Showing posts with label Vince Lombardi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vince Lombardi. 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.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

A Thanksgiving Thrill



I've been a Green Bay Packer fan just about all my life, ever since I started collecting football cards in first grade.

I was born on Thanksgiving so every once in awhile, my birthday falls on Thanksgiving, as it did this year. But the Packers don't always play on Thanksgiving — nor, for that matter, do they always play on my birthday when it falls on a Sunday.

This year, however, they played the Chicago Bears tonight, which is both Thanksgiving and my birthday, in order to honor Brett Favre by inducting him into the Packers' Ring of Honor. (Actually, the game is still in progress as I write this so referring to it in the past tense really isn't appropriate, is it?).

And one of the highlights for me — probably the greatest highlight for me — was to see Bart Starr and Brett Favre embrace each other on the turf of Lambeau Field. My two favorite quarterbacks of all time.

I have known for a long time what a struggle it was for Starr to be able to be in Green Bay. He's been battling the effects of some pretty severe strokes, but he looked pretty good tonight.

The two quarterbacks could hardly be more different, I suppose.

I have always admired Bart Starr, going back to when I was a kid. He was the kind of guy who is worthy of admiration. He didn't seek the spotlight the way so many players do today. He didn't put up gaudy numbers — except on the scoreboard, where he was the perfect captain for Vince Lombardi's offense. Lombardi devised the game plan, and Starr carried it out. All he did was win.

Favre was a free spirit, a winner who made the people around him winners by sheer force of will. Favre was a force of nature, refusing to be benched during his phenomenal consecutive games played streak even if you thought there was no way he could be playing.

I suppose my ideal quarterback would be a combination of Bart Starr and Brett Favre.

But since that will never happen, I'll settle for the next best thing. That was what I got tonight.

For this I am truly thankful.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Lombardi's Centennial



Today is a special day for Green Bay Packers fans like myself.

It would have been the 100th birthday of Vince Lombardi.

I barely remember watching Lombardi coach the Packers to victory in Super Bowl II. My family had just gotten its first TV set a few months earlier — black and white (color TV was way out of my parents' budget in those days) — and my mind still houses memories of seeing the Packers play on TV in those days.

Granted, those memories are kind of like those scratchy black–and–white newsreels that you see from time to time on documentaries, but that's where my lifelong support for the Packers was born.

My father was a college professor when I was growing up, and sometimes he spent the summers taking advanced education courses at other schools. One year — probably a year or two after Lombardi left the Packers' sideline — Dad spent about six weeks in Wisconsin. When he came home, he brought back a copy of the Packers' yearbook for that season for me. It was my most cherished possession for the next couple of years — until it literally fell apart.

Lombardi is an iconic figure for lots of people. In Green Bay, they call him St. Vince, the only Packer coach (so far) to win back–to–back Super Bowls. One other coach did take the Packers to consecutive Super Bowls, but he didn't win both.

I suppose when (if) another coach duplicates Lombardi's achievement, he will be elevated to sainthood in Green Bay. Until that happens, though, Lombardi stands alone.

I have vague memories of watching Lombardi in his one and only season of coaching the Washington Redskins in 1969, but the Redskins hadn't been good for a long time, and they didn't get too much TV coverage in those days (as I recall). Lombardi's presence raised the interest level, though, and he did wind up coaching the Redskins to a winning season.

He probably would have accomplished even greater things in the years ahead, but he was diagnosed with cancer in the summer of 1970 and died before the next season began.

I remember when he died in September 1970. The memory is linked to a childhood memory.

My father had been away at another advanced education course (at Northwestern, as I recall), and he was due to return by air on a Wednesday so Mom, my brother, some friends of the family and I piled into the family car and drove to Little Rock to pick him up.

As we drove to the airport, we had the car radio on. On the newscast, I heard reports that Lombardi was near death.

When we arrived at the airport, we were told that Dad had been delayed several hours. I don't remember why. Perhaps there were problems with the plane. Maybe he missed his flight and had to take a later one.

Whatever the reason was, my mother consulted with the family friends and decided to go home, have dinner and drive back to the airport when Dad's flight was due to arrive. That's what we did.

As we drove back to the airport that night, I remember staring out the windows of the car at a relatively starry sky and hearing another radio report that said Lombardi was likely to die within hours.

We greeted Dad's plane and drove home. I don't remember hearing the radio on the return trip. The adults were too busy talking, and the radio would have interfered.

