By Greg Doyel

Not so long ago in the NFL, big was big enough.

That was a reminder -- and an omen and even a warning -- from the Hall of Fame induction ceremony this weekend at Canton, Ohio

Rayfield Wright, a 2006 Hall of Famer, was the premier offensive tackle of the 1970s with Dallas. He was 6-foot-6, 255 pounds. That was big then. It's big now.

But now, big isn't big enough. Not in the NFL, where the typical offensive tackle is 6-7, 330 pounds. Roughly 25 years after Wright's time, the Cowboys project their 2006 starting tackles as 6-7, 340-pound Flozell Adams and 6-8, 320-pound Marc Colombo. What's coming in another 25 years? A series of 400-pound monsters?

Once upon a time, a defensive end like the Vikings' Carl Eller could have a Hall of Fame career -- Class of 2004 -- at 6-6, 252 pounds. Eller was considered so massive that he was nicknamed "The Moose." Nowadays, a 252-pound defensive end is more muskrat than moose. And he's not a defensive end, anyway. He's a linebacker.

Bigger is better in the NFL, even when bigger gets players hurt. Or killed. Korey Stringer isn't dead because the Vikings practiced in the low-90s heat of August 2001. He's dead because the Vikings practiced in the low-90s heat ... and because he was 6-4, 340 pounds. He was 2 inches shorter than Rayfield Wright, but nearly 100 pounds heavier.

Cleveland center LeCharles Bentley isn't missing the 2006 season because of bad luck or a dirty blow. He's missing it because the human knee isn't meant to support nearly 700 pounds of immense force. Bentley, Cleveland's $36 million offseason present to itself, was hurt while taking on defensive tackle Ted Washington. Bentley is 6-2, 309 pounds; Washington is 6-5, 365. The injury Bentley suffered, a torn patellar tendon, is uncommon because the patellar tendon is so strong. It happens in car crashes. And sumo standoffs.

"I hope guys don't get any bigger," says 2006 Hall of Famer Harry Carson, a linebacker. "Medically it becomes unhealthy for guys that big to be involved in a sport like football."

Retirement is no rescue. Another 2006 Hall of Famer, 325-pound lineman Reggie White, was inducted posthumously. White, who suffered from sleep apnea and sarcoidosis, died in 2004. He was 43.

A recent Scripps Howard study found that among former NFL players, the heaviest are more than twice as likely to die before age 50. Additionally, linemen were found to be 52 percent more likely than the general population to die from heart disease -- which killed 315-pound 49ers lineman Thomas Herrion last year. He was 23.

Who says size matters anyway? Look at four of the other 15 finalists for this year's Hall. They were great players. But not great big players. Not by today's standards.

· Bob Kuechenberg, a guard for the Dolphins from 1970-84, was 6-2, 253. The 2006 Dolphins have six guards on the roster. Average size: 6-4, 323. In height, that's a modest 3 percent increase. Weight? A monstrous 28 percent jump.

Claude Humphrey, a defensive end from 1968-81, weighed 252 pounds. L.C. Greenwood, another end from that era, was 245. Today that's a fullback.

Russ Grimm, a guard for the Redskins, was 6-3, 273 on a fabled line with George Starke, Joe Jacoby, Jeff Bostic and Mark May. Average weight: 276 pounds. Back then they were called "the Hogs." Today they'd be called "high-school sized."

Part of the NFL's super-sizing makes sense. Athletes are bigger across the board, in baseball and basketball, too. Dr. Marcus Elliott, whose "P3: Peak Performance Project" in California helps train almost 100 world-class athletes, says NFL players are bigger for a variety of reasons, most legitimate.

"We're seeing harder training in the offseason, and we have a much larger pool of athletes now because the financial incentive from playing football is so great," said Elliott, who works with the NFL using cutting-edge science to make better athletes and reduce their injury risk.

"No question, anabolic steroids have helped a significant number of players get bigger. But even without drugs, guys who played at 250 pounds 20 years ago, those guys with the same genetics would probably play at 315 today."

If only they'd stop there. In Cincinnati, Sam Adams is on the physically unable to perform list because at 6-3, 350, he's too heavy. In Buffalo, former Lions No. 1 pick Aaron Gibson is still trying to resurrect his career after being cut in 2001 because he was too slow. Back then he weighed almost 400 pounds. Now he's listed at 375. In Philadelphia, Shawn Andrews is 355 pounds, down from the 390 he was carrying a few months ago, but still too heavy.

Nowhere is veteran Gilbert Brown, who at 35 isn't too old ... but at 350-plus pounds is too heavy. He wanted to come out of retirement but found no takers.

So maybe, mercifully, the NFL is coming to its senses. Or maybe it's just Indianapolis. While slow-moving brontosauruses roam elsewhere, the Colts have 6-1, 268-pound Dwight Freeney at one defensive end and 6-2, 245-pound Robert Mathis at the other. That's the smallest end tandem in the league. And the most productive.

So get it straight, NFL: Bigger isn't better. Bigger is dumber. And potentially deadlier.