By now, Chris Jones is becoming more and more well-known outside of Kansas City. Pro Football Focus (whether you agree with their methodology or not, they’re definitely a prominent voice now) has raved about him all year and currently has him listed 5th on their list of top rookies due to his pass rushing productivity, which is a statistic that takes into account percentage of hits/hurries/sacks on a quarterback when pass rushing.
Chris Jones, per their metric (and this is one of their metrics I do very much approve of, as it’s weighted to favor sacks/hits above pressures but does a lot more to tell us about pass rushing than just sacks), is the third most productive interior pass rusher in the entire league, behind only Aaron Donald and Geno Atkins. That’s OK, I guess.
But I’m not really here to talk about about Chris Jones in-depth or anything like that. I’m hear to warn offensive linemen across the league: Chris Jones is a bad man, and he will make you look stupid if you’re not extremely careful. Jones demonstrated this against the Raiders in what is arguably the greatest owning of an offensive lineman in a single play of all time.
(Jones is lined up across from the LG)
When you get owned twice in one play by Chris Jones. This is my new favorite gif of the year. pic.twitter.com/1kO4CLuCzV— Seth Keysor (@RealMNchiefsfan) December 15, 2016
Find me a play where an offensive lineman gets destroyed worse than that. You can’t. And do you know why? Because it happened TWICE.
First, Jones swims right over the top of the LG while absorbing a quick block from the center without moving an inch (double teams are supposed to help people, Raiders. Do better). The sheer violence of the move here makes the ownage (not a word) level at something around an 8.8 out of 10 (the LG keeps his feet so we can’t give it a perfect 10).
What makes this play the single greatest ownage in history is what follows. The guard, after recovering from the shock of getting worked, turns and sees the play is still going (Justin Houston, per usual, denied the edge and so the runner was desperately scrambling around). Because of this, Jones now has his back turned to the LG, who clearly sees this as a chance at revenge to try and recover some of his dignity.
Can’t you just see it in his body language? “Oh man, I’m gonna get him now!”
Jones sees the LG coming at the last second and manages to (impossibly) steel himself enough for the blow coming that he PANCAKES THE CHARGING OFFENSIVE LINEMAN.
So, to recap, Jones threw a 300+ pound human being aside and left him for dead. He then, about 2 seconds later, was faced with the same 300+ pound human charging at him while he himself was almost standing still. And he flattened the guy. That second ownage, by itself, is a perfect 10. Which means the entire play gets an ownage score of 11 (it’s just math, guys), becoming the first play in history to shatter the 10-point ownage scale.
Chris Jones is not human. Please feel free to go back to your day.