By C.J. SULLIVAN & DAVE HOLLANDER

SULLIVAN: Week in and week out, the game of professional football is won on the line of scrimmage. The tough trenches are where the NFL separates the men from the boys. Those five huge brutes on the offensive line, whom casual fans dismiss as fat, boring and non-skilled, win or lose the game for the offensive team. Without those behemoths, the Mannings and Barbers of the world would be killed.

We all love to see Eli Manning throw a last second touchdown or Santana Moss catch a ball and run it in. But without a good offensive line holding off the pack of wild dogs on the defensive line, none of those plays would happen. None.

The NFL took quite a while to value them, but now the offensive left tackle is usually the second highest paid man (after the quarterback) on most teams. The left tackle needs the bulk and strength to stop hulking defensive linemen and the quick feet and reflexes to block fleet-blitzing linebackers.

The next time you watch a game, notice the line. The left tackle is usually the most athletic man there. His job is to protect the QB’s blind side and to stop the best defensive man on the other team.

The top three NFL left tackles today are Walter Jones of the Seahawks, Orlando Pace of St. Louis, and Jon Ogden of the Ravens. Ogden is so good (nine straight Pro-Bowls) that he is making Steve McNair the QB he once was. All of these men have led their teams to Super Bowls with only Jones not getting a win.

The best newcomer to this elite group is Levi Jones of the Bengals. Jones shuts down Joey Porter of the Steelers down and the Bengals and Carson Palmer may ride Jones into a Super Bowl appearance this year.

The next game you watch, try and see the beauty and the joy of the battle these men engage with on every play. When they are on the field they get no break. Every play revolves around how well they do their job. Football is the offensive line.

HOLLANDER: Those of us who love football didn’t need Michael Lewis’ latest well-written professional sports study The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game (W.W. Norton) to tell why NFL teams covet the left tackle (and with lefty QB’s the right tackle). He is the position player without whom no successful offensive play would exist. He is the silent brute who commands the respect of every teammate in the locker room. Amazingly, so few fans know his name. 

When my father took me to my first NFL game in 1974—Jets vs. Dolphins at Shea Stadium—I was eager to watch the big stars: Larry Csonka, Bob Griese, Paul Warfield and Joe Namath. But my father told me, “Don’t follow ball. For a set of downs, just watch two linemen go at it.” I have never watched a football game the same since—at least not one I attended.

We miss so much watching the game on television. The call of the announcer and the eye of the camera follows the ball, and the viewer follows accordingly. What looks like a soft pile-up of huge bodies at the front of a play is actually the most ferocious and direct combat that occurs in the game. And, it happens every play, all game long. 

You might say that the line of scrimmage represents football at its most coarse level. Not so. The left tackle embodies the athletic essence of football: strength and skill. Though the left tackle is often the largest man on the field, he must move his feet with ballerina-like agility. His hands must be deft, targeted and lethal. He must be mean, but also maternally protective of his quarterback. While receivers, running backs and quarterbacks occupy the so called “skilled” positions, the left tackle applies the full resources of his strength, speed and tactical awareness on every single play. 

Above all, the left tackle’s greatest weapon is what you might least expect it to be: superior intelligence. Through careful study of his opponent’s habits and physical tics, the left tackle predicts on every play whether he will encounter a straight-on “bull rush” or a speed rush to the outside. If he predicts rightly, he must counter by via leverage and the laws of physics to redirect the rush. His opponent is just as smart. He studies too. So with each progressive play, the left tackle must employ a slightly different method or present the appearance of being ready to employ a different method of blocking. It is relentless and sophisticated, psychological and strategic warfare.

There is no greater battle of minds, bodies and wills than at the line of a pro football game.

SULLIVAN: You might not need Lewis’ book, The Blind Side, but I say it is about time someone sung the praises of the offensive line. The average TV football fan takes the line for granted. Your father was right. Watch the play from the line and it becomes an epic battle of might and will. It is like the prison guards against the inmates. It is Darwinian: Only the strong survive on the line.

I once heard the former Cowboy wide receiver turned professional loudmouth Michael Irvin say how he and other receivers, halfbacks and quarterbacks, are the true skill players of the game, and the line is just a bunch of thugs. Irvin claimed that the line players had no “skills.” Once again Irvin was wrong.

The NFL knows how rare a good offensive lineman is. Today receivers like Irvin are acquired cheaply, but a left tackle like Orlando Pace is as sought after as a rare gem

To all you football fans out there, watch the left tackle on any team with a right handed quarterback and see how he protects the QB and the team. Watch his hands and his quick feet. See his battle on every play with defensive ends and blitzing linebackers. That is how you watch football. You can always catch the great TD catch on replay.

HOLLANDER: I attended a talk last week near Union Square given by Michael Lewis and moderated by Malcolm Gladwell. He’s a fine gent, that Michael Lewis. Mark Green was there; fidgeting, trying to get someone, anyone, to notice him. What else does he have do with himself these days, right? Anyway …

What separates the left tackle from other football players is that he seeks anonymity rather than glory. If he has done his job successfully, no one will mention his name on television. That’s they way he wants it. Yet, his shutdown opponent will know his name well. So will his teammates, who know that his unheralded sacrifice permitted victory plus whatever public accolades and concomitant financial benefits they enjoy. In this way, he is the ultimate team player—effective and sacrificial. 

The consequences of his failure, however, are glaring and burdened by him alone. If he is continuously beaten by his opponent, the quarterback will be rendered useless and possibly injured, and the offense will fail. His team will lose. His name will be called all day. He, the left tackle—not the quarterback, the running back or the wide receiver—will be singled out for the team’s demise. Who bears a heavier cross on a football team?

It is not unlike our column where the consequence of my absence would render your meek abilities vulnerable to merciless public pounding and, perish the thought, lead to the column’s eventual demise. This is my cross to bear, but I soldier on.