Denver usually has a leg up on competition

ENGLEWOOD, Colo. -- For what seems like forever, they have had a devout following for which they have blocked, pushed, plowed forward, and paved the way. And no, the offensive linemen for the Denver Broncos haven't often looked behind to see which of their teammates actually had the ball.

''Doesn't matter. We just run the system. We didn't implement it."

Those are the words of a man who could be mistaken for one of the Rocky Mountains, his name being George Foster and his size being of noticeable proportions -- 6 feet 5 inches and 338 pounds, or thereabouts. Though he is a man of few words, Foster is a man of more words than his offensive line colleagues, all of whom have taken refuge behind a vow of silence that has long been a sacred ritual in the Broncos' locker room.

Quiet: Men at work, is the sign these offensive linemen would hang on their office door, if they had one. And when they were done with work? More than likely they would flip the sign over so it would read, Quiet: Men done with their work.

''Sure, it's a badge of honor, no question," said Mark Schlereth, whose NFL career was split evenly, six seasons with Washington, then six with Denver. Two of his three Super Bowl rings came while wearing a Bronco uniform, which gives Schlereth more than a great source of pride; it affords him the right to comment on what is arguably one of the true wonders in pro football, namely the annual success with which Denver runs the football.

''Call it good planning, great intuition, a lot of luck, but they've had a lot of players who've been committed to doing it the right way. Guys who are students of the game," said Schlereth, an analyst for ESPN, who is well versed in the numbers that prove how Denver's ground game has been a long-running hit here in the Rockies. Mike Shanahan has been head coach for 11 seasons and in that time the Broncos have been ranked in the top five in the league in rushing nine times and only once have they not ranked in the top 10. ''The results speak for themselves and it's easy to buy into the system when it works."

The 2005 Broncos ran for 2,539 yards, second most in the NFL, and it will be on the strength of that vaunted ground game that they will look to put a halt to the Patriots' 10-game winning streak in the playoffs. The Broncos acknowledge the success with which New England has had stopping the run of late (just 70.7 yards per game over their last nine), but with all due respect, when the teams meet tomorrow night, Denver intends to go with its strength.

''You have to try. If you don't try, you never know what you're going to do," said Foster. ''There's never been a game we didn't try."

They are soft-spoken words, but words nonetheless, which elicits a quizzical look. An offensive lineman for the Broncos talking? What gives?

Foster shrugs. He explains that he was elected spokesman for the line, a title that came about because sportswriters complained to the league that Broncos offensive linemen weren't talking. Call it a compromise, but it is what it is, and Foster has accepted his role. And just how did he earn it? Another shrug, then a smile.

''I'm the youngest," he said.

There was a time when Tom Nalen was the youngest member of Denver's offensive line, way back in 1994, when the Foxborough, Mass., native was a rookie out of Boston College. He started one game that season, but he's been a fixture ever since, arguably one of the best centers in the league.

''I can't think of a guy I'd rather be beside, behind, or with than Tom Nalen," said former teammate David Diaz-Infante, now a Broncos radio analyst.

''No question," said Schlereth, who was anchored beside Nalen for six seasons, including the Super Bowl triumphs of the 1997 and '98 seasons. ''He has an unbelievable skill set. He's not necessarily the weight-room strongest guy, but he knows how to use his body, how to gain leverage."

And, yes, Nalen can speak. It's just that he follows that long-standing tradition and keeps things quiet, though reporters constantly stop by his locker and beg for conversation. With his long hair and scruffy beard, Nalen peers at visitors and goes about his duties in silence. Does he like the tradition? Nalen looks up, offers a sly smile, and says, ''It's great."

With that, some teammates hoot and holler. ''Look at that, Tommy's talking to the media," comes a voice from the back of the room, and from the lockers to the right, Denver's running backs laugh heartily.

''People love it," said fullback Kyle Johnson, when asked about the code of silence among the offensive linemen. ''They don't talk, but they're a hard-working group and they know what they do is critical to our productivity."

Nalen merely shook his head when it was suggested he started the tradition, and Diaz-Infante confirmed that.

''Alex Gibbs initiated the no-talking thing," said Diaz-Infante, referring to the legendary offensive line coach who is now a consultant with the Falcons. ''It was more or less a way of uniting the offensive linemen, to fuel the us-against-them mentality."

