Michael Strahan on Myles Garrett Breaking His Sack Record and His Mt. Rushmore of Defensive Ends.

Michael Strahan on Sack Records, Old-School Football, and Why Dominating the Run Always Mattered More Than the Stats

Michael Strahan has nothing left to prove.

He’s a Super Bowl champion, a Hall of Famer, the longtime single-season sack leader, and one of the most recognizable former defensive players in NFL history. Yet when Strahan talks about football, the conversation rarely stays focused on numbers. Instead, it drifts toward toughness, pride, preparation, and the quiet standard he always held himself to — never embarrassing himself in front of his teammates.

That mindset was on full display during a recent wide-ranging interview in which Strahan reflected on modern defensive schemes, sack records old and new, and what truly defined greatness for him as a defensive end.

“Just Let Me Beat the Tackle”

The conversation began with a discussion about aggressive defensive coordinator Steve Spagnuolo and his creative blitz packages — zero blitzes, zone pressures, and exotic looks designed to confuse quarterbacks.

From a defensive lineman’s perspective, however, Strahan made his preference clear.

“Don’t have me slanting and angling,” he said with a laugh. “Just let me beat the crap out of this tackle right here.”

Strahan admitted he was never a fan of dropping into coverage or running elaborate stunts. While he was willing to do whatever the system required, his heart was always in rushing the passer — and even more so, in stopping the run.

“I hated dropping,” he said bluntly. “Why are you dropping the best pass rushers and letting these little light dudes run in there and get rejected like they got fake IDs?”

The humor masked a deeper philosophy. For Strahan, football was about survival, willpower, and imposing yourself physically on the man across from you.

The Joy of Playing the Run

Perhaps the most surprising revelation was Strahan’s admission that he loved defending the run even more than rushing the passer — a rarity among elite edge rushers.

“It was toughness,” he explained. “It was inserting your will. I wanted to look in your eye and see if you wanted to be there or not. I wanted to take your soul.”

For Strahan, every snap was a personal confrontation. He approached the game with a simple rule: when the film was reviewed the next day, he would not be embarrassed in front of his teammates.

That standard, he said, fueled his consistency more than any pursuit of sacks or accolades.

A “Regular Sunday” Against Greg Olsen

Former NFL tight end Greg Olsen once told a story about his “welcome to the NFL” moment — lining up against Strahan early in his career and getting physically overwhelmed on a power run.

Strahan laughed when reminded of the play.

“I don’t remember it,” he said. “That was just a regular Sunday.”

The indifference wasn’t arrogance; it was routine. Strahan credited much of that mindset to his first NFL defensive line coach, Earl Leggett, who drilled technique into him relentlessly.

Leggett had one rule: if a tight end blocked you, you should be ashamed.

“That made every tight end I lined up against salivate,” Strahan said — including himself. “I knew I had to embarrass him.”

Sack Records and the Bubba Baker Debate

Strahan also addressed the ongoing discussion surrounding sack records, including Myles Garrett surpassing his single-season mark in the modern 17-game era.

Strahan offered nothing but praise for Garrett, calling the achievement “unbelievable” and giving him full credit.

But when the conversation turned to claims that Al “Bubba” Baker may have recorded more sacks during his rookie season in 1978 — before sacks were officially tracked — Strahan was skeptical.

“My question is,” he said, “what would Michael Strahan be doing to an offensive lineman in 1978?”

Still, Strahan emphasized that his dispute wasn’t about protecting his own legacy. Instead, it stemmed from respect for the players he grew up admiring — legends like Bruce Smith, Reggie White, Chris Doleman, Dexter Manley, and Charles Mann.

He recalled Deacon Jones, the originator of the term “sack,” swearing he once had 100 in a single season.

“My ears are ringing just hearing his name,” Strahan joked.

The 100-Sack Club

Among those legends, Bruce Smith remains especially close to Strahan. Smith, who unofficially formed the “100-sack club,” often brought together pass rushers who reached the milestone during Super Bowl week.

Strahan shared one of Smith’s classic jokes.

“I was going to do a 200-sack club,” Smith once said, “but I didn’t want to be here by myself.”

The story highlighted both the camaraderie and humor that defined the fraternity of elite pass rushers.

Mount Rushmore of Defensive Ends

Asked to name his Mount Rushmore of defensive ends, Strahan didn’t hesitate to include Bruce Smith and Reggie White. He also named Myles Garrett as a modern standard-bearer.

As for himself?

“I’ll put myself honestly in the top two or three all-around defensive ends ever,” Strahan said — not as a boast, but as a statement of balance. “I played the run as well as the pass.”

That distinction mattered to him. Greatness, in his eyes, wasn’t about chasing quarterbacks at the expense of fundamentals.

A Late Start That Shaped a Career

Strahan’s confidence is even more striking given how late he started playing football. He grew up in Germany and didn’t play the sport seriously until age 17.

He received just one college scholarship — to Texas Southern University — after his father insisted it was guaranteed.

“He was always a ‘when,’ not an ‘if’ guy,” Strahan said.

That mindset carried him through college and into the NFL, where he initially relied on raw athleticism. It wasn’t until years later that he truly learned the game — studying formations, tendencies, and technique.

“I was always behind,” he admitted. “But it kept me interested.”

Hard Work Then vs. Now

Strahan contrasted the brutal practices of his era — Texas heat, endless gassers, reused cleats — with today’s sports science and load management.

“If you’ve never pushed yourself to the extremes,” he said, “how do you really know how far you can go?”

For Strahan, hard work was transformative. The harder he trained and studied, the slower the game became.

By the end of his career, football felt easier — not because it demanded less, but because he understood more.

A Legacy Beyond Stats

Today, Strahan feels better physically than he did when he retired. More importantly, he remains deeply connected to the game.

Looking back, his legacy isn’t defined by one sack record or a number etched into history. It’s defined by consistency, toughness, and the quiet pride of knowing he never took a play off.

“I got really lucky,” he said.

Given everything he endured — and everything he built — it’s hard to believe luck had much to do with it.