Stephen Dubner

The running back I loved as a kid was Franco Harris of the Pittsburgh Steelers.

To be honest, I was a little obsessed with Franco.

We don't need to get into the details here, but I did once write a book about him called Confessions of a Hero Worshipper.

Like I said, a little bit obsessed.

I liked everything about Franco, the way he carried himself off the field, but especially how he ran.

Some running backs, like Jim Brown, were known for their power, for running people over.

Others, like Gale Sayers, were so fast and graceful that it was hard to get a hand on them.

Franco was somewhere in the middle, strong but elusive, a darter and a dodger.

In football, every play is a miniature drama packed into just a few seconds.

22 athletes moving at once, as complicated as a blueprint, as brutal as war, as delicate as ballet.

A passing play is a bit of a magic trick.

The quarterback and receiver try to trick the downfield defenders into being in the wrong place at the right time.

A running play is more predictable, since the running back has to get through a wall of massive defenders.

But if he does and breaks free into open space, that is a special kind of thrill.

Back when Franco Harris was in the league and for a long time after, many of the game's biggest stars were running backs, and they were paid accordingly.

If you go back 30 years and take the average salary of the top players by position, running backs ranked second, just behind quarterbacks.

This year, running backs ranked 15th.

So what happened?

Everyone knows the NFL has become much more pass-happy these last few decades.

But still, how did running backs fall so far?