Tush Push: A running play where after the ball is snapped to the quarterback, he pushes into the offensive line with backfield assistance. The result is usually a short yardage gain.

However, with the team that brought it into the field a few years ago, it has more often than not resulted in touchdowns. The reason is simple in its own terms while also being absolutely complicated: How the Philadelphia Eagles do it has been unstoppable, and no team has been able to replicate it successfully. So, with plans on banning the play surface time and again, it only natural for the Eagles stars to take offense. And that’s what Brandon Graham did.

The Tush Push remains fully legal under league rules. The play’s success in Philadelphia is not the result of loopholes or trickery. It is a product of personnel, biomechanics, and repetition. Jalen Hurts, with a low center of gravity and an elite offensive line, has turned fourth-and-one into a predictable outcome. Other teams have tried it and failed but that has not stopped the calls to ban it. But so far, there is no injury data to support those claims. No statistical evidence that it puts players at risk. Just frustration that one team is executing at a level others cannot match.

Graham stepped into when he joined the New Heights podcast with Jason and Travis Kelce. When asked what he thought about the push to ban the play, he didn’t hesitate. “Soft,” he said. One word. No spin.

During his guest appearance, Graham similarly used the same tactic to fire down detractors of the NFL’s most polarizing play. The defensive end is tired of hearing people complain about the play that has become Philly’s signature and every defensive coordinator’s nightmare. Jason Kelce tossed the question: “As someone who has defended quarterback sneaks, what’s your opinion on banning the Tush Push?”

Brandon didn’t flinch. “I think it’s kind of… I don’t want to say soft… but it is… Ain’t no way I will show my hands and say ‘Man you need to stop this. ‘Cause we can’t stop it.’ It’s like, no. If everybody could do it like we do, you got to have the personnel for it first. Then you got to work the technique and practice like we do. We just got a good thing that we got going… ain’t nobody got hurt on it.

“If anything, you come from under the huddle like ‘Oh man, I gotta get ready for the next one’ but that’s football. That’s what we do. It’s big grown men up front that you gotta push and if I’m not strong enough it won’t happen but we got a stronger line and I’m sorry, it’s a little soft in my opinion.” The man tried to hold back—he really did—but the truth always leaks out. Graham didn’t just defend the Tush Push. He put it in a bulletproof vest and dared the league to come for it.

His argument? Simple. If the play’s so unfair, why can’t anyone else do it? Facts. The Eagles aren’t cheating—they’re just out-muscling and out-planning the rest of the league. And that’s the real issue, isn’t it?

Teams don’t hate the Tush Push because it’s dangerous. They hate it because they can’t stop it. They hate it because Jalen Hurts looks like a human battering ram and Philly’s O-line is a steamroller disguised as five dudes in green.

“It’s a little soft in my opinion… But it gotta get voted. I hate that we’re here—on something we created—because people don’t like it. ‘Cause they can’t stop it.” That’s a mic drop with shoulder pads on.

Consider the 2023 Week 12 matchup with the Bills. Overtime. Third-and-1. Everyone in the stadium was aware of the impending event. With defensive tackles almost directly facing Jason Kelce and linebackers infiltrating, Buffalo stacked the box as if they were defending Fort Knox. And still, it made no difference.

Like a backyard warm-up, the Eagles formed a line, performed the Tush Push, and moved the chains. Jalen Hurts entered the end zone unharmed after two plays. Game over. The play didn’t just win the Eagles a game—it shattered Buffalo’s soul on national TV. That’s not just a sneak. That’s a declaration of war… and Philly always brings the bigger army.

And that right there? That’s exactly what Brandon Graham is talking about. The Tush Push doesn’t just move the ball—it breaks wills, ruins afternoons, and exposes teams that claim to be contenders. So when people start lobbying to ban it, Graham hears one thing loud and clear: excuses.

But just when you thought Brandon was all smiles and green-tinted loyalty, Travis Kelce flipped the script.

Brandon Graham calls out the real dirty play in the NFL

Travis Kelce wasn’t finished shaking things up, though. With a sly grin and a perfectly timed curveball, he flipped the question: “Let me ask you this… if you could ban one NFL offensive play—besides the Tush Push—what would it be?” Brandon Graham pondered a little and then, without hesitation, said, “Crack toss. Get that outta there.”

To most fans, the crack toss might appear to be a harmless design. It’s an outside run where a wide receiver peels back to block an edge defender while the ball carrier bounces to the perimeter. But for linemen like Graham, it represents something else entirely.

In a league where defenders are flagged for incidental contact and penalized for collisions they can’t always avoid; the crack toss quietly lives in a gray area. It allows offensive skill players to weaponize motion and alignment to deliver blindside hits, often without consequence.

Graham didn’t just name a play—he called out a long-standing pain point. And he wasn’t speaking from theory. He was speaking from experience. “I tell my boys—hit me in my face,” Graham added.

What Graham is pointing to is a structural imbalance in how contact is regulated in today’s NFL. Defensive players are constantly under scrutiny. A late hit on a quarterback, even by a fraction of a second, draws a flag. Lower your head while tackling, and a fine is almost guaranteed.

Yet offensive players, especially receivers, are often granted more leeway. When they operate as pseudo-pulling guards in plays like the crack toss or orbit motion wham blocks, they’re given space and timing to blindside defenders—often at vulnerable angles and without the same level of oversight.

Schematically, the crack toss remains a staple in certain outside zone and wide zone offenses. Teams like the 49ers and Dolphins have found creative ways to embed it within motion-heavy looks, using sleek pre-snap movement to mask violence at the point of attack. The deception lies in the contrast—the finesse of motion disguises the force of impact. That’s what makes the play so difficult to diagnose and defend, and so dangerous to absorb.

What Graham is really pointing out is the league’s inconsistent lens on safety. The Tush Push gets scrutiny because it’s visible, repeatable, and uniquely effective, especially when one team runs it better. Crack toss, on the other hand, flies under the radar. It puts defenders in vulnerable positions, uses motion to mask contact, and rarely draws flags. For a league that claims to prioritize player health, Graham’s gripe isn’t just personal. It’s a challenge to look past the headlines and examine which plays are actually putting bodies at risk.