Flock Talk: Somewhere in the Middle

 

There was a stretch in the late 90s and early 2000s when I spent a lot of time around the band Dishwalla. I helped moderate their website. Hung around after shows. Talked about life more than music most nights. One of their songs was called “Somewhere in the Middle.” I’ve always liked that phrase.

Because most things in football, like most things in life, don’t sit at the extremes. They sit somewhere in the middle. 

One of the positions that we all thought Dan Lanning and his staff would be able to land elite recruits was middle linebacker.

That felt obvious. Lanning’s reputation was built at the position. He coached linebackers at Georgia. He coordinated defenses that turned second-level players into first-rounders. If there was a room at Oregon that seemed destined to become a five-star magnet overnight, it was inside linebacker.

And yet, cycle after cycle, the Ducks have shown a consistent restraint. They recruit the position. They develop it. But they do not appear eager to enter the highest-dollar bidding wars for the consensus No. 1 middle linebacker in America. Even when the rankings suggest the player is transformative. Even when the narrative says he is a culture-setter.

At first glance, that feels counterintuitive.

But sometimes the most revealing thing in roster construction is not who you land. It is where you are willing to spend.

With that in mind, I started looking for something more concrete than recruiting chatter. I looked for financial evidence. And the only place where we have real positional pricing data is the NFL.

What I found was not dramatic. It was clarifying.

At the top of the professional market, wide receivers are pushing toward forty million dollars per year. Corners approach thirty. Elite interior defensive linemen live north of that same number. Offensive tackles sit comfortably in that tier as well.

Off-ball linebackers, even the very best of them, tend to peak around twenty million annually.

That is still elite money. But it is not premium money.

The NFL is effectively telling us something through its contracts. It is telling us that disrupting the quarterback, protecting the quarterback, and covering the passing game are the most expensive commodities in football. The middle linebacker, even when excellent, is priced a tier below.

That is not disrespect. It is resource allocation.

And if NIL has quietly turned college recruiting into a form of cap management, then resource allocation matters.

Under Lanning, Oregon has aggressively pursued length on the edge. They have invested in defensive linemen who can collapse a pocket before a route ever develops. They have chased corners with rare traits and safeties who can survive in space. The recruiting board tells a consistent story. The Ducks are willing to spend where pressure and coverage intersect.

Inside linebacker has not received that same headline-level financial aggression.

At some point, that stops being coincidence.

There is a quiet irony here. If you believe you are elite at developing linebackers, you may not feel compelled to pay retail for them. If your defensive structure is built on waves of defensive linemen and disciplined coverage behind it, then the inside backer becomes a force multiplier rather than the primary engine.

In modern football, most snaps are played in nickel. Space stretches horizontally. Pass rush dictates timing. Coverage squeezes windows. The linebacker still matters, but often as the beneficiary of the chaos created up front and behind him.

Pressure and coverage drive defensive efficiency. Linebackers often clean up what those forces create.

The NFL’s salary ladder reflects that reality. The checkbook reveals what the sport values most. And if Oregon’s NIL priorities mirror that hierarchy, then the Ducks’ recruiting approach at middle linebacker may be less about inability and more about intention.

There is also the Georgia blueprint to consider. Lanning’s best defenses were not dependent on a single inside linebacker carrying the structure. They were built on overwhelming defensive lines and suffocating coverage units. The linebackers were excellent. But they thrived within an ecosystem designed to make their jobs easier.

Ecosystems are expensive.

When NIL dollars are finite, the question becomes where the marginal dollar moves the needle most. Is it in securing a rare edge rusher who can bend and finish against NFL-caliber tackles? Is it in locking down a corner who can survive on an island against elite receivers? Or is it in winning a bidding war for a five-star inside linebacker whose snap share may fluctuate depending on personnel groupings?

The NFL market suggests that the first two typically produce more consistent returns.

Fans love middle linebackers for good reason. They are visible. They are vocal. They embody toughness. They collect tackles in double digits and feel like the heartbeat of a defense. When a five-star inside backer commits, it feels foundational.

But foundations are sometimes reinforced quietly elsewhere.

If Lanning believes he can identify high-IQ, high-motor prospects and develop them within his structure, then spending premium capital on rarer defensive traits becomes logical. You invest heavily in what cannot easily be manufactured. You coach what you believe you can teach.

The irony may be this: the coach who understands the middle linebacker position best might be the one most comfortable spending less on it.

In an NIL era that increasingly resembles a professional marketplace, following the money often reveals the philosophy. And if you follow the money closely enough, Oregon’s defensive priorities begin to look less like an oversight and more like a blueprint.