But the next morning, when I got up, I remember going into the living room where my father was having his breakfast in front of the TV, which was reporting that Lombardi had died a few minutes earlier. I felt a depth of loss that I have rarely felt in my life. He was 57 years old.

And today he would have been 100. Most people don't live to 100; even fewer of Lombardi's generation have done so, and I sincerely doubt that, had cancer not ended his life, he would still be alive today.

But the 100th anniversary of his birth is a good occasion for reflecting on his life and times.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Lombardi's Super Swan Song



The second–ever Super Bowl, which was played 45 years ago on this day, was an emotional game for the eventual winners, the Green Bay Packers.

Their coach, Vince Lombardi, hadn't officially announced his retirement yet, but there were suspicions — on the street and in the Packers' locker room — that the game against the Oakland Raiders would be his last.

In his book about the 1967 NFL season, "Instant Replay," guard Jerry Kramer wrote about the days leading up to the Super Bowl and his thoughts and observations — and growing suspicions that Lombardi would be leaving.

At the team's afternoon meeting a couple of days before the game, Kramer wrote that Lombardi became unaccountably emotional as the team broke into smaller groups. Afterward, a teammate asked him what he thought it meant.

"Looked like there's no question about his retirement," Kramer replied.

Two days later, after the Packers beat the Raiders, 33–14, Kramer was one of the players who helped carry Lombardi off the field.

Earlier, Kramer had recorded Lombardi's pregame speech — his last, or so everyone thought at the time. Lombardi would return to the sideline a couple of years later to coach the Washington Redskins, and he gave pregame speeches to motivate the 'Skins in the 1969 season, but he would never again deliver another speech before a Super Bowl.

It may have been on this day in 1968 that I began my lifelong attachment to the Packers. I grew up in the South — never, to my knowledge, ever got close to Green Bay, Wisconsin — but I've been a Packer fan as long as I can remember.

I think my family may have had a TV set on this day 45 years ago, but I'm not really sure about that. I remember that we did have a TV the following month because that was the month that Peggy Fleming won Olympic gold in figure skating, and my mother insisted that we eat our dinner in front of our TV set when figure skating was on.

But that's another story to be told at another time.

I kind of think I may have watched this game at my friend Larry's house. His family had a color TV, and not too many people had those in 1968. My family sure didn't. We had one of those old black–and–white portables (with a screen that was probably 13 or 15 inches) with the rabbit ears, and that was our family television.

My family lived in the country, and Larry's house was about a mile or so from ours so, if the weather was nice that day, I probably rode my bike to Larry's house, and if the weather wasn't so nice — if there was ice or snow on the ground (and there probably wasn't because we hardly ever had ice or snow in central Arkansas) — I probably walked all the way.

I have spotty memories of seeing Lombardi and the Packers on TV when I was small so I can't be sure I watched the game at Larry's. I only suspect that I did. Larry was probably my best friend in those days, and he was a Packer fan, too. If we watched the game together, I'm sure we were whooping and hollering all afternoon.

For the second straight year, Green Bay quarterback Bart Starr was named the game's most valuable player — even though his numbers would pale next to the numbers that subsequent players piled up. He completed one pass for a touchdown and racked up a little more than 200 yards through the air.

That woulddn't have bothered me, though. Starr was my favorite player.

It's really a shame I don't have more of a memory of that afternoon because I had to wait 30 years to see the Packers play in another Super Bowl. The memory of the game that was played 45 years ago would have had to sustain me for three decades.

As it was, I spent most of that time not entirely sure that I saw the Packers play in that first or second Super Bowl — and wondering if I ever would see them play in one again.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Winning One For Vince



Two days ago, I wrote of my surprise that few people had mentioned Vince Lombardi in the buildup to yesterday's Super Bowl between the Green Bay Packers and the Pittsburgh Steelers.

There were a few articles that mentioned Lombardi, but none (that I know of) acknowledged the fact that Lombardi died 40 years ago last September.

Perhaps that was due to the fact that yesterday was the 100th anniversary of the birth of Ronald Reagan. That got a lot of attention — maybe deservedly so.

While the Super Bowl matched two of the most storied franchises in NFL history, mentioning two such anniversaries on the same day might have been a bit confusing for some people. It was probably fitting to yield to a former president.

