Showing posts with label 1967. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1967. Show all posts

Sunday, December 31, 2017

Half a Century Since the Ice Bowl



"I'm going to take a bite of my coffee."

Frank Gifford, CBS color commentator

I have written here before of the legendary Ice Bowl of 1967. I am a lifelong student of history so I often write in my blogs about historic events — but my policy has been not to write about events I have written about before.

As my grandfather would say, I don't like to chew my cabbage twice.

But today is the 50th anniversary of that NFL championship game played between the Dallas Cowboys and the Green Bay Packers at Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisc., and on this milestone occasion, it deserves more than a cursory examination.

The game got its moniker from the extreme conditions in which it was played. The game-time temperature was about –15°. Under standards in use at the time, the wind chill was –48°. (National Weather Service standards have since been revised; under those standards, the wind chill would be a comparatively balmy –36°.)

Lambeau Field had a heating system installed beneath the playing surface, which was supposed to keep it in good condition in inclement weather, but the system failed. When the tarp was removed before game time, moisture was left on the field that froze instantly.

That gave rise to the rumor that Green Bay coach Vince Lombardi had manipulated the system in some way so that the brunt of the conditions would be more difficult on the visitors from Texas than the hometown Packers. That rumor was fueled by the perception that Dallas' players were more athletic than the aging Packers.

But it wasn't just the weather that contributed to the game's almost mythical status. In the few short years of the Cowboys' existence, the teams had developed a rivalry that persists to this day, which included a down–to–the–wire battle in Dallas for the NFL championship the year before. That added to the drama going into the game; it was punctuated by a thrilling conclusion.

Once, when I was working on the sports desk of the Denton, Texas newspaper, the sports editor and I had lunch with a friend of his — sportscaster Bill Mercer, a local icon who covered the Ice Bowl for Dallas radio station KLIF. My memory of that lunch conversation is that Mercer was a virtual walking encyclopedia of North Texas sports history. Much of it he had witnessed personally — and much of it focused on the Ice Bowl.

Now retired and living on the East Coast, Mercer reflected on the game for a new documentary about it.

"I can still see that game in my mind," Mercer said. "I'm 91 years old now and it's like it was yesterday. ... I can imagine it's going to go on and on. That game will live forever."

In such brutal weather, many myths gained traction. If they weren't entirely true, they had at least a nugget of truth in them — unlike the allegations about Lombardi.

Most of those allegations were made in jest, though. Even Lombardi's players joked about Vince's influence on the weather and the field conditions.

"I figure Lombardi got on his knees to pray for cold weather," said Green Bay defensive tackle Henry Jordan, "and stayed down too long."

The Packers and Cowboys brought decidedly different histories into the game.

The Packers had been fixtures in the National Football League for nearly half a century. They were two–time defending NFL champions and winners of more NFL championships than any other franchise.

The Cowboys began as an expansion team in 1960, but Dallas coach Tom Landry built them into Super Bowl contenders in less than a decade.

And they had plenty of motivation to win this time. They lost the NFL championship game the previous year in Dallas to those same Packers.

Adding to the intrigue was the fact that Lombardi and Landry had served together on Jim Lee Howell's New York Giants coaching staff in the 1950s.

Dallas had not played in Green Bay since its first year of existence. When the Cowboys arrived in Green Bay a couple of days before the game, the temperature was in the 50s, and quarterback Don Meredith mugged for the cameras, cupping his hands and saying the championship game was going to be "easy money."

The Cowboys knew a cold front was coming, but it was not expected until after the game was over.

It wasn't the first time meteorologists got it wrong.

The Packers scored first, capping a nine–minute drive with an eight–yard touchdown pass from Bart Starr to Boyd Dowler in the first quarter.

The conditions seemed to have put the Dallas offense in the deep freeze as it continued sputtering, but the Packers kept rolling.

In the second quarter, Green Bay took a 14–0 lead when Starr hit Dowler for another touchdown, this time from 46 yards.

It looked like the Cowboys were in trouble. In fact, it looked like the Cowboys would rather be anywhere else than Green Bay. As cold as it was, who could blame them?

And, indeed, the offense continued to struggle against the Packers' defense.

But now the Packers' offense began to struggle, too.

Later in the second quarter, as Starr went back to pass, the Cowboys' pass rush trapped him behind the line and stripped him of the ball. George Andrie picked it up and ran seven yards for a touchdown, cutting the deficit in half with about four minutes remaining before intermission.

After recovering a fumbled punt on Green Bay's end of the field with less than two minutes to play, the Cowboys added a field goal.

In keeping with the freakish nature of the game, Dallas did not get a single first down in the second quarter yet scored 10 points and trailed by only four at halftime.

The Cowboys' offense performed much better in the third quarter but still failed to generate a touchdown. The Packers were the ones who were sputtering, and the third period was scoreless. Going into the final quarter, Green Bay still led 14–10.

That would soon change.

On a halfback option, Dan Reeves hit Lance Rentzel for a 50–yard touchdown strike, and Dallas had its first lead of the game 17–14 with only eight seconds gone from the final period.

