Saquon Barkley, the thunderous freight train who looked destined to etch his name among the NFL’s elite 2,000-yard rushers last season, sputtering like a vintage muscle car with a busted gasket. Four games in, and the Philadelphia Eagles’ prized free-agent running back has mustered just 237 yards on 77 carries—a limp 3.1 yards per pop. Last year at this juncture? A blistering 435 yards on 73 touches, averaging a jaw-dropping 5.9 yards per carry. He was a man on a mission, barreling toward history. Now? He’s grinding gears in neutral.
Eagles fans are howling: What’s eating Saquon? Is it the scheme? The blocking? Or has the league’s defenses finally cracked the code on taming the beast? Offensive coordinator Kevin Patullo stepped to the mic on Tuesday, offering a measured mea culpa that hints at growing pains. “I think we’re still trying to feel our way out as far as who we are each game,” Patullo said. “Especially this first four, we had so much history with these teams, so they know our personnel, they know a lot of things that we’ve done in the past. So, you’re trying to feel like, ‘OK, this has been good against them in the past, is it still?’ Do we need to do things new? I think there’s still a feeling out process, and we’ve been really close.”
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Fair enough—recalibrating against familiar foes is like dancing with an ex who knows all your moves. But peel back the layers, and the real culprit emerges not from Barkley’s legs or the play-calling clipboard, but from the trench warriors up front: the offensive line. Yeah, that vaunted unit, the one that paved golden highways for Philly’s ground attack in 2023. This season, it’s more like a demolition derby—battered, bruised, and barely holding the line.
Enter Chris Long, the gravel-voiced sage and Super Bowl LII champion from that magical 2017 Eagles squad that shocked the world. On his razor-sharp Green Light With Chris Long podcast, the ex-defensive end didn’t mince words or point fingers. He zeroed in on the “fatal flaw” with the precision of a sniper: this O-line is a walking wounded ward. “When you watch him, I know he’s hurting and I think he’s an absolute warrior,” Long rumbled about star left guard Landon Dickerson, the three-time Pro Bowler who’s been playing through the shadows of an early-season injury. “…I think they got a great guard who’s really (bleeping) banged up right now.”
The numbers don’t lie, and they’re brutal. Dickerson’s Pro Football Focus grades? A dismal 51.6 in Week 1 and 58.7 in Week 2—miles from his career-high 78.6 last year, which ranked eighth among guards league-wide. He’s out there grinding, but it’s like watching a Ferrari on three cylinders: all heart, zero horsepower.
Long didn’t stop at Dickerson. He dissected the domino effect rippling through the unit. Right tackle Lane Johnson, the grizzled veteran and anchor of the line, has sat out the last two games nursing his own war wounds. And stepping in? Rookie Tyler Steen, who’s game but no carbon copy of the massive, mauling Mekhi Becton. “You have to stay healthy, you have to have good luck, and, like, there’s a lot of attrition,” Long cautioned, his voice laced with the hard-earned wisdom of a 12-year vet. “The physical style of football they played last year, not just for the running back but for the guys clearing the holes for the running back.”
It’s a prophecy from the other side of the line—one that echoes the brutal truth of the NFL’s gladiator pits. Long, ever the diplomat, stopped short of torching his old mates outright. But his verdict was crystal: This ain’t the ’23 juggernaut that steamrolled defenses, nor the ’24 preseason dream team, and it’s light-years from the ’17 crew that clawed to a Lombardi Trophy. “If they win with this group, it would be the most unique run that they’ve had because this isn’t the ’23 O-line, this isn’t the ’24 O-line, and I know it’s not the ’17 O-line,” he declared. “We went to the Super Bowl, so this would be, if they can make this run, pretty impressive because the run game is just not there. It’s just not there.”
And here’s the kicker—the flat tire that’s deflating the whole damn operation: Without that punishing ground pound, the passing game turns into a high-wire act sans safety net. “They have to play complete games if they want to go where they’re trying to go,” Long warned. “And last year, I felt like they avoided those lulls in the passing game because they had a run game. That’s kind of their life preserver. If they don’t have that, everything else becomes a lot harder.”
So, as the Eagles stare down the barrel of a season teetering on the edge, the message from Long—a brother in green, a prophet from the trenches—is clear: Patch those flats, heal the hurts, or watch the dream skid into the ditch. Saquon Barkley isn’t the problem; he’s the canary in the coal mine. The real fix? Get that O-line roaring back to life. Because in Philly, football’s a blood sport, and flat tires don’t win rings.