contagious feeling.”
One month later, Manziel would win the Heisman, becoming the first freshman ever to do so; his Twitter followers increased tenfold, and he helped generate a whopping $37 million in exposure for Texas A&M. He set an SEC record with over 5,100 total yards, captivating fans and media—both old media and new media—and also appeared to be the anti–Tim Tebow.
Manziel was completely unfiltered with his after-hours persona, from the shirtless mug shot to the Halloween pictures of him dressed as Scooby-Doo dancing with leggy blondes in lingerie and hanging with LeBron James or rap star Drake to sniping back at trolls on Twitter. His free-flowing artistry resonated with the hip-hop generation, while his Texas Hill Country roots connected with the good ol’ boys, giving Manziel a unique platform as an overnight sensation—the rare guy who could present at both the CMA and the BET Awards.
Manziel’s off-season, though, would bring new challenges: coping with his escalating rock-star status and trying to hone his pocket-passing skills while not short-circuiting his improvisational wizardry. Kingsbury was gone, too. The young coach’s stock had soared so fast, Texas Tech had scooped the thirty-three-year-old up to become its new head coach. Sumlin, knowing Manziel’s occasionally obstinate personality, was mindful of bringing in a quarterbacks coach hisyoung star would respect. Sumlin hired twenty-seven-year-old Jake Spavital, a Kingsbury protégé who had coached West Virginia star Geno Smith and Brandon Weeden, a recent first-round QB—although “Johnny Football 2.0” would be a radically different experience for the young coach.
THE NFL WORLD WAS fascinated to see how Manziel would develop. His emergence came at a time when the League had begun to rethink rigid views that had been in place for generations.
“There are gonna be two seminal moments in changing the landscape of every quarterback having to look like Ben Roethlisberger or Troy Aikman,” said longtime
Sports Illustrated
pro-football writer Peter King on the eve of the NFL Combine. “One happened in 2006, when New Orleans was recovering from Katrina. The Saints had to get a quarterback, because they didn’t have one. [Head coach] Sean Payton and [general manager] Mickey Loomis see that there is only one free-agent quarterback who is even remotely good, and he has a major shoulder issue, and Nick Saban wants him in Miami. It’s Drew Brees, but Saban was being a little bit waffle-y on him, because his doctors didn’t really like him. Sean Payton does not want a 5′11¾″ quarterback. He wants Peyton Manning or Tom Brady. He wants a big guy, but there were no big guys available. So Sean, who is really a smart guy, said, ‘Look, we have to cast our lot with this guy, even though he has this shoulder issue—and we don’t know when he’ll be ready—because we need somebody.’
“Sean had enough faith in his ability to develop quarterbacks that he said, ‘Shit, I’ll take a 5′11¾″ quarterback, and I’m gonna make something of him.’ Drew Brees works, but until 2012, he’s really an anomaly. How many other great quarterbacks at 5′11″ or 6′0″ or barely taller than 6′ had any success?”
The second seminal moment for the League’s quarterbacking enlightenment, King said, occurred when the Seattle Seahawks blew out Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos to win the 2014 Super Bowl. Seattle’s budding star was twenty-five-year-old, second-year QB Russell Wilson, a 5′11″, 205-pound, onetime two-star recruit.
“John Schneider had scouted Russell Wilson earlier at Wisconsin, and he’d told [head coach] Pete Carroll after the Big Ten Championship game in Indianapolis, ‘I’m telling you, you’re gonna love this guy. You gotta believe me. Don’t reach a conclusion because he’s 5′11″ [technically 5′10⅝″].’ ” Schneider, the boyish-looking Seahawks GM in his early forties, raved to Carroll