The Rebirth of Cool

There was a time when jazz was everywhere offering the perfect soundtrack for American culture. All over the nation you heard the sweet tunes of Brubeck, Gordon, Trane, and of course, Miles Davis, the man who made the music cool. It defined a generation and a people. From the way they walked to the way they talked to the way they dressed, every facet of life had the indelible signature of jazz written on it.

Then without any warning, the music stopped, replaced by rock ‘n’ roll. Rock, as it came to be known was the sound of rebellion and it gradually became woven into the fabric of America, distancing listeners from the coolness of jazz. Rock was what America wanted: flowing, fun, fast, and loud while jazz represented who we once were. The move to rock from jazz wasn’t an indictment: it was an evolution, a cultural shift of sorts. But diehard jazz lovers kept snapping their fingers, tapping their feet, and bopping, knowing one day, the cultural pendulum would swing.

Football underwent a similar evolution in recent years. There was a time when men like Payton, Dickerson, Dorsett, Smith and Sanders roamed the gridiron soundscape, putting up thousand-yard seasons, while leading their teams to glory. They were the unquestioned stars of the show, the ones pleasing the crowds, selling tickets, filling seats. Offenses revolved around them and the sweet tunes they played while defenses cringed with every note and sound and then, without any warning … the music stopped.

What was once a league where running backs were worshipped, adored, and required became one where they were tolerated. Workhorse backfields morphed into platoon systems and in some instances, runners became more blockers than runners as passers and receivers became the darlings everyone wanted to get next to, see, and hold.

Then the gridiron pendulum swung.

Slowly but Surely

It started just as innocently as it ended. Every now and again, you’d tune in and see an undeniable talent flashing out of the backfield and knew it was only a matter of time before some offensive mastermind understood the gift he had at his disposal. And instead of playing into the flavor of the day that called for more passing and catching, he said maybe. Maybe I’ll put that big, fast 230-pound piece of action in the backfield where he belongs, facing a defense built for the pass.

Football is a copycat sport. Always has been and always will be. If it works for one team, another team tells a friend, and so on and so on and so on and so on. So, when one team saw that 230-pounder shredding small defenders, putting up points, and bleeding the clock, the stage was set. And just like that, an old familiar note began playing softly in the background.

The New Breed

With the door now open, a small group of high-value, gifted running backs entered the fray. In years past, the legends owned and shaped the soundscape. Now that job was left to a new breed of runner, gifted just like those who came before him. For far too long they had been looked upon as nothing more than a pawn in this brutal chess game, but now, they were ready to once again assume the mantle of king. And here’s the added advantage this new crop of runners brought with them. They didn’t just run.

They knew how to catch.

They knew how to catch and having this skill in their back pocket increased their value exponentially. Now, instead of being subbed for a smaller scatback type or relegated to pass protection, he, if he weren’t running off tackle, he could catch a wheel route up the sideline, a post through the thick of the defense, a pass out in the flats. Yes, he was no longer just a runner, but by way of necessity, he also became a receiver, and, in the process, he was no longer simply tolerated. Now, he was indispensable.

The Proof is in the Paper

 Money talks. Money also listens and when it heard the familiar sounds of running backs producing just like they did in the days of old, money and runners began having a very serious conversation. “Say dig this cat, they got me out here blocking like a guard, running like back, and catching anything that comes my way” said the runner to the dollar. “You jiving my man” shot the dollar back in a tone of disbelief. The runner stared back without a blink and the dollar spoke words that landed like sweet music to the backs’ ears. “Sounds like you need to be getting a little more bread for working this gig”.

Performers found the pep in their step, tuned instruments, tried new licks, and dusted off their chops, and it paid off: tremendously. Lucrative running back contracts like the league had never seen were being signed. Leading men like Henry, Barkley, McCaffrey took the stage first with Gibbs, Taylor, and Robinson coming next, headlining this next act of running back excellence. In case anyone is wondering if the performance is worth the price, well there’s one way to find out: listen to the money.

It always talks. And when it does, it’ll tell the story of the running back. Once taken for granted, once again an integral part of offensive and organizational success. Workhouse; sometimes individually, other times in tandem. Reborn, thriving in a world where he was once undervalued, just as cool, maybe a little cooler than any time in the past. Powerful enough to go off tackle, speedy enough to run outside … catching, throwing, blocking, whatever's necessary, put it on him … yeah, he’s hip.

Again.