled aggression, and a unique approach to attacking offensive lines, Mean Joe was the primary focus of opposing gameplans and the fulcrum on which the Steel Curtain pivoted. He lived up to his nickname through his tenacious play between the whistles and his added touch of violence in between plays. Greene had a great first step off the ball and was able to cause chaos around the line of scrimmage. However, he wasn’t a pass rusher. Greene’s specialty was destroying rushing plays before they could even get started. He was big for the era, around 275 pounds, and he had immense power. But instead of using that power to just sit there and gobble up blockers (he did that too, just not all the time), he used it to supplement his explosive athleticism and become a play-wrecking monster in the inside. Ultimately, he became probably the best run stuffing defensive tackle in history, and he did it in the Dead Ball Era when the run reigned supreme. Greene could provide some extra pass rush help when needed. He had a great swim move that he used to penetrate on passing downs.

Greene’s presence on the field made life easier on Lambert, Ham, Greenwood, Russell, Blount, Shell, Wagner, and everyone else. I have talked before about the ability of a run stuffing defensive tackle to make his presence felt against the pass in ways that don’t show up in the stat sheet, and Greene is perhaps the best example of that theory in action. Because he was so devastating against the run, his undersized linebackers were able to devote more of their attention to coverage. Being able to have that extra half step against the pass was a luxury that enabled both great linebackers to look even better than they would have appeared on a team with anyone else lining up in front of them (with the exception, perhaps, of Olsen, Lilly, and Culp). Greene played his best football up until late 1975, when he began to suffer from cumulative injuries. By 1977, he was healthy again, but he never found his way back to the precedent he established for himself early on. His early level of play included defensive player of the year awards in 1972 and 1974. Those same seasons, I gave him the Mean, Godzilla, and World awards. ^[3]The Mean Award, named after Greene, is given to the top defensive tackle each year. The Godzilla Award is for defensive player of the year.

18. Larry Allen (1994-2007)
Offensive Guard
Dallas Cowboys, San Francisco 49ers

Hailing from small Sonoma State, Allen entered the league with little fanfare. He didn’t take long to establish a reputation as a bad, bad man. On a list of the most intimidating players in modern history, the name Larry Allen won’t be too far from the top. He earned the moniker of the Strongest Man in the NFL not for his ability in the gym but for his ability to impose his will upon opposing linemen. As a young player, Allen would reportedly announce when a run was coming behind him because he felt there was nothing the defense could do about it, even if they knew in advance. He was also surprisingly mobile, capable of chasing down interceptions from smaller linebackers from a standstill. As an elder statesmen, he used his veteran savvy to make up for any decline in physical skill and was able to use leverage instead of raw power to demoralize defenders.

There have been plenty of guards who could ragdoll defenders, and there have been more still who were able to play consistently from down to down. What set Allen apart was that he dominated the interior like only a few others have, but was also a consistent and reliable performer from one snap to the next. The thing that separates him from Hannah, in my view, is that the Patriots legend had a higher rate of misses. The Hog had a higher rate of devastating blocks as well, but the rate of overall wins is easily in Allen’s favor. In his prime, Allen was an impenetrable fortress in pass protection. He continued to shine when Dallas trotted out names like Carter and Hutchinson, and he was even among the top guards in his final years protecting a young Smith and an old Dilfer. His first year in San Francisco was the top rushing season of Gore’s career. Allen also had the ability to play tackle, where he mauled ends in the run game and had the balance and agility to match them in pass pro. I gave him five Hog Awards for best guard from 1996-2003, climaxing with a World Award in 2000.

17. Barry Sanders (1989-1998)
Running Back
Detroit Lions

Maybe the most exciting runner of all time, Sanders was a threat to score from anywhere on the field. He averaged an astonishing 1819 yards from scrimmage over the course of his decade in the NFL, never falling below 1320 in a given season. Sanders looked like a sure thing to break the career rushing record and put it so far out of reach that it would stand as long as the game itself, but he abruptly called it a career after a 1500 yard season. He stands apart from many other great backs in that his offenses would take the field in obvious passing formations, and defenses would still focus on him. Despite all the attention paid to him, tacklers were usually left grasping at air. Sanders had a powerful lower body with huge thighs that generated great force and allowed him to reach top speed from a standstill. Perhaps underrated, the strength of his ankles allowed him to break laterally better than anyone in history in a way that could quite literally injure a normal player. He had a low center of gravity and preternatural balance, enabling him to do, effectively, anything he wanted in the open field. And he was able to show off his flashy style while maintaining elite ball security. Sanders has the most awe-inspiring highlight reel of any back, maybe any player in history. In the two decades since his retirement, no back has come particularly close to matching the open field moves Sanders put on tape as a 30 year old.

Sanders is famous for turning a one yard loss into a big gain. One of the things keeping him from leapfrogging the other backs on this list is that he could also turn a four yard run into a loss. There is great value in being able to do what Sanders did, but there is also value in just taking what is there consistently. He also was not a great short yardage runner and would often be taken out of the game in goal line situations. Many believe his touchdowns numbers would be higher had his coaches not removed him from the game, but his own poor performance in short yardage is what got him taken out to begin with. Another demerit is that he was not a great receiver—adequate, but fungible. He was little help in pass protection, despite that being a critical skill for a run and shoot back. That may not matter to many, but it is a major part of my evaluation. I say these things not to disparage him but to explain why he is lower than some may expect. I think Sanders was a phenomenal back, otherwise I wouldn’t have him ranked as the fifteenth greatest player in history. I gave him four Supersonic Awards for being the best back in football. I gave him three Sweetness Awards. I also gave him a World Award, which I don’t tend to give to running backs. But he earned it.

16. Jim Brown (1957-1965)
Running Back
Cleveland Browns

Brown was a feature back in an era of platoons, leading the NFL in carries six times. His workload was justified, as he dominated the position like no one before or since. He led the league in rushing yards in eight of his nine seasons, and he led in total touchdowns five times. He retired as career leader in yards and touchdowns and held onto those records for over twenty years apiece.  He was as big as the linemen blocking for him and could run over any defender who stood in his way. He was also one of the faster backs of his era and was hard to catch in the open field. His balance was as good as it got in the sixties. In his nine seasons in the league, Brown made the Pro Bowl nine times. The only season he wasn’t a consensus all pro was 1962, when he was a second team all pro. He averaged an incredible 2008 yards and 17 touchdowns per 16 games for his whole career (granted, he didn’t hang around long enough to bring those averages down). Many believe the question isn’t whether Brown is the greatest running back of all time, but whether he is the greatest player of all time. So why do I have him so low, relative to the consensus?

Typically Brown is ranked in the top five, but there are a few things bringing him down here. First, he’s a running back and is, almost by definition, more a product of his surroundings than others players who have numbers associated with them. Second, his offensive line was among the best in history, and his backups often performed as well as he did when they played. Third, Brown had 2359 carries from 1957-1965, while runner up Jim Taylor had 1607, and third place John Henry Johnson had 1273. His big volume numbers came, in large part, because he got so many touches. Granted, he a frame that could take a beating and, thus, allowed him to maintain an incredibly high workload over the course of his career. Fourth, Brown played a fairly easy schedule of opposing run defenses as opposed to other greats of the day, like Taylor. Fifth, the NFL during Brown’s career wasn’t very strong, especially with the AFL drawing so much talent away from the league. Sixth, he gave poor effort on plays when he wasn’t getting the ball, and he outright refused to block on many occasions. ^[4]His penchant for domestic violence doesn’t drag him down on the list, but it ain’t a feather in his cap, either. I find it hard to rank any back all that high, and I can’t name Brown the top back when another, more complete back is right there in front of me. Nevertheless, I gave Brown five Supersonic Awards, four Sweetness Awards, and one each of the World and Automatic awards.

15. Walter Payton (1975-1987)
Running Back
Chicago Bears

Sweetness is among the most versatile backs the game has ever seen. His rushing prowess is legendary. He had good speed, though he wasn’t a true burner. Despite his size, he ran with great power and always seemed to fall forward when finally brought down. His balance was superb and allowed him to continue to play with power through contact, often letting hits glance off him while he continued to fight for that extra yard. In short yardage, there have been few better than Payton. He trusted his line, even before it became a team strength in the 1980s. By doing so, he was able to avoid taking big losses or getting stuffed in the hole. And if the Bears needed a mere yard, and the hole really wasn’t there, he had no problem going over the top. The image of Payton leaping over a pile of human wreckage into the endzone is among the most iconic the game has ever seen. While he didn’t have the raw power of Campbell or the quickness of Sanders, he ran with more determination than any player I’ve ever witnessed. ^[5]His competition, in my opinion, includes Larry Brown and Marshawn Lynch. He simply refused to believe he could be tackled on a given play, and he fought with every sinewy fiber to put his team in position to win. Perhaps no game better exemplifies his valorous play than his record-setting performance in a 10-7 victory over the Vikings in 1977. Playing with the flu, Payton carried the ball 40 times for 275 yards, scoring the game’s only offensive touchdown in the process.

