Implanted under the NFL logo on certain Wilsonfootballs is a piece of tracking technology produced by a company calledZebra. About the size of a nickel, the chip is gunmetal in color and has anetched likeness of the firm’s namesake animal on the front, along with a tagnumber.
The league uses this technology for different purposes, including thepowering of its advanced statistical arm, NextGenStats, which providesusers with details about player speed, ball speed, route trajectory andyards a ball actually spends flying through the air. Zebra also sellsindividual chipped balls to a handful of teams, including the Bears,Rams, Packers, Vikings and Eagles. (The company says it has 12 total NFLclients but was only allowed to name five.)
The chip can track the ball’s spin rate; a higher number tends to be moredesirable for a team that more regularly plays in terrible weather,yielding a tighter spiral that cuts through the air despite lake effectwinds in Buffalo or a monsoon in Seattle. Because the technology isstill in its relative infancy, though, any trends or knowledgeaccumulated by NFL teams with access to the data are kept quiet andconsidered a competitive advantage.
“Teams don’t like telling us what they do with the data,” says DominicRusso, the supervisor for Zebra’s client services.
Austin Reed is a draft hopeful quarterback from Western Kentucky whosestatus could be positively impacted by such technology. Reed is 24,having originally committed to Southern Illinois in 2018, thentransferring to Division II West Florida one year later before joiningthe Hilltoppers in 2022. Like many collegiate quarterbacks, he hasshuttled through the NCAA system with a handful of well-meaning coachesbut was left to develop some of his technicalquarterbacking skills privately. Most NCAA programs lack theresources to train quarterbacks in a hyper-specific manner, so theirlifting routines, stretching routines, throwing routines and diet areanalogous to those playing far different positions. Progress canplateau.
Reed had the chance to test his spin rate before his final year ofcollege (with a different company, as a Zebra spokesman said it wouldnot have tested a college underclassman) and had it registered in themid-500 RPMs. After receiving some individual coaching in each of thelast two offseasons and having his form diagnosed with a stop-motioncamera, Reed learned that his grip was not maximizing his ability tospin the football properly. His pinky finger nudged inward a fewcentimeters, contributing to what’s called Waiter’s Wrist. A few tweaksto the rigidity of his wrist and his pre-snap stance upped his spin rateinto the mid-600s.
“Spin rate is a really good indicator of proper mechanics,” says Reed’strainer, Will Hewlett of QB Collective. “You want guys in the mid 600s,being able to spin it consistently.”
Hewlett trained 49ersquarterback Brock Purdy. He says that Reed is this year’s version,meaning, a late-round quarterback who possesses high-end potential dueto late-blossoming mechanics plus a vast amount of experience. Hewlettalso trains the presumptive No. 1 overall pick, USC’s Caleb Williams.
Watching Reed and Williams throw one day on a field in Ponte Vedra Beach,Fla., the figurative distance between the two could not be greater.Williams stands to make more than $40 million. Reed—who’s no financialslouch, having struck an NIL deal at West Florida with a local fitnessstore called Running Wild—will likely have to compete for a roster spotin training camp.
But how much better equipped is Williams to win football games thanReed?
Consider the state of modern college quarterbacking:
- The technology, like Zebra’s, and private coaching, like Hewlett’s,is better and more accessible than ever. It has become standardpractice for quarterbacks to work with their own coaches, eventhroughout a collegiate career in which they have a full-time staffat school. As soon as quarterbacks reach their early teens, they’rebeing put through slow-motion camera analysis to optimize theirmechanics. As private training becomes almost a prerequisite, theknowledge base of position-specific trainers is expanding andrefining, making it so, as Hewlett says, sophom*ores and juniors inhigh school can throw with his college and NFL quarterbacks and notlook like they are interrupting the drills.
- Because of the transfer portal and NIL money, quarterbacks arestaying in school longer, transferring more and amassing a highervolume of reps, which allows them to build a larger Rolodex ofon-field occurrences to draw on at the next level. They have to winover new coaches and players at a faster clip, similar to life theywill experience in the NFL, and they are exposed to a wider varietyof offensive schemes and play calling styles.
- And, finally, at the NFL level, coordinators and head coaches arebecoming quicker to adapt their own schemes to fit what aquarterback does well. Baker Mayfield and Geno Smith, both playerswho were seemingly headed to eternal backup purgatory, signed hugeover the last two seasons due to friendly concepts that reenergizedtheir careers. “[Coaches] are not being quite as rigid,” Chiefscoach Andy Reid says. “We’re all happy that guys are throwing moreat the college level, so once they get into the league, you want tofind some things you know they can do.”