Well, Reagan's 100th birthday has come and gone. The Packers emerged triumphant over the Steelers, and they will be the "defending Super Bowl champs" until someone else wins a Super Bowl — perhaps, when you consider the current state of discussions over the NFL's about–to–expire collective bargaining agreement, that should be if someone else wins one.

Oh, sure, someday someone else will win a Super Bowl. But, at the moment, it seems far from certain that next season will be played so the Lombardi Trophy may remain indefinitely in Green Bay.

And, for a pro football traditionalist like me, that's as it should be. If there is a work stoppage in the NFL that does what the baseball strike of 1994 did to the World Series, the next scheduled Super Bowl may be a casualty.

Not too many folks seemed to be thinking about that yesterday. Fewer mentioned it, even if they were thinking of it. But others — Packer fans like myself, Steeler fans like some of my friends — chose to leave such thoughts to another day. If Lombardi crossed our thoughts yesterday, it was in connection with the game being played at the time.

And that was as it should be.

Mike Lopresti of USA Today was thinking of Vince that way.

His postgame column may have been written after the game or while it was still being played, but it was in the form of a letter to Lombardi's spirit.

Speaking of the game, Lopresti said, "You would have loved it. ... It was a fight to the finish. ... You'd have loved the sheer will. ... You'd have loved [Aaron] Rodgers. ... You'd love the teamwork ... You'd love ... how this was a game that had to first be taken, and then saved, leaving the losers disconsolate."

It was Lombardi's kind of game. The only thing that might have been better, as far as he was concerned, would have been if the two squads could have slugged it out in some of the ice and snow that gripped the Dallas area last week.

If Lombardi still lived, he would be 97. In a few years, if the Packers are in the Super Bowl, perhaps a big fuss will be made about the centennial of Lombardi's birth and how the Packers want to win for the occasion.

I get the sense that wouldn't matter so much to Lombardi.

But winning mattered to him. Winning isn't everything, he said. It is the only thing.

That ... and claiming the Lombardi Trophy.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

The Most Compelling Super Bowl Story Line



"If you don't think you're a winner, you don't belong here."

Vince Lombardi

I've heard a lot of story lines surrounding this year's Super Bowl between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers.

Considering that the Packers are one of the teams competing in the game, I've been kind of surprised by the fact that no one has mentioned that last September was the 40th anniversary of the death of Vince Lombardi, the man who coached the Packers to victory in the first two Super Bowls and whose name is on the trophy for which the teams will be playing.

That doesn't include a report that Packers coach Mike McCarthy wants to bring the Lombardi Trophy back to Green Bay. I didn't include it because it doesn't count. Mike Holmgren used to say the same thing when he was coaching the Packers in the Super Bowl in the 1990s.

In fact, any Green Bay coach would be expected to name that as his goal. If he didn't, he ought to be run out of town.

To look at Lombardi was to see football personified in a single man.

He was truly a block of granite, a nickname he earned as a lineman at Fordham — stocky with an angular face that resembled a block, stern, unyielding, dedicated to a goal.

His name spoke of epic duels waged in the snow and the rain and the mud, of a relentless quest for perfection.

The first time he met with his players in Green Bay, Lombardi warned the Packers, in fact, that they would do precisely that, "knowing full well that we will not catch it." But, he said, "We are going to relentlessly chase it, because in the process we catch excellence.

"I am not the least bit interested,"
he said, "in just being good."

Unfortunately, far too often in the four decades that have passed, the Packers seem to have been willing to settle for "just being good," for not constantly striving to meet Lombardi's standards. A quarter of a century after Lombardi died, the Packers still had not returned to the Super Bowl.

The Packers have won only one Super Bowl since Lombardi's death. Their game with the Steelers will be only their third Super Bowl since he's been gone. Holmgren coached in the other two. This will be McCarthy's first.

If the Green Bay coaching staff is ever going to invoke Lombardi's memory for inspirational purposes, now is the time to do it. Given their history since Lombardi left the scene, it may be decades before they get another chance.

The Packers probably could use a Lombardiesque pep talk. They may be 2½–point favorites, but they have lost their last three games against the Steelers, and two of those losses were recent enough that many of the players on both of the current rosters probably participated in them.

That's bound to put a mental whammy on a team, no matter how well it has been playing — and everyone agrees the Packers have been playing pretty well of late. But they seemed to be hitting their stride when the playoffs began in January 2010, too.

In 2009, Green Bay won seven of its last eight regular–season games. The exception? A 37–36 setback at Pittsburgh. (Bucky Brooks at NFL.com says there are things today's Packers can learn from that experience.)

