As Robert Quinn closes in on opposing quarterbacks, there is always an uncertainty. Is there a hot read? Is the rush coming equally hot from Chris Long or Will Hayes on the opposite side? Does this quarterback have the ability or tendency to shift around in the pocket, or bail out entirely and go on a goose chase? Is there a delayed draw coming? Will he still have the ball when Quinn gets there?
This uncertainty, this not-knowing-what-will-happen, is at the heart of the human condition. We all face it. But we will see very few men take on that uncertainty and all but destroy it, the way Quinn has.
There is no uncertainty any more. You know, I know, and the Bucs know he is coming. Death, taxes, the NSA and Robert Quinn.
His prodigal physical gifts have been relentlessly re-fired and re-forged. His raw speed has been tuned and refined. The calculus that spans his starting point and the quarterback has had its angles sharpened, its distance shortened. The moves at his disposal have multiplied, and the situational intelligence — which move to use when — has multiplied with it.
The result is that Quinn has achieved a temporary elevation from mortal to Superman. Honors such as a Pro Bowl berth or widespread media recognition for "Defensive Player of the Year" are almost beside the point. We are seeing the emergence of a new pass rushing legend.
How fitting that one of the awards that he is closing in on is named after Deacon Jones.