Remarkably durable, especially for a running back, Payton started 177 of 177 possible games after his rookie year. ^[6]As a rookie, he played in 13 of 14 games, but he only started seven. His ability to stay on the field and play at a high level for so long contributed to him becoming the career leader in rushing yards, rushing touchdowns, yards from scrimmage, and all purpose yards by the time he retired. ^[7]Payton’s lead in the yardage categories was staggering. He had 16726 rushing yards, and no one else was within 4000 of that total. He had nearly 6000 more scrimmage and all purpose yards than … Continue reading There were only three seasons in his career in which he didn’t top 1000 scrimmage yards: his rookie year in which he played 13 games, the nine game strike season of 1982, and the 12 game strike season of 1987. In each year, his 16-game pace surpassed the mark. To put it differently, when prorated to a modern schedule, Payton was good for at least 1000 yards in each of his thirteen years in the league. He averaged 1791 yards and 11 touchdowns per 16 games for his entire career. That includes four seasons with more than 2000 yards and ten with over 1500 yards. ^[8]Ten seasons with 1500 or more yards is a record. And he was on pace for a sixteenth in 1982. Until the Bears finally got a good squad around him late in his career, you knew he was getting the ball, and defenses knew they had to focus on stopping him. ^[9]Payton’s 10 seasons with over 300 carries is the most in history, and no one else even has nine. He averaged over 20 carries per game for 13 seasons. He took souls anyway.

Payton was a dedicated and fierce blocker, a stellar receiver, and even capably filled in at quarterback when called upon. His ability to contribute in the passing game sets him apart from Brown and Sanders. His blocks were vicious, but, more importantly, they were precise. Just like he made sure defenders remembered how much it hurt to tackle him, he made sure blitzing linebackers had lasting memories of a Payton forearm to the face. As a receiver, he was a reliable target with soft hands and a knack for making himself available as a safety net. He ran good routes, though he wasn’t on the level of Faulk as a technician or Moore as a big play threat. Instead, he was steady and constant, always there to get Chicago a little closer to the promised land.

He was universally respected and beloved by his teammates. ^[10]Former teammates, perhaps seeing him through the rosiest of spectacles, have even opined that Payton could have been the best linebacker on the team had he focused on defense. There have been thousands of players to grace the field throughout the league’s history, many of whom were greatly loved and admired. But only Payton has a namesake media award given to the NFL’s Man of the Year. ^[11]I also named my offensive player of the year award after him. He was an all pro in nine seasons, won an MVP trophy for his valiant 1977 campaign, and made two all decade teams. I gave him the Sweetness, World, and Automatic awards for his MVP season. I also named him the Supersonic winner for 1977 and 1979, when he thrived behind offensive lines full of decent, but not great, blockers. ^[12]In 1977, the Bears primary starters on the offensive line were two tackles with short careers (one was a rookie), two pretty good guards with long careers, and a third year center who never played … Continue reading Imagine a hybrid of Edgerrin James, Marshawn Lynch, and Alvin Kamara. That was Payton.

14. Dick Butkus (1965-1973)
Linebacker
Chicago Bears

Butkus is often called the greatest middle linebacker of all time, and a few minutes of watching any Bears game during his prime is all one needs to know why. He possessed the preternatural diagnostic ability to sniff out plays and be where he needed to be, when he needed to be there. On running plays, he filled the hole quickly to make stops for little to no gain. He blew up lead blockers, though he tried to avoid the blockers entirely and, instead, just make the tackle himself. On runs to the outside, Butkus had the speed and positioning to make tackles near the sidelines, force backs out of bounds, or shepherd them back to help. Throwing his body around with reckless abandon, he earned nicknames like “The Animal” and “The Enforcer.” Every tackle was a train wreck that made running backs contemplate early retirement. Highlight reels of his knockout hits have led to the revisionist idea that he wasn’t strong in coverage, but that notion is outlandish. Butkus was among the finest cover backers of his era. He diagnosed plays quickly, took good angles to receivers, and was able to get his hands in passing lanes often. While he didn’t have the athletic ability to play anywhere on the field like Bell, he was opportunistic in coverage and had a knack for big plays. Butkus intercepted 22 passes in his career, which is a fine number for a linebacker. He also recovered 27 fumbles and likely forced more than 40 fumbles. ^[13]We don’t have complete records for his forced fumbles, but what we do have indicates the number is easily in the high thirties and probably at least 40.

Butkus was able to do something not many players are able to do: he stood out as clearly excellent, despite playing on a bad team. Like his offensive counterpart in Sayers, Butkus was visibly light years ahead of his peers at the position and was able to transcend the lack of surrounding talent. He didn’t have people in front of him to occupy blockers and protect him, like Lambert or Lewis, but he thrived regardless. Despite seeming to play with unbridled rage on each play, his style was actually calculated and decisive. It just happens that he was able to do those calculations quickly both before and after the snap. His elite football mind allowed him to play in a manner that seemed out of control but was actually the product of knowing exactly what to do and doing it without second guessing. It’s a trait shared by the few truly magnificent defenders. His play earned him two defensive player of the year awards and eight all pro selections. I named him the winner of the Enforcer Award for best middle linebacker in 1965 and from 1968-1972. ^[14]The award is named in honor of Butkus. I also gave him the Godzilla and World awards for his inspired performance in 1970.

For most of my life as a person who studies the game, I have had Butkus as my top rated middle linebacker of all time; it is only in recent years that I have begun to consider him 1b to Lewis’s 1a. Tape study and further considerations of era have elevated the newer player in my opinion, but the differences between two great players are often negligible to the point of not mattering at all. I wouldn’t argue anyone who had the Enforcer at the top of the list. One thing that Butkus and Lewis have in common is that you knew you were going to get full effort on every snap, with nothing left on the field. You can’t expect any more from a player.

13. Ray Lewis (1996-2012)
Linebacker
Baltimore Ravens

Lewis and Butkus are the two middle linebackers with a claim to the title of greatest of all time. On my list, Lewis comes out on top. Simply put, he had no holes in his game. He had peerless sideline to sideline range against the run and rare aptitude in coverage. There have been faster men to play the position, but none matched his range because none had his brain. He had natural instincts, the kind you might attribute to the great defenders of yesteryear, when opponent scouting was in its infancy and players just had to go on feel. But he wasn’t content to coast on that innate sense of what was going to unfold—that can only take you so far in the modern game. Lewis became a football scholar, absorbing as much information as he could about the opposition to the point where he could have coached the defense himself if necessary. When he took his natural gift, nurtured it with knowledge, and bolstered it with the confidence to act deliberately without half-stepping, he built himself into an oracle, seemingly capable of peering into the future to snuff out offenses.

While his mind was the engine, Lewis had enough physical talent to remain a great defender even late in his career (at a notoriously demanding position). ^[15]Of course, it was his brain that helped the most, but he was such a good athlete when he was young, that even after losing a step he was still an average athlete for the position. He was fast, and he was explosive. When he met a running back in the hole, the ball carrier was generally falling backward to end the play. He could chase down scatbacks to the far side of the field, and he could break down and recover against good open field runners. Lewis was a compact and powerful player who hit hard and could blow up blocks with aplomb. Few could match his technical ability to shed blockers and stuff runs up the middle. With 118 tackles for loss against the pass or run (non-sacks), he trails only Seau and Deacon among all players. Lewis is in the upper echelon of coverage linebackers in history as well. Up until his last two seasons, he did a great job patrolling short and intermediate zones, sticking to his man in one on one coverage, getting his hands on balls in play, and making immediate tackles on the really shallow stuff. With 31 interceptions, he ranks sixth among all linebackers. No one above him on the list played a single snap after 1982. Only Derrick Brooks has more interception return yards than Lewis’s 503. If he wasn’t dropping into coverage, he could dog the passer as well as any linebacker, picking up 41.5 sacks in his career. He remains the only player in the 30/30 club.

