Huh?

I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. In the wake of the NFL's decades-long infatuation with the quarterback-is-everything aesthetic, the running back has become the first position to be financially devalued.

Witness the struggles of Jonathan Taylor, Saquon Barkley, Josh Jacobs and Dalvin Cook to get paid relative to their production. Cook was released by the Minnesota Vikings rather than extend a contract to him. Barkley was burdened with the franchise tag before agreeing to a contract stuffed with incentives.

While under contract, Taylor has been rebuffed in his attempt to either receive an extension or be traded. Colts' owner Jim Irsay refuses to do either and appears prepared to let Taylor sit out the season.

Like Barkley, Jacobs has also been assigned the franchise tag but refuses to sign. In lieu of an extension or a trade, he also appears ready to sit out the season.

From a competition standpoint, neither the Indianapolis Colts, New York Giants, Las Vegas Raiders or Minnesota Vikings are in a position that allows them to get tough with their running backs.

Despite their gaudy record, last year's Vikings were the first team to post a dozen-plus wins and be outscored. Translated, that means they won small and lost large. With the trade of WR Adam Thielen and the release of Cook, the Vikings appear poised for a minor-key rebuild. Especially when you consider that veteran QB Kirk Cousins is in the final year of his contract.

Have the Vikings considered how the loss of Thielen, Cook and potentially Cousins will impact the career arc of their talented young WR Justin Jefferson? Probably not.

After five seasons of non-competitive football, the Giants—fueled by the emergence of QB Daniel Jones and a healthy season from Barkley—won, burnished by a wild card road victory over Minnesota.

It was entirely cringe-worthy that the front office chose this moment to put the screws to Barkley. Yes, he missed the vast majority of 2020 with a torn ACL, and his comeback a year later wasn't the stuff dreams are made of. But Barkley persevered and returned to form last year.

That took work. Sorry Joe Schoen, but Barkley deserves his cash. This was not the time to toy with a vital piece of the puzzle.

Circumstances are different for the Colts and Raiders. Since the sudden retirement of Andrew Luck just before the 2019 season, the Colts have employed a revolving cast of quarterbacks.

Only Philip Rivers jelled with the team, leading the Colts to an 11-5 record in 2020. Neither Matt Ryan, Carson Wentz nor Jacoby Brissett could sustain a pulse, and that was with Taylor. Aside from saving on payroll, I can't imagine what the rebuilding Colts feel they'd accomplish without him.

While the Raiders had stability at quarterback, their performance was routinely mediocre. Like the Colts, they apparently regard their running back's requests as inconsequential. Maybe they have a Brown/Payton/Henry hybrid they're keeping secret?

Given the Colts and Raiders middling status, why don't they unload Taylor and Jacobs? If we can assume each is worth so little, surely any return they'd receive in a trade would be welcome compensation?

On the other hand, perhaps this is exactly the kind of decision-making which has kept each franchise on the fringes of NFL. Maybe that's just how they roll.

Taking a step back to assess the bigger picture, the exponential rise in quarterback salaries plays a huge role in this scenario. When teams devote such an enormous percentage of payroll to a single player, the only conceivable result is that less will be available to everyone else.

Standing squarely in the corner they painted themselves into, GMs must assign hard values to the remaining twenty-three positions required to field a football team. Given the executive-level mania for passing, it has been decided that running backs are unproductive. And their salaries must reflect that.

They're not an investment. They're an expense.

If you say so.

I'm hoping this is the inevitable consequence of the passing-is-all fashion currently besotting the NFL.

Like it or not, moving the football is best accomplished by using the run to offset the pass and using the pass to offset the run. It keeps your opponent off-balance. It's similar to a baseball manager bringing in a series of relievers with contrasting styles that keep hitters on edge—if not outright confused.

Football games featuring teams with one-dimensional offenses are unimaginably tedious. They suck all the nuance and strategy that have evolved over the past 100 years from the game. They reduce the game to something that belongs in an eighties video game arcade. Can we call it Day-Glo football?

(I have even heard of grown men venturing into basements looking for laundry to fold rather than subject themselves to such punishment.)

I'm pretty sure that is not what the NFL had in mind when it negotiated its latest multi-billion-dollar TV contract.

But this isn't just about running backs. They're just the first position to be officially devalued . It could've been (and may still be) cornerbacks, offensive tackles, edge rushers, etc. Who will be next and accused of effectively stealing money from quarterbacks?

Have the people who determine such things considered the long-term effects on the game? It's viability? Is the future of the NFL a 50-million-dollar-a-year quarterback surrounded by a bunch of sixth-round schmucks and walk-ons?

I'm reminded of fifties-rocker Chuck Berry, who refused to employ a full-time band behind him. You know; too expensive. Too much trouble. He'd go from gig to gig solo, backed by whatever band was available—and cheap.

While it might have made a certain kind of business sense, I wasn't the only one who saw in it a profound disregard for his music—and his fans. I don't see any differently as the next generation of the NFL takes shape right before our eyes.

How ironic would it be if Chuck Berry and the NFL ended up in the same place?