Often times during arguments, people say things that they think are meaningful that in actuality don’t even make any sense. A great example of this can be found in any argument regarding whether a football player is a “product of a system.” The most common thing you will hear in response whenever someone refers to a player as a “product of a system” is, “But the players still need to execute that system.” Media and fans alike use this line of reasoning as a counterargument.

Now, usually when I see or hear this, I just roll my eyes and curse the heavens for the imbeciles who inhabit this poor planet. “Not even worth my time,” I say to myself. After all, it is apparent to me that these people simply do not even understand what a “product of a system” is in the first place. How can I get through to people who are so devoid of logic? But now that I have this outlet to express myself and at least make some sort of valiant effort to make a few people less idiotic, I figure it’s time I address this issue. So for anyone who might fall into the category of not actually understanding the meaning of this expression, I think it might be helpful if I explain exactly what a “product of a system” is so that you don’t make the mistake of thinking that the aforementioned counterargument makes any sense.

So what is a “product of a system,” exactly? It’s rather simple but apparently misunderstood by a great number of people. A product of a system is a player whose performance and/or production is made to look better than it is (and, consequently, make the player look better than he really is) by the scheme he plays in. By scheme, I essentially mean the playbook and style of offense or defense (and, in rare cases, even special teams) the player’s team runs.

Saying “but so-and-so still needs to execute that scheme” is entirely meaningless because it does not refute the argument that the player is being made to look better (or way better) than he really is by the system. Say, for instance, that Trent Dilfer plays in a brand new offense that is creating so much confusion for opposing defenses that virtually every single down, Dilfer has two or three receivers open by a 15 yard radius. And let’s say Dilfer can’t throw the ball more than 30 yards (not too far off reality, either). He still won’t have much difficulty in this system because even the most aggressive passing attacks don’t require quarterbacks to throw the ball more than 30 yards very often. And let’s also go ahead and say that Dilfer is either playing behind a very good offensive line, or an offensive line that is so well coached that they play much more effectively than their talent level would indicate they could. So in essence, Dilfer is standing back there in the pocket with excellent protection, receivers are getting open quickly as a result of the scheme (another way lines are made to look better than they really are sometimes), and when he passes, he is essentially hitting the ocean from a rowboat. His receivers are coming open by 15 yard radii; you could make these types of throws playing catch in the backyard with your dad.

“But he still needs to execute the scheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeem!” Yeah…he needs to hit the ocean from a rowboat. And your point is…?

Let’s say that Dilfer ends up throwing for 4,500 yards, 35 touchdowns, 10 interceptions, on 67% completion for the year. In an offense designed like this, he very well could; remember, he is good enough to be in the NFL, so you would expect him to be able to routinely hit the broad side of a barn with a cannon. Obviously, the fans and media alike would vote him to the Pro Bowl every year he posted these types of numbers; they don’t understand that in this scenario, Dilfer is a product of a system. How good is he really? Well, if it weren’t for his atrocious play on other teams, no one would have any idea unless they actually analyzed his actual talents for their own sake during the rare situations where it becomes possible to evaluate them.

Now, some players are partial products of a system, some are complete products of a system. A partial product of a system is someone who is made to look better or much better than he is by the scheme he plays in, but the guy is still a good, very good, or even great football player. A complete product of a system is a guy who isn’t even good, but is made to look good, very good, or even great by the scheme. I made up these two terms out of thin air, actually, but scouts generally understand the existence of these two phenomena nonetheless. Below is a list of each (not a comprehensive list, but some good examples):

Partial products of a system:

Tom Brady: The arm strength, accuracy, pocket presence, and mechanics are all top notch. But 4,800 yards, 50 touchdown, near-70% completion kind of top notch? Only when there’s a great system in place. In fact, one could say this about just about every quarterback who ever played: I maintain that the quarterback is almost entirely dependent upon the players and scheme around him (with the rare exceptions being the “black athletic scrambler” types who are really running backs under center–the Michael Vicks, Vince Youngs, and other assorted one-and-a-half dimensional showoff dimwits). The quarterback can’t make the receivers get open, catch the ball, or run after the catch–the best a quarterback can possibly do is take full advantage of the system and talent around him. In other words, when a receiver is open, he hits him and doesn’t make him break stride. He allows that receiver to take full advantage of his talent. He keeps mistakes to a minimum. He gives the offensive coordinator the best possible outcome he could hope for as much of the time as you could ever expect out of a human being. I’m really just picking on Brady here–the system and supporting cast makes any non-“black athlete” quarterback what he is, with only his level of talent either holding him back or allowing him to take full advantage of it. Brady is a partial product of a system because, unlike other quarterbacks with impressive statistics who actually hold/held their offenses back (Jeff Garcia in San Francisco, Jon Kitna in Cincinnati and Detroit, and Jake Plummer/Brian Griese in Denver were prime examples of this), Tom Brady takes full advantage of whatever talent he has by being patient, poised, accurate enough to do a little extra with his open receivers (hit them in stride), and having sound mechanics, which leads to fewer mistakes and allows everyone around him to do their job to their full potential. He’s an excellent quarterback; he’s just not nearly as good as people think he is because he isn’t what makes the Patriot offense go (nor is any quarterback, unless he is a Michael Vick-like double-edged sword who removes the ability to throw the ball from the equation, but basically amounts to your entire offense, by choice, with his scrambling). Brady is what allows the Patriots offense to go, but he is hardly the only guy who can do that. Now, it’s important to note that Brady’s part product of a system, part product of the talent around him (i.e. Randy Moss). Moss gives him a player who can make plays all by himself, either by pulling down jump balls, getting open over the middle (yes, I said over the middle–apparently Moss can catch pass after pass over the middle until the cows come home, as he did last year, but he’ll never shed the BS image that he’s a one-dimensional “deep threat” receiver because he’s tall and relatively thin…80 of his 98 receptions last year went for under 20 yards…but I digress) and giving him an easy throw, or by just being a big target. As far as the system part is concerned, the spread offense he operates in creates major problems for defenses in an era where corners aren’t even allowed to breathe on receivers the wrong way without drawing a penalty.