Lewis played with contagious passion, commanded universal respect and praise, and was the unquestioned leader of Baltimore defenses that were almost always great. The 2000 Ravens were a legendary squad that allowed the fewest points of any team in the 16 game era, ultimate winning the Super Bowl in a blowout. Lewis earned MVP honors for that game, culminating a season that saw him earn the first of two defensive player of the year trophies. But it wasn’t just the 2000 team. Lewis was great in all but his first and last seasons. From 1997-2011, the Baltimore defense was almost always great. ^[16]From 1997-2011, the Ravens ranks in points allowed: 18, 16, 6, 1, 4, 19, 6, 6, 10, 1, 22, 3, 3, 3, 3. He missed significant time in 2002, and the Ravens defense suffered significantly. ^[17]The emergence of Reed allowed the team to overcome his missed time in 2005. Pro Football Focus began in 2006, the eleventh year of Lewis’s career. He graded as elite in three seasons (including number one in 2009) and very good in three more; only his last year was below average. He wasn’t making all those Pro Bowls late in his career based on reputation alone. The thing is, as highly as he graded in the PFF era, that was Lewis when he was past his prime. At his peak, he was a heat-seeking missile who exploded into ball carriers on seemingly every other play, a supercomputer who diagnosed plays instantaneously, a soaring Raven who patrolled the air with majesty. ^[18]I named Lewis the best middle linebacker in the game six times from 1997-2003, and I crowned him defensive player of the year twice. What puts him over Butkus on this list is that he accomplished … Continue reading

12. Night Train Lane (1952-1965)
Cornerback
Chicago Cardinals, Detroit Lions, Los Angeles Rams

An unheralded player out of high school, Dick “Night Train” Lane played for Western Nebraska Community College for one season before enlisting in the military. After four years in the Army, Lane walked on to the Los Angeles Rams as an undrafted free agent. He made an immediate impression, producing what many consider the greatest-ever rookie season of any NFL player. That year, Night Train hauled in a still-standing record 14 interceptions and made his name as a feared tackler. Two years later, he played both safety positions and left corner for the Cardinals. On a new team and playing multiple roles, he led the league in interceptions again. Night Train wasn’t a speedster, but he was fast enough that, when combined with his spatial awareness and sense of what offenses were scheming, he could match up with any receiver in the game. When he played, offenses weren’t neatly as complicated as they are now; however, they featured far more downfield passing that put a tremendous strain on defensive backs. Lane could disrupt timing off the line, push around receivers through the route, and make big plays on the ball once it was in the air. He had great short area quickness, which allowed him to accelerate rapidly when reacting to breaks.

In a move that would likely be exploited today, Lane used to line up outside of his man so that he could keep his eyes on both the receiver and the quarterback at the same time. Being able to see the passer enabled him to play a little more loose with his coverage. He liked to bait quarterbacks into throwing into his area, but he didn’t do it all the time. If he did, it probably wouldn’t have worked. Instead, he seemed to have an instinct for when to maintain sticky coverage and when to lull passers into a false sense of security. After he led the NFL in interceptions twice in his first three seasons, teams stopped testing him as much. Even as an older player who began having the same issues as Blount with shiftier receivers, his reputation scared most quarterbacks.

Lane was tall and long, like the Richard Sherman of his day, and he used his great wingspan the way a great receiver might. But instead of having a large catch radius, he had a large deflection radius. Even if a guy got by him, he seemed to always be able to get a fingertip on the ball to prevent the big play. His long arms and fearless approach made Lane a great tackler as well. He was infamous for bringing down opponents by the facemask or by pummeling ball carriers with clothesline tackles (and he inspired rule changes to remove those tactics from the game), but he was also a solid form tackler who continued to play elite run support long after his signature moves were legislated into obscurity. And if he wanted to intimidate opponents legally, he simply jarred ball carriers with violent hits.

Lane’s quickness and length also gave him success as a kick blocker off the edge. His first step was so fast that he was often able to blow by the end man on the line and get a hand on the ball. That first step—in concert with his size, power, and tackling ability—convinced coaches to try him at defensive end on occasion. It was a different era, and that would be a spectacular feat for a modern corner, but the fact that he had success out of position even in the fifties should be considered impressive. I gave Night Train four Prime Time Awards between 1952 and 1956, and I named him the defensive player of the year in both 1952 and 1954. He was the greatest cornerback in the first 70 years of the NFL, and many still regard him the very best. I tend to be lower on older players than most historians, but studying Lane on tape reveals a player who I believe would succeed in any era.

11. Deion Sanders (1989-2005)
Cornerback
Atlanta Falcons, Dallas Cowboys, San Francisco 49ers, Baltimore Ravens, Washington

Prime Time may be the best pure cover corner in history. He had a reputation for refusing to make tackles. His business decision line followed him everywhere, and he still draws plenty of criticism for his work against the run. It’s true, he wasn’t Aeneas or Herb as a force defender, but tape study shows that the legend of his poor tackling is a bit overstated (as legends tend to be). Besides, teams didn’t pay him outrageous sums of money to tackle running backs on sweeps; they paid him to remove the other team’s best receiver from the face of the earth. Sanders did that better than any other man ever to play. An interesting aspect of his personality is that he liked people to think he succeeded without really trying, but there have been several stories from teammates about Sanders carrying a DVD player with him and studying tape while teammates were relaxing. He was able to bait quarterbacks by feigning that he didn’t know the route he had watched the receiver run countless times during his film sessions. Sanders was also known to keep detailed notes of offensive coordinators’ tendencies, route combinations, etc., because they were more likely to hang around the league than the receivers were. And he insisted on matching up with his own team’s best receiver in practice, never ceding a rep to a teammate. After covering Rice and Irvin all week, Sundays were a cakewalk. It was never as easy as he wanted us to think it was; he only made it look that way.

While critics often bemoaned his concurrent career in professional baseball, it speaks volumes of Neon’s ability that he was able to devote the time and energy it takes to be a successful MLB player and still maintain his place as the premier cover corner in the NFL. The only real issue with baseball is that it meant he would miss a few football games here and there. While that is clearly an issue, the benefits that he brought to the table far exceeded a few missed games. ^[19]And Sanders never missed that many games to baseball. The only time he missed significant time was in 1995, when he underwent arthroscopic surgery and returned halfway through the season to reclaim … Continue reading Besides, he was dialed in and ready to ground the aerial attack come playoff time. When Sanders played, he took coverage seriously. He would completely erase the opposition’s best receivers in nearly every game he played. This was in an era in which that was much more difficult than when Lane, Blount, or even Haynes did it. His ability to lock down top receivers in man coverage allowed the rest of the defense to cheat elsewhere and effectively play on a condensed field. In the modern game, perhaps only Revis had the same schematic impact as consistently. ^[20]Other great man corners, like Haynes, Lewis, and Bailey, were able to do it occasionally. But Sanders and Revis played a lonely brand of football, forsaking the support so often provided to even the … Continue reading

One can’t discuss Sanders without talking about his lightning speed. It was the thing that always jumped off the screen. Because he understood offensive tendencies so well, he was able to bait quarterbacks into making throws into his coverage. He would then use his inhuman recovery speed to make a play on the ball. And with that ball in his hands, he was dangerous. While he ranks 24th in history in interceptions, he ranks fourth in return yards. That’s because he averaged 25.1 yards per interception return, which tops all players with at least 40 career picks. He also put that speed on display on kick returns. Sanders is among the best return men of all time and probably could have been in the running for the crown had he been relegated to doing just that. However, he was actually good enough at a starting position to have to focus on other things. In the regular season, the blazing Sanders scored 22 touchdowns in five different ways: nine interception, six punt returns, three kickoff returns, three receptions, and one fumble recovery. He also threw in a 21 yard rushing touchdown in the playoffs in case those weren’t enough.

Outside of his play, his attitude stood out. It earned him many critics throughout his career, but his braggadocio was an important part of his legend. Not only did he get into the heads of opponents, but he also drew attention to a position he redefined and made it attractive for generations of young athletes. ^[21]I named the Prime Time Award in his honor and give it to the best cornerback each year. I gave it to him three times between 1991 and 1995. In honesty, the figure is probably too low. I named him the … Continue reading

10. Bob Lilly (1961-1974)
Defensive Tackle
Dallas Cowboys

Affectionately called Mr. Cowboy, Lilly was the first draft pick in Dallas Cowboys history. He didn’t cut an impressive figure or particularly look like a dominant athlete, but his performance on the field was about as good as it gets from an interior lineman. Lilly had the power, quickness, and savvy to beat blockers in a number of ways, and footage shows a man who claimed squatters rights in opposing backfields. He began his career as a left defensive end before finding his place at right tackle. On the inside, he retained the snap quickness and bend we tend to associate with ends, but he also improved his strength to such a degree that he was eventually able to throw around guards at his leisure. Lilly also maintained sound fundamentals, which allowed him to play with better leverage and speed. That translated into greater functional power and the ability to play at a frenzied pace without making many errors. His manic play wouldn’t have worked had he worn himself out by the third quarter, and he knew it. He dedicated himself to improving his endurance, which resulted in him taking over games in the second half.

