When I was a little girl, my only exposure to football was at family holiday gatherings, when my uncles planted themselves in front of the big screen TV. I thought football games lasted for 8 hours. Sometimes, I would try to watch football, but I never knew what was going on. My uncles, all big, sporting men, would explain: “See that guy, the quarterback? He moves the ball up the field by passing it to the other guys on his team. Those guys lined up try to stop them from moving the ball. And those other guys try to stop the guys who are trying to tackle the guy who has the ball.” And so the explanation continued: Downs, interceptions, time-outs, kicks… yeah, whatever. I’m just a little girl.
I ignored football through high school and college, thinking it to be a refuge for dumb, aggressive jocks. Then, one cold winter day when there was nothing to do but wait for bread to bake, I began watching a Patriots game. And in one fell swoop came a deep comprehension of football, a profound appreciation for its strategy, and the belief that Tom Brady was a God.
A good, handsome quarterback is essential, but what about all those other positions? The Blind Side focuses on the position of left tackle, which has evolved from just another offensive lineman to one of the most strategically-important and lucrative positions on the field. The left tackle guards the quarterback’s blind side, and in today’s NFL where the quarterback is a precious commodity, the left tackle must stop him from getting sacked (or thinking he’s about getting sacked.) To do this, the left tackle must be a “freak of nature… a rare beast… Incredibly nimble and quick feet.. the body control of a ballerina and the agility of a basketball player.” And 300 pounds, minimum.
A rare beast. After explaining why the NFL covets left tackles, the book introduces Michael Ober, a black teenager in Memphis with no father and a crack-addicted welfare mother. By the age of 12, Ober was “completely free of social obligations… he played games from morning until late at night.” Instead of going to school, he focused on his true ambition: To be the next Michael Jordan. He learned to move around a basketball court with control of every one of his 350 pounds.
Through a stroke of luck, Ober ended up at the ritzy Briarcrest Christian school, where a big black kid can’t help but to stand out. He struggled with academics but excelled in sports, earning him the attention of a rich white Evangelical family called the Tuohys, who eventually adopted him. Ober wanted to play basketball but was steered to football (and dabbled in track and field. The first time he picked up a discus, his adopted sister called her father: “Daddy, I think you better come over here and see Michael through the discus. It looks like a Frisbee.”)
Ober’s story is the focus of roughly 2/3rds the book. Ober was born to be a left tackle, and when a grainy VHS tape of him playing began circulating, college coaches from all over the country courted him. Ober’s story is an interesting way to discuss the evolution of the left tackle position. His own evolution from semi-orphaned ghetto child to a college football player with serious NFL prospects is absorbing and touching, even if you can’t tell a left tackle from a kicker.