Now ask yourself: If you’ve missed out on the supposed generationalquarterback at the top of the draft, how much are you really missingout? Sure, Patrick Mahomes was the No. 10 pick in 2017, but hiscounterpart in Super Bowl LVIII was Purdy, the last pick in ’22. In aneffort to explain the phenomenon, Sports Illustrated met withBo Nix of Oregon, Michael Penix of Washington and Jayden Daniels of LSU,along with trainers, NFL coaches and general managers in an attempt topatch together the burgeoning story of the modern college quarterback.Across the country, there are plenty of signal callers not named CalebWilliams who have mastered the elongated, serpentine route to the NFL,riding a tailwind of hard-earned experience, technology andcomplementary coaching, the full power of which we may finally start torealize at the next level.
It’s fair for them to start wondering: Why not us?
Michael Penix slides a cell phone across asteakhouse table, avoiding the remnants of an elite burger—medium well,add bacon, no veggies—he has just devoured. On his phone is a video ofthe Washington-Oregon game from 2022. Penix has already cued up theexact play: third-and-7, with a little more than three minutes to go,the Huskies trailing by a touchdown on their own 38-yard line. Penixcalled a play that Washington had run two times earlier in the game. Hehad never once—not even in practice—thrown the ball deep on the play.Against Oregon, he had twice thrown a quick out to the inside slotreceiver.
But this time, Penix noticed the cornerback guarding the wide receiverall the way to his left in a “bail” technique (a cornerback’s backsideis facing the sideline, which helps them cover deep routes and keeps thewideout in front of them). As he took the snap, Penix noted how thecornerback’s shoulders squared towards the backfield, signifying achange in intention. Instantly, he knew he would have a short window oftime to connect with the streaking receiver he’d never thrown to on theplay before.
The ball he threw passed low over the safety’s head like a city pigeon,forcing the defender to awkwardly torque his body and starttrying—unsuccessfully—to prevent a touchdown.
This moment is a great example of how Penix’s six-year college careerwith multiple stops—at Indiana before Washington—led to a point where hecould read defenses naturally, despite having little background infootball schematics coming out of high school. In the past, aquarterback with Penix’s athleticism and arm talent may have been ableto simply crowd surf his way to the NFL without learning the subtletiesof the game, and then suffer for it.
Penix began his high school football career at Tampa Bay Technical Highwhere he says his athleticism curbed the necessity for much of aplaybook. Unlike many of his peers, he didn’t have a personal trainer(his dad used to make him do power cleans). He saw two differentdefensive coverages in four years. “Backyard football,” Penix says. “Wehad plays but I can count them on both hands. We didn’t study. We didn’twatch film in high school. We went out there and played. We didn’t havethe resources to watch film.”
With the Hoosiers, Penix compensated for that lack of knowledge bygetting to know his receivers. The playbook was still spartan, but hebegan to piece together ideas based on what he knew about his best passcatchers. Four verticals? I’m going to this guy. Crossers? I’m lookingsomewhere else.
Penix led Indiana to its highest AP poll ranking since the 1960s and wasnamed the team’s MVP in 2020. In 13 games in his redshirt freshman andsophom*ore seasons, he threw for 24 touchdowns and eight interceptionswith a quarterback rating in the 140s. None of his wide receivers duringthat time were drafted.
That experience was a valuable precursor to his time at Washington, wherehe learned how to watch film and begin diagnosing plays like the oneagainst Oregon. “I learned that the film just shows you the tendencies,”he says. “Things that defenses do to give you a better chance. It’s ahead start, really.”
The Huskies’ offense wasn’t nearly as run-dependent and the team aroundhim was better: Three of Penix’s wide receivers, two of his tight ends,one of his running backs and both of his offensive tackles were invitedto the 2024 scouting combine. (But he says with confidence, “I helpedelevate their game, too.”)
Like someone who was dropped into another country and forced to learn alanguage, Penix came out of his new environment more well-rounded. Sixseasons. Four offensive coordinators. Forty-nine games. One thousand,six hundred and eighty-five passing attempts. Call it a graduatefootball education.
Bo Nix has a favorite NIV bible verse for adversity.
Colossians 3:23 says: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart,for we are working for the Lord, not human masters.”
There is a difference between having a verse to call on, and needing oneto develop. Nix uses this as a kind of personal ethos when the squeezeof Football, Inc. becomes too tight. When asked about the most difficultstretch of his college career, and hearing it through Nix’s Southerntwang, one might think they are listening to an NCAA country song. “Wasbenched my junior year, then started playing good, beat LSU for thefirst time [in Death Valley since 1999], broke my ankle andtransferred,” he says. “So, there’s a lot.”