In terms of stopping both the run and the pass, penetrating or eating space, playing chaotically but under control, no one did it as well for as long as Lilly. I called Joe Greene the fulcrum for the Steel Curtain. Similarly, Mr. Cowboy rode a pale horse into battle as the Doomsday Defense wrought destruction upon NFL offenses. Bringing hell with him, he left bodies strewn about the field on his way to the ball. He had 95.5 sacks and countless other plays or a loss or no gain. Film study shows a player who attracted a high rate of double and triple team efforts from offenses, which freed up his teammates to win one on one matchups, often against tight ends or backs. Much of the time, Lilly beat doubles; sometimes he even destroyed triples. His 1964 campaign is among the best ever from a defensive tackle and is representative of his best traits. He seemed to beat his blocker on every play, consistently harassing passers and backs. In addition to his 10.5 sacks and 16 other plays in the backfield, Lilly seemed to put pressure on the passer at least once every drive. He closed on plays, and he knocked around quarterbacks without sacrificing run integrity. He ran down plays sideline to sideline like a linebacker, and he hustled, nonstop, on every play.

Lilly earned consensus all pro honors seven times in his career. He earned the Godzilla and World awards for his divine performance in 1964. I named him the Mean Award winner in 1964 and 1968 (and runner up in 1966). The only thing keeping him from winning more of those awards is the fact that he was a contemporary of Greene, Page, and Olsen, and the four often cancelled each other out. What are the odds that the four members of Defensive Tackle Rushmore were contemporaries? Did the rules of the day, which made life harder on offenses—especially linemen—enable the top defenders in the trenches to appear even better? That is a question I still find difficult to answer, and it often gives me pause when putting the four at the top of their position. Through rigorous study, I feel confident that they separated themselves form their peers more than anyone but Donald, and they did so for a long time. If advantages existed, their peers had access to those same advantages and didn’t accomplish what they did. However, I am less confident that there is nothing to the idea at all—that perhaps there was something about their era that made great defenders able to stand out even more, even if the average player participated under the same rules. It is a factor I will continue to ponder as I update this list each year.

9. Jim Parker (1957-1967)
Offensive Line
Baltimore Colts

Nicknamed the Guardian for the pride he took in protecting quarterback Johnny Unitas (and the excellence with which he did it), Parker is one of the few linemen in history for whom the title of Greatest of All Time wouldn’t be hyperbole. He began his career as a left tackle and effectively kept smaller, quicker ends out of the backfield, earning all pro honors in four of his five seasons at the position. ^[22]Technically it was five and a half seasons, since he moved to guard in the middle of the 1962 season. Then he moved to the inside and earned four more all pro selections at guard, neutralizing powerful defenders with seeming ease. Parker was so superb against legendary end Andy Robustelli in the 1959 Championship Game that broadcasters actually isolated his performance in real time and in replays, marking the first time such attention was given to the trenches.

Parker was excellent in pass pro in an era when pass pro was hard. By rule, he couldn’t extend his arms fully and had to deal with pass rush moves that would result in disqualifications and big fines today. But it didn’t seem to matter to him. He was just so much bigger, stronger, and better than everyone he faced that he made playing offensive line look easy (and it is decidedly not easy). At tackle, he often blocked quick ends on an island, with plenty of space for the defender to maneuver. While this is normally to the defense’s advantage, Parker nullified that advantage. At guard, he had to pull and get out in the open field far more, and one can imagine defenders at the second level feeling like a freight train was bearing down on them when he was headed their way. In an era of smaller rosters, it was common to see starters on special teams. Parker was an effective blocker on the kickoff team and even got to return one (15 yards) once. His ability to play fast and block well in space made him valuable on special teams. His combination of speed and preternatural power made him a force of nature along the line. He was so good that he dictated defensive schemes, forcing opponents to try to bring pressure from the defensive left, because the right was a dead end.

I haven’t watched every Colts game from the legendary Unitas era, but I’ve studied quite a few. As the quarterback, Unitas was clearly the most valuable player on the team. Mackey and Moore provided the firepower. Marchetti menaced opposing passers. Berry was old reliable, churning out first downs. But it was Parker who stood out as the best player on the field. Like a god among mortals, he seemed to barely break a sweat when dispatching the opposition. Whether moving big tackles wherever he wanted them to go, anchoring against a bull rush, matching quick pass rushers move for move, picking up a blitzing linebacker, or picking off defensive backs like gnats in the open field, Parker did it better than anyone ever had up to that point (and few have matched his ability in any of those areas since). I named him the Guardian Award winner in 1960 and 1961, and the Hog Award winner for best guard from 1962-1965. I also gave him the Sweetness and World awards for his performance in 1960. After retirement, Parker became the first Hall of Famer to play exclusively on the offensive line.

8. Ronnie Lott (1981-1994)
Safety, Cornerback
San Francisco 49ers, Los Angeles Raiders, New York Jets

Lott is widely regarded as the greatest safety ever to play. I wouldn’t go that far, but given his prowess at both safety and corner, he has a strong argument as the top defensive back ever to play. History has remembered him for his ability to lay devastating hits on unfortunate offensive players, but he was more than just a hammer. Early in his career, he excelled at left corner and nickel safety, earning four Pro Bowl nods and two all pro selections before making the permanent move to safety. I gave him the Prime Time Award in his rookie season, when he stole seven passes and returned three for touchdowns. One thing that separated him from more celebrated corners is that he seemed to be able to lock in mentally in a way they weren’t. Deion was far better in coverage, but he also let a few short ones get away from him. Champ was better in man, but he seemed to lose interest at times. Lott never lost interest. Focus is a skill that doesn’t jump off the screen in the way speed and leaping ability do, but it was one of the primary drivers of his success.

While Lott was a good cover corner, his ability to play the run and to diagnose and communicate information made him a better fit at safety. He never lost his coverage skills. He did lead the league in picks twice and record 40 of his 63 career interceptions as a safety, after all. ^[23]Lott is also tied for the career record in postseason interceptions, with nine. He wasn’t the biggest or the fastest, but he had incredible instincts that allowed him to maintain man coverage as a corner or deep zone coverage as a free safety. With relatively limited athleticism ^[24]There’s no such thing as an unathletic defensive back. They are all in the top one percent of humans. Among NFL defensive backs, Lott was a decent athlete. He wasn’t on par with someone … Continue reading he had to work harder than others to achieve success. With natural intuition supplemented with film study, he was able to get himself in position to make plays that faster players didn’t make. He was great at free safety, serving as the last line of defense against the enemy. And he was great as strong safety later on, where his prowess against the run was tantamount to having another linebacker on the field.

Despite his lack of size, he was one of the most feared hitters in history, and he had the ability to demoralize ball-carriers in run support. He used his terrific leverage and quick twitch ability to uncoil like a death adder striking at its prey, and this ability came in handy as Lott superbly defended near the line of scrimmage in nickel packages. Opponents have gone on record stating that debilitating shots from Lott chilled them to the marrow and made them play more tentatively. His arrival in San Francisco changed the outlook of the team, as he led arguably the most underrated defensive dynasty in history on his way to four Super Bowl titles. I named Lott the Tunnell Vision Award winner in 1986, and I shortlisted him nearly every year. Even though he only graded as the top safety once, he was always near the top. He was a try hard player who worked himself into a legend.

7. Ed Reed (2002-2013)
Safety
Baltimore Ravens, Houston Texans, New York Jets

Ed Reed is undoubtedly the greatest pure free safety in history. He had unmatched range, both laterally and vertically, and his instincts were on another level, even among players known for their great instincts. He simply played in a manner that seemed as though he had already watched the game and now got to play in it knowing exactly what was going to happen. He may have run the forty in 4.57 but played at 4.2. His combination of apparent clairvoyance and unfair closing speed allowed him to bait quarterbacks into throwing his way, only to see the savvy defender snatch the ball away at the last moment. His nose for the ball saw him lead the league in picks three times and record a total of 64 interceptions in the most passer-friendly era in NFL history. He had seven season with five or more interceptions, which demonstrates astonishing consistency in generating turnovers (again, while playing in an era when picks were harder to come by than at any point up until then).

