by Ron Jaworski
Rex Ryan often uses a chess analogy to explain his father’s strategies: “Dad basically had the black piece on the chess board. The white piece always moves first. Dad’s piece gets the second—and then the last move. When the offense moved its piece, Dad had what he thought was the perfect blitz against your protection—and the perfect coverage to stop whatever routes you ran out of that formation.”
Because the 46 calls for eight men in the box, it was very effective against the run. There would always be one extra defender for which the offensive team simply could not account, so rushing lanes closed down in a hurry. But Buddy’s primary goal was to apply pressure on the quarterback. Here’s what he did: He put both of his outside linebackers (Marshall and Wilson) on the strong side of the field, where the opponent’s tight end lined up. On the weak side, he lined his pass-rushing defensive end (Dent) out much wider than normal from the offensive tackle assigned to block him. The other defensive end (Hampton) and the two interior tackles (McMichael and either Hartenstine or William “the Refrigerator” Perry) aligned head-up over the center and guards. Then Buddy put the middle linebacker and strong safety in stacked positions just behind his down linemen. Buddy called this his “Bear front.”
It’s hard to overstate how much confusion this caused for offensive lines of that era. They didn’t know who they were supposed to block, because none of the defenders was where he was supposed to be. The Bears didn’t always rush the same guys, and they didn’t always rush in the same numbers. And if Chicago’s two interior tackles and defensive end each aligned head-up against an offensive lineman, that guard or tackle had to block the man directly across from him, as no one else would even have a shot at blocking those guys. That left both the middle linebacker (Singletary) and the strong safety (Duerson) with unblocked paths to the football. That was the basic premise of the 46: attack, break down blocking schemes and pass protections, not individual players. Let’s be clear, though: The 46 could not be an every-down defense. The better NFL offenses could still make big plays if it was used too much, so its risk-versus-reward ratio was deemed too detrimental for Chicago to run it for an entire game. But Buddy dialed it up frequently enough (often 30 to 35 percent and sometimes more) to keep quarterbacks guessing.
Joe Theismann understood as well as anyone how difficult it was to play against this defense, having lost twice to the Bears while quarterbacking Washington in 1984 and ‘85. “What Buddy Ryan did by covering the center and two guards was him saying, ‘Your interior linemen will not be able to help anybody,’ “ he observed. “Their ends and linebackers went one-on-one with offensive tackles and backs. If you’re asking your tackle to block exceptional athletes like Dent or Marshall, that isn’t good. Indecision is the worst thing that can happen to you on a football field. The 46 made it tough for quarterbacks and linemen to figure out who was coming. Once you were in an obvious passing situation, you were at a distinct disadvantage. The Bears would give you the illusion of pressure, then drop seven into coverage. So if you’d checked off to a man route, you were in big trouble.”
You’re probably wondering about the vulnerabilities in Chicago’s pass coverage if all eight players in the Bears front rushed the quarterback. Couldn’t the offense burn those three remaining defenders if it got the ball out quickly? Well, sure, that did happen sometimes, but not often enough to hurt the Bears that badly. Here’s why: You’ve got the two corners (Frazier and Richardson) playing man coverage on the opponent’s wideouts, with Fencik as the single high safety in the middle of the field to make sure nobody gets behind him. With so much pressure coming from the front eight, quarterbacks of that era had to get the ball out in approximately 1.8 seconds—or they were going to wind up on the ground. In most cases, Chicago’s corners were more than capable of staying with their receivers for at least that long.
Buddy could also switch up and have his corners align inside to take away quick slants, the kind of throw a QB under pressure is likely to attempt. With that option negated, the quarterback would have to hold the ball longer, and against the 46, that isn’t a very attractive option! Even if the passer does avoid getting sacked, he’s faced with having to complete a fade pass, a much tougher throw than a slant. A third coverage Buddy liked with the 46 was known as the “stalk.” That’s when one of the box defenders (either the middle linebacker or the strong safety) runs underneath the widest outside receiver to his side of the field. If either of these defenders gets there quickly enough, then that passing lane is denied, and the quarterback is likely going to have to eat the ball or throw it away.
