Why NFL legends consider Justin Herbert and Aaron Rodgers virtuosos in the art of passing
Jim Harbaugh stood in a back hallway at Chargers headquarters and pantomimed the ideal way to toss a football, a throwback to his days as a first-round pick and 14-year career as an NFL quarterback.
“I can feel it coming off that finger,” the coach said, his right hand clutching an imaginary ball, “then that one, then that one, then the thumb, and then the last finger. When you hit it right, like a tuning fork goes off — oh, that was sweet. You feel it.”
When he finished, he struck the pose of an artist, with his right hand reaching forward as if holding a small, invisible brush to canvas.
Show me the Monet.
If brilliant passes are a work of art, Sunday night at SoFi Stadium will be a glorious exhibition, with Aaron Rodgers and the Pittsburgh Steelers facing Justin Herbert and the Chargers.
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Herbert and Rodgers are two of the purest passers in NFL history, quarterbacks with spirals so tight they could squeeze a football through a mail slot.
“I marvel at them,” said Hall of Fame quarterback Joe Namath, who threw passes with dart-like precision. “I haven’t seen them throw a pass that wasn’t a tight spiral. I don’t know if they changed the balls, the grip, the texture, whatever, but it’s incredible.”
Even at 41, Rodgers hasn’t lost his touch. And Herbert, who has been hit more than any quarterback in the NFL this season, still gets off throws that look laser-guided. His 19-yard touchdown pass to Quentin Johnston in Tennessee last Sunday eluded the hand of a diving defensive back by an inch, maybe two.
“If you did a straw poll around the league and asked who has the best arm in the NFL — forget the records, forget the pocket — purely the skill of throwing the football, Justin Herbert would be number one,” said Jim Nantz, play-by-play announcer for CBS. “For a long time, in his heyday, Aaron Rodgers would be number one.”
Hall of Fame quarterback Steve Young refers to those types of passers as “finger throwers.”
“There are two distinct types or throwers: finger throwers and arm throwers,” Young said. “Finger throwers let the ball leave their hand almost joint by joint. That’s where the accuracy and touch come from. Arm throwers rely more on power from up the arm, and it’s not nearly as accurate.
“With finger throwers, it’s as if their arm gets longer when they throw. The fingertips extend the motion. That’s the gift. You can’t fake that. Accuracy comes from that little moment at the end when the ball just leaves perfectly.”
Ben Johnson has had a privileged view of that perfection. He’s in his 19th season at NFL Films and is a high-speed-action ground camera operator, capturing the low-angle shots that show the action at the line of scrimmage, the feet churning, the hands fighting, the ball coming out of the quarterback’s hand and that slow-motion spiral flying through the frame.
“There’s nothing better when I’m in the end zone and the seas part — the O-line parts — and I see one of those quarterbacks staring in my direction,” Johnson said. “The arm goes back, the shoulder dips, and I know that ball’s coming right down my barrel. That’s the greatest feeling as a cameraman.”
For Johnson, who will be shooting the New England-Tampa Bay game on Sunday, zeroing in on Herbert or Rodgers makes his job easier.
“What I like about those guys is they stand tall in the pocket, so I can see them,” he said. “They’re not chaotic. They’re throw-first guys, not runners, so you can prepare yourself for the throw.
“When the ball comes off their hand, it’s so smooth. The spiral stays perfectly stable, that’s the sweetest moment. Some guys throw so hard the ball wobbles and moves on you, which makes it tougher to keep in focus. But when that point comes right at you, that’s magic.”
Rams quarterback Matthew Stafford is a finger thrower. Most of his passes are completely devoid of wobble, at least to the naked eye. The change from Jared Goff to Stafford was dramatic, even though Goff is highly accurate. His passes don’t have as high a spin rate as Stafford’s.
“Matthew Stafford is the best quarterback ever right now,” said Jim Everett, the franchise’s all-time leader in passing yards. “He’s even better than Kurt Warner in his MVP season.”
Through eight games this season, Stafford has 21 touchdowns with just two interceptions.
“At certain times you cut it loose and you feel like you put it in a tire swing right where you want it to,” he said, “and other times you maybe feel a little less certain about where that one [went] as far as timing up with the receiver and where it might end up. I'm looking for all of them to feel really good. Hopefully they do.”
Every era of the NFL has had spotless spiral-throwers who had varying degrees of success, players such as Ken Stabler, Dan Fouts, Warren Moon and Jeff George.