Clinton Portis in Denver: Ever wonder why he went from 5.5+ yards/carry his first three years to struggling to keep it over 4 in Washington? No, it’s not Denver having a superior offensive line; it’s Denver having a superior blocking scheme. The Broncos haven’t had an above average offensive lineman since Gary Zimmerman retired, but their line completely dominates because of the way they teach their guys to block. In their form of zone blocking, they basically mirror the natural momentum of the defensive player, letting him take himself out of the play. Combine that with cut blocking the backside pursuit and this often leads to gaping holes and allows for outstanding numbers for any running back who just goes where the hole forms. Even when it’s not a gaping hole, the scheme rarely leaves anyone unblocked (well, anyone who can actually do anything about the play), hence a back can still push forward for a couple in heavy traffic. Portis doesn’t have that luxury in Washington, despite being a decent running back (terrible as a blocker and pass catcher, though). He has no power whatsoever, but he does a nice job of finding the crease and hitting it quickly, then has very good open field speed.

Ahman Green in Green Bay: He had speed and power. He was a good pass blocker. He was also behind an offensive line that dominated, and it dominated in large part because of the style of blocking they used (multiple fullbacks, multiple tight ends…goal line type formations against defenses that weren’t used to facing those in between the 20’s. This basically made him look like a Hall of Fame caliber back, which he isn’t. Najeh Davenport and other run-of-the-mill change-of-pace backs averaged 5+ yards/carry running in that same scheme.

Derrick Brooks in Tampa Bay: It’s pretty clear he’d be a good weak side linebacker on any team with his speed, sure tackling, and overall athletic ability, but it certainly has helped him quite a bit that he’s played in a scheme where they allow him to flow freely to the football and get really deep drops in coverage.

Complete Products Of a System:

Kurt Warner V. 1999-2001: At that point in time, no one had any idea how to defend Mike Martz’s system. He motioned players all over the place pre-snap, confusing defenses to the point where someone invariably blew a coverage.

Marc Bulger Takes Advantage Of The Same Offense Warner Was In, vs. Jets 2004

Warner had to hit the ocean from a rowboat. In actuality, Warner is and always has been an average passer (above average only in a league with the quarterback position the weakest it has been in years) with marginal arm strength, ordinary accuracy, good pocket presence, and poor pocket awareness (see his countless fumbles). Hitting Bruce, Holt, Hakim, Proehl, or Tony Horn when the nearest defender was 10 yards away from them is not an impressive feat (especially when he has all day to throw), and people claiming he “hit them in stride” really don’t know what they’re talking about. How could he hit them “in stride” when Bruce and Holt would catch the ball and then slide to the ground after every catch anyway? He has always had a poor deep ball and he rarely had to throw to where a receiver was going; he played pitch-and-catch. His passes in Arizona these days often leave his receivers making big adjustments (though Larry Fitzgerald probably prefers that)…but with the best receiver duo in football, as well as his tendency to hold the football until the cows either come home or someone gets wide open, he has tallied a lot of yards and a lot of fumbles the last few years there.

Terrell Davis, Mike Anderson, Olandis Gary, Reuben Droughns: It’s not a coincidence that they churn out 1500 yard runner after 1500 yard runner. Nobody on this list has or had any talent whatsoever. They are/were all complete stiffs; no speed whatsoever. Little power. Absolutely no moves/elusiveness. You’re looking at a list of journeymen-caliber running backs who put up Pro Bowl rushing numbers. Saying “they had patience” is like saying “they eat food and sleep at night.” It’s mandatory for any non-Barry Sanders running back, not some sort of special ability. Shaun Alexander would be on this list, too, but he was not a product of a system; he was a product of his offensive line; namely Walter Jones, Steve Hutchinson, and Mack Strong opening holes as wide as the equator for him to lumber his stiff, worthless carcass through. Make no mistake about it, though, Shaun Alexander is every bit as big a joke as the guys on this list.

Darrell Jackson in Seattle: Brick hands, pretty average speed, little overall athletic ability. What did he do well? The answer is…not a whole lot. He “executed within the system.” By that, I mean he did what Mike Holmgren told him to do and was wide open for reasons such as no one covering him when he lined up as a halfback and ran out into the flat. Holmgren’s intricately designed “decoy routes” gave him plenty of room to operate after the catch. Why did Seattle’s passing game actually improve last season, whereas Jackson fell flat on his face in San Francisco? I think you now know why.

Ronde Barber in Tampa Bay: He would be out of football if not for the style of defense they run. He’s a small corner with 4.7 speed who can’t cover anyone for very long. In their defense, they avoid having him cover for very long (in situations where he has to, he’s basically screwed), having him play everything within about a 10 yard area and not even worrying about anything beyond that. He tackles pretty well and generally catches the balls that he’s allowed to jump as a result of a scheme; that doesn’t justify selecting him for the Pro Bowl every year. But people rarely look beyond the numbers. Ronde Barber is a product of a system. He “executes” within his system, yes–in his case, that just means that he plays 1/4th the amount of football field almost every other corner plays and gets to jump routes two to three times as often. If this piece of “he still has to execute in the scheme!!!” garbage gets into the Hall of Fame, it will be a sad day for humanity.

These are just a few examples; the NFL is full of them. Understanding this concept is what separates the casual fans who are oftentimes full of crap from those who have a deep understanding of the game.