Nix turned 24 following the completion of his final year at Oregon,bookending a career that began at Auburn with a start against the Ducks’Justin Herbert, who has four seasons of NFL experience. He talks abouthis quarterbacking path with perspective.
Last season Nix threw for 45 touchdowns, three interceptions and aquarterback rating of 188.3, while breaking the NCAA single-seasonrecord for completion percentage (77.4). He leaves behind an archive ofwild, theatrical plays, including a final-play, 26-yard touchdown tobeat Herbert.
Nix has been working in the elite quarterback camp circuits since hissophom*ore year of high school and has been with the training group QBCountry for the past few offseasons, where he spends at least an hour aday looking at what private coach David Morris calls his “stroke.” Nixhas every throw filmed from multiple angles and the speeds cataloged.The upshot of the yearslong process was that he completely reformedhimself from a big “ripper,” who would lock his lead leg and foot duringa throw. The change helped him develop an uncanny short-range accuracy,which could be seen in a 19.8 percentage point increase in hiscompletion percentage between his first and last college seasons. Nixwent from being a 5-star wunderkind known for his cannon, to thecollegiate equivalent of Drew Brees. “I don’t know if there’s ever beenanother quarterback that made that kind of jump in accuracy,” saysMorris, whose professional client roster includes Mac Jones, BaileyZappe, Davis Mills and Daniel Jones.
Nix got so good at identifying different coverages after six years in theNCAA that, he says, he can almost sense a Cover 0—a defense that removesdeep safeties over the top of a defense, often by a rotation just beforethe snap—simply by observing a cornerback’s demeanor. How are theystanding? Where are their eyes moving? Morris says that Nix has seen somany plays that he’s developed an almost superhuman ability to avoidchaos in the pocket while keeping the play timing down. During Nix’s proday, Morris specifically scripted a bunch of awkward-looking movementsto showcase Nix’s strange arsenal of dodges and jukes.
But it’s hearing about Nix’s personal revelations that make his journeyseem so valuable. Keep in mind that, during Nix’s final season atOregon, he was almost six years older than the school’s incomingfreshman class. Such age disparity produces plenty of, as Morris said,“come-to-Jesus moments where you question things.”
“It was important for me to understand what someone’s background was,”Nix says. “They might be freshmen and have a completely differentperspective than me. I didn’t talk to someone who gave me all theanswers. I learned a lot myself. And I saw in myself other guys who hadbeen there, transferred, moved and started from scratch.”
Nix had to learn elements of emotional intelligence that many adultsdon’t know. Chief among them: knowing when people don’t want you around.
“They don’t necessarily want to hang out with me,” Nix says. “They wantto do fun things. They want to have a blast. They don’t want to hang outwith the old guy. That’s how I felt when I was their age. Experiencecampus. But when you’ve been in it like me, you want to hang out, getyour work done, be mellow, be low key.”
This process of connection would manifest itself in different ways. Nix,for example, almost exclusively listens to Christian worship music. Heembraced the Ducks’ changing soundtrack because it produced a comfort inothers.
“Some guys like rap music, R&B, some of it’s good and some of it Idon’t necessarily care for,” Nix says. “But if it’s good for them andhelps them get going, let’s do it. We can be on the same page withthat.”
It’s Nix’s belief that most natural born quarterbacks have some innateability to care about the greater good and a curiosity about humandynamics. He started feeling that pull within himself in middle school,following his father, Patrick, a former Auburn quarterback and footballcoach, through eight different stops before the tandem worked togetherat Pinson Valley High School. Fitting in was a survival mechanism thathe had time to hone through his college experience. Five seasons. Fouroffensive coordinators. Sixty-one games. One thousand, nine hundred andthirty-six passing attempts. One broken ankle. One public benching. Callit a lesson in humility and grit.
Jayden Daniels sat back on the sofa and extended his hands as he tried toexplain the virtual reality goggles. The tech was called Cognilize, and,as Daniels understood it, LSU was the only team in the country withaccess to it. The German-crafted specs looked like Tesla was makingmetal shop protective eyewear. Attached was a handheld controller. Mostafternoons, he would stand inside the Tigers’ practice facility anddisappear into a simulation, while another staffer plugged scenariosinto an iPad. Inside the headset was a Tigers huddle. Daniels sawthrough the eyes of his digital avatar, and looked out into an exactreplica of the stadium he’d be playing in that coming weekend. He sawhis teammates. He saw the defense, shifting and aligning just like hisopponents. He fielded the play, took a snap, starting a clock that gavehim two seconds to make a read. Daniels always had the tech dialed up tothe hardest setting. All that was missing was the pain rippling throughhis body when the virtual defender blind sided him.
“Very realistic,” he says.
