If you’ve ever played Madden NFL and spent days tweaking your roster for the perfect blend of unstoppable athleticism and, well, not-so-stoppable statistics, then you’ll understand the conundrum facing NFL franchises as they ogle Texas A&M’s Shemar Stewart. Imagine a superhero physique — 6-foot-5, 267 pounds, with a 4.59 in the 40-yard dash, springs for legs, and arms that, presumably, wouldn’t look out of place heaving pianos across crowded streets. Now, what if I told you this near-mythical edge rusher managed only 4.5 sacks across 37 college games? Cue the collective gasp from stat-heads everywhere, followed by a wave of nervous excitement among scouts who live for “traits over production”—and a mild existential crisis for GMs who go prematurely gray each draft season.
On one hand, you’ve got Daniel Jeremiah of NFL Network framing Stewart as “easily the most polarizing edge rusher” in this draft. In other words, he’s the guy at the party you can’t stop staring at, but maybe not for all the reasons you’d hope. Armed with world-class speed and explosiveness but not the stats you’d expect, Stewart is the archetype for every barstool debate about the intrinsic value of athletic tools over tried-and-true results.
If the NFL Draft were Tinder, Stewart’s measurables would get a super-like from every scout on their lunch break—but his paltry sack numbers force everyone to pause and reconsider. The risk of swiping right is as high as the potential reward, and front offices have been burned before on athletes who promise heaven and deliver, well, a warm seat on the bench.
But let’s not dismiss the intangible: Stewart’s combination of size, burst, and arm-length would make even the most seasoned offensive tackle lose a little sleep on Wednesday night film prep. Coaches love to talk about “disruption”—and, credit where it’s due, Stewart absolutely disrupts. NBC Sports’ Connor Rogers sums up the backroom chatter succinctly: “How high do coaches and evaluators value that?”
Here’s the rub: Every draft season, NFL staffs must make the leap of faith that they can teach instincts, technique, and—most critically—the ability to finish plays. It’s like owning a Bugatti with a tendency for flat tires: the speed thrills, but chances are you’ll spend a lot of time at the shop unless you fix what’s under the hood.
The counter-example? K’Lavon Chaisson. The Jaguars, perhaps emboldened by the success stories of years prior, bet big on his athletic upside. Five years, four teams, and ten sacks later, “Chaisson” has become less a name and more a cautionary label in draft war rooms.
The NFL has a long and storied tradition of betting on physical upside, sometimes with spectacular results, often with frustratingly little to show for it except a bigger chip on a GM’s shoulder.
For IT pros and C-suite types, this is the workplace equivalent of hiring a genius coder without a single team project on their resume, based solely on their performance in an escape room challenge. Sometimes, you get a software architect who builds the next revolutionary platform. Sometimes, you get someone who spends eight months color-coding spreadsheets.
Connor Rogers adds his own flourish, not requiring a Ph.D. (“You don’t have to be a genius”) to recognize Stewart’s “freakish” physical profile. To paraphrase: the dude moves like he’s been coded with cheat codes.
And so, the “disruption is production” mantra takes hold, with Simms and company all but waving banners for new-age stats. After all, if you’re blowing up the play—even if you don’t get the sack—you’re causing chaos, opening doors for your teammates, and occasionally forcing the opposition into those delightful “what just happened?” moments that keep defensive coordinators employed.
Just don’t glance too long at that 23.5% missed tackle rate. According to Pro Football Focus, that number ranks Stewart in the bottom 8% for his position—a black mark that not even a 40-inch vertical can leap over. To borrow from another industry: he’s the AI that aces the Turing Test in the demo, but occasionally mistakes a dog for a microwave in production.
Credit to Stewart for being candid. Asked about his primary focus ahead of his league debut, he doesn’t rattle off platitudes about “just wanting to help the team.” Instead, he laser-focuses on “being more composed when I’m a step away from the quarterback.” The fact that he’s a step away so often is, of course, precisely what drives his first-round value.
