In the hushed war rooms of NFL front offices, where spreadsheets whisper and gut instincts scream, a quiet revolution is brewing—not with the flash of a quarterback’s arm or the thunder of an edge rusher’s sack, but with the elusive, electric cut of a running back who does more than carry the ball. Jeremiyah Love, Notre Dame’s do-it-all offensive Swiss Army knife, has become the draft’s most intriguing paradox: universally acknowledged as special, yet perpetually haunted by the ghost of positional bias that keeps elite talents like him from sliding into the top five.
This isn’t just about where Love gets picked on April 25th. It’s about whether the NFL, after years of devaluing the running back position in favor of pass-heavy schemes, is finally ready to reckon with what happens when a player transcends the label. Love isn’t merely a runner—he’s a receiver out of the backfield, a blocker in pass protection, a decoy that opens lanes for others, and a weapon that forces defenses to account for him in multiple ways. In an era where offensive coordinators are desperate for multi-dimensional threats, Love represents the ultimate answer. So why does he risk falling past the picks that would normally be reserved for generational talent?
The answer lies in a decade-long shift in how NFL teams evaluate value. Since the 2018 draft, only one running back—Saquon Barkley, selected second overall by the New York Giants—has been taken in the top five. That drought reflects a broader philosophical shift: teams began viewing running backs as interchangeable, easily replaced late in the draft or through free agency, especially as the league embraced a pass-first identity. The logic was simple: why invest a premium pick in a position with a short shelf life and high injury risk when you could draft a quarterback, edge rusher, or offensive tackle—players whose impact lasts longer and whose value is less volatile?
But as with all pendulums in sports, the swing is beginning to reverse. Defenses, having spent years prioritizing pass coverage over run defense, started leaving themselves vulnerable to creative rushing attacks. Offenses, noticing the mismatch, began reintroducing power and versatility into their backfields—not just to grind yards, but to exploit linebackers who had been trained to drop into coverage rather than shed blocks. The result? A resurgence in the value of dual-threat backs who can hurt you both on the ground and through the air.
Love embodies this evolution. At Notre Dame, he averaged 6.9 yards per carry over his career, amassed 2,498 rushing yards, and scored 40 total touchdowns. But it’s his receiving that truly sets him apart: 68 career receptions for 712 yards and five scores, including 22 catches of 20+ yards. He’s not just a threat in the flat—he can line up in the slot, run routes against linebackers and safeties, and make contested catches in traffic. That versatility is what prompted Giants GM Joe Schoen to call him “an offensive weapon,” not just a running back.
Yet even as the league begins to appreciate what players like Love offer, structural biases remain. The rookie wage scale, introduced in 2011, already limits running backs’ earning potential compared to quarterbacks or pass rushers. Now, teams are hesitant to invest early draft capital in a position where the average career length is just 2.57 years—less than half that of offensive linemen or quarterbacks, according to data from the NFL Players Association. That short window makes front offices wary, even when the talent is undeniable.
To understand where Love might land, we must look beyond the usual suspects. The Tennessee Titans, picking fourth, have shown interest—but GM Mike Borgonzi’s praise came with a caveat: he loves Love’s versatility, but the Titans also require help on the defensive line and in the secondary. The Cleveland Browns, picking fifth, have expressed admiration, with GM Andrew Berry noting Love’s resemblance to Christian McCaffrey and Jahmyr Gibbs. But Cleveland already invested heavily in Nick Chubb and Jerome Ford, and their offense is built around Deshaun Watson’s deep passing game.
Then there’s the New York Giants at five and ten—a team that traded away Saquon Barkley just three years ago, only to watch Daniel Jones struggle without a true workhorse in the backfield. Schoen’s admission that he sees Love as a weapon suggests the Giants might be ready to course-correct. But with needs at wide receiver, edge rusher, and cornerback, will they take the chance?
To gain deeper insight, I spoke with two NFL personnel executives who requested anonymity due to the sensitivity of draft discussions. One, a former scout turned analytics consultant for an AFC team, put it bluntly: “We’re not afraid of drafting Love given that he’s not good. We’re afraid because we don’t know how to pay him later. The second contract for a running back is where teams secure burned. If you take him at four, you’re locking in a fifth-year option that might not be worth exercising—and by then, you’ve missed your chance to draft a cheaper, younger version of him.”
Another, a director of player personnel for an NFC franchise, offered a more hopeful view: “The game is cycling back. When defenses load up to stop the pass, they become vulnerable to the draw, the screen, the jet sweep—all things a guy like Love excels at. We’re starting to see that in the playoffs. Teams with balanced attacks are winning. Love isn’t just a running back; he’s a mismatch creator. If you don’t take him in the top five, you’re betting that no one else will figure out how to employ him—and that’s a risky bet.”
History supports the latter view. In 2023, the Philadelphia Eagles drafted running back Jahmyr Gibbs 12th overall after trading up—a sign that even in a pass-heavy league, teams will move for elite dual-threat talent. Gibbs went on to rush for 1,000 yards and catch 50 passes in his rookie season, proving that investment in versatility pays dividends. Love’s profile is even more polished: better vision, more explosive acceleration, and superior hands out of the backfield.
the macro trends are shifting. The NFL’s competition committee recently discussed adjusting rookie wage scales to reflect positional value more accurately—a move that, if implemented, could alleviate some of the front-office hesitation around early running back picks. Meanwhile, offensive coordinators like Shane Steichen (Colts) and Kevin O’Connell (Vikings) have publicly championed the return of the “three-down back,” arguing that the position’s value was never truly diminished—just misunderstood.
So where does that depart Jeremiyah Love? Not in obscurity, but at a crossroads. He may not head first—Fernando Mendoza will almost certainly be the quarterback taken with the top pick. He may not even go in the top five, as teams weigh short-term needs against long-term value. But if he slips past those picks, it won’t be because he lacks talent. It will be because the NFL, despite glimmers of change, still struggles to fully appreciate a player who refuses to be boxed in.
The real story isn’t just about where Love gets drafted. It’s about whether the league is ready to stop asking, “Why take a running back so high?” and start asking, “Why wouldn’t we?”
As the draft approaches, Love remains the quiet constant in a room full of variables—the player everyone agrees is special, yet the one whose fate remains uncertain. And perhaps that’s the most telling sign of all: when a talent this obvious still has to fight for respect, it says less about him and more about the blind spots we’re still unwilling to see.
So here’s the question for fans, analysts, and front offices alike: If Jeremiyah Love is truly the most complete player in this draft class, what does it say about us if we let him slip?
