There are two very easy ways to get on Adewale Ogunleye's nerves. One is to butcher his name. The other is to be Alex Brown.
The pronunciation part is easy to fix. It's Add-awal -lay O-goon-lay-eh. Not Aid-a-welly or Uh-gunlay or any other of the estimated 1,864 ways folks have screwed it up over the years. And if you want to be casual with Ogunleye and call him by his nickname, it's Wallay, not Wally. Says Lovie Smith: "Even I mess up his name all the time."
Solving Ogunleye's other annoyance is tougher-and touchier. Ogunleye and Brown spend a lot of time together, both being defensive ends for the Bears, and most of that time is fun and cordial. But once or twice a week, Brown starts up, forcing Ogunleye to shake his head and breathe heavily from his nostrils.
The topic is always the same: who has a harder job, Ogunleye, who lines up on the left side and stares down right tackles, or Brown, the right end, who faces left tackles? The left/right debate in the city nicknamed for blowhard politicians is fierce.
"He swears left tackles are better," Ogunleye says. "Give me a break."
"I've got it soooo much tougher than he does," Brown says. "I've got a worse matchup every week!"
"No. There's no way. I don't know where you get that delusion."
"Left tackles are better than right tackles 98% of the time. They're so much more athletic."
"Right tackles are bigger, and I'm also facing a tight end. Plus, most teams run right. You get more free rushes."
"Then why are left tackles paid so much?"
Sounds like friendly banter. And it is, at least to Brown. But it cuts deeper for the 6'4'', 260-pound Ogunleye. Last season, after being traded from Miami and signing a $33.4M contract, he was nearly booed out of Chicago when leg injuries limited him to five sacks.
That wasn't how he planned on proving his worth. The grandson of the king of a Nigerian city called Emure, Ogunleye, 28, grew up in Staten Island in New York, and was a likely first-rounder before tearing knee ligaments his senior season at Indiana. Instead, he was signed as an undrafted free agent by the Dolphins in 2000 and spent his first season rehabbing, yet still became a Pro Bowler in 2003. To him, time wasted is time lost. That attitude is why teammates call him the "Dad of the D-line."
So Dad wants to teach Brown, a four-year vet, but sometimes Junior won't stop blabbering. Brown grew up in the single-stoplight town of White Springs, Fla., wrestling hogs-yes, literally wrestling hogs-on a farm. After an All-America career at Florida, in which he set a school sack record, Brown's rep for being inconsistent dropped him to the Bears in the fourth round in 2002. Now he plays as though he wants to prove the league committed scouting malpractice-and get that big deal Ogunleye got. So he stops long enough to eat up Ogunleye's advice (Ogunleye taught Brown his hump move, an outside-inside cutback technique) before returning to his favorite subject: how right tackles are easier than Paris Hilton. To which Ogunleye, two years older than Brown, just shakes his head and mutters, "He's still young." (Ogunleye teaches Dan Patrick a thing or two on page 94.)
Ogunleye knows that numbers don't equal success. Chicago started the season 1—3, and the line had only three sacks (two from him). A frustrated Lovie Smith started dropping into defensive line meetings to lay into the group. The Bears' Cover 2 depends on a pass rush from their front four, which is why they play a one-gap technique; their sole responsibility is getting upfield to the QB. "We were mad and I was mad," Ogunleye says. "We were in the film room late, but nothing we did seemed to be good enough. We're looking at each other wondering why they kept coming into our room and yelling?" So Ogunleye went to Smith's office and asked, "What do you want from us?"
Smith flipped a switch and his projector screen dropped from the ceiling. They broke down film of Ogunleye's first step out of his stance, which was always inside and toward the quarterback, making him easy for the tackle to block. "You need to be the guy who does things the right way," Smith said. He wanted Ogunleye's first step straight up the field, and he wanted this fixed immediately.
Ogunleye went back to his linemates. "I'm going to relearn my footwork," he said. "Let's do it as a group." Since then Ogunleye hasn't been perfecthe says he steps correctly about 60% of the time-but the entire line has paid more attention to detail. It's worked: Chicago ranks first in total defense, third in pass defense and seventh in sacks. Ogunleye has 10 sacks-the first time in 13 years a Bears defensive end has reached double digits-and four passes batted down. In back-toback games against Carolina and Tampa in November, he totaled five sacks. Would-be comebacks by both teams ended when Ogunleye took down the QB late in the game. "Now," Smith says, "you're seeing a complete defensive end."
While Ogunleye was working on his first step, Brown was with defensive coordinator Ron Rivera, working on everything. Rivera had made a clip of all of the plays Brown was just a fingernail from making. Rivera's antidote wasn't to break Brown down, but to encourage him to get off the ball quicker and give that extra push before the whistle blows. After just one sack in his first nine games, Brown has racked up five in his past seven.
Brown's and Ogunleye's lives got easier the past few weeks of the regular season, when Rivera added another wrinkle. With his team lined up in its usual 4-3 front, Rivera had Ogunleye move inside to tackle and slid Pro Bowl linebacker Lance Briggs up to end, guaranteeing either Brown or Ogunleye a one-on-one matchup. "It's the old 46 Bears D," Rivera says. "Those guys just know how to clog passing lanes." Like they did against Brett Favre on Christmas Day, when the front four's constant pressure resulted in four picks.
But the question remains: who has it tougher?
"Well," Smith says, "teams usually do put their best tackle at left tackle."
Wallay won't like hearing that.