Ryan figured that some teams would try to help protect their passer by keeping a back in the pocket to block an outside linebacker or the pass-rushing defensive end. Well, Buddy had an answer for that too: something called the “green dog” or “Frisco,” a rush scheme that Bud Carson had also used with Pittsburgh’s Steel Curtain. As soon as Singletary recognized that his back was staying home, he’d head straight for the quarterback because “Samurai Mike” (as he was nicknamed) would not be accounted for in the opponent’s pass-protection scheme.
Buddy also came up with what is now known as the “peel” technique, which Doug Plank insists never existed until the Bears ran it. “If a running back free-released to the outside,” he said, “Chicago’s nearest defensive end would peel out from his three-point stance and cover the back man-to-man. Once the linebackers saw this, they could totally change what they were doing. They could pressure blitz, look for a running lane to go through, or drop back into coverage to take away slant or curl routes. Those guys on offense didn’t realize that having their running backs checked went on to trigger other functions of our defense.” The peel did more than add to an offense’s confusion. It was also a coverage that camouflaged and compensated for what first appeared to be a speed mismatch between a back and a slower defensive end.
he 1985 Chicago Bears were virtually unstoppable, winning fifteen of their sixteen regular season games. In the playoffs, the defense pitched shutouts against the Giants and Rams, then crushed the Patriots, 46–10, in Super Bowl XX. Because it’s among the most widely viewed Super Bowls ever, fans probably remember that Bears performance more than any other. To me, though, the one game that best exemplifies the awesome force of Buddy’s defense was its week-eleven demolition of the Dallas Cowboys. The images I saw on the coaching tape of that day were shocking. My study of the game feels more like an autopsy than a film breakdown; that’s how violent Chicago’s performance was. Seen twenty-five years later, it’s still a frightening thing to watch.
In 1985 Dallas was still a ranking power in the NFC and hadn’t lost to the Bears in fourteen years. Head coach Tom Landry was a brilliant innovator in his own right. He’d pioneered both the 4–3 and “Flex” defenses, popularized the concept of men in motion, and been among the first to computerize his team’s scouting system. Landry won Super Bowl VI with Mike Ditka catching the final Dallas touchdown, and Super Bowl XII with Ditka on the Cowboys’ sideline as a staff assistant. Landry had taken a chance and given “Iron Mike” his first coaching job. Now the student was looking for his first win against his teacher. Singletary remembered what Ditka said to his Bears squad the night before the ‘85 game. “He told us how much he loved being with the Cowboys when he was there as a player and coach, and they’d always be an important part of his life. But that in order for us to get to where we wanted to go, we had to not just win but dominate the Cowboys, in Dallas. We needed to make a statement against ‘America’s Team.’ And then the rest of the league would hear that statement too.”
The 10–0 Bears achieved all that and more in one terrifying afternoon. Chicago mauled both Dallas quarterbacks, forcing turnovers and scoring a pair of defensive touchdowns. Starter Danny White was knocked out of the game twice. Deep into the fourth quarter, with the outcome long since decided, Buddy was still blitzing, just in case the Cowboys weren’t getting the message. It wasn’t a football game, it was a massacre. And when the final gun s
ounded, the Cowboys limped off the field having suffered their first shutout in twenty-five years.
Cowboys Series No. 1
1st Quarter, 13:47 remaining: Chicago 0, Dallas 0
Chicago was missing injured starting quarterback Jim McMahon, and it showed. Backup Steve Fuller failed to move the Bears following the opening kickoff, and the Cowboys quickly took over at their own 30. The game did not begin well for Chicago’s defense, either. On the first play, Richard Dent was slow to move after the snap, giving Cowboys fullback Timmy Newsome the opportunity to make a textbook-perfect lead block. Dent went down and it sprung running back Tony Dorsett for a 22-yard gain. Two plays later, Danny White scrambled to his right, avoided a pursuing Dan Hampton, and hit receiver Tony Hill for another first down. On the next snap, White took a seven-step drop-off play-action and threw deep downfield to Hill on a post route. Hill’s defender, cornerback Mike Richardson, had missed the previous three games with a hamstring pull, and Dallas wanted to find out early if he might still be gimpy. The Bears’ corner stayed with Hill stride for stride and had him well covered, but White made a perfect throw. It probably would have been a touchdown—except that the ball went through Hill’s hands.
