Ndamukong Suh: A Dominant Force Destined for Immortality
In a move that rekindles debate and admiration in equal measure, Ndamukong Suh’s name appearing on the 2025 College Football Hall of Fame ballot is more than overdue — it’s a thunderous reminder of how one man redefined what it meant to play defense in college football. Suh’s 2009 season at Nebraska wasn’t just dominant; it was mythical. He wasn’t merely better than his peers — he was a one-man apocalypse in cleats.
That season, Suh totaled 85 tackles — 24 of them for loss — and a staggering 12 sacks. But stats can’t capture the chaos he caused on every down. He collapsed pockets like sandcastles in a tide, swatted passes like flies, and demanded double and triple teams that still didn’t stop him. Offensive coordinators across the Big 12 had nightmares of #93 long after game day. Quarterbacks flinched in film rooms. Coaches rewrote playbooks just to avoid him. Suh wasn’t just a player; he was a force of nature.
His performance in the 2009 Big 12 Championship against Texas, where he recorded 12 tackles (7 for loss) and 4.5 sacks, was arguably the most dominant game by a defensive lineman in the 21st century. He single-handedly turned Heisman-hopeful Colt McCoy into a nervous shell, nearly dragging Nebraska to an improbable win. And still, Suh didn’t win the Heisman — a point of controversy that lingers like a bad referee call. The award went to Alabama’s Mark Ingram, a fine player, but not the seismic presence Suh was. The snub remains one of the Heisman committee’s most glaring embarrassments.
Suh’s critics — and there are many — point to his aggressive style, calling it dirty or excessive. But that edge, that fury, was exactly what made him great. His hits weren’t just legal; they were psychological warfare. He didn’t play to be liked. He played to dominate, and in doing so, he resurrected Nebraska’s defensive identity. Some say Suh’s style would be penalized out of existence in today’s softer, sanitized version of college football. That’s not a knock on Suh. That’s an indictment of how the game has changed.
His legacy isn’t just about tackles or trophies. Suh was a cultural reset — the rare defensive player who became appointment viewing in a quarterback-obsessed era. He turned lineman play into primetime drama. His 2009 campaign changed the calculus for how Heisman voters and NFL scouts evaluated defensive talent.
Now, as voters consider his place in the Hall of Fame, they’re not just voting on a player. They’re voting on a statement: that dominance on the defensive side of the ball deserves its rightful pedestal in the game’s mythology. Suh wasn’t perfect, but his imperfections made him more fearsome, more human — and, ironically, more legendary.
To exclude him would be to rewrite history. To enshrine him is to finally acknowledge the havoc, history, and heart that Ndamukong Suh brought to college football.
