No One Can Stop LSU's Leonard Fournette, Except the NFL and the NCAA

Here's an admittedly premature hypothetical scenario that no one in a position of power wishes to contemplate: let's say that Louisiana State running back Leonard Fournette persists with his utterly dominant start to the season, and let's say that Fournette wins the Heisman Trophy, and let us say that LSU wins the Southeastern Conference, qualifies for the four-team College Football Playoff, and beats, oh, I don't know, Ohio State to win the national championship.

Fournette is a 20-year-old sophomore at LSU. If his season proceeds as described, he will have nothing left to prove or accomplish in college. If he declared himself eligible for the NFL draft tomorrow, after his 19-carry, 228-yard, meme-addled performance against Auburn last Saturday, he would be a surefire first-round pick. This is a rare thing for a player at his position these days: a running back was chosen in the first round every year from 1963 to 2012, but none were chosen in 2013 and 2014. (Two backs, Todd Gurley and Melvin Gordon, broke the drought by being chosen last spring). Fournette "would be the first guy picked in the draft if you just say, 'Who is the best player?' " NFL media analyst Gil Brandt told the New York Times. "He's ready to play."

Even if he wanted to, though, Fournette could not declare for the NFL draft tomorrow, or anytime before 2017, because he is only in his second year of college, and NFL rules require a prospect to be three years out of high school before becoming draft-eligible.

In a sense, everything Fournette does in a LSU uniform from this point forward could simply diminish his financial value; everything he accomplishes is more for the good of LSU than the good of Leonard Fournette. So what's to stop him from sitting out entirely next year and preserving his body from the punishment of a position that increasingly lends itself to early attrition? What's the upside for a star running back in a world where men in his position are increasingly marginalized and judged upon their overarching mileage? Would continuing to risk catastrophic, career-derailing injury while enduring career-shortening wear and tear even make sense, given that LSU can't and won't pay Fournette a dime beyond the value of his athletic scholarship, even though his prime athletic earning years are right now? Shaq Thompson, who played both offense and defense at Washington before getting drafted as a linebacker by the Carolina Panthers, told NFL teams he didn't want to be a running back; the Colts' Frank Gore said that he'd encourage his own son to play cornerback.

This is a fascinating time for the running back in college football; in a way, this season and last season (see Gurley and Gordon) mark something of a renaissance. There are several backs beyond Fournette—Georgia's Nick Chubb, Ohio State's Ezekiel Elliott, and Alabama's Derrick Henry chief among them—who may wind up being worthy of the first Heisman Trophy for a running back since 2009. Meanwhile, the position itself is evolving: few teams run straight ahead out of an I-formation anymore; in an age when the pass is increasingly prevalent on all levels, few teams rely on a single back as a workhorse. Elliott, the one back projected as a possible first-round pick next year, often takes a backseat in the offense to Ohio State's two quarterbacks (Cardale Jones, J.T. Barrett) and one quarterback turned H-back (Braxton Miller).

"That term 'workhorse' has taken a negative connotation in recent years as a ballcarrier who has been beaten up with so many carries over the years," CBS Sports draft analyst Dane Brugler told me a couple of seasons ago. "Have we seen the last of the first-round workhorses? I think so, unless a prospect is truly, truly special."

Which is where Fournette comes in, because he plays for a coach who is willing to utilize a workhorse, and because he also appears to be one of those truly special cases. This doesn't happen very often with running backs these days, in either college football or the NFL. The default strategy is to implement a platoon system, employing several backs on a rotating basis so as to avoid burning out your stars. But LSU coach Les Miles has never succumbed to the futuristic allure of the spread offense. Miles would prefer to advance the ball on the ground, and he'd prefer to use Fournette as much as he possibly can, especially in close games.

All of the backs Fournette is being compared to—Earl Campbell, Herschel Walker, Adrian Peterson—are of the workhorse variety. Campbell played eight seasons and has trouble walking on his own these days; Walker played longer but was largely ineffective in the latter half of his career. Peterson turned 30 this year and has endured multiple surgeries (and off-field controversy), which means his career has probably peaked. The point is, for a player with the presence and physique of Fournette, a player who is the possible rare exception to the rule of the rotating running back, the length of one's career may be disarmingly short. This doesn't seem likely to change unless the NFL changes, and finds a way to mitigate the violence inherent to its sport.

There are solid reasons to believe that the NFL's three-year rule exists for a purpose beyond the preservation of college football as a separate entity. Early entry has ravaged college basketball, but football is not basketball—the leap from high school to the pros is a far more perilous route, simply because of the physical maturity required. It's rare to find a prospect like Fournette, who would appear to have it all at his age, but there are exceptions. To bar an exception like Fournette from making a living if he's prepared to accept it, and if the market is prepared to accept him, feels like the kind of hypocritical broad-brush decision-making that's sullied the NFL's reputation in the first place.

It's difficult enough these days for a running back to envision a career beyond the age of 30. If Fournette (or any other running back) is a guaranteed first-round pick—if, as Brandt says, he's "ready to play"—he should be granted an exemption. Until that happens, he shouldn't be forced to give himself over to an institution that's utilizing him more for its interests than for his own. "Workhorse" is a perfectly fine metaphor for a particular football playing style; it shouldn't pull double-duty as a way to describe how Fournette is treated by the wealthy team owners and the university presidents who oversee the sport.