The consummate playmaker, Reed became offense on defense with the ball in his hands, he led the league in interception return yards twice and had seven seasons with over 100 such yards. His 1590 career yards are a record, and his 24.8 yards per return is second in history among players with 40 or more interceptions ^[25]As noted above, Deion had 25.1 yards per return. Third place, a notorious serial rapist, is over a full two yards behind, with 22.4. In effect, Sanders and Reed lord over everyone else in this metric. Always looking to put points on the board for a team that often had offensive deficiencies, he returned seven interceptions and two fumbles for touchdowns. He also scored four times via punt return and blocked punt return. The daring Reed wasn’t content to settle for a touchback; he set an NFL record with a 106 yard interception return in 2004 and then broke his own record with a 107 yard return in 2008. ^[26]Reed was also a good kick blocker because of his timing and snap quickness.

Feared and respected, Reed’s reputation was such that opposing quarterbacks made sure to note the whereabouts of number 20 before every snap. In a conversation between Brady and Belichick, the prolific quarterback confirmed that he was sure to note Reed’s whereabouts at the break of every huddle. Brady wasn’t alone; every quarterback knew where Reed was, and the savant safety wrecked their plans anyway. A single high master, Reed could man the deep field all by himself and make plays on either sideline, keep everything in front of him, and somehow manage to disrupt shorter passes from out of nowhere. Given his ability to cover all that ground on his own, it should be no surprise that Reed was utterly dominant when given only half the field in cover 2. Whereas many elite safeties seem to get bored on simpler assignments, Reed never lost sight of trying to get the ball back in the hands of his offense. Because of his focus, work ethic, hours in the film room, inherent ability to see things unfold like an elite point guard, and raw physical talent, he is the best cover safety ever to play football.

Despite being most remembered as a deep safety, Reed began his career as a strong safety. He was so good in the role that Dr. Z opined that the only thing keeping him from taking the mantle of greatest of all time was his move to free. In those early years, he was akin to the evolution of Larry Wilson, capable of blitzing and making tons of plays underneath. When he made the move, he became the evolution of Jack Christiansen, the last line of defense with globetrotting range. Those are two of the prototype safeties to whom many at the position are still compared today. Reed was better and more dangerous than any hybrid of the two legends a mad scientist could ever hope to create in a lab. I gave him the Godzilla Award in 2004 and the Tunnell Vision Award three times, but considering the impact of his role and the greater responsibility he had relative to his peers, that number could be considered conservative. Even with a higher degree of difficulty, he did his job at least as well as those in more limited roles.

6. Anthony Munoz (1980-1992)
Offensive Tackle
Cincinnati Bengals

Munoz is almost universally hailed as the greatest offensive lineman in history, and it’s fair to put him on the shortlist of greatest players the game has ever seen. Coming out of college, there were concerns about his injury history. He put those to bed by missing only three games in his storied career. Scouts bemoaned his unorthodox stance, but he silenced them with results, making eleven all pro teams and anchoring two Super Bowl offenses. He was incredibly athletic, graceful and efficient in motion, and had the footwork of a ballerina. Munoz used his rare physical skills to dominate the line of scrimmage as well as catch touchdown passes when called upon. He was powerful and intelligent, but his hallmark may have been his tireless work ethic and relentless commitment to conditioning. As one of the few offensive linemen who did extensive distance running and cardio training, Munoz was perfect for Sam Wyche‘s innovative up-tempo offense.

In effect, Munoz was as close as it got to the perfect offensive lineman. He was big for the era, with raw power to match his frame. His speed, balance, and body control were such that he could have shed a few pounds and become a successful tight end. It is unlikely that any lineman was in better condition, given his dedication to running in addition to his rigorous weightlifting regimen. And his technique was immaculate. There may never be another tackle with such graceful feet. Offensive line coaches and aficionados discussed his footwork the way quarterback gurus discussed Montana’s—with reverence and pure wonder. You could pick almost any game at random, from any point in his career, and use it as teach tape. On top of that, he was smart. Focused film study added another layer to his otherworldly physical dominance. He knew how pass rushers attacked, how they countered, and how they set up moves off of those counters. His rare athletic ability allowed him to successfully solo block the best rushers of his era, matching the much smaller defenders move for move, or stonewalling power rushers, without the need for a double team. In that manner, his presence made the entire line stronger because it enabled them to slide protection away from him. In the ground game, his powerful base and effective use of leverage resulted in Munoz flattening opponents or driving them off the screen altogether. Essentially, Munoz represents what would happen if you mixed the best of Joe Thomas and Tyron Smith into one superhuman tackle.

I’ve mentioned the importance of winning consistently as an offensive lineman. Physical domination always stands out on tape, but mitigating the number of losses is more important. The thing that made Munoz so special is that he did both. He made the type of highlight reel blocks that you’d call unrealistic if you saw them in a Hollywood production. And he played consistent, every-down football as if he viewed every snap as a game within a game and he looked to go undefeated. He earned first team all pro honors every year from 1981-1991, seven of which were consensus. In 1981-1982 and 1986-1990, an awarding body named him NFL offensive lineman of the year. ^[27]In 1989, the NFL Alumni Association made the following declaration upon giving him the award: “The NFL has three levels of offensive linemen. The bottom rung is for players aspiring to make the Pro … Continue reading I gave him five Guardian Awards, and I gave him both the Sweetness and World awards for his performance in 1988. Munoz did a better job than anyone else when it came to eliminating the negatives, and he did it while still manhandling his opponents. There has never been a perfect lineman, but he was close.

5. Lawrence Taylor (1981-1993)
Rushbacker
New York Giants

Few men can honestly say they were ever the most feared player in the league. Some defenders win with skill or power, and some use intimidation to rattle opponents, but rare is the defenseman who can do both with regularity. Taylor is one of those men. He was fast – too fast to be a linebacker. His speed and acceleration didn’t make sense, and they baffled blockers. He was powerful. Despite being the same size as any other linebacker, he seemed to possess the strength of a defensive tackle. He had an uncanny ability to generate force to deliver devastating hits, even in tight spaces. He got off the ball fast, got his hands under the pads of a blocker, and used his raw power to drive his beleaguered blocker into the backfield. Like Moss and Peppers, he was quite simply a physical marvel who seemed to be a superhero who broke the unwritten code not to play sports with puny humans.

LT was ferocious and terrifying. He seemed to gain strength from pain—his own or his enemy’s, like a berserker of legend. While he ran fast, he played faster. With guys like Butkus and Lewis, it can be said that they acted decisively and seemed to always make the right choice. It wasn’t that way with Taylor. While he certainly acted with conviction, whether he knew what was coming was anybody’s guess. But it didn’t matter, because when he guessed wrong he was fast enough to make up for it. Known for freelancing, he was able to get away with it because he was so successful and because his defenses under Parcells and Belichick were designed to function around his tendency to go off script. While that could have easily frustrated many coaches, his were smart enough to realize the treasure they had before them and figure out a way to tailor their scheme to his furious play. Taylor was intensity personified, and his play was so crazed that there were times you’d swear he was playing under the influence of something powerful. He was primarily great at attacking the line of scrimmage, and he wasn’t great in coverage. However, the notion that he was a liability is false. He was solid enough to fill in at Mike when needed, earning all pro honors at the position.

Taylor earned all pro selections in each of his first ten seasons, and he earned defensive player of the year honors thrice. His crowning achievement came in 1986, when he became just the second defender to win the Associated Press MVP award, led the league in sacks, and ended the season with a Lombardi Trophy in his hands. He was a playmaker whose pressures, big hits, and intimidation turned the tides of games. LT retired with 142 sacks, nine interceptions, and a least 33 forced fumbles. ^[28]The Giants credit him with 33, but John Turney has that number as high as 53, based on film study. Many consider him the greatest defensive player in history, and I wouldn’t argue too strongly against that position.