On second-and-10, the Bears went into the 46 for the first time. Hampton hovered over the center as the nose tackle, while Perry and McMichael aligned over the guards. Wilson and Marshall rotated to the strong side of the offense, with Marshall inside, across from the tight end, and Wilson directly outside. Singletary crept up to the strong side, while Duerson crouched between Dent and Perry. Dorsett took the handoff, looking to go wide, but this time Dent overpowered lead blocker Newsome, forcing future Hall of Fame running back Dorsett back inside, where he was held to no gain. (On the play, Refrigerator Perry physically drove Dallas guard Glenn Titensor back into the pile—a stunning display of strength that would be repeated numerous times.)
Facing third-and-10, the Cowboys broke the huddle, still in their base offensive personnel: two backs, a tight end, and two wide receivers. It struck me that if you had the same situation in today’s NFL you’d never see an offense go with base formation on third-and-long, but back in the 1980s, this was conventional strategy. It didn’t work for Dallas on this play, either. White dropped back to pass, hoping to throw to his left, but the play wasn’t there. So he worked back to the middle toward tight end Doug Cosbie. Dent was practically draped on White when he threw, and it was nearly intercepted by Fencik. Dallas punted but soon had the ball back after yet another unproductive Bears possession.
Cowboys Series No. 2
1st Quarter, 9:29 remaining: Chicago 0, Dallas 0
I couldn’t help noticing, even this early in the game, how good Hampton and Singletary were at recognizing and diagnosing Dallas plays. They both seemed to rapidly process what they saw and react accordingly. A great example came on the Cowboys’ first play of this series, where both defenders were quick to stop a Dorsett run for no gain. But on second down, Chicago’s secondary got caught in a mismatch. Wide receiver Mike Renfro started in motion to the weak side, then quickly reversed to the strong side toward Cosbie and Newsome, forming what’s known as a “bunch” concept. This cluster of Cowboys played havoc with the Bears’ man coverage, and strong safety Dave Duerson was forced to pick up Renfro on a short crossing route. White hit Renfro, who had room to run after the reception, picking up 20 yards and a first down.
After a short pass to Newsome gained 4 yards, the Cowboys dipped into their playbook for a call that had worked well against Chicago in their last meeting. It was to be a left-side screen to Dorsett, which Tony had taken 68 yards for a score the year before at Soldier Field. Nothing doing this time—the Bears were ready for it. Lining up in the 46, Wilson blitzed from the left, but when Cosbie moved to block Wilson instead of run into the pattern, it freed Wilber Marshall to blitz as well. Wilson easily shed Cosbie’s blocking attempt, and the two Bears linebackers converged. Meanwhile, Singletary alertly diagnosed the play as a screen to Dorsett and went right to him. Even if White had completed the pass, Singletary had his man covered. But White’s toss traveled only a few inches, as the converging Wilson and Marshall batted it into the turf.
Cosbie made up for his blocking whiff with a 12-yard reception that gave Dallas a first down at midfield. This would be the high-water mark of field position for the Cowboys; in the first half, they would not even get into Bears territory until late in the second quarter, and by then, they’d be trailing by more than three touchdowns.
The beginning of the end for the Dallas Cowboys started with a draw to Dorsett, which Singletary easily diagnosed and shut down for a 1-yard loss. A second-down pass attempt by White was swatted down in the backfield by the long arms of Richard Dent. On third-and-10, the Cowboys swallowed hard because they knew the Bears would be coming in full force. So Dallas went to the shotgun, with both backs staying in the pocket for White’s protection. It made no difference whatsoever. Newsome ended up trying to block Otis Wilson one-on-one, a mismatch if ever there was one. Meanwhile, McMichael showed surprising lateral quickness and not-so-surprising hand strength to shove aside guard Kurt Petersen. Wilson and McMichael pressured White into leaving the pocket and throwing the ball away. Once again the Cowboys were forced to punt, but once again the McMahon-less Chicago offense was off the field in short order. Buddy’s defenders got barely a minute to rest before returning to action. Clearly they weren’t happy to be back on the field so quickly and saw to it that their next stay would be brief.