At that moment, it’s impossible not to see it. Sitting next to Daniels,one cannot help but believe they are in the presence of someone who hasalready experienced a lifetime of football. The transition from collegeto the NFL is like hitting a brick wall at 160 miles per hour for some.For Daniels? It’s going to be one of those residential speed bumpsinstalled by the HOA. His journey has produced someone who can walkcoolly like an old Western sheriff, disarm like a skilled therapist andhang out like your high school lunch table.
Among the habits he developed on his own, out of necessity, over acollegiate career that spanned two schools (Arizona State being thefirst) that directly correlate with early success in the NFL:
- Daniels regularly takes his offensive linemen out to dinner atRuth’s Chris Steak House.
- He wakes up at 5 a.m. in season (6:45 now during the pre-draftprocess) each morning to take in an early film session before a setof pre-programmed meals, meetings, naps and body recovery sessions.
- He learned the interpersonal skills it took to relate to a group ofplayers at LSU who, he felt, were completely different from those atArizona State—while also negotiating other drastic changes, like theweather and the intense fans and the inability to hop in a car anddrive home to San Bernardino, Calif., when he needed comfort. “I wasgetting used to different people,” Daniels says. “The guys at LSUwere intense. They had a lot of energy. They were raiseddifferently. Out in the West Coast, everyone is cool and calm. Therewas a big difference.
“I had to grow more as a man. I was getting comfortable beinguncomfortable. I was by myself. In the South, no one is going to driveout there to see me. Ticket prices are high. I had to figure out who Iwas, and I had more time to reflect out there.”
- He developed an NFL-style collaboration process with LSU offensivecoordinator Mike Denbrock that streamlined play calling andhighlighted his best throws: routes outside the numbers, in-cuts anddeep shots.
- He implemented a mechanical tweak to his throwing motion discoveredby a stop motion camera, which identified Daniels leaning too farforward at the time of release. By fixing it, he could unlock a moreviolent, catapulting follow through. His passes no longer died inmidair.
Daniels was quick to recall the moment it all came together for him. Themoment he knew the value of the path, of the tech, of the loneliness, ofthe studying, of the endless slog of Saturdays. Mississippi State.Second quarter. LSU is leading 10–0, and going for it on fourth-and-7.
When Daniels was 18, he said he was just waddling to the line ofscrimmage hoping to survive. Now he was diagnosing. He was instillingfear, not receiving it. Over the past half decade, football had changedthe way he threw, thought, ate, slept and acted when he was around otherpeople. After he underwent the technological throwing assessment a fewyears back, fixed his mechanics and felt his first perfect release, hesaid he knew what it was like to be Steph Curry during those logo threepoint attempts that seemed so perfect that he’d turn away from thebasket, not needing any confirmation that the shot was good.
Daniels sees man coverage and quickly internalizes the thought that he’sabout to take a body shot from a Bulldogs defensive tackle. He plans touse his peripheral vision to track the progress of his impending painand the rest of his sightline on his receiver, Malik Nabers, who willdominate man coverage in almost any situation.
As he clapped his hands, received the snap and took two steps backward,as his right arm whipped skyward, we saw the culmination of aprocess—even if Daniels didn’t, having been smashed to the turf asNabers hauled in a perfectly thrown ball in the Bulldogs’ end zone.
That process seems like the new normal to many NFL general managers. Butthere are a few who aren't convinced the path taken by Daniels so manyof his cohorts is the KOMINGest (best?)
Says Packers GM Brian Gutekunst: “Certainly, the amount of time and gamesyou’ve played in college does equate to success at times, and over mytime in the league that's gone down a lot. Quarterbacks are coming outearlier and with less starts. Exposure to different schemes can behelpful, but knowing one scheme inside and out at a high level would bemore important.”
And Eliot Wolf, the new general manager of the Patriots: “I don’t knowthat there’s a benefit or a hindrance. Every person and every situationis different. There’s something to be said about a person who has grownand developed in the same scheme for four or five years . But, there’ssomething to be said for those who have had all that exposure, and hadto deal with changing schemes and changing staffs.”
The definitive proof may end up being in the class of 2024, in Reed, inPenix, in Nix, and in Daniels.
Here’s to science, the chipped balls and the cameras. Here’s to the pileof playbooks, all different team colors, piling up in the corner of theroom. Here’s to embracing the car wash of discomfort the NCAA nowshuttles them all through. Here’s to the people standing—literally andfiguratively—behind the one prospect everyone blesses and anointspatiently waiting their turn, no one understanding what it took to getthere.
Five seasons. Three offensive coordinators. Fifty-five games. Onethousand, four hundred and thirty-eight passing attempts. Call it thenew normal.