Many players have the vague “changed the game” tag attached to them, though most people don’t seem to be able to articulate the manner in which any of those players changed anything at all. Most of those players were just good and didn’t challenge anyone to do anything different, as much as they challenged them to focus more on things that had been done for years. ^[29]Bullet Bob and Moss are examples. I’d argue Vick is another. In Taylor’s case, the comments are more than nonsensical fluff. While Brazile played plenty of rushbacker, and Joel Williams was tremendous in 1980, Taylor took rushbacker play to a new level. So much so that offenses began kicking out guards and even tackles to block him, treating him like a defensive end rather than a linebacker. If you watch games from the seventies, or even early in LT’s career, you’ll see rushbackers squaring off against tight end and running backs. The defensive linemen drew blocks from the offensive line. With Taylor, the normal method was just not possible—not if coaches wanted their quarterbacks to finish the game. Perhaps another player, like Tippett or Jackson, would have eventually spurred that change. But they didn’t, and he did. How well would he have done in a modern league, one which had a deep well of experience scheming against top rushbackers like Greene, Thomas, Ware, Miller, or Mack? It is impossible to know, but as with Hutson, it is fair to ask if Taylor would have reached the same level of dominance had he played an established position rather than reinventing a position. Watching him late in his career, after teams had plenty of time to “figure him out,” I’m convinced he’d still dominate. ^[30]I gave him six Dobre Shunka Awards from 1981-1988, and he was one of the top inside linebackers in 1983. I gave him the Godzilla Award—named in his honor, after his college nickname—in both 1982 … Continue reading

4. Reggie White (1984-2000)
Defensive End
Philadelphia Eagles, Green Bay Packers, Carolina Panthers, Memphis Showboats

The greatest defensive lineman in history, and the highest ranked defender on this list, White possessed an uncanny combination of physical skill and mental savvy. He was an imposing figure, with rare power and even more impressive functional strength. Despite weighing roughly 280 pounds, he reportedly ran the 40 yard dash in 4.6 seconds; and despite being 6 feet 5 inches tall, he could turn the corner like a speed rusher. His legendary hump move embarrassed countless tackles and enabled him to rack up gaudy sack totals and impressive run stops. He retired with 198 sacks in the NFL, and his 23.5 in the USFL suggest he would own the career record had he taken less money to play in the bigger league. No, the USFL wasn’t on the level of the NFL, or even on the level of the AAFC and AFL. It was top-heavy and had poor depth. But it was still a major league that featured nearly 800 players who also played in the NFL. In addition to his well-known prowess as a pass rusher, White was a terror against the run; his 1048 tackles as a defensive lineman are a testament to that.

Known as the Minister of Defense, the field was his pulpit, and he preached fire and brimstone every Sunday. As a young and hungry player with the Eagles, he made a habit of taking the souls of offensive linemen and burying quarterbacks in the cold, wet earth. ^[31]The notable exception, of course, is Erik Williams, who famously frustrated White to the point where the end all but quit playing. With his explosive first step and ability to turn the corner, he forced tackles to retreat immediately. Once they got used to his speed, he would hit them with a clubbing right arm and quite literally throw them out of his way. ^[32]Ask Max Lane or even Larry Allen. If a blocker had the agility and balance to contend with the speed and counter, White could easily bring the power with the bull rush or the straight arm. As a defensive tackle in the 46, or when he sank inside in nickel later in his career, he was the best interior lineman in the league, generating pressure in seemingly every other play. And he could stuff the run like a plus nose tackle.

White played end in 3-4 schemes in 1985 and 1993, and he had 13 sacks in both seasons. With the Eagles, he had more sacks than games played, including an almighty 1987 season that saw him record 21 sacks in just 12 games. ^[33]No scrubs, either. He began his career with nine straight seasons with double digit sacks and ultimately recorded a dozen such seasons. ^[34]Only Smith (13) has more. He earned the Mean Award in 1986 and the Deacon Award four times from 1987-1991. I gave him the Godzilla Award three times, and I named him the World Award winner in 1991. That year, the Eagles boasted one of the best defenses in history, based, primarily, on the dominance of the defensive line. ^[35]White was the runner up for the World Award in 1987 too, when Rice took the crown. Although many rank LT as the top defender in history, I put White slightly above because he was able to dominate at a position that offenses were used to blocking, and he seemed to perform better in one on one matchups with tackles. When he was focused, he had no weaknesses as a player. But he wasn’t always focused. White is one of the untouchable players whom people aren’t allowed to criticize without being deemed a heretic. He was near flawless in Philadelphia; however, he would allow himself to get out of shape and would take plays off in Green Bay. It’s harder to tell with defensive linemen, because taking a play or two off doesn’t usually stand out on tape or lead to a big mistake in the way it would were a cornerback taking a breather in the middle of a play. But he did it. He wasn’t perfect.

3. Tom Brady (2000-present)
Quarterback
New England Patriots

Mohamed Sanu: “They ain’t ever met nothing like this.”

Taylor Gabriel: “It’s Tom Brady though…”

Sanu: “I know, I’m never comfortable, we about to put 40-some on they ass.”

Gabriel: “We got to!”

In that moment Taylor Gabriel succinctly articulated what so many other opponents had experienced in the Super Bowl before him; with Tom Brady at the helm, the game is never out of reach.

Early in Brady’s career skeptics would point to his good but not amazing stats, while advocates argued that he was an all-time great overachieving with less than stellar offensive casts. ^[36]Historian and Football Perspective contributor Brad Oremland even named him the 2003 MVP for his work on a barren offensive team. The thought experiment of what he could do with elite weapons played out in real time during 2007, as Brady put forward one of the best seasons in NFL history, ^[37]The top season ever as measured by EPA, EPA/play, DYAR, Chase’s RANY/A Value, points per drive, and plenty of other metrics. and that explosion was followed by a decade and a half of sustained greatness without dips. ^[38]Statistical dips can be observed in 2013 and 2019. However the offenses finished 3rd and 7th in scoring, as well as the team with 12-4 records, and from the play in surrounding years it is clear the … Continue reading

By FiveThirtyEight’s value over replacement metric, Brady owns all the consecutive multi-year peaks, he is one of two quarterbacks to lead an offense to 500+ points three years in a row, ^[39]Famously also achieved by the Greatest Show on Turf Rams, their signature achievement is rarely brought up when praising the early 2010s Patriots. and he has three separate all-time top 20 consecutive starting streaks at the position. ^[40]All three starting streaks are over 90 including postseason. No other QB even has two such stretches. A true offensive chameleon, Brady has at various times been the best quarterback in the league as a lethal downfield passer, as a hurry-up master with 2-TE sets, and when operating as a hyper-efficient surgeon dissecting the defense on long drives, switching between such styles with ease when circumstances and weapons dictated so; all the while playing not in the friendly passing environment of a dome, but largely outdoors, and more often in poor weather than any close counterpart. ^[41]Brady’s outdoor EPA is over 700 more than #2 Philip Rivers, whose weather effects weren’t nearly as prohibitive in sunny San Diego as Foxboro.

As Brady continues to transform our understanding of how long quarterbacks can play at an elite level, he is on the verge sweeping up the last of the prestigious career volume records ^[42]Already commanding the career combined regular and postseason marks for wins, passing touchdowns and yards, 4th quarter comebacks, and game winning drives records. This in addition to the bevy of … Continue reading once thought to be out of his reach; ^[43]Note from Bryan: I doubted Brees or Brady would catch Manning at all. I was wrong. Very wrong. In doing so Brady has set a bar for the GOAT discussion so daunting that in recent years many have attempted to redefine the terms of the discussion entirely, ^[44]The BOAT vs GOAT discussion is one which is always sure to miss key components of actual QB play as well as legendary talents like Cook, Young, Jones, and Jurgensen in favor of whichever QB most … Continue reading while records that were once treated as crown jewel accomplishments for a quarterback now seem like minor footnotes in an already over-crowded résumé.

Heralded by players who have been with him their whole careers or even just a few games alike, everyone he has ever played with adores him, ^[45]Though he may not have had the most different teammates throughout a career, he does have the most unique touchdown receivers and 1000 yard receivers, and I have yet to see a single former teammate … Continue reading and indeed one of Brady’s defining traits has been his lack of ego, often manifesting as the patience to methodically move down the field; he is utterly devoted to what gives the team the best probability for success, and in the direst situations this has usually involved the team entrusting him with the ball 40 or 50 times a game. ^[46]Brady’s record when throwing 50+ times dominates the competition. He is the only QB to do so 10 or more times with a winning record, and his 13 wins represent more than second and third combined in … Continue reading Brady’s firmest detractors have for decades nit-picked his playoff success, playing what-if games about particular plays and ascribing his success to good fortune. Though it can certainly be argued that in any given game or sequence of games a quarterback benefitted on balance from luck on plays that could have so easily gone the other way, but the idea that he has benefitted from some freakish and sustained variance over a sample size of nearly three seasons beggars belief. ^[47]Brady has played in 41 playoff games (through 2019), spanning two decades and multiple changes in leaguewide passing efficiency and offensive style. The NFL is a volatile league, but Brady has consistently put his team in a position to succeed more frequently and over a longer period than any other quarterback in NFL history. ^[48]Many thanks to my new mate from across the pond, who goes by HitchikersPie, for his contribution on Brady. A note from Bryan: My two favorite things about Brady are his subtle artistry within the … Continue reading

2. Peyton Manning (1998-2015)
Quarterback
Indianapolis Colts, Denver Broncos

Tom Brady and Peyton Manning are by any reasonable measure two of the five greatest quarterbacks to ever play professional football, and we got to see them compete and bring out the best in each other for a dozen years. This was very unfortunate, because sports culture places little value on appreciating greatness and a great deal of value on taking sides. Once taken, sports culture compels us to vigorously defend our side from the heathens who mistakenly believe otherwise. But arguing against a great player is difficult, so often we take shortcuts and argue against an imaginary version of that player with more prominent and clearer-cut flaws.

