Can You Pass the Football More Than Once? Rules and Strategies Explained

After a decade and a half, University of Santo Tomas is back in the UAAP juniors basketball finals. That headline caught my eye this morning, a stark reminder of how long it can take for a program to rebuild, to find its rhythm again. Fifteen years. It got me thinking about rhythm, about flow, and the fundamental rules that govern it—not just on the hardwood, but on the gridiron, too. It’s a question I’ve heard from new fans more times than I can count, one that seems simple but opens up a world of strategic depth: Can you pass the football more than once? The short, unequivocal answer is no, not in the traditional sense of a forward pass. In American football, once the ball has been thrown forward past the line of scrimmage, that play is over for aerial advancement. That one forward pass is a precious, non-renewable resource on any given down. But, as any seasoned observer knows, the real magic and complexity lie in everything that happens around that single, pivotal throw.

Let’s rewind to that UST story for a second. Fifteen years out of the finals is a long drought. It speaks to cycles, to rebuilding, and to the patience required to develop a winning system. Football strategy operates on similar cycles of possession and opportunity. You get one forward pass per play. That’s it. If it’s incomplete, intercepted, or the quarterback is sacked before releasing it, that option is gone. This rule creates an immense pressure point. It forces coaches and quarterbacks to be decisive, to read defenses in a split second, and to make that one attempt count. It’s why the quarterback position is so glorified and so scrutinized; the weight of that single opportunity rests squarely on their shoulders. I’ve always found this limitation beautiful in a way. It’s not a free-flowing game like basketball, where you can pass the ball around the perimeter endlessly. It’s a game of explosive, calculated strikes.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting. While you can’t throw two forward passes, the rulebook absolutely allows for multiple lateral or backward passes behind the line of scrimmage. This is the often-overlooked cousin of the main event. Laterals—tossing the ball sideways or backwards—are live balls. They can be picked up by the other team and advanced, making them a high-risk, high-reward tool. We see this most famously in desperate, last-second plays like the “Stanford Band” play or various hook-and-ladder attempts. But strategically, it’s a broader concept. Think of a screen pass: the quarterback makes that one legal forward pass to a receiver behind the line, who then immediately laterals to another player racing across the field. It’s a single forward pass action that sets up a secondary lateral, creating a layered attack. My personal favorite is the flea-flicker, a masterpiece of misdirection. The ball is handed off, then lateraled back to the quarterback, who then unleashes the one allowable deep forward pass to a hopefully wide-open receiver. It’s a two-act play built on one forward pass, and when it works, it’s pure poetry.

This brings me back to the idea of rhythm that the UST headline sparked. A basketball team builds rhythm through passes, through motion, through multiple scoring options on a single possession. Football builds rhythm differently—through the succession of plays, the mix of run and pass, and the occasional, brilliant use of laterals to extend a play horizontally. The rule limiting forward passes isn’t a hindrance; it’s the foundation of the sport’s strategic architecture. It’s why play-action is so effective, why a good running game is essential to open up the pass, and why a defensive line’s ability to pressure the quarterback is paramount. They’re all fighting over the timing and execution of that one precious throw.

So, when someone asks, “Can you pass the football more than once?” I tell them this: You get one shot to advance the ball through the air downfield. That’s the rule. But the art of the game is in everything you do to make that one shot count—the fakes, the laterals, the route combinations, and the protection schemes. It’s a sport of single opportunities meticulously engineered, much like a sports program grinding for years to earn one shot at a championship. After fifteen long years, UST has its shot in the finals again. In football, you have to make yours count every single down. The clock is always ticking, the defense is always coming, and that one forward pass is the key that unlocks everything. Mastering its use, and the deception around it, is what separates the good teams from the legendary ones.