How Sammy Watkins uses his eyes to create space

Come in, let me show you something. This receiver right here, jogging down The Hill with his stringy black dreads bouncing on the back of his popsicle orange jersey, is Sammy Watkins.

You see him? He's No. 2.

Sammy was recruited as a five-star player from South Fort Myers High School in Florida, where he diced through defenses at stick-shift speeds. He's tough and driven. He made it out alive in what's said to be a tough neighborhood, one that has murders and prostitutes on its corners. It wasn't always easy to focus on football, but he was able to work his way up to be the nation's top wide receiver. More than a dozen schools pursued him, but he chose Clemson.

He scored abundantly. His first touchdown came 26 seconds into his freshman year; he caught a screen pass and vanished from the television screen. Most of his college plays over the next three years would go on to look similar, consisting of jet-sweep carries or short routes that put him in position to keenly identify running lanes and make defenders miss. The routes were the usual: hitches, screens, curls, and hooks. It was easy for him, but not for would-be tacklers.

Part of what makes those simple plays effective is Watkins' ability to make it look like he's gliding. He makes the defenders think they have him boxed in with perfect tackling fundamentals and no escape route. Then he sticks his foot in the ground, turns in the opposite direction and bursts, blowing by defensive backs like a sports car on the highway. It's calculated explosiveness. 

What makes him good goes beyond how quickly his legs move with the ball in his hands. Or the rare balance that he shows off when he bends back and holds his weight on one arm. Or the steady hands that swallowed 101 throws this past season. Or his ability to catch the ball at its peak.

What makes him good is his eyes. They create creases to weave through, and they could potentially improve his route running to create bigger plays downfield in the pros.

You need to see his eyes.

Look at this play against Ohio State. It's first-and-10 with less than nine minutes left in the second quarter when Sammy aligns roughly four yards off the line of scrimmage in a stacked set on the formation's left. This is deeper than usual for him, but he plans to jet motion across the quarterback and the formation before the snap. 

When he jogs near the left hash the ball is snapped to the quarterback, who stretches to catch it before handing it off to Watkins, who follows a lead block from the running back that wraps around the edge and past the far hash. Linebacker No. 98 beats a tight end's block on the edge and chases Watkins down the line, but his speed is no match.

As he runs away, he ends up boxed in by the linebacker and the play-side safety (No. 4). It's a dangerous predicament.

He continues to run down the line like he's targeting the sideline to avoid contact, looking to bait the safety to fully turn his shoulders and create an alley by the numbers. 

Look at his helmet as he comes across the formation. It's directly pointed at the safety and the sideline and not pointed downfield. It only starts to veer downfield when he closes in on the safety and stutter-steps to bobble his helmet toward the sideline. As soon as his helmet bobbles, the safety flows toward the sideline, allowing Watkins to spring downfield off his right foot, leaving behind the two defenders.

Eight yards later he does it again. Running inside the numbers while his dreads flop on his square shoulders, Watkins sees a defensive back trying to escape a fellow wide receiver's block. He leans right, focuses his eyes to that same side, exposing the ball to bait the defender outside. When he squats, the defender freezes and Watkins snaps his head left to the middle of the field, where he runs through the safety's arm-tackle and bursts again past another safety. 

You see him? You see how he creates running room with his eyes? It's important not only when carrying the ball but catching it too.

Here's proof — look at this third-and-7 play against Maryland. Watkins is lined up as the outside receiver in a Twin set at the top of the screen. He's in between the numbers and on the line, which isn't always the case with him. In this situation he's prone to being pressed at the line if the cornerback (No. 17) chooses, but he doesn't.

Watkins has a free release into his stem on this speed dig, his favorite route. When he runs vertically he keeps his helmet straight, suggesting his eyes aren't giving the route away. Ten yards downfield, he jabs his left foot outside and shoots his eyes inside, bending the route behind underneath defenders and across the middle, where he slows to catch the pass before showing off his burst once again. 

You see him? See how he doesn't give the route away early?

Now look at this play against North Carolina State on third-and-9. He's the single receiver matched up on an island against Wolfpack cornerback No. 11 in the wide side of the field. It's a play action pass, meaning a longer route to develop for Watkins. It's a double move, a post-corner route that's designed to dupe the defender into the middle of the field to create an opening down near the sideline. It requires strict eye-discipline to not give away the route early.

By the time Watkins leans forward from the line of scrimmage, he faces a nine-yard cushion from the cornerback playing Cover 3.

Ten yards past the first down marker, Watkins leans inside off his left foot and watches the middle of the field. The cornerback appears to focus on the quarterback to make a play on an expected throw, knowing he has safety help in the middle.

Meanwhile, Watkins runs diagonally, his eyes focused on the middle until he sees the cornerback attack downfield. He watches the cornerback and cuts, giving away his route as his left foot stomps. His right foot — the one he ultimately cuts off of — digs into the grass and his shoulders slide through the air while he watches the cornerback. 

The cornerback sees this peripherally and circles his hips up and outside once the cut is made. He's too stiff to turn quicker and loses ground on Watkins, who flattens his corner route before narrowly leaping to make the catch.

You see him? You see that the pass was completed, but the route still needed work? That's because his route tree is limited even though you saw the dig route earlier. 

He caught so many passes on simple concepts in college that he didn't learn the nuances of the longer routes. It's OK, though — this is typical. Most receivers struggle in the pros when they first come because of this learning curve. They don't know how to run the deeper routes that require technique and discipline, and are consequently picked apart by veterans.

Veteran cornerbacks read their routes before they begin, and while they are happening. They read the split and have an idea of the route type. They read the shoulders and see where the receiver is going. They read the eyes and meet the receiver at the top of the route. They find it easy, like a screen pass.