I have little interest in debating Manning vs. Brady today. I do, however, have a great deal of interest in debating Peyton Manning vs. the imaginary version of Peyton Manning that we collectively invented to better contrast against Tom Brady.

For most of their respective careers, Manning had better statistics and Brady had more wins and, especially, more championships, so people assumed that Manning was a choker and a stat-padder. On the other side, many believed Tom Brady was a “game manager” or a “system quarterback”, despite perhaps no quarterback in history succeeding in so many different offensive systems. But my job in this blurb is not to argue against the imaginary version of Tom Brady that many football fans mistakenly believe in.

The “choker” charge is ludicrous on its face. Manning won 70% of his career games, reached the Super Bowl with four different head coaches, and was the first quarterback in history to win the Super Bowl on two different teams. He’s the career leader in fourth-quarter comebacks and game-winning drives. Manning’s comeback record in “no-hope” games (games where his team trailed by 15+ points with 10 minutes or less left in the fourth quarter) was multiple literal orders of magnitude more unlikely than any of his peers.

One would expect that a “choker” would play worse when the stakes were at their highest, but Manning was 8-10 in the wildcard and divisional rounds of the playoffs and 6-3 in the conference championship and Super Bowl. He posted a 3-1 record against his arch-rival Patriots in AFC Championship games, including setting the then-record for yards against a Bill Belichick defense in the 2014 AFCCG and notching (for my money) the then best comeback in NFL history (given the context and the stakes) in the 2006 AFCCG. ^[49]There has since been another even more consequential comeback you might be aware of. Again, the purpose here isn’t to re-litigate Manning vs. Brady.

Moreover, Manning didn’t have a winning record in the playoffs at any point until the very end of the very last game of his career, but the statistics simply don’t bear out the idea that Manning’s postseason play was at all commensurate with his 14-13 postseason record. In 2017, Football Outsiders compiled postseason DVOA for every quarterback since 1986 and Manning ranked 11th out of 51 qualifiers, just behind Tom Brady at 9 and Aaron Rodgers at 10. Sometimes a great mystery like “why was Peyton Manning’s record so bad in the postseason” really is as simple as “his teammates let him down”; Manning led in the fourth quarter of an NFL-record 13 straight playoff games, but his team only went 8-5 during the stretch. He lost four playoff games where his team had the lead with 40 seconds left to go. ^[50]By TAY/P value, Manning boasts the top two games in postseason history, coming against the Broncos in both 2003 and 2004. He ranks 7th in career championship leverage in the playoffs, flanked by … Continue reading

Against charges that Manning was a stat-padder, I offer only that the less attention the general public pays to a statistic, the more thoroughly he dominated it. Manning has the best sack rate in history. In his 17 years as a starter, he had a Top 10 sack rate 17 times, a Top 5 sack rate 14 times, and a Top 2 sack rate a mind-boggling 11 times. Each of the sacks he avoided represented a ball thrown away or a pass forced into coverage, which meant a lower completion percentage and a higher interception rate, two stats the public cared much more about.

Similarly, first downs are the only thing that matters to an offense other than yards, but very little attention is paid to them. It’s no surprise then that Manning arguably dominated first down rate even more than he dominated sack rate. The top four seasons in history in first down rate are 2005 Peyton Manning (41.9%), 2006 Peyton Manning (42.2%), 2013 Peyton Manning (42.7%), and 2004 Peyton Manning (45.5%), which is somehow not a typo. At the time he retired, Peyton Manning had added nearly as many first downs over league average as the #2 and #3 players in NFL history combined (Brady and Drew Brees). ^[51]Even six years later he’s still 42% ahead of second place.

Given how important things like first downs and sacks are, it should come as no surprise that the more advanced a statistic is, the more it tends to love Peyton Manning’s performance. He typically dominates EPA, with its emphasis on first downs. He was PFF’s highest-graded quarterback as many times as any two other players combined, despite PFF debuting in 2006 and missing the first half of Manning’s career. ^[52]This also undercuts the idea that Manning was somehow padding his stats, since Pro Football Focus relies exclusively on film.

Perhaps the most impressive testament to Manning’s sustained dominance is the fact that from 2003 to 2013 Peyton Manning played 10 seasons, and in those 10 seasons fully 44% of all MVP ballots listed his name at the top. And that figure likely understates his performance as he lost MVP awards to running backs in three of his best seasons. ^[53]Note from Bryan: I named Manning the Automatic Award winner in 2005 and 2006, but I gave it to Brady over him in 2012. Denver’s offensive turnaround was great, but the previous year came with … Continue reading

With all this talk about what Peyton Manning wasn’t, we should also remember what he was. He didn’t have the flashiest game. By the end of his career, surgeries had robbed him of most of his arm strength to the point where he joked with reporters about how ugly his passes were. His greatest asset was invisible to us, his greatest edge occurred before the ball was even snapped. His signature play was never a 50-yard bomb or an off-balance, off-script miracle. It was hitting a 12-yard out on 3rd-and-8. And then doing it again two plays later. And again. And again. An entire career of going out and getting a new set of downs and then going out and doing it all over again, the most boring chain-moving, point-scoring, game-winning 5-time MVP the league has ever produced. ^[54]Thanks to my friend and yours, Adam Harstad, for writing this entry on Manning. The wise Jeff Berckes once said: “You want to make people angry? Rank something.” I don’t want to … Continue reading

1. Jerry Rice (1985-2004)
Wide Receiver
San Francisco 49ers, Oakland Raiders, Seattle Seahawks

His nickname is the GOAT—Greatest of All Time—and it’s hard to dispute his place atop the football mountain. He’s inarguably the best wide receiver of all time, and he is my choice as the greatest football player of all time. Rice didn’t have the physical traits that make people say “if he wanted to, he could have been the greatest.” Instead, he had more of the want to part than anyone else, and that is what made him the greatest. His otherworldly talents weren’t speed or leaping ability (though he had plenty of both), but rather the types of characteristics we tend to attribute to the great quarterbacks throughout history: disciplined desire (i.e., the dedication to sacrifice every day in order to be great—desire without discipline is just daydreaming), maniacal dedication to perfection, mental toughness, and adaptability. He had all of these in concert with underrated natural physical gifts. Many of his highlights look almost mundane, because he isn’t jumping over the head of a defender to make a play; instead, he has put on a masterclass in route running that has left the defender out of the picture entirely. There is no need to jump over a defender when he is three yards away from you wondering what went wrong.

The narrative surrounding Rice’s career is a fascinating one, because all of those mental strengths overshadowed the fact that he was an elite athlete from a pure physical perspective. At 6’2″ and 200 pounds, he had good size and strength. More than just gym strength, he played with power through contact like a running back. Many observers may remember Steve Atwater going for the kill shot in the Super Bowl, only to bounce off Rice and see the receiver trot six yards into the end zone. His hands were strong too. As a kid, he’d have to help his father—a brick mason—during the summer. The son would often wait on a second floor while his father tossed him bricks and expected him to make the catch barehanded. If he dropped one, it came out of his paycheck. Countless hours of sweaty-handed brick catching laid the foundation for him to be able to catch just about any ball that came near him. ^[55]Given his admission, rationalization, and subsequent denial of using Stickum, it is fair to say that the banned substance probably helped too. I am unsure if Rice actually used it, but I think it is … Continue reading Rice was also fast. There is a myth that he ran a slow 40 yard dash and was an athletic underdog who somehow managed to regularly outrun defensive backs. ^[56]The Stallions made Rice the first overall pick in the USFL draft. In a January 1985 article, titled “Stallions grab speedster Jerry Rice in first pick of USFL open draft,” Stallions coach … Continue reading The tape shows a receiver who didn’t just play fast, but had good straight line speed. Even after a career threatening injury at an advanced age, he returned and continued to run away from defenders. His start wasn’t always the quickest, but his flying 20 was phenomenal and was a big part of why he was able to gain so much separation on deeper routes. ^[57]The flying 20 is the last 20 yards of the 40 yard dash. Many scouts have described it as separation speed, contrasted with explosiveness off the line.

