While plundering piles of cheese-gooped burgers, Mark Dreyer and his fellow Colorado State linemen used to laugh at their death-defying diet.
“If it’s green, it’s trouble,” they chanted between chews. “If it’s fried, I’ll take double.”
That’s how Dreyer, now a 200-pound office worker, swelled to a 280-pound, all-conference center: a rich blend of weight-room grunts and dorm-food binges. But when pro scouts knocked him as “too small,” the 6-foot-4 Dreyer pushed his caloric feasts to fresh heights, swallowing McDonald’s meals four times daily until he reached the 300-pound promised land.
In the end, he didn’t make the NFL. But, Dreyer says now, at least he survived the journey.
“I see how I was really endangering my life by playing football,” Dreyer says. “I was never meant to be at that weight.”
Sure, it’s a heavy topic since the collapse and sudden death of 310-pound San Francisco offensive lineman Thomas Herrion at Invesco Field at Mile High on Aug. 20. Yet beneath the call for NFL weight limits and concern about the pro game’s ever-groaning waistband, there’s a wider truth: The prototypical 300-pound lineman isn’t built merely for NFL Sundays or BCS Saturdays – but often for Friday nights. High school is football’s real growth industry.
Just scan the roster of defending Class 5A champion Mullen – the Mustangs’ offensive line boasts a pair of 295-pounders plus 312-pound junior Paul Schoeninger.
“Everybody wants to be bigger than the other person. That’s the goal everybody has,” says Schoeninger, who bolsters his natural heft with post-workout protein shakes. “Bigger is definitely better in football.”
For some prep linemen, the hunger for added bulk is driven by pure physics. Says the 6-6 Schoeninger: “You see a guy across from you who’s half your size, you have the advantage.” For others, it’s fueled by the time-honored chase for a college scholarship.
Air Force center Jon Wilson entered high school in Tampa, Fla., at a husky 215. Over the next four years, he added 110 pounds (while growing 3 inches) thanks largely, he said, to his mother’s cooking and his football appetite.
“I had aspirations to play at the college level. I knew I had to be bigger,” says Wilson, a senior. “I looked around and saw the weight of offensive linemen … I wanted to shoot to be a 300-pounder by the time I got out of high school. So I just ate.”
High school linemen follow the same plan each year to improve their shot at earning a college scholarship. Five in-state college linemen were interviewed for this story and each said they gained at least 60 pounds in high school. A few, like Wilson, actually trimmed down after they reached college. Wilson is an Outland Trophy candidate playing at 300 pounds. But without football in his life, Wilson figures he would tip the scales at about 250.
“It’s not like a job (to maintain 300 pounds), but you have to consciously not go hungry,” Wilson says. “My roommate can sleep in and get that 30 extra minutes of sleep. I can’t miss breakfast.
“It’s really not healthy to live as big as we are. But it’s worth it in the end from the things we achieve.”
Few understand that mentality better than Dr. Eric McCarty, an orthopedic surgeon and the University of Colorado’s director of sports medicine. He also played linebacker for the Buffs in the mid-1980s. Back then, he recalls, the Big Eight Conference had just one 300-pound offensive lineman.
“Now it’s kind of the expected weight,” McCarty says. “I think it’s a little alarming.
“No doubt, strength and conditioning are much better now. Back then, if you were 300 pounds, you weren’t in as good of shape. Regardless of that, you have guys who are bigger now, and that puts more stress on their cardiovascular system – whether it’s fat or muscle. That means their heart has to pump more blood.”
Extra weight also makes people more susceptible to diabetes, hypertension and sleep disorders, according to McCarty, who adds: “Sometimes it’s hard to reverse some of the effects.”
At CSU, most players are asked to cut weight after high school, not gain it, says CSU strength and conditioning coach Greg Scanlan. Diets are closely monitored.
“Without a doubt,” Scanlan says, “some of these guys are clinically obese.”
Rams right guard Jerome Williams is listed at 328 pounds. He slapped on 70 pounds during his four years at Montbello High School and then 38 more at CSU. He has been taking careful notes during his nutrition classes, mulling “what I can do to get to a healthier size” after his football days end. The death of Herrion truly hit home.
“I’m kind of thick myself so it makes me want to get into better shape,” says Williams, a junior. “When I’m out there, I want to make sure I’m not carrying too much weight so I’m not exhausting my body.”
While some experts envision a day when 400-pound linemen roam the trenches, others believe players such as Williams represent the final wave of this football growth spurt. Health worries – short- and long-term – lead McCarty to predict, “We’re getting up toward the end of this curve.”
And the rosters at CU and CSU show the tonnage trend is slowing.
Between 1985 and 1995, the average weight for starters on the offensive line rose by 28 pounds at CU (255 to 283) and by 30 pounds at CSU (257 to 287). In the past 10 years, however, that surge slowed. On average, CU’s starting linemen are only 10 pounds bigger this year compared with 1995 and CSU’s blockers are 11 pounds heavier.
Air Force, which once fielded a far thinner line than its two in-state rivals, has caught the other schools with a 52-pound rush over the past 20 years. The Falcons’ average lineman in 1985 weighed 238, today 290.
Maybe it’s the advances in weight training and nutrition. Or maybe it’s merely evolution. But Air Force strength coach Allen Hedrick says the growth surge may not be over.
“The high 300s seems outlandish to think about. But if you went back 20 years ago and asked people, ‘Will there be 300-pounders who play effectively?’ they would have said ‘No,”‘ Hedrick says. “Will it be common to have 400-pound linemen? Based on the trends in other aspects of human performance, that’s not unrealistic.”
But once they go up in size, those players still have to come down after their careers. If not, they face potentially severe health problems.
“Either you lose weight right away after you are done playing,” says CSU’s Scanlan, “or you don’t lose it.”
Put another way: Old eating habits die hard.
Just ask Dreyer, the former CSU center whose final game was in 2003.
He has shed 100 pounds since his NFL tryout. But after years of purposely stuffing himself to fuel his football size, Dreyer still craves those calorie binges.
“Honestly, for me, that’s something I still struggle with – eating healthy. I don’t eat healthy. I just eat a lot less. It’s one of the side effects I still can’t shake.
“Eating the mass quantities we were required to eat, well, it gets you somewhat addicted to it.”
Staff writer Natalie Meisler contributed to this report.
Staff writer Bill Briggs can be reached at 303-820-1720 or bbriggs@denverpost.com.