Finally staked to a lead, the Dallas defense appeared to have new life while the Green Bay offense seemed to have none.

The score remained 17–14 until the game was nearly over.

With just under five minutes to go, the Packers fielded a punt and started their final offensive possession of the game at their own 32. Field conditions were deteriorating by the minute.

All things considered, the Packers' effort in that final drive may never be matched in terms of execution or heroism.

The drive seemed to stall in the final minute with the Packers in the shadow of the Cowboys' goal post. Green Bay called its last timeout with 16 seconds remaining and the Packers a yard away from the end zone on fourth down.

Green Bay could have kicked a field goal and hoped to win the game in overtime. That would have been in character for Lombardi, who was not known as a gambler — in fact, he was noted for saying that "everybody loves a gambler until he loses" — and the field goal certainly would have been the conservative option. But apparently, it was never seriously considered.

"I didn't figure all those people up there in the stands could take the cold for an overtime game," Lombardi said. There was probably more to it than that, but he told Starr to take it in for the touchdown. And he did.

Fullback Chuck Mercein, a late–season acquisition for the Packers, played a key role in the winning drive — and is the person you can see with his hands raised in the photos of Starr after he scored the winning touchdown (he is number 30 in the photo at the top of this post).

Many people assume Mercein was signaling that Starr had scored, but he said he was trying to show the referees that he hadn't pushed Starr into the end zone. That would have resulted in a penalty, and the Packers almost surely would have had to settle for a field goal.

"I realized that was a singular moment in my career," Mercein, who made some important gains to set up Starr's game–winning play, said. "It means more to me because I was able to pay it forward, the faith that Vince Lombardi had in me. There were plenty of other backs he could have picked up. Seldom does it happen where you can repay someone for their faith in you."

For half a century the Ice Bowl has remained vivid in memories and no doubt would continue to do so with little help, but Meredith's son Michael, who was only a few months old when his father played in the game, has made a film about it that premiered recently on the NFL Network.

Sadly there is no known complete copy of the Ice Bowl telecast in existence. Radio broadcasts do still exist, including the one of Mercer calling the game for KLIF. Meredith used video clips that do exist and interviews with participants to tell the story.

That should heat up those memories of an already memorable day.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

The First Super Bowl



Super Bowl Sunday is firmly established as perhaps the biggest social event of any year.

It's so well established, in fact, that it is almost certainly difficult for most people to imagine a time when there was no Super Bowl. But there was.

The first Super Bowl was played 45 years ago today. It wasn't called the Super Bowl at the time. It was generally known as the AFL–NFL World Championship Game; some media reports called it the Supergame. Later on, Kansas City Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt came up with the name it is known by today — Super Bowl.

But that's another story.

What it was, actually, was the Establishment vs. the Upstarts. The Establishment was the NFL, appropriately represented by the Green Bay Packers — who, incidentally, will be hosting the New York Giants in the playoffs later today. The Upstarts, the AFL teams, had only existed for a few years, but, like a presidential challenger who is given an opportunity to stand on a level playing field as the president's equal in a debate, they were eager to make the most of it.

Unfortunately for the AFL's representatives, the Chiefs, things never really went their way. That didn't surprise most people. The Packers came into the game as 14–point favorites and exceeded expectations with a 25–point margin of victory.

I guess it goes without saying that a lot of things have changed in 45 years. That's probably a classic understatement applicable to any time, any year in recorded history, and it's certainly true of the Super Bowl.

The game that was played 45 years ago today really bore little resemblance to the spectacle that the Super Bowl has become. The difference in the name is probably the least of the changes.

In fact, if a football fan could be magically transported back to January 1967, that fan would be in for quite a case of culture shock.

Oh, to be sure, it would look like the same game in many ways — same field dimensions, same rules (mostly), same uniforms (although their designs as well as their construction certainly have changed).

The first thing a modern fan probably would notice would be an absence of hype surrounding that first Super Bowl. It was really more of a curiosity. I mean, everyone just knew that the NFL's team would beat the AFL's team. The superiority of the NFL was obvious. Nearly all of the best college football players went on to play for NFL teams.

At that time, I think the only truly high–profile college player who had signed with an AFL team was Joe Namath — and Namath did go on to win an early Super Bowl, legitimizing the league in the eyes of many. But that was still in the future on this day in 1967.

Super Bowl I was unique in other ways.
  • It is the only Super Bowl to be broadcast on two TV networks, NBC and CBS. NBC had the rights to AFL games; CBS had the rights to NFL games.

    Subsequent Super Bowl broadcast rights have been granted to only one network each year, although the network has varied depending upon the arrangement. Forty–five years ago, it was decided that the best solution was to permit both networks to carry the game.

  • Very little video footage from that first Super Bowl survives to this day, even though two networks carried it.

    There was a broadcasting procedure at the time called wiping, in which videotape of a previous program was taped over. Usually — but not always — this was done with tapes of programs that weren't expected to have much value in the future.

