Football purists might still picture a rangy, sideline-to-sideline 'backer with perfect angles and textbook form. That player exists—but he’s now sharing roster spots with converted safeties, edge rushers in nickel packages, and athletes who list their position as "LB" simply because the roster demands a label. We’re far from it being obsolete. But the role? Radically transformed.
What Defines the Weak Side Linebacker in Today’s Game?
The term itself feels almost outdated. "Weak side" used to mean the side of the formation with fewer offensive players—typically the side without the tight end. But in a league where 11 personnel (1 RB, 1 TE, 3 WRs) is now the default, the "weak" side is often just… everywhere. That changes everything. The traditional alignment logic has eroded.
Sam, Mike, and Will used to be standard—Sam the strong-side, Mike the middle, Will the weak-side. But now, many teams don’t even use those designations in practice. Coaches are moving toward "boundary" and "field" roles, or simply slotting players into "backer 1" and "backer 2" based on pre-snap looks. You want continuity? Try explaining that to a rookie trying to learn the playbook.
Still, the Will linebacker today generally lines up on the side of the field with fewer blockers. His job? Cover ground. Disguise coverages. Match up with athletic tight ends and running backs slipping into routes. And—when the moment calls for it—blitz with sudden violence. He’s less of a downhill thumper, more of a chess piece.
Why Speed Now Trumps Size at Will Linebacker
There was a time when 230 pounds was the floor. Now? You’ll see Will backers weighing in at 215—some even under. They’re faster. More agile. Built to mirror Darren Waller or Travis Kelce across the middle. The average NFL tight end caught 68 passes in 2023, up from 51 in 2015. That’s not a trend. It’s a revolution.
And because offenses are throwing 62% of the time on early downs in 2024 (up from 49% in 2010), the Will isn’t just covering—he’s in coverage. Constantly. Zone drops, hook-curl responsibilities, man-to-man on wheel routes. He needs feet like a cornerback, instincts like a safety, and just enough pop to deter a crackback block.
The Disappearing Box Role
You don’t see the Will digging into the backfield much anymore. In base 4-3 sets, sure. But teams are in nickel (five defensive backs) on 68% of defensive snaps—up from 40% a decade ago. That means the Will is often replaced by a slot corner. Or worse (from a traditionalist’s view), the Will himself is the fifth DB.
And that’s where the semantics break down. Is Roquan Smith a Will linebacker? Technically, yes. But he lines up deeper than some safeties. He’s asked to read the quarterback’s eyes before the snap, then flow laterally like a rover. He’s not filling gaps. He’s erasing them after they form.
How Hybrid Roles Are Reshaping the Will Linebacker
Let’s be clear about this: the NFL doesn’t care about your high school coaching manual. If a player can cover, tackle, and read keys, they’ll find a jersey for him—regardless of position. The Will is now the most hybridized spot on the defense. A bit like a Swiss Army knife with a single blade that keeps morphing.
Brett Rypien, the Broncos’ backup QB, once joked that “the hardest guy to throw against isn’t the corner—it’s the guy who starts in the box and ends up in your backfield.” He wasn’t wrong. That player? Nik Bonitto—a hybrid edge/Will linebacker who logs 42% of his snaps in coverage. And he’s not alone.
The issue remains: where do you even train for this? College programs still teach Will backers to “fill the C gap” and “stay home on counters.” But in the pros? You’re expected to be a blitzer, a dropper, and a spy on read-option plays—all in the same series. The mental load is brutal. The physical demands? Even worse.
Rise of the “Jack” Linebacker
The “Jack” is essentially a hybrid edge/Will backer, often used in 3-4 schemes. He lines up standing, sometimes with a hand in the dirt, but rarely commits to a full rush. His real job? Disguise. Make the offense guess: is he coming? Dropping? Slanting inside?
Take Haason Reddick. In 2022, he played 58% of his snaps as a Jack linebacker for the Eagles. He finished with 16 sacks. Sixteen. A linebacker? Technically. A pass rusher? Obviously. But ask Philadelphia’s defensive staff where he fits, and they’ll shrug. “Wherever the quarterback is,” one assistant told me last year.
