There has always been an air of intrigue amongst sports news networks when it comes to ranking and cataloging the starting quarterbacks in the NFL. Like ranking point guards in basketball or aces in baseball, the quarterback position is also often pegged to their respective teams' power rankings and Vegas odds. The term franchise and elite have become controversial adjectives when describing starters, and it is most often always brought up when a player is up for a new contract (when perceived value can be translated to empirical value). On a day when the worldwide leader, ESPN, decided to publish a comprehensive list detailing the top 32 quarterbacks in the league from the eyes of 35 coaches and evaluators (excuse the ESPN Insider contraband), the following frenzy doesn’t merely come in the direction of these types of lists, but also understanding the nuance—and ultimately arbitrary practice—that is assigning quarterback value.
Year in, year out, the quarterback debate almost always begins with the expected bookends at the top end of the list. These players can often be used as controls as evaluators attempt to fill in the blanks beneath. Player evaluation and grading are often a practice of recency bias and a perilous balance between weighing past accomplishments and projecting future success, which is reflected by the names at the top of the list: Aaron Rodgers and Tom Brady. The former being the reigning MVP and the latter being the last Super Bowl champion makes for an easier rationalization of putting either name at the tentpole position. Truth be told, the Brady/Rodgers pairing is a tough position to argue. While the NFL is very much a “what have you done for me lately” league, Brady’s name carries clout that is backed by three Super Bowl rings. Though Rodgers’ MVP suggests a more objective placement for him being the best quarterback in the league (and an aggregation of most lists would suggest that), he too is legitimized by a Super Bowl championship within the last five years. In fact, the common denominator of 5 of the top 6 in ESPN’s top tier is very conspicuously that; Super Bowl rings.
The Super Bowl rings argument, by even the most lenient of criticisms, is a lazy one. How do evaluators objectively reconcile Super Bowl market-share between responsible parties? How does the collective media rank owners, franchises, coaches and other positions? Although Super Bowls are rightly the ultimate goal of every team in any given season, how should it affect an individual player’s legacy in a acute view? The Super Bowl variable in the quarterback ranking equation proves ultimately to be an arbitrary one with a mobile goal post. Dan Marino, who is nearly universally considered a top 5 quarterback, is infamously remembered for not ever winning a Super Bowl but would likely suffer more in active player list because he hasn’t reached that hilltop. Similarly, Steve Young’s single Super Bowl got the preverbal monkey off his back. Conversely, Terry Bradshaw is a 4-time Super Bowl winner, who is graded on a negative curb courtesy of the Steel Curtain. What becomes clear is that many rankings rest heavily on drama and story-lines rather than any true measure of empirical or visual data. Now, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it does leave any list open to the full spectrum of criticism that can be levied on a Super Bowl-centric metric.
Perhaps the most interesting detail found in the Super Bowl complex—especially when looking back to previous eras—is found in the element of expectation. Expectation is what put the monkey on Steve Young’s back, expectation is what makes league writers feel remorse for Marino’s comparatively fruitless career. What is uniform amongst those in ESPN’s top five is the fulfillment of that expectation, and in Andrew Luck’s case, the placement of it. Luck’s name nestled in-between former Super Bowl winners suggest he’s carrying a gorilla sized encumbrance moving forward. Luck’s placement suggest that his legacy now rests solely on his ability to win a Super Bowl—or more accurately put: to be on a Super Bowl winning team. Eventually, Luck will or will not win a Super Bowl(s), but it ultimately shouldn’t matter whether he does or doesn't. He’s already been deemed with the ability to win one, and unless that ability is sapped, his legacy shouldn’t be altered. To delegitimize Luck’s legacy because of the lack of a Super Bowl would be moving the standard of expectation of what it takes to win a Super Bowl. Would Dan Marino truly be a better player if he had won a Super Bowl or would Steve Young be worse if he hadn’t? Is Russell Wilson’s Super Bowl win and subsequent appearance less valuable because it occurred so early in his career and he wasn’t widely considered a top prospect in his draft class? Do statistics play the same role with every player and do Super Bowl wins make them more valuable? There is obviously a lot of context and data to dig through, (and that’s not something that will be found in this article) but they’re interesting questions to raise in the name of uniformity.
The final component that is raised by the Super Bowl complex comes with the current diverging opinions regarding the aforementioned Russell Wilson. Wilson, who saw stardom early in his career, is somewhere between the 5th and 15th best quarterback in the NFL. ESPN’s list has him conservatively at number 8 and behind a beleaguered veteran, Philip Rivers. Rivers, who splits the difference between 2004 draft class-mates, Ben Roethlisberger and Eli Manning, is often fending off his younger and more spry peers in polls and rankings. Between 2006 and 2009, Rivers led his team to three 10-plus seasons (including a 14-2 campaign in 2006). Lately, Rivers has fought injury and roster turnover to barely get his team above the .500 mark. He seems to neither have the overall win percentage or the playoff pedigree to merit his 7th ranking on ESPN’s list—especially over the darling of the northwest, Russell Wilson. Avoiding easy conclusions like: Rivers looks the part or has a larger sample size (Luck’s sample size is the same size as Wilson’s), it’s clear to see that the coaches and evaluators of ESPN’s list do not value Wilson’s contributions to his team’s success as much as they do Rivers’. Wilson faces the Terry Bradshaw-syndrome that befalls players that are a part of a stellar defense and running game. It isn’t just expectation with Wilson (as the same coaches and evaluators would surely put Seattle near the top of Super Bowl contenders this season), but whether the expectation is directly related to his contributions. An interesting dynamic that springs from that last hypothesis that that the true answer of quarterback value may lie (at least in some form) in the differential of average power ranking and average positional ranking.
It there’s one thing to take away from this article it’s that quarterback rankings are fluid in time and perspective. Surely, a media provided list would differ is some way against a trade provided one (as is seen in player vs. media top 100 lists). Even in ESPN’s list, there is a myriad of evidence that suggests it wasn't purely reflected by championships and statistics and there’s clearly a lot of information to digest in projecting where a quarterback fits amongst his peers. Perhaps the giant hurdle isn’t in justifying how valuable a player is, but determining why expectation is placed on players and how results change or confirm beliefs. Previously in this article the question was asked whether or not Marino’s or Young’s careers should be viewed different with the addition or subtraction of a Super Bowl ring. In a vacuum, with the absence of manufactured hype and fanbase pressure, that answer should be objectively, “no,” and the same should be applied to the stars of today.