IT analogy time: Stewart’s the high-frequency trader whose algorithms churn at blinding speed, but if the network lags or the power flickers, chaos reigns. You love what he brings to your team—until you remember how often he misses the end product.
Of course, whoever takes the plunge inherits both the Superhero Origin Story and the risk of a M. Night Shyamalan twist. It’s no small thing to be known as “the guy with the upside,” especially when well-meaning coordinators have spent years, careers, sometimes lifetimes, believing they’ll be the one to sing the untapped hymn of athletic freaks like Stewart.
When Simms says, “I’m not going to blow it out of proportion. I think there’s plenty of good to go around, and he’s got a superstar future in front of him,” it sounds at once reassuring and just a touch ominous. That’s the inherent drama—if Stewart delivers, you’re a genius. If he doesn’t, well, at least you can brag about his 10-foot, 11-inch broad jump.
For NFL decision-makers, Stewart’s candidacy is the Rorschach test for scouting philosophy. Are you a “process” truther, banking on elite traits to morph into elite results, or do you sweat the small stuff, worrying that zig-zagging tackle numbers foretell doom? Neither approach is foolproof—the league is littered with both types of cautionary tales.
Let’s not forget: the very structure of the NFL, with its rookie wage scale and ever-increasing athletic standards, incentivizes teams to chase upside. But, as any veteran observer will tell you, those same teams are haunted by ghosts of failed “upside” picks, whose combine laurels faded under the bright lights of real games.
Will you, as coach/manager/CTO, be the one to harness that raw force? Or does the risk of wasting a key hire keep you up at night? Stewart is what happens when the world’s most promising AI bot aces the CAPTCHA but sometimes forgets to press Enter.
There’s a hidden risk for teams who convince themselves they’ve spotted the next unicorn. Sometimes, traits-only players just don’t take the next step. The leap from theory to practice is as high (and intimidating) as Stewart’s broad jump.
For now, Stewart is the top prospect who doesn’t fill the stat sheet but dominates every metric that requires a stopwatch and some tape. That alone ensures that when his name is called, social media will bustle, analysts will pontificate, and front office execs will nervously knot their ties. He is the living, breathing, leaping embodiment of the NFL’s greatest draft temptation.
And as for the rest of us? We’ll just sit back, watch the highlights (and lowlights), and be glad we don’t need to decide if explosiveness or Excel sheets matter more in the end. Because in both football and tech, some stats just don’t tell the whole story—and sometimes, that’s exactly the fun.
Source: AOL.com He's one of the top prospects in the NFL draft — with few stats to back it up
Traits vs. Production: The Eternal Draft Debate
On one hand, you’ve got Daniel Jeremiah of NFL Network framing Stewart as “easily the most polarizing edge rusher” in this draft. In other words, he’s the guy at the party you can’t stop staring at, but maybe not for all the reasons you’d hope. Armed with world-class speed and explosiveness but not the stats you’d expect, Stewart is the archetype for every barstool debate about the intrinsic value of athletic tools over tried-and-true results.If the NFL Draft were Tinder, Stewart’s measurables would get a super-like from every scout on their lunch break—but his paltry sack numbers force everyone to pause and reconsider. The risk of swiping right is as high as the potential reward, and front offices have been burned before on athletes who promise heaven and deliver, well, a warm seat on the bench.
But let’s not dismiss the intangible: Stewart’s combination of size, burst, and arm-length would make even the most seasoned offensive tackle lose a little sleep on Wednesday night film prep. Coaches love to talk about “disruption”—and, credit where it’s due, Stewart absolutely disrupts. NBC Sports’ Connor Rogers sums up the backroom chatter succinctly: “How high do coaches and evaluators value that?”
Here’s the rub: Every draft season, NFL staffs must make the leap of faith that they can teach instincts, technique, and—most critically—the ability to finish plays. It’s like owning a Bugatti with a tendency for flat tires: the speed thrills, but chances are you’ll spend a lot of time at the shop unless you fix what’s under the hood.
