I toiled in the most inglorious position in football my whole professional career: in the trench with the offensive line. We performed the yeoman’s work for the offense with little praise or accolades if we won but most of the blame if we lost. We were expected to protect our quarterback quietly and effectively so he could throw touchdowns to the flashy wide receivers who danced in the end zone.
Alternatively, we were to mash and maul the defense, clearing holes for our high-dollar running backs to rush through for touchdowns under the crowd's roar. All eyes and cameras were on these other positions. Meanwhile, the line fought like pit bulls for every yard. It was not uncommon to go unnoticed unless one of us gave up a sack or jumped offside. Despite all that, we loved it. It takes a certain kind of player to be attracted to that type of role.