How Offenses Exploit the “Soft” Side
Because the Will is often the fastest but least physical linebacker, offenses target him. They run screens to that side. They motion receivers across to force mismatches. They run delayed draws knowing the Will might hesitate—caught between covering the flat and filling the run lane.
In 2023, teams gained an average of 5.8 yards per carry on runs directed at the weak side, compared to 4.3 on the strong. That gap is growing. Why? Because the Will is frequently playing 8–10 yards off the line. He’s a coverage liability if he bites too early, a tackling void if he’s late.
Will vs. Mike vs. Sam: Which Role Is Most Valuable Now?
The Mike used to be the quarterback of the defense. Not anymore. Not when the safety is calling audibles and the Will is rotating into coverage before the snap. The Mike still anchors the middle, sure. But his influence is narrowing. In short-yardage situations, yes. In obvious passing downs? He’s often on the bench.
And the Sam? He’s the forgotten one. Strong-side backers are supposed to handle tight ends and set the edge. But with fewer tight ends on the field, the Sam’s role has shrunk. Some teams don’t even carry a true Sam anymore. They use a bigger nickel or a hybrid DE instead.
So who wins? The Will. Not because he’s making more tackles—though some do—but because his versatility creates matchup nightmares. He’s the one who can line up over the slot, walk into the box, and then sprint sideline-to-sideline on a wheel route. He’s the Swiss Army knife. We’re not done with him yet.
The Data Behind the Decline (And Unexpected Resurgence)
Snap share tells a story. In 2012, base 4-3 defenses ran 55% of their plays with all three linebackers on the field. By 2024? That number is down to 31%. Alarming? Maybe. But here’s the twist: the Will linebacker is actually playing more snaps within those sub-packages than ever before.
In 2008, the average Will linebacker played 67% of defensive snaps. In 2024? 72%. How is that possible? Because when teams go to nickel, they often keep the Will and dump the Sam. He’s the coverage guy. The athlete. The one who can handle 80% of the playbook without blinking.
And that’s exactly where conventional wisdom fails. People don’t think about this enough: it’s not that the Will is disappearing—it’s that he’s being redefined. The position isn’t dying. It’s adapting faster than the rest.
Frequently Asked Questions
Let’s tackle the questions you’re actually asking—without the fluff.
Is the Will Linebacker Becoming Obsolete?
No. But obsolete in its traditional form? Absolutely. The player who stands 40 yards deep and waits for a screen pass? Gone. The athlete who can cover 15 yards in 2.8 seconds and still deliver a pop at the line? That’s the new Will. The role has shifted from gap control to space denial. That’s not obsolescence. It’s evolution.
What Skills Do Modern Will Linebackers Need?
Three things: feet, eyes, and processing speed. You can’t teach lateral quickness. You can’t fake the ability to read offensive linemen’s hip turns. And you definitely can’t compensate for slow recognition. Combine that with enough strength to shed blocks and enough stamina to play 70 snaps a game—and you’ve got a rare breed. Suffice to say, they don’t grow on trees.
Who Are the Best Will Linebackers in the NFL Right Now?
Roquan Smith in Baltimore. Devin White in Philadelphia (when healthy). Tremaine Edmunds in Chicago. And don’t sleep on Dalton Wagner in Kansas City—a converted safety who’s playing Will in nickel and confusing quarterbacks weekly. Each brings something different. Smith’s instincts. White’s burst. Edmunds’ length. Wagner’s coverage IQ. They’re not clones. They’re solutions.
The Bottom Line
Will weak side linebacker still matter? I am convinced that he does—but not as a traditional defender. He’s now a hybrid coverage enforcer, a coverage-first athlete with enough edge rush to keep offenses honest. The job isn’t to fill gaps. It’s to erase them after they appear.
But—and this is crucial—the position will keep changing. We might not even call him a “linebacker” in five years. He might be labeled a “defensive playmaker” or just “athlete.” The name doesn’t matter. The function does.
Experts disagree on whether college programs are preparing players for this reality. Some, like Georgia and Ohio State, are developing Will backers with DB training. Others still treat the position like a gap-filler. Honestly, it is unclear how many future stars are being misdeveloped right now.
My take? Double down on speed. Prioritize coverage over pop. And stop trying to fit square pegs into round holes. The Will isn’t going away. He’s just wearing a different jersey. And that changes everything.