Rice is the best route runner ever to play, and he is also the best after the catch. When combined, those two skills resulted in a receiver who gouged defenses for big yardage with apparent ease. His devotion to perfecting his craft is what made him so good at running routes. He made every route look the same before the break, and he never rounded one off. While many receivers will reveal their intentions with their eyes, shoulders, or hips, Rice forced corners to defend every possible route up until the very moment he made his move. His changeup speed confounded secondaries, and his acceleration out of his breaks left cover men stumbling to get back in the play. At the point of the catch, he had an uncanny ability to secure the ball without breaking stride. The accuracy of his passers helped, but even on off target passes he was able to control his upper and lower body independently to the extent that he could turn his shoulders backward to grab a pass while his legs kept moving forward at full speed. His ability to do that on slants became legendary even early in his career, but his knack for maintaining his speed on deep posts and on tough catches in traffic was even more impressive. Once he had control of the ball, he was dangerous. Rice was terrific at reading his blocks and setting them up in order to pick up more yardage. He was so smooth and graceful that he seemed to glide through the secondary while setting up blocks and darting poetically through swarming defenders.

Often, Rice’s prowess after the catch is used against him. Many have suggested that he only caught slants and wasn’t a true deep threat like some of the more recent receivers. It’s an interesting conjecture, but it falls apart when held to even the mildest scrutiny. Yes, he was the best ever after the catch. But he was also the best before the catch. Rice wasn’t some shifty, try-hard player whose main job was to act as a safety net for his quarterbacks. He was a lethal deep threat. Turn on the film from before his injury, and you’ll see that most of his long touchdowns didn’t come on short routes. They came after he beat the defense over the top. Before turning 30, Rice averaged over 17 yards per reception for quarterbacks who averaged just over 12 yards per completion. Don’t let wrongheaded revisionism deceive you.

When he entered the NFL, Rice was not a good blocker. However, he didn’t just determine that he wanted to be the best receiver ever to play; he wanted to be the best at every aspect of the position. He didn’t end up becoming the greatest downfield blocker in the history of the position, but he put in the work to at least earn a spot on the list. Most of the time, downfield blocking is more about effort than skill. Rice had both. His obsession with perfection led him to learn the best way to position himself to make blocks on fast defensive backs and big linebackers, to know when to clear the way or when to simply cause interference. His effort is well-known. ^[58]Check out both Rice’s effort and his speed when blocking downfield for two 90+ yard touchdowns from John Taylor. Every player and coach in the game marveled at his work ethic and the infamous hill that made many younger players realize they weren’t cut from the same cloth as Rice. He didn’t just play every down like his life depended on it; he trained like his life depended on it. It’s what separated him from the other greats.

Contemporary players, coaches, and journalists had universal admiration for Rice. He is one of a handful of receivers to earn MVP honors from a major publication, ^[59]Hutson, of course, is one. Retzlaff took Washington DC Touchdown Club and Bert Bell player of the year honors in 1965. Alworth earned the UPI MVP award in 1963. He also took the Washington DC … Continue reading taking honors from the NEA, Maxwell Club (Bert Bell Award), Football Digest, and PFWA in 1987. Dr. Z named him the player of the year in 1986, 1987, 1990, and 1993. The Sporting News agreed in 1987 and 1990. Rice earned offensive player of the year honors in three seasons and was shortlisted in at least two others. ^[60]He won awards in 1986, 1987, and 1993. He was a close cut in 1990 and 1995. He may have been close in other seasons, but I couldn’t find evidence that he was. I’d like to think that I devote more time and thought to my awards than do the busy voters at newspapers and other publications. ^[61]Not Zimmerman, but then no one was Zimmerman. I gave Rice seven Bambi Awards for best wide receiver in the ten seasons from 1986-1995. I named him the Sweetness winner for OPOY in 1987, 1993, and 1995. Going further, I gave him the World Award for the league’s most outstanding player in 1987 and 1995, and he was in the running for the honor in 1986, 1990, and 1993. ^[62]The World Award is even named in Rice’s honor. World was his nickname in college, reportedly because there wasn’t anything in the world he couldn’t catch.

Because most arguments for Rice tend to lean heavily on statistics, I wanted to write his entire section without even mentioning them. However, they’re just too hard to ignore. I’ve spent a few paragraphs describing how he got his numbers. Now we can actually talk about the numbers. Rice is the career leader in receptions, yards, and touchdowns, and by an astronomical margin. ^[63]You can see one of my favorite visual examples of his statistical dominance above every other receiver in history in this tweet from 2019 showing the top 100 receivers by combined regular and … Continue reading He hauled in double digit touchdowns in ten different seasons, including 22 in 12 games in 1987. ^[64]Rice’s 1987 pace was 1437 yards and 29 touchdowns, and none of that production came against replacements, as the publicly ignorant often have argued. If scoring isn’t your thing, he also had 14 seasons over 1000 yards, including 1211 at age 40. Rice led the NFL in receiving yards and scores six times apiece. He had 33 catches for 589 yards and 8 touchdowns in four Super Bowls, taking home the game’s MVP trophy in 1988. ^[65]Rice is the most accomplished postseason player in history. He has 151 catches, while runner up Edelman has 118. He has 2245 yards, and Edelman has 1442. He has 22 touchdowns, while Gronk and … Continue reading His work ethic and attention to detail are legendary and resulted in a game with no weaknesses and unrivaled longevity. But he was more than just a good player for a long time. From 1986-1996 (11 years, over a generation ago), he averaged 1437 yards and 14 touchdowns per 16 games, throwing in 56 rushing yards and a shade under a touchdown per season for good measure. Then he suffered what should have been a career ending injury for a normal 35 year old receiver, causing him to miss most of the 1997 season. He came back the next year and went on to post 6440 yards and 42 touchdowns in the regular season. ^[66]Rice’s detractors harp on the fact that he played with great quarterbacks. It is undeniable that he was blessed to catch passes from Montana, Young, Garcia, and Gannon. However, one of the … Continue reading Rice maintains huge leads in every major category despite playing his last meaningful season before rules changes facilitated a passing explosion that began in 2004 and has only burned brighter since.

Let’s end the list on a soapbox. We often criticize receivers like Moss for their behavior when things weren’t going well and contrast them with the dutiful Rice. I have also done this. To be fair and balanced, it is worth considering that we didn’t have to worry about that with Rice because he rarely found himself in a bad situation. He joined a team fresh off a Super Bowl victory and played with two Hall of Fame quarterbacks till he was in his mid-thirties. After that, he made a Super Bowl with another MVP passer. Rice overcame plenty of adversity early in his life in order to become the greatest football player of all time, but as a pro he scarcely knew the hardship of playing on a lousy team and having to deal the dread of losing game after insufferable game. That sort of thing can take its toll on a player, but it’s a toll Rice never had to pay. ^[67]Fans may remember Rice complaining about his catch streak being in jeopardy when Oakland fell from grace, or that he would sulk after wins if he didn’t get the targets he wanted, or that … Continue reading He was likely as selfish as any other receiver, and I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that so many wideouts seem selfish any more than it’s a coincidence that cornerbacks seem cocky. Different attitudes help propel players at different positions. At receiver, the desire to get the ball is likely part of the drive that makes them great to begin with. To separate one from the other is rare. Psychology is clear that much of one’s personality is innate. We can take steps to dampen our inherent traits or build mental safeguards to prevent ourselves from demonstrating characteristics that society has deemed undesirable, but I think it is fair to consider that some of the things our culture sees as weaknesses can also serve as strengths. If we knew people like Jordan, Brady, or Manning in real life, we might find them insufferable for their hypercompetitive mindset and preoccupation with being the best. But that played a big role in what made them the best. The wise Adam Harstad once mused: “Maybe it’s not that great WRs are showboats, maybe it’s that there’s something about a penchant for showboating that helps make WRs great.” Like the tortured artist, many of the people who are the best at what they do, in any area, can attribute at least part of their brilliance to personality traits that may be unwelcome in polite society. The sublime deserve the same empathy as anyone else.