NFL Franchise Tag Deadline: Lamar Jackson Outmatched by the Ravens

Baltimore knew what it was doing by placing the nonexclusive tag on its QB and can now sit back and wait to see if a team steps up with an offer sheet it can’t or won’t match.

By choosing a nonexclusive franchise tag option, the Ravens on Tuesday opened the door for the NFL to dictate Lamar Jackson’s market, perhaps the only way they could steer their one-time franchise quarterback closer to a deal that doesn’t involve entering the same orbit as a fully guaranteed contract born of a bidding war for Deshaun Watson.

They also opened the door for the Falcons to immediately capitalize on their relative indecision, before having that door closed in their faces (as Sports Illustrated’s Albert Breer confirmed Tuesday). Perhaps that door was closed well in advance of Tuesday’s decision, which only served to bolster Baltimore’s confidence in dangling Jackson to almost every general manager in the NFL.

The Falcons were one of a small handful of teams remaining from the Watson bidding war still desperately needing a long-term option. They are one of an even smaller handful of teams with an offensive structure that could immediately buoy Jackson’s skill set and allow him to both maintain a threat with his legs and develop into more of an operator of a pro-style offense, as he did at Louisville.

Jackson will play under the nonexclusive tag, which guarantees him $32.4 million in 2023 :: Nathan Ray Seebeck/USA TODAY Sports

But it looks like the Falcons prefer to roll with Desmond Ridder, some kind of veteran competition and/or whatever possibilities the No. 8 pick in a fairly quarterback-heavy draft may wash ashore.

We can debate the merit in Atlanta stepping away. The Falcons, like the Ravens, have to be concerned about Jackson’s durability, postseason history (1–3 record) and the ultimate risk of forking over $200 million in guarantees to a quarterback who may or may not be able to fully accentuate their set of young star pass catchers in addition to the fact that, yes, there are folks out there who still really like Ridder. But there is one aspect of Tuesday’s maneuvering that leaves little in question: The Ravens know what they’re doing, and Jackson cannot be optimistic about the opening salvos of this public battle.

Let’s not count this column among the piles of think pieces chiding Jackson for not using representation. Ultimately, he’s the only person who will be able to make that determination.

However, if I were entering an administrative battle against an NFL franchise as an unrepresented player, and my opponent was one of the smartest franchises in the league, I would be intimidated. I wonder if Jackson, too, was connected enough to be certain which teams would truly be interested in outbidding Baltimore for his services.

The Ravens’ surplus of mid-round picks, which they stockpiled after figuring out how to calculate and manipulate the compensatory pick formula, are just one of the small advantages they have allowed us to find out about. So, too, was their targeted mining of small-school players before the rest of the NFL caught on. If you wanted to trace the development of the modern NFL front office, so much of it winds through the work done by Ozzie Newsome and Eric DeCosta over the past decade-plus. There are GMs who treated Baltimore like the answer section of the workbook, and flipped there directly.

In theory, having a nonexclusive tag—this means Jackson will get paid $32.4 million next year and is permitted to sign an offer sheet with another team, which Baltimore could then decide whether it wants to match or let Jackson go for two first-round picks—is a great way to middle-finger a low-balling, unappreciative franchise so long as there is someone doing that kind of legwork for you (meaning, someone who is lining up the team giving you the middle-finger money).

Chances are, the Ravens would not have gone the nonexclusive route if they were concerned.

It gives me—and it should give you—no joy to relay something like this. The NFL is capable of squeezing and dominating financially almost every player under its umbrella, and the ones who break the mold are subject to tisk-tisk sanctioning at the country club (no, Jimmy Haslam, you can’t join us for our Louis XIII tasting and small-bill burning after giving Watson all of that money). I think there was a frustrated employee in all of us who wanted to see Jackson laying five solid offers down at the end of Week 1 like a final hand at Triton Super High Rollers. The episode of Hard Knocks, where Rex Ryan slams the door and screams at Darrelle Revis’s super agents is among the greatest moments in NFL Labor history.

But right now, Jackson looks to be outmatched. While it only takes one team to change the parameters, one of the remaining possible suitors (and even then a very, very unlikely one) is on a plane bound for California to woo Aaron Rodgers. One (Carolina) was front and center watching quarterbacks at the combine. One (Miami) cannot trade for him until after the draft. And one is the Commanders, who would be a little like bringing your aunt to the prom to make someone else jealous (no offense to your aunt).

It’s hard not to imagine Baltimore saw it this way. Waiting on the Commanders to bail you out isn’t exactly the counterpunch you want to avoid checkmate.