Combine Kings and the Cautionary Tale
We’ve seen this story play out before, and the results are, let’s say, “wildly variable.” The article cites Odafe Oweh as an Exhibit A: a player who also left college with more “traits” than “production” (zero sacks his final year at Penn State) and whose 40-yard dash times gave physics professors mild aneurysms. The Baltimore Ravens, who treat Combine marvels the way some people treat new Apple products, took the risk. Oweh didn’t just pan out—he flourished, shifting to linebacker and piling up 23 sacks in four years, including ten last season. That’s one way to silence doubters.The counter-example? K’Lavon Chaisson. The Jaguars, perhaps emboldened by the success stories of years prior, bet big on his athletic upside. Five years, four teams, and ten sacks later, “Chaisson” has become less a name and more a cautionary label in draft war rooms.
The NFL has a long and storied tradition of betting on physical upside, sometimes with spectacular results, often with frustratingly little to show for it except a bigger chip on a GM’s shoulder.
For IT pros and C-suite types, this is the workplace equivalent of hiring a genius coder without a single team project on their resume, based solely on their performance in an escape room challenge. Sometimes, you get a software architect who builds the next revolutionary platform. Sometimes, you get someone who spends eight months color-coding spreadsheets.
Simms, Rogers, and the Fine Art of Drafting “Freaks”
But not all analysts are wringing their hands. NBC’s Chris Simms, who likely relishes the role of contrarian, doesn’t just predict Stewart will thrive—he calls him “one of the safest picks in the draft.” Simms sees in Stewart the kind of upside you could hang championship banners on: “the ceiling has a chance to be one of the greatest players in the history of football.” It’s the type of gushing praise typically reserved for chefs after three glasses of Merlot.Connor Rogers adds his own flourish, not requiring a Ph.D. (“You don’t have to be a genius”) to recognize Stewart’s “freakish” physical profile. To paraphrase: the dude moves like he’s been coded with cheat codes.
And so, the “disruption is production” mantra takes hold, with Simms and company all but waving banners for new-age stats. After all, if you’re blowing up the play—even if you don’t get the sack—you’re causing chaos, opening doors for your teammates, and occasionally forcing the opposition into those delightful “what just happened?” moments that keep defensive coordinators employed.
Just don’t glance too long at that 23.5% missed tackle rate. According to Pro Football Focus, that number ranks Stewart in the bottom 8% for his position—a black mark that not even a 40-inch vertical can leap over. To borrow from another industry: he’s the AI that aces the Turing Test in the demo, but occasionally mistakes a dog for a microwave in production.
Critical Gaps: Hands, Technique, and (Gasp) Composure
Scouting reports, while generous with adjectives, are refreshingly honest about Stewart’s rough edges. While his first step can get him in the backfield faster than a Domino’s delivery, his “finishing skills” are, let’s just say, under construction. Rogers notes Stewart’s need to develop a credible counter-move—right now, his best trick is simply being the most athletic guy in the room. Get under his pads, and he’s often rendered ordinary, something no one wants to read on draft night.Credit to Stewart for being candid. Asked about his primary focus ahead of his league debut, he doesn’t rattle off platitudes about “just wanting to help the team.” Instead, he laser-focuses on “being more composed when I’m a step away from the quarterback.” The fact that he’s a step away so often is, of course, precisely what drives his first-round value.
IT analogy time: Stewart’s the high-frequency trader whose algorithms churn at blinding speed, but if the network lags or the power flickers, chaos reigns. You love what he brings to your team—until you remember how often he misses the end product.
Where Will He Land? (And Will They Survive?)
