Mag Writers Roundtable: Size Matters

They say you can't teach size. But just how important is it?

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7-feet tall on skates, Chara is intimidating to say the least.

Bruins captain Zdeno Chara has Boston seriously thinking Stanley Cup for the first time in 37 years (a thought we explore by the numbers in the latest issue of The Mag ). But, no matter what his accomplishments, Chara will still be best known for is his NHL-record 6'9'' frame. And that got us thinking: Does size really matter in sports? Here, a few Mag senior writers try to figure out an answer.

NFL

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Leonhard proves you don't need size to be a force on the field.

During the Ravens-Dolphins Wildcard game in January, I kept scratching down the same number (36) in my notebook. It was Jim Leonhard, the safety for the Ravens. The dude seemed to be everywhere: stuffing the run like a linebacker, breaking up passes like a centerfielder, blitzing, stunting, jamming wideouts, taking on fullbacks -- the complete embodiment of the physically intimidating style of Baltimore's ravenous defense. So, naturally, I made a bee-line for Leonhard's locker after the game. And for a while it was just me and some scrawny equipment guy standing there, silently nodding at each other, back and forth, until I noticed (I'm a trained observer) the 5'7", 175-pound geek was putting on Leonhard's pants and shoes.

"Jim?" I asked.

"Yep," replied Leonhard in a tone that suggested this wasn't the first time he had been mistaken for an intern.

For me, the confusion (or illusion) with Leonhard was just the latest proof that when it comes to size in the NFL there is only one rule: there are no rules. Sure, quarterbacks should be big enough to see over the offensive line, vertical receivers should be tall enough to out-leap defensive backs downfield and interior linemen should have tree-trunk sized haunches. But during the last 10 years in the NFL, the once set-in-stone scouting prototypes have loosened to the point where tight ends now run like receivers, safeties hit as hard as linebackers, and quarterbacks, like Daunte Culpepper (265 pounds), are as big as defensive linemen.

The freaky thing about player size in the NFL isn't how big these guys are -- it's how fast they can move. A while back, in an essay for The Mag, Chuck Klosterman pointed out that San Diego's all pro linebacker Shawne Merriman (6'4", 272-pounds) is not only as big as Hall of Fame tackle Anthony Munoz but also a step faster than HOF wideout Jerry Rice. That's rather mindblowing, when you stop to think about it. I had a similar experience last summer at training camp in Houston while watching the balletic, yet explosive, power of 6'6", 285-pound defensive end Mario Williams.

A tall hockey player, a short NBA forward or even a pudgy soccer player isn't nearly as remarkable as a skinny safety who hits like a Mack truck or a massive defensive end who navigates the trenches like Ali. Williams, the former No. 1 pick overall, has quite a thing for Lamborghinis. It makes sense.

They're smooth, swift, powerful, freakishly fast and, of course, extremely expensive.

I wonder if Jim Leonhard owns one yet.

-- David Fleming, senior writer

NBA

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LeBron James is the total package.

Size has never trumped length or speed in the NBA and, in recent years, rule changes intended to encourage less bruising and more cruising for a faster, more free-flowing game have only increased the disparity in value. Show me a player whose wingspan -- reach from fingertip to fingertip -- is longer than his height and, with everything else equal, I'll show you a devastatingly effective player, regardless of position, because he can control airspace without his feet leaving the floor.

Just look at the NBA logo, a.k.a. Jerry West: 6' 2", 185, with, legend has it, the same wingspan as Wilt Chamberlain. Add speed to that reach (which West had) and a player can defend taller, heavier opponents at one end and blow by them at the other. Because you're sure to ask: Michael Jordan 6' 5", 6' 11" wingspan. (Same for Kobe.) Yes, LeBron James is 6' 9" and 270-plus pounds, but he made an impact from Day One, some 25 pounds lighter, because of a 7' reach and a point-guard's explosiveness.

Overall, length and speed translates into more rebounds, steals, deflections and blocked shots -- the measuring sticks of defense. Which, legend has it, wins championships.

-- Ric Bucher, senior writer

NHL

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Because of his size, Martin St. Louis wasn't even drafted.

In the post-lockout NHL, where the crackdown on obstruction fouls has placed even more of an emphasis on speed, size matters less.

In the 1990s, there were many smaller players that tumbled down the draft board (Daniel Briere, selected No. 24 overall in 1996) or weren't drafted at all (Martin St. Louis) because of their size.

But over the past couple of years, that has changed dramatically, and it's particularly true among defensive prospects. "Ten years ago, we wouldn't have even been looking at 5'11 or 6'0 defensemen," says one long-time amateur scout. "Now, there's a ton of guys like that in the league."

Detroit's Brian Rafalski and San Jose's Dan Boyle are two great examples of that type of defender. They are both elusive skaters with the ability to move the puck quickly out of danger and ignite an offensive rush. Clearly, the rule changes have made them invaluable commodities.

Of course, all things being equal skill-wise, general managers and scouts continue to carry a torch for bigger players. That just makes sense. But in today's NHL, a smart manager will balance his roster with size and skill. This season, for example, the Devils decision to add some larger forwards like veterans Brian Rolston, Bobby Holik and Brendan Shanahan have put a little more bite in their attack. And, very likely, helped create some extra room for the team's blossoming superstar, Zach Parise, who, despite being among their smaller forwards, has cracked the 40-goal mark for the first time in his career.

Interestingly, if the Devils meet the Bruins in the playoffs, the match-up between Parise and 6' 9'' Bs defender Zdeno Chara will likely define the series. Simply, that's the long and short of it.

-- E.J. Hradek, senior writer

MLB

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The Yankees captain has the classic baseball body.

Back in 1998, while doing a story on Derek Jeter, I came upon the scout who signed the shortstop out of Kalamazoo (Mich.) Central, a fellow named Dick Groch, who described seeing Jeter in high school. "He was skinny, but his body was electric," Groch said. "You could see that, as he filled out, he'd have the perfect baseball body."

Groch (now an assistant GM for the Brewers) is decidedly Old School. But his image of the perfect baseball body came to life, as Jeter grew into the 6-3, 195-pound archetype by his fourth or fifth year in the big leagues. And while baseball will always have room for guys like C.C. Sabathia as well as guys like Dustin Pedroia, that Jeter-type of build was long the prototype of the five-tool player, the guy who could hit, hit for power, run, field and throw.

Of course, many people's image of the perfect baseball body changed, as hulks like Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds blasted their way into the home run record books from 1998-2001 and helped define what is now know as the Steroid Era. But now, the old-fashioned baseball body is now back in vogue, seen on such rising stars as Grady Sizemore, Hanley Ramirez and a certain veteran shortstop named Jeter.

-- Jeff Bradley, senior writer

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