Consider it mission accomplished because no one would argue that Denver's offensive line hasn't been the league's most cohesive unit, year in and year out. The names up front have changed -- Schlereth, Gary Zimmerman, Harry Swayne, Dan Neil, Tony Jones, and Trey Teague came, blocked, then retired; Nalen remains, joined by guards Cooper Carlisle and Ben Hamilton, and tackles Matt Lepsis and Foster -- but perhaps a greater testament to this success story is the fact the Broncos have thrived no matter who has carried the ball.

Consider there has been a 1,000-yard rusher every season under Shanahan, save for 2001, when injuries finally spelled the end of Terrell Davis's impressive career. Davis had rushed for 2,008 yards in 1998 and for more than 1,000 in each of the three previous seasons, but when he got hurt in 1999, Denver needed to look in another direction.

Enter unheralded rookie Olandis Gary, and all he did was chew up 1,159 yards to earn All-Rookie honors. Nice tribute, only it couldn't fend off the injuries, so in 2000 Denver was again sent searching for a featured back. Hello Mike Anderson, a rookie out of the University of Utah who ran wild, 1,487 yards in fact, which translated into his being named NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year.

That award returned to Denver in 2002 when Clinton Portis ran for 1,508 yards, and when he followed that with a 1,591-yard season in 2003, it appeared as if the Broncos were set for a marquee back.

Think again, because the team needed help in the secondary, so much so that they traded Portis to Washington in exchange for cornerback Champ Bailey.

Good for the defense, bad for the running game? Think again, because out here it's all about a system and plugging in the right parts, which Denver did in 2004 with Reuben Droughns. He lugged it for 1,240 yards.

So, Droughns was the man?

Not so fast, because the Broncos decided they needed help on the defensive line, so off went Droughns to Cleveland in exchange for end Ebenezer Ekuban and tackle Michael Myers.

Good for the defense, bad for the running game? Think again, because Anderson made it back from a serious leg injury that shelved him in 2004 and rushed for 1,014 yards this season, his efforts complemented nicely by second-year man Tatum Bell's total of 921.

But beyond sheer numbers, it is the mystique that intrigues people, because Shanahan has used a variety of runners, he's never hidden the fact that he's going to run right at you, and the guys up front have never been a collection of 330-pound behemoths. So, how do they do it?

''There are three keys," said Diaz-Infante. ''One, their commitment to it. Two, their design. Three, they get the right kind of players to fit the design. They are better than most teams at running the ball different ways, at creating opportunities, and they are not afraid to run on second and 9. They very rarely lose yardage."

Said Johnson: ''I would say, in all honesty, the attitude and the mentality is that we're going to try and execute the run with efficiency. We know there's a way to do this and if we do it the right way it should work. Part of that is the system, but a lot of it is the backs."

Schlereth wouldn't argue, but he never dwelled on which back was in the game. ''You don't care who is back there. As long as everyone is on the same page, the system is the way it is," he said. ''Denver is very good at finding guys who fit right in."

Most noteworthy is the fact that a lot of the players who do fit in don't tip the scales at 330 pounds, an aspect of the game Schlereth thinks gets too much attention.

''There's a misnomer in this league that you have to be 330 pounds to play offensive line. Well, I'm here to tell you that you don't. You have to have great feet, great hands, know how to create leverage. Tommy [Nalen] is an example. He's a great technician."

Some Denver coaches have been accused of teaching some questionable tactics, most notably the ''cut block," in which offensive linemen take aim at the legs and below the knees of defensive linemen or linebackers to slow their pursuit of the run. Or so goes the longtime complaint, one Diaz-Infante and Schlereth have heard for years and vehemently object to.

''It's nowhere close to being illegal. It's been around forever," said Diaz-Infante, who doesn't deny that it was and is a huge part of the linemen's game plan. ''[In games] if you didn't cut someone, you were graded down. Guys on the ground can't make plays."

Said Schlereth: ''Every team uses [the cut block], without question. The frequency with which Denver uses it is what draws attention to them. It's on the back side of every play, and with us it was mandatory; it was not an option. I used to tell [defenders], 'I don't want to cut you, but I've got to. Sorry, but gotta do it.' It was psychological warfare and you hoped it slowed them down.

''But for people to say that the Denver Broncos use questionable techniques is foolish. It's jealousy and anger. They're just very good."

And very quiet, which Schlereth still finds unique, though he understands it.

''The game is arduous, physically and mentally, and I can say that because I played 12 years and had 29 surgeries," said Schlereth. ''You better believe it's painful, so you have to find a way to make it fun. The money doesn't do it. If you're in it for the money and the fame, you're going to have a short career. You're not going to last without the passion and the love and the fun. And for them [not talking] is a way of adding levity."