“These quarterbacks today all have good arms and are accurate, but spin rate is the difference maker,” said Tom House, a renowned guru of throwing who worked for years with Tom Brady, Drew Brees and many other legendary players. “We learned that watching Brady throw in Foxborough, one of the windiest stadiums in the NFL. If you have spin rate, wind isn’t much of a factor.”
George, the No. 1 overall pick of the Indianapolis Colts in 1990, was known for having one of the best arms in league history, a quarterback who looked almost effortless in his laser-like throws.
“Everything came from playing baseball,” he said. “I was a shortstop, so I threw the football like I threw a baseball. I got all my power from my wrist, really from my wrist down, more of a flick. That’s where I got my release.”
Accordingly, when he got in shape for football, he would do so on the baseball diamond. He’d have someone roll the football to him as if he were fielding a grounder, then he would flick a throw to first base, keeping a low, almost-sidearmed release.
Receivers often noted that George’s passes fit their hands, making them easier to catch.
“I don’t use the laces when I throw the ball,” George said. “The laces are in the palm of my hand. My fingers were never on the laces, and my index finger was on the tip of the ball. When it came off my hand, it was like throwing a screwball in baseball. That’s how I got my spiral.”
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Former NFL quarterback Brock Huard, who could throw pristine spirals, said hand dimensions and finger dexterity are significant factors.
“The bigger your hands, the easier it is to throw,” he said. “You watch kids throw a Nerf football. The ones who throw a pretty spiral are the ones with the bigger hands. It’s not just the size of your palm, it’s the length of your fingers. Like a pitcher manipulating spin. Some of the great ones have that length to really control and spin the ball the way you want.”
Spinning the football, throwing flawless spirals isn’t the determining factor in winning and losing. There are all sorts of ways to make birdie, if you will. Peyton Manning wasn’t known for throwing a flutter-free ball. But he routinely put the ball in the right spot for the right receiver.
Manning bristles at the terms “arm talent” and proclamations that a certain quarterback can “spin it.” What does that even mean, he wonders. A golf pro can have an immaculate swing on the range, then go out and combust in a tournament.
When contacted for this story, Manning politely declined, writing, “Call Marino.”
Fellow Hall of Famer Dan Marino did, in fact, unleash those throws suitable for framing.
“Guys like Dan Marino and John Elway were rare, they were both arm throwers and finger throwers,” Young said. “Dan especially. I tried to copy him in high school and college and just hurt my arm. He was abrupt, violent and perfect.”
Harbaugh, drafted in the first round out of Michigan, said you reach a point as a passer in which the ball simply goes where you’re looking. The throw happens so fast that it’s far more instinctive than an intellectual process.
“It’s the same thing as when I’m going to bend down and put on my socks,” Harbaugh said. “There are a bunch of things going on with your body when you do that, and you’re not thinking about it. But there was a time in your life when you had to consciously think about that stuff.”
Harbaugh taught himself to throw... by throwing.
“As a kid, I was just throwing things — baseballs, rocks, tennis balls, footballs,” he said. “I was always throwing something, trying to knock something out of a tree.”
The family had a painting tarp in the garage. When Harbaugh didn’t have anyone to throw to, he would drape that tarp over a goal post and throw into it. He’d cycle through 150 dropbacks a day.
Delivering the newspaper helped too.
“I’d tell any kid who wants to learn how to throw a football to take one of those rolled-up newspapers with the rubber band around it, grab it and throw it,” said Harbaugh, who had an Ann Arbor News paper route around his Michigan neighborhood. “Get it up here [with arm raised], let it go, make it rotate end over end. That’s the throwing motion.”
In 1980, Jack Harbaugh was hired as Stanford’s defensive coordinator, so he moved the family from Ann Arbor to Palo Alto. That afforded Jim an up-close perspective on Elway, the university’s star quarterback. According to lore, all those receivers had hands imprinted with the “Elway cross,” a lasting imprint from the football’s tip.
“If the wind’s just right, and you’re throwing it with enough velocity, you get a little whizzzz sound,” the younger Harbaugh said. “I stood close enough to Elway to hear that whistle when I was a high school player. That was pretty cool. I’d never heard it before until I heard him throw.”
Now, when he watches Herbert throw one of his beauties, Harbaugh hears an entirely different sound.
“Watching him throw,” the coach said, “I feel like I can hear angels singing.”
Times staff writer Gary Klein contributed to this report.
This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.