Before that, they met in Green Bay in 2005. The Steelers won that one, too, 20–10.

In 1998, they played for the last time in Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium. Pittsburgh won on that occasion, 27–20.

The last time the Packers beat the Steelers was on Christmas Eve 1995. The victory clinched their first divisional title in nearly a quarter of a century.

Fifteen years is a long time to wait between victories against anyone. A lot can happen in that time. The Packers played in a couple of Super Bowls, the Steelers played in three. But, when they face each other on Sunday, I believe it will be the first time in the postseason.

Certainly, it will be their first–ever meeting in the Super Bowl.

From that perspective, it's a clean slate.

And, while the Packers may be the favorites on Sunday, that didn't keep Peter King of Sports Illustrated from predicting that Pittsburgh will win.

He acknowledged both teams' proficiency on defense. I guess there's no disputing that. Pittsburgh had the second–best total defense (in terms of yards allowed per game) in the NFL; Green Bay's was the second–best in the NFC. Green Bay's pass defense was fifth in the NFL (Pittsburgh's was 12th), and, although the run game probably won't be a factor, Pittsburgh's run defense was the NFL's best (Green Bay's was 18th).

All that, says King, will go out the window on Sunday. It's a fast track, indoors, protected from the elements.

If he is right, though, logic says that should favor the Packers. Green Bay was tied for third in the NFL in total offense, ranked fifth in passing (with the NFL's seventh–rated passer and its fourth–most productive receiver) and averaged almost exactly what Pittsburgh did on the ground.

Lombardi was far more inclined to run the ball, but that was a different era. In all the relevant areas, it seems like this year's Packer squad is a worthy heir to those teams Lombardi coached in the 1960s — a potent offense combined with a punishing, smothering defense.

Now, if only the desire can match the talent ...

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Renewal of a Passionate Rivalry



Tomorrow afternoon, the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers will face each other in Chicago with the NFC championship on the line.

Now, there are many rivalries in the NFL. None are as old as the Bears and the Packers, who have been playing each other twice a year for the last 90 years. Given their history, you might think they had faced each other in the playoffs several times, but this will be only the second time they have met in the postseason.

To remember that other playoff game, you would have to be old enough to remember Pearl Harbor.

I was talking with my father on Thursday, and I observed that it was the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's inaugural address, in which Kennedy uttered his famous line, "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country."

We talked a little about famous presidential speeches, and Dad mentioned that he remembered listening to FDR's "day of infamy" speech the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor. That speech was given the Monday before Green Bay and Chicago last met in the postseason.

In those days, as I wrote last month, NFL championships were played between the teams who won their respective divisions (or conferences, as they were called for a time).

Usually, there were no other playoffs — unless there was a tie atop one or both of the divisions. Then there would be a playoff game between the teams who tied for a division title (even if one of the teams had swept the regular–season series between the two), and the winner would advance to the championship game.

That was how Green Bay and Chicago, always members of the same conference/division, wound up playing each other following the conclusion of the 1941 season. Both teams went 10–1, splitting their regular–season series, so they met on Dec. 14, 1941 at Chicago's Wrigley Field to break the tie.

At the time, there was no such thing as a "wild card" in the playoffs. That was a concept that wasn't really introduced until nearly 30 years later.

Even so, wild cards have been a part of the postseason in pro football for the last 40 years — ever since the merger of the AFL and NFL. In some years, the playoff structure has allowed two wild card teams in each conference.

Both Green Bay and Chicago have been in the playoffs as divisional champions and wild cards. But in all those years, this is only the second time that both teams have qualified for the playoffs in the same season.

That other time was nine years ago, when the New England Patriots upset the St. Louis Rams in the Super Bowl. Both the Packers and Bears lost in the divisional round of the playoffs. If both had won, they would have faced each other for the NFC title — 60 years after their last playoff meeting.

But that did not happen.

Even though the teams have not played each other for a championship before, the rivalry is as heated as any you'll find in the NFL. The mere mention of the Packers and the Bears to a true pro football fan ought to conjure up images of Vince Lombardi and George Halas prowling the sidelines, Dick Butkus sacking Bart Starr before the NFL was even keeping track of that particular statistic, Ray Nitschke tackling Gale Sayers, games played in the mud and the snow and the bitter cold.

This isn't your father's football. This is your grandfather's football, played the way it used to be played. Leather helmets, I heard someone say this week, will be optional.