Cowboys Series No. 3
1st Quarter, 5:23 remaining: Chicago 0, Dallas 0
Fridge Perry, the six foot two, 325-pound rookie, gobbled up Dorsett on the first play, dropping the Dallas runner for a 2-yard loss. And although the Cowboys picked up a first down right afterward, you could see the Bears’ front line beginning to take control. White spotted a favorable matchup with Cosbie against Singletary and completed a 13-yard pass. But, I noticed a terrific move by Dent, away from the play, to beat tackle Chris Schultz. Although White got the throw off successfully, he took a brutal (but legal) shot in the back from Dent as he released. Schultz was in the game only because starting left tackle Phil Pozderac had been injured on the first series. Dent was simply too strong and fast for anybody, let alone a seldom-used backup, and the Bears would exploit this mismatch again and again.
The drive ended on the next play, even though White made another terrific throw on the run to avoid Chicago’s pocket pressure. Danny gunned it to Renfro, who picked up 13 yards before colliding with Mike Richardson, the left cornerback. Richardson stripped the ball free from Renfro’s hands, then recovered the fumble himself to give the Bears possession at the Dallas 45. Surely a takeaway would spark the previously lifeless Bears offense. Unfortunately for Chicago, it did not. But after another three-and-out, a Maury Buford punt pinned the Cowboys back on their own 2-yard line. The Bears’ defense figured, Okay, if our offense isn’t going to score we’ll just have to do it ourselves.
Cowboys Series No. 4
1st Quarter, 1:54 remaining: Chicago 0, Dallas 0
This Dallas possession lasted just one play, but it was the play that permanently changed the direction of the game. Its featured performer was Dan Hampton, who’s in the Pro Football Hall of Fame precisely because of moments like this. The man nicknamed “Danimal” had already made contributions lining up as a nose tackle, but with the Cowboys operating in the shadows of their own goalpost, Buddy had Hampton line up at left defensive end. Here’s how good the Bears were: They were in a conventional four-man rush with nobody blitzing, and still put incredible pressure on the pass pocket. In one motion, Hampton clubbed right tackle Jim Cooper and rushed in toward White, who tried to get rid of the ball. With both arms extended, Hampton’s long reach deflected the pass straight up in the air. The six-foot-five Dent leaped, plucked it away from the crowd and spun into the end zone. It was the game’s first touchdown, and the first score of Dent’s NFL career.
Cowboys Series No. 5<
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1st Quarter, 1:38 remaining: Chicago 7, Dallas 0
The play by Hampton and Dent galvanized the Bears’ defense. So what if they’d been on the field for two-thirds of the first quarter? They were jacked up after their touchdown and really teed off on Dallas the next series. On first down, Chicago sent only its down linemen to rush as the linebackers dropped back, but the front four created more than enough pressure to ruin the play. Perry muscled past Titensor, and Dent swept past Schultz. The pocket collapsed, and Dent pulled down White for the sack.
“To me, Richard Dent was the talent who put the Bears defense over the top,” stated Phil Simms, who had the misfortune of facing him numerous times while quarterbacking the New York Giants. “He was simply unblockable. That was always the first thing on your mind when you played them: How are we going to block him on every play? And because the Bears were the only team at the time running the 46, you never really saw this stuff anywhere else. Their coverages were different, everything they did was different. It was very hard to prepare for them.”
On second-and-16, the Bears returned to their 46 front, with Hampton moving back inside as the nose tackle. Incidentally, I noticed in my film study that Hampton played at every defensive line position at least once in this game. Now, that’s versatility! The snap was botched, and White was lucky to regain control, but it upset the Cowboys’ timing. To compound their troubles, Hampton ran a line stunt, looping behind McMichael. Kurt Peterson moved laterally to stop Hampton, but over on the left, Chris Schultz’s rough day was getting worse. The six-foot-eight tackle came down inside to try to help Titensor block Perry, but it seemed to me that Schultz may have blown his assignment. He probably should have fanned out and tried to block Otis Wilson. I say this because Wilson blew in untouched to make the sack.