Educating Charlie

Sporting News, The, May 24, 1999 by Dennis Dillon

Detroit's Charlie Batch got thrown into the fire as a rookie quarterback last season, and what he learns now could be the difference between a long career as a starter or a role as a clipboard carrier

Charlie Batch can throw. He can whip a pass on a laser-beam line through the seams in a defense, or launch a soft, arcing alley-oop into the comer of the end zone. His 83.5 passer rating in 1998 was the fourth-best ever by an NFL rookie and he finished with a streak of 136 passes without an interception.

Charlie Batch can run. He can nimbly avoid the rush when his protection breaks down or, when necessary, metamorphose from quarterback to running back and use his legs instead of his arm to yards. He had runs of 17, 11 and 10 (twice) among his 41 carries in 1998.

Now if the young Lions quarterback could just master this sliding business. He knows that if he first after he runs, officials will offer him immunity from hits by ravenous line-backers. (It's in the rulebook.) But Batch prefers to lead with his bald head.

"It was my charge and quest to teach him how to slide." Jim Zorn, the Lions' quarterbacks coach.

Zorn worked with Batch on the art of sliding during several practice sessions last season, but the rookie quarterback still was uncomfortable doing it. So Zorn tried a different tack. He invited former baseball player Frank Tanana out to practice one afternoon. OK, so Tanana was a left-handed pitcher who rarely batted-much less ran the bases-given that most of his 21 seasons were spent on American League rosters. But he is a neighbor and friend of Zorn, who, by this time, was ready to embrace unusual measures.

Tanana suggested Zorn buy a "Slip 'n Slide"-"I thought that idea was pretty slick," Zorn says, smiling at the pun-but instead Zorn procured some heavy-gauge plastic from the equipment guys and folded it into a 20-yard section. The plastic was hosed down and the frolicking began. First, Tanana demonstrated how to slide. Batch, wearing his football uniform, took his turn. It looked liked he had learned the proper form. Then, four days later, came a game against the Vikings.

On one play, Batch came running around the left side and started to go down. Instead of sliding, he assumed what best could be described as the fetal position and slumped in a heap. "It wasn't anything like we had practiced," Zorn says, "and he just got nailed." Two Vikings defenders blistered Batch, who got up looking for a penalty flag. None was tossed. The referee explained that Batch slid too late and too high.

The Lions were incensed, particularly about the "too high" explanation, but, Zorn admits, "It really wasn't a picturesque slide."

The slide. Footwork. Hip rotation. Calling blocking schemes. Selling play action. There are so many things a quarterback must do fight to succeed in the NFL, and that's why, at least historically, most quarterbacks spend a couple of years on the sideline before winning a starting job. But Batch got thrown into the fray almost immediately last season, forcing him to learn on the job. It was not an ideal situation, especially for someone who had entered the league inconspicuously as the 60th pick of the 1998 draft, almost two full rounds behind the ballyhooed quarterbacks of his class, Peyton Manning and Ryan Leaf, the top two picks overall.

By the third game of the season, however, Batch was riding the same fast track as Manning and Leaf. Scott Mitchell was out and Batch was in as the Lions' starter, and he acquitted himself well-173 completions in 303 attempts, 2,178 yards, 11 touchdowns (nine more than Leaf), six interceptions (nine fewer than Leaf)-before suffering a compression fracture in his lower back in Week 14 that ended his season.

Batch didn't thrive as a rookie starter, but he survived and he showed promise. But this offseason is critical. What he learns now will have an enormous impact on his performance in 1999. And that's why Batch is spending so much time with Zorn. Batch has been going to "quarterback school" with Zorn several days a week since early March for the primary purpose of cultivating good techniques and eradicating bad habits. His ability to absorb his lessons could be the difference between a long career as a starting quarterback or a spot among the league's clipboard carriers.

At the Lions' complex, quarterback school is located in a corner of the team's locker room. The nameplate on the door reads, simply, "Quarterbacks." Inside is the typical football meeting room environment: a table with room for half a dozen chairs, a TV, a VCR, stacks of videotapes and a white grease board for drawing up plays.

It's a Tuesday in mid-May and class is in session. Zorn and Batch are studying tape of the team's last minicamp practice, 16 days earlier. Zorn inserts a videocassette into the machine and grabs the remote.

On the TV screen, Batch is running plays against the Lions' defense inside the team's new practice bubble. He extends the ball to a running back coming up the middle, pulls it back in, then turns and rolls to his fight. The motion of reaching out to the back really sells the play and freezes a defensive end and linebacker. Zorn likes that a lot.