10. Carson Wentz, Philadelphia Eagles
“The Duality of Man” is one of those Literature 101 themes, that crops up in a variety of works. Perhaps best displayed in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the theme stands for the proposition that humans are in essence both good and evil. That inside each of us is a struggle between our better angels and our more base instincts and desires.
Given the commonality of this theme, you can transpose it to allmost anything in life. Including football. Take the next quarterback on this list. Benjamin Solak, who in addition to the great work he does for The Draft Network, covers the Philadelphia Eagles for Bleeding Green Nation. In a piece from last September, titled “The Quarterback Who Never Says Die,” Solak tapped into the duality of Wentz, and how what makes him great, makes him flawed in a sense. Quoting at length from a masterful piece:
Carson Wentz again made such plays on Sunday night in a losing effort to the Atlanta Falcons, 24-20. He wore Vic Beasley on his back and welcomed a steamrolling Adrian Clayborn into his ribcage. Cameras tracked his walks to the sideline, his climbs up from the ground, his trip into the infamous blue tent. The box score remembers these plays as late-down conversions at key moments in the fight, but that is somehow not enough. It is not enough, and we all knew that as we watched Wentz peel himself off the turf, the cost of his valor exacted from his body, but not his will. Wentz’s heart dazzled the crowds as he braced it onto his sleeve, but the price of admission for the clinic on competitive toughness wasn’t paid by the people. It was paid by the quarterback.
This is the shadow that hangs, and with it comes a cold wind. How many more times can Wentz turn in a performance as he did last night? Not a performance characterized by endurance, which Wentz showed in spades as the team fought back; nor characterized by self-reliance and creativity, which the situation required, given the lack of offensive weapons at his disposal; but characterized by the lack of self-preservation, the regardlessness with which only a man possessed could offer himself to the game.
On that horizon, the cold wind that blows is Cam Newton, or rather the fraction of him that takes snaps for Carolina today. Large and fast and strong and adamantine, Newton heard the opening bell in 2011 and came out swinging; the league didn’t have an answer. He took the NFL three rounds and two Pro Bowls before he lost even a game to injury, and was back in Round 5 for a league MVP and Super Bowl berth. He broke 10 tackles for every rushing record he set, christened the QB sneak as the QB “there’s nothing sneaky about this, you just can’t stop it anyway.”
But they could stop it — not any one defense, but defenses as a whole. With every hit — several of them late, several of them on slides, many of them uncalled — the giant wheel of NFL misfortune spun, and eventually, Newton landed on red. His 2016 season was one of his worst as a passer, and in the offseason, he had surgery on his throwing shoulder. Two years later, and out routes flutter in the air before dying into the sideline; deep balls are cast like javelins and land with just as much accuracy. Newton took on the NFL, and attrition won.
That is the duality of Wentz. What makes him such a wonderful quarterback to watch, and what has earned the respect of those in the huddle with him, is what might lead to his “injury prone” tag, and the fear that we might never see what he could become in the NFL. This dates back to his days at North Dakota State. Watch one of the games that put him on the #DraftTwitter map, his junior year National Championship Game against Illinois State, and you will see moments that leave you in awe, and yet with the words of Sweet Lou Brown on your tongue. “Nice play Carson, don’t ever [bleeping] do it again.” A quarterback with that never-say-die attitude, who will run defenders over in the open field, and fight until the whistle, and even after.
What makes him great, that attitude and toughness, may result in unfulfilled potential.
Consider his 2017 season. In the midst of an MVP-caliber year, Wentz tucks the football and plows forward, diving for the end zone in a huge road game against the Los Angeles Rams. His touchdown plunge is called back due to a holding penalty, and Wentz returns to the huddle, every so often grabbing at his knee. Four plays later, he throws a touchdown pass.
He then limps to the locker room, with a torn ACL. Dream season over.
Never say die.