I remember hearing a story from one day in the 1960s when the Bears and Packers faced each other. Halas came to the Packers' locker room door prior to kickoff and was stopped by security. He protested that he had to see Lombardi. It was urgent.

The message was relayed to Lombardi, who came to the door to see what Halas needed to talk to him about.

Halas said, "Vince, I just want to tell you that you'd better have your boys ready to play. Because we're going to kick your ass!"

And Halas turned around and walked back to his locker room.

I don't know what, if anything, was on the line that day — other than pride and bragging rights. In the Bears–Packers rivalry, that's usually enough.

When they started calling the division in which the Packers and Bears compete the "Black and Blue Division," they really knew what they were talking about. It's a rivalry that has always been capable of stirring fierce passions.

Oddly, though, the newspapers in the two cities seem to have been falling all over themselves to be respectful of each other. Even when they're teasing.

Frankly, I'm a little disappointed. I expected more, I guess.
  • Mark Konkol of the Chicago Sun–Times tells readers that the Bears' quarterback's father is a "cheesehead" — which is, of course, the nickname that is often used for Packer fans.

    "Don't worry," he tells his readers. "It's not what you think." And it isn't.

  • Cheryl Jackson reports in the Sun–Times that Chicago watering holes anticipate the kind of business they normally don't enjoy at this time of year.

    And it's hard to argue with that. With daytime highs expected to be in the teens and Chicago's legendary fickle, swirling winds on hand as always, you need something to get people to brave the elements — assuming they don't have tickets to the game.

  • Rex Huppke and Gerry Smith, using some clever wordplay in the Chicago Tribune, manage to capture some of the animosity — but none of what Hunter Thompson might have called the fear and loathing — that exists between Chicago and Green Bay.

    "Chicagoans stand united," write Huppke and Smith, "Packtose intolerant, loathers of cheese in all its forms, sneering as often as possible in the direction of those green and gold neighbors to the north."

    It is truly, as they observe, a rivalry like no other. Actually, it's a way of life.

  • Maybe the most critical thing I have seen from journalists in either town in the last week has come from Pete Dougherty of the Green Bay Press–Gazette, who asserts that the pressure to win now is on the Bears because of their age.

    But that's simply a statement of fact. "[L]ooking to the future," he writes, "Chicago Bears General Manager Jerry Angelo needs to draft unusually well starting this year to remain a title contender."

    The Packers, on the other hand, are locked and loaded for the next several years, Dougherty says, and I think he is right.
But ...

C'mon, guys! This is football! This is Green Bay–Chicago!

Where's the contempt?

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Running to Daylight



Friday will be the 40th anniversary of the death of Vince Lombardi.

Lombardi died of colon cancer. While there have been many improvements in the fight against cancer in the last four decades, colon cancer remains one of the most common causes of cancer–related deaths.

A relentless perfectionist, Lombardi probably would be disappointed that, in 40 years, medical science hasn't conquered the thing that killed him. Medical science has made great strides against other forms of cancer, including the variety that killed Bears fullback Brian Piccolo less than three months earlier, but colon cancer remains a formidable adversary.

I guess that's fitting. During his life, Lombardi also was a formidable adversary.

In the 1960s, Lombardi may have been the most respected coach in the NFL. He became the first coach to lead his team to three straight NFL titles, and he was the winning coach in the first two Super Bowls.

Today, his memory is not so vivid in most minds. He is remembered by some for saying things that are generally considered cliches now — things like "Winning is the only thing" and urging his players to "run to daylight."

My personal memories of Lombardi are still vivid, though, and they are in black and white. That's because our TV was a black and white in those days — and the screen wasn't very big so Lombardi, who was not a tall man to begin with, looked even smaller to my elementary school eyes.

Actually, my family got its very first color TV in 1970, a few months before football season was scheduled to begin. Then as now, I loved football, and I was looking forward to seeing football games in color.

And one of the things I was looking forward to the most was finally seeing Lombardi, who was coaching the Washington Redskins by that time, in color.

In hindsight, I probably didn't miss much. Even in the color film I have seen of the Lombardi Packers, Lombardi was a black–and–white figure, almost always wearing dark pants and a white shirt, occasionally wearing a tan overcoat. He always appeared somewhat colorless, with his salt–and–pepper hair and his dark–rimmed glasses.

But appearances can be deceiving. Lombardi was far from colorless.

