Bubba Smith Dies

---

---

Hearing the news today that Bubba Smith is dead brought back a childhood memory.

And it isn't a memory of his role in the "Police Academy" movies — which, actually, came along after I graduated from college.

The Associated Press quoted authorities as saying the death did not appear to be suspicious, but the cause is not yet known. Smith was 66.

When I was a child, Smith may have been the most feared defensive player in football. At 6'7" and 265 pounds, he was often the example that was cited whenever someone wanted to make the most extreme comparison someone could make regarding size (i.e., "He's as big as Bubba Smith").

Those are impressive numbers today, but even a casual football fan could probably name, off the top of his head, several current players who are both taller and heavier. Size and talent do not always go hand in hand, and not all of them would be All–Pro players, but Smith was.

Don't get me wrong. Size has always been important in football, but before Smith came along, teams actively sought more of a balance between athleticism and size in their linemen.

Smith played in something of a transitional period. He was a blend of immovable object and irresistible force when more and more linemen — on both sides of the ball — were content simply to be immovable objects.

My childhood memory is of something of an offhand joke that my father made when I was in my football card collector period. One afternoon, I had purchased a couple of packs of football cards (I guess I would have been about 9 or 10).

I opened them in the car on the way home, and a card of Bubba Smith was in one of them. I told my father.

"I got Bubba Smith!" I exclaimed (or something similar).

"Do you get two cards for him?" my father asked and chuckled at his own joke.

You had to be crafty to play the line in those days. You couldn't just get away with being big. You had to be clever. And you had to have a lot of confidence in yourself.

I was reminded today of a great story about Smith from back in the days when the college all–stars played the defending Super Bowl champs in the game that kicked off the NFL's preseason schedule.

As an All–American at Michigan State, Smith played against Bart Starr and the Green Bay Packers in that exhibition game on Aug. 4, 1967. Early in the game, he burst through the line and tackled Starr in the backfield (I'm not sure if they were calling that a "sack" yet).

When the play was over, Smith said to Starr, "All night long, old man, all night long. Big Bubba's gonna be right here on top of you all night long."

Actually, Green Bay offensive lineman Jerry Kramer recalled in his account of the 1967 NFL season, Smith never got to Starr again. Kramer wrote that he was impressed with Smith's quickness but said he had trouble using his hands and, once Kramer adjusted, Smith posed no problems for him.

Smith was just a college player at the time, though, and it wasn't long before, as a member of an astonishingly talented Baltimore Colts team, he played in the Super Bowl himself, losing to Joe Namath and the New York Jets.

Two years later, he was a member of the Colts' only Super Bowl–winning team in the 20th century, but he refused to wear the ring he received for participating in Super Bowl V. The game was so sloppy (nearly a dozen turnovers) that he felt embarrassed to wear it.

(It is ironic, I suppose, that, on the 40th anniversary of that game last January, I wondered on this blog if Smith's survivors would put the ring on his finger before he was buried. Maybe the only way we will know is if the ring surfaces on Ebay or something like that.)

Smith is enshrined in the College Football Hall of Fame, but he is not in Pro Football's Hall of Fame. Perhaps one day he will be.

One of his teammates on those Baltimore Colts teams, tight end John Mackey, was inducted into the Hall of Fame nearly 20 years ago and, ironically, died just last month.

There aren't many tight ends in the Hall of Fame, but one, Shannon Sharpe, will be inducted this weekend.

In all, seven individuals will be inducted into the Hall of Fame. Some of them, like Sharpe, will be quite familiar to modern fans; others (Les Richter and Chris Hanburger) are remembered by few. At least one (filmmaker Ed Sabol) never played the game.

Bubba Smith will not be one of the inductees — but, if there is any justice, one day (perhaps one day soon) he will be.

He just won't be around to see it.

The Stupor Bowl

---

---

In the early years of the Super Bowl, the winner tended to be known pretty early in the game.

Sometimes the score alone told you how lopsided the game had been. Sometimes the score appeared to be competitive, but if you had watched the game, you knew how deceptive that kind of appearance could be.

Super Bowl V, which was played between the Baltimore Colts and the Dallas Cowboys on this day in Miami 40 years ago, went right down to the wire.

I don't remember if I knew the Super Bowl would be played that day. I probably did. I was collecting football cards in those days, and I may have known.

But if I did know it was Super Bowl Sunday, I probably expected to watch the game with my father and maybe a few of the neighborhood kids, with whom I recall playing a game of touch football on our country road upon my family's return from church.

In those days, Super Bowls, like more than 90% of pro football games at that time, were played during the daylight hours. I don't remember what time the game began, but you can tell, in the attached clip, that the sun was shining brightly when Jim O'Brien's last–second field goal won the game for Baltimore so my best guess is that the game must have kicked off around 1 or 2 p.m. Central time.

My father was a college professor, and on that day, some of his students came over. In hindsight, I can only presume that my parents invited them over. My father had recently purchased a color television, and I guess he wanted to show it off a little.

At the time, though, I'm not sure what I thought. My brother and I were acquainted with many of my father's students. They had been to our home before to help my father landscape our property.

My father taught religion which required him to be ordained; as such, he sometimes performed the marriage ceremonies for his students, and it seems to me that perhaps one or two of the couples he married were there that day.

Perhaps my mother served snacks to the visitors, but I have no memory of that. I certainly don't remember anything like a party, just a group of people gathered in our living room to watch the football game. It wasn't a terribly large living room, either.

The neighborhood kids and I joined my parents and the guests to watch the game, which was sloppy but close. How sloppy was it? The two teams combined for nearly a dozen turnovers, setting a Super Bowl record. Seven of those turnovers were made by the winning team, setting a record for a winning squad. The Cowboys committed 10 penalties, yet another record.

Most of the time, the Super Bowl MVP award goes to an offensive player — often a quarterback although it has sometimes gone to a running back or a wide receiver. In fact, the first four Super Bowl MVPs were all quarterbacks.

But Super Bowl V was an exception. It was the first of only seven times that a defensive player won the award.

And it is the only time that a member of the losing team won the award.

Maybe that's the real penalty you pay for committing seven turnovers and still winning the game. You must forfeit the MVP. But the truth was that no one on the Colts, not even the great Johnny Unitas, played well enough to be recognized as the most valuable player.

Not surprisingly, some folks dubbed the game the "Stupor Bowl."

Mom might well have served something that afternoon. She often entertained guests in our home and frequently served things she had prepared herself. I was particularly fond of mini–meatballs she made and served in a kind of barbecue sauce.

Cooking was just one of her many talents — but that's another story.

I can't say that I remember if there were any such snacks in the house that afternoon. If there were, I probably gave them no more thought than I did on any other occasion when there were people in the house.

And, in four decades, I can't really say I've given much more thought than that to Super Bowl V. Today, I remember only two things clearly about that game — Jim O'Brien's last–second, game–winning field goal from a rather pedestrian distance of 32 yards, and the Cowboys and Colts swarming after a loose football that kept squirting away from everyone in a play that looked more like a slapstick routine than a clip from a champioinship game.

As I understand it, the Colts' Bubba Smith still refuses to wear the ring he won that day because he was so embarrassed by the team's performance. It's the only Super Bowl ring he won during his playing days, but he won't wear it. I doubt that anyone has argued with him about it. He's a big man. Maybe they'll slip the ring on his finger when they're about to bury him.

And Chuck Howley, the only man from a losing team (so far) to win a Super Bowl MVP award, turned it down. I don't know what they'll do with that after Howley passes.