    It is, perhaps, indicative of just how low expectations for the game were that both networks chose to recycle their videotapes instead of preserving them.

  • Considering how difficult it is to acquire tickets to a Super Bowl today, it certainly would surprise some modern fans to know that the very first Super Bowl was not a sellout.

    It was still possible on game day to walk up to the Los Angeles Coliseum, where the game was played, and pay $12 for admission to the game. Those were the days, huh?

Monday, March 22, 2010

When Ali Was in His Prime ...



It probably goes without saying that Muhammad Ali was a controversial figure — both inside the ring and out.

He was brash and cocky, unorthodox in his style, earning the derisive nickname "The Louisville Lip" for his prefight poems, some of which predicted the round in which his opponent would fall. But even his critics had to admit that he backed up his boasts. After winning a gold medal at the 1960 Summer Olympics, he compiled a professional record of 56–5, including wins over the most respected fighters of his time. And he became the first man to win the heavyweight championship three times — the first while he was still fighting under his birth name of Cassius Clay — a name he gave up when he converted to Islam.

Ali was barely 22 when he beat Sonny Liston to become heavyweight champion for the first time in February 1964. At the time, he was the youngest heavyweight champion of all time, and he held that designation for more than 20 years — until Mike Tyson won the title in 1986.

After beating Liston, he announced that was a member of the Nation of Islam, which was frequently called the Black Muslims in those days. That caused quite a backlash in America, and it is fair to say that Ali, who had already polarized many boxing fans and journalists, became even more of a lightning rod.

He was in his prime as a fighter, and he went on to successfully defend his title nine times in the next three years, winning all but two by knockout or technical knockout — including a rematch with Liston, who was still widely regarded as the most fearsome fighter on the planet.

Then, about a month after he defeated Zora Folley on this day in 1967, Ali was stripped of his title for refusing to be inducted into the military and fight in the Vietnam War. I've heard — but I can't positively confirm — that he said, "No Viet Cong ever called me a nigger" to justify his opposition to the war. He didn't box again until 1970.

He was a different fighter when he returned to the ring — he was nearly 29 when he fought Jerry Quarry in the first of two warmup fights for the "Fight of the Century" against the champ, Joe Frazier, in March 1971.

He was still talented, but he was past his prime, and he had to depend on his wits more than he did before he was stripped of his title. He lost to Frazier, but he won the rematch before pulling off an amazing upset of George Foreman in the "Rumble in the Jungle" to reclaim the crown in 1974.

After regaining the championship, Ali brought boxing back to the masses. Instead of having his fights carried only on closed–circuit TV — the pay–per–view of his time — Ali defended his title nearly a dozen times after defeating Foreman, and most of those title defenses were carried on network television.

In February 1978, at the age of 36, he lost the title in the ring to 24–year–old Leon Spinks, then won it for a third time with a unanimous 15–round decision over Spinks later that year. It was Ali's last victory.

But on this day in 1967, against Folley, Ali was still a young boxer in his prime.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The Ice Bowl



Thursday will be 42 years since the Green Bay Packers played the Dallas Cowboys in the NFL title game that is known to pro football history as the "Ice Bowl."

If you aren't old enough to remember it, it may be hard to understand why people still regard it as one of the greatest games — if not the greatest game — ever played. I guess the only answer is: The Ice Bowl had it all. It combined everything that football fans love about football — legendary coaches and players, adverse weather conditions, championship stakes, a young but percolating rivalry between the teams and their fans, topped off by a dramatic game–winning drive in the final minutes.

I've always enjoyed the account of the game–winning play in the best–selling 1967 season diary of guard Jerry Kramer, "Instant Replay."
"The ground was giving me trouble, the footing was bad near the goal line, but I dug my cleats in, got a firm hold with my right foot, and we got down in position, and Bart [Starr] called the 'hut' signal. I came off the ball as fast as I ever have in my life. I came off as fast as anyone could. In fact, I wouldn't swear that I didn't beat the center's snap by a fraction of a second. I wouldn't swear that I wasn't actually offside on the play.

"I slammed into Jethro [Pugh] hard. All he had time to do was raise his left arm. He didn't even get it up all the way and I charged into him. His body was a little high, the way we'd noticed in the movies, and, with [center Ken] Bowman's help, I moved him outside. Willie Townes, next to Jethro, was down low, very low. He was supposed to come in low and close to the middle. He was low, but he didn't close. He might have filled the hole, but he didn't, and Bart churned into the opening and stretched and fell and landed over the goal line. It was the most beautiful sight in the world, seeing Bart lying next to me and seeing the referee in front of me, his arms over his head, signaling the touchdown. There were 13 seconds to play."


Jerry Kramer
Instant Replay

I was merely a young boy when the game was played, but the Packers of those days turned me into a Green Bay fan for life. I still have vivid memories of watching Vince Lombardi walk the Green Bay sidelines, although I have few memories of anything else from that time — except perhaps the summer evening about seven months later when my grandfather taught me how to cast from the banks of an east Texas lake and, to both his surprise and mine, I caught a fish.

But that's another story.