I was — and still am — a Packers fan. Lombardi was the reason for that, but, as much as he did for the Packers, he seems to have done even more for the Redskins in 1969, laying a foundation for the franchise's future success in the 1970s and 1980s.

But even though he took a team that was unaccustomed to winning and molded it into a contender, Lombardi worried that he hadn't been as tough as he should have been. Sonny Jurgensen said that, before he was stricken with cancer, Lombardi told him he had been "too easy" on the players after taking a year off from coaching and pledged to be tougher.

In the spring of 1970, it seemed all but certain that, with Lombardi at the helm for the second year, the Redskins would be televised beyond their local viewing area. That was good news for a young Lombardi fan living in Arkansas.

And, in that spring of 1970, there was no ESPN where football fans could get offseason news, but the sports writers I read in the Arkansas Gazette in those days all seemed to feel the Redskins were poised to make a real run for the playoffs.

That was an unfamiliar feeling, even though Washington could have been in the playoffs in 1969 if the Redskins had defeated the Dallas Cowboys in their two meetings (in fact, they didn't really come close to winning either game).

The old NFL and its upstart rival, the American Football League, merged earlier in 1970, then divided into the NFC and AFC, and folks expected big things from the Redskins (who actually would have been in the running for a wild–card playoff spot in 1969 if such a thing had existed at that time).

But it was not to be. Lombardi was stricken with cancer that summer. The oncologist who treated him called it the most aggressive he had ever seen, and Lombardi died about 10 weeks after his diagnosis.

His memory is honored, of course, in the name of the trophy that is awarded annually to the team that wins the Super Bowl — a fitting tribute to the man who coached the winning team in the first two Super Bowls, even though those victories had none of the drama of the legendary "Ice Bowl."

I still remember when I heard that Lombardi was dying. It was a week night in early September 1970. My father, a college professor, had been spending the previous eight weeks taking continuing education courses in Chicago, and he was returning that night.

My mother took my brother and me, along with some family friends, to the Little Rock airport to meet his plane — only to be told at the airport that Dad had called. He had missed his flight — I think he got stuck in Chicago traffic — and was booked on another flight. He would be arriving late that evening, we were told.

So we turned around and drove back to our small hometown about 30 miles away to have some dinner and kill a few hours. I clearly remember, on that drive home, hearing reports on the radio that Lombardi was near death. And, by that time the next day, he was gone.

The year after he died, Lombardi was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

After Lombardi died, one of his former players from his glory days in Green Bay, Jerry Kramer, put together a book about Lombardi that was primarily transcriptions of interviews he did with people who were influenced by the legendary coach.

He had had some experience with this kind of thing. In 1967, he kept a diary of the football season, which, as it happened, was the last season Lombardi coached the Packers. The diary was published as a book called "Instant Replay" and became a best seller.

Kramer played one more season, then retired, publishing another book titled, "Farewell to Football."

Most of the people he interviewed for his book on Lombardi were men who played for Lombardi. One was his brother. Another was a college teammate who became, along with Lombardi, one of Fordham's "Seven Blocks of Granite." Kramer also interviewed legendary Army coach Red Blaik, who hired Lombardi as an assistant coach in the late 1940s.

And the final entry came from Kramer's conversation with Sonny Jurgensen, a talented quarterback who was trying to come back from rib and elbow injuries at the age of 35 when Lombardi arrived in Washington. They had one season together.

When Jurgensen met with Kramer, he told him, "I envy you ... all you guys from Green Bay. You had him for nine years. We only had him for one — just long enough for him to educate us as to what it takes to win."

When the transcription was finished, Kramer wrote, "I think I felt sorrier for Sonny than I did for any other man affected by Vince's death. He'd waited so long to be a winner. He'd waited so long to find a Vince Lombardi."

Some people never find a Vince Lombardi, and others, like Jurgensen, don't have their Lombardi long enough.

On the surface, his lessons were about football, but they were really about life.

"If you believe in yourself and have the courage, the determination, the dedication, the competitive drive," he said, "and if you are willing to sacrifice the little things in life and pay the price for the things that are worthwhile, it can be done."

And, while there was no way he could have known it at the time, he had good advice for those people in the 21st century who find themselves in a poor economy and working at a job for which they have no passion.

"If you aren't fired with enthusiasm," Lombardi said, "you will be fired with enthusiasm."

Lombardi. His wisdom still rings true 40 years after his death.