Carson Palmer and the no huddle offense

If you're even an average NFL fan, you've seen Denver Bronco's Peyton Manning (new Arizona Cardinals head coach Bruce Arians was his QB instructor in Indy) in the "hurry up" or "no huddle" offense. And for most seasoned viewers, it's a thing of beauty with him checking out the current defenders - seeing how they might be blitzing, stunting, shifting and with basically no defensive player changing because of the possible quick snap - able to maximize his current offensive formation against what should be (if used in same football drive) weary defenders that have no indication of when the ball will be snapped.

But if you're not up to speed with the no huddle offense and it's intricacies, it might look like Manning is either trying to glide a wayward plane down to the airstrip or he's a crazy pelican with rabies. Or maybe both.

And that's where new Arizona Cardinals quarterback Carson Palmer comes in. He's been renowned for running the less than 40 second interval between plays rather well in both of his playing stops in Cincinnati and Oakland. He has a quick football mind and experience that can read a defense and change a play accordingly. His new boss, Arians (who has plainly stated he WILL be the one calling in plays other than OC Harold Goodwin or offensive head assistant Tom Moore) balked at his former QB, Steelers Ben Rothlisberger running the quirky, mostly effective, offense when he was OC in Pittsburgh. Yet, last season when Arians was the defacto coach in Indianapolis, rookie QB Andrew Luck was given free reign, when designated, to make his own calls in the hurry up.

So which shall it be?

Like most answers to a question, compromise will probably rule. You can't run a hurry up all the time because it limits your formations and tires your OL just as well. Nonetheless, it can be a timely game tactic when used properly. It provides a nice change of pace and can give your running game a lift with a quick, inside handoff, as well.

And if nothing else, Palmer can look like an rabid, endangered SeaChicken. (Well, at least one that's over 6 foot tall.)