Sport: A Man's Game

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With the rapid evolution of the defense into a system as complex as the offense, pro fans are realizing what the experts have known all along: the defense epitomizes the raw strength and subtle scheming that lies at the heart of football. Says one pro coach: "In college football, all you really need for a defense is a few big tubs of lard in the line. They can't move, and they can't be moved. In pro football, size isn't enough; everybody has it. Defense becomes a game of chess."

The Middle Man. Key man of the defense is the middle linebacker, and from coast to coast, he is getting the hero worship that was once reserved for the touchdown-happy backs. In Detroit, Joe Schmidt can do nothing wrong, although his Lions (2-6-1) can do nothing right. In San Francisco, small boys speak in awe of the thundering tackles of Jerry Tubbs. At a banquet in California, Les Richter of the Los Angeles Rams diagramed defenses for a solid hour and enthralled U.C.L.A. Physicist Joseph Kaplan, chairman of the U.S. International Geophysical Year Committee.

In Chicago, rabid Bear fans pass up seats on the 40-yd. line to sit in the end zone, where they can get a head-on view of the intricate mayhem of line play. They know what they are seeing. "Chicago's hittin' inside the tackles, and Frisco's stacking the defense inside," complained one end zoner at the game eventually won by the Bears, 14-3. "Look at those corner linebackers pull in, and how close the tackles up front are playing! I mean, how can you run through that ton of beef?"

Mezzanine Jungle. Best of all pro defenses is the New York Giants', and Linebacker Huff is the acknowledged best in football. Last year Huff's defensive team gave up the league low of 3.6 yds. per opponent carry, hoisted the team into the championship playoffs, where it finally lost, 23-17, to the Baltimore Colts in an overtime period. This year the Giant tacklers are tougher than ever, have yielded a grudging 3.0 yds. per rush (league average: 4.1 yds.), given up only eight touchdowns in the past seven games (longest scoring run allowed: 2 yds.).

Last week, matched against the speed of the Cardinals, the Giants' rookie-studded punting team gave up two touchdowns on long runbacks of kicks. But on the line of scrimmage, the Giants allowed only 96 yards by rushing, none by passing, on one series of downs spilled Cardinal backs for losses of nine, thirteen and six yards. Final score: Giants 30, Cardinals 20. The victory gave the Giants an undisputed lead in the Eastern conference despite a ramshackle offense that stands an abysmal ninth in scoring in the 12-team N.F.L.

Huff and his wrecking crew have inspired a fanatic band of followers who stand four deep in the mezzanine of Yankee Stadium to cheer them on. To get a look at the field, they build platforms out of anything handy—beer cans, stray cartons, or trash baskets. And when the Giant defensive behemoths take over—particularly deep in their own territory, where the tackles are roughest—the mezzanine turns into a howling, back-pounding jungle.