As with any draft darling dripping with upside, no one actually knows where Stewart’s name will be called. Projections see him anywhere from No. 10 overall to the end of the first round—which, let’s be honest, is the draftnik’s equivalent of “the weather will be sunny or raining, possibly both.” Scribes point to the Bears, Jets, Lions, Chargers, and Packers as likely homes.Of course, whoever takes the plunge inherits both the Superhero Origin Story and the risk of a M. Night Shyamalan twist. It’s no small thing to be known as “the guy with the upside,” especially when well-meaning coordinators have spent years, careers, sometimes lifetimes, believing they’ll be the one to sing the untapped hymn of athletic freaks like Stewart.
When Simms says, “I’m not going to blow it out of proportion. I think there’s plenty of good to go around, and he’s got a superstar future in front of him,” it sounds at once reassuring and just a touch ominous. That’s the inherent drama—if Stewart delivers, you’re a genius. If he doesn’t, well, at least you can brag about his 10-foot, 11-inch broad jump.
What Does This Mean for NFL Teams—and the Rest of Us?
The saga of Stewart isn’t just an NFL story—it’s a parable for any field where potential must be measured against evidence. For every tech startup that soars thanks to a code wizard with zero formal training, there’s another that crashes and burns because genius alone doesn’t ship products.For NFL decision-makers, Stewart’s candidacy is the Rorschach test for scouting philosophy. Are you a “process” truther, banking on elite traits to morph into elite results, or do you sweat the small stuff, worrying that zig-zagging tackle numbers foretell doom? Neither approach is foolproof—the league is littered with both types of cautionary tales.
Let’s not forget: the very structure of the NFL, with its rookie wage scale and ever-increasing athletic standards, incentivizes teams to chase upside. But, as any veteran observer will tell you, those same teams are haunted by ghosts of failed “upside” picks, whose combine laurels faded under the bright lights of real games.
The Real-World IT Parallels: Would You Hire This Coder?
Stewart’s story will ring alarm bells (and stir up lectures) for anyone who’s ever sat on a hiring panel. Elite résumé? Check. Impeccable interview presence—a 40-inch vertical for the tech world? Sure. But then you dig into their GitHub, and the commit history is, to be generous, erratic.Will you, as coach/manager/CTO, be the one to harness that raw force? Or does the risk of wasting a key hire keep you up at night? Stewart is what happens when the world’s most promising AI bot aces the CAPTCHA but sometimes forgets to press Enter.
The Hidden Trapdoor: The Myth of “Moldable Rawness”
Proponents will tell you anyone with Stewart’s gifts can be “coached up.” But history warns us: raw clay occasionally just dries out. In the NFL, so much depends not just on physical tools or “coachable” mechanics, but on internal wiring—mental processing speed, competitive fire, even (as in Stewart’s case) composure when on the cusp of greatness.There’s a hidden risk for teams who convince themselves they’ve spotted the next unicorn. Sometimes, traits-only players just don’t take the next step. The leap from theory to practice is as high (and intimidating) as Stewart’s broad jump.
Final Thoughts: Playmakers or Physics Experiments?
With Stewart, everything comes back to that tantalizing “if.” If the disruption translates to production. If the finishing improves. If the coaching staff truly unlocks the next level. The very fact that the NFL is so infatuated with the possibility of a 6-foot-5, 267-pound man who runs faster than suburban Wi-Fi is evidence of the league’s relentless optimism—and occasional masochism.For now, Stewart is the top prospect who doesn’t fill the stat sheet but dominates every metric that requires a stopwatch and some tape. That alone ensures that when his name is called, social media will bustle, analysts will pontificate, and front office execs will nervously knot their ties. He is the living, breathing, leaping embodiment of the NFL’s greatest draft temptation.
And as for the rest of us? We’ll just sit back, watch the highlights (and lowlights), and be glad we don’t need to decide if explosiveness or Excel sheets matter more in the end. Because in both football and tech, some stats just don’t tell the whole story—and sometimes, that’s exactly the fun.
Source: AOL.com He's one of the top prospects in the NFL draft — with few stats to back it up
