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.

When the Orange Got Crushed

---

---

Before the 1977 NFL season, the Denver Broncos were practically invisible.

They never made the playoffs — so it follows that they had never been to a Super Bowl. In fact, they rarely had a winning season.

But that changed in 1977.

The Broncos didn't win with their offense that year. Half the teams in the AFC scored more points than Denver did.

Denver won with defense. No team in the AFC and only two teams in the NFC allowed fewer points than the Denver Broncos, whose defense earned the nickname "Orange Crush." Only one team — division rival and defending NFL champion Oakland — scored 20 points or more against Denver during the regular season.

My memory is that Denver's defense captured the imagination of the sports world that year. But, in the end, the Broncos couldn't capture the NFL title.

They've played in several Super Bowls now, but, on this day 35 years ago, the Broncos played in their first–ever Super Bowl. Appearing in the Super Bowl became almost a routine thing for Denver fans in the 1980s and less so in the 1990s (although the '90s brought the Broncos their first triumph), but in 1977 it was a brand–new experience for them and for their team.

And, as has been the case with most first–time Super Bowl teams, the outcome of the game wasn't favorable.

---

---

I guess the enduring memory for me from Super Bowl XII is of Dallas' Butch Johnson snagging a Roger Staubach pass that seemed to be just beyond his reach, tumbling into the end zone and bouncing to his feet, ready to pounce on the ball — and he would have, too, if the official had not signaled a touchdown.

To this day, I still don't know if it was a legitimate catch, but in that pre–challenge era, there was no way for Denver coach Red Miller to dispute it.

It was just one of those can't–miss kind of games — for the Cowboys, not the Broncos.

Staubach completed more than two–thirds of his passes, helping the Cowboys race to a 13–0 halftime lead. Eventually, the Cowboys won, 27–10, giving Dallas coach Tom Landry his second — and last — NFL title.

---

---

But even more remarkably, the most valuable player award went to not one but two defensive players, Dallas' Randy White and Harvey Martin.

White and Martin combined for seven tackles and two sacks of Denver quarterback Craig Morton.

Once upon a time, Morton had been Dallas' quarterback, but Morton was stymied in Super Bowl V, and Landry alternated between Morton and Staubach for the first half of the 1971 season before settling on Staubach.

Morton's career in Dallas was over. He stayed in Dallas a few more seasons, but Staubach was the starter, and Morton looked for a fresh start. A few years with the Giants didn't work out for him, and, in 1977, he found himself in Denver.

Morton completed only 42% of his passes that season — but, as I say, the Broncos only gave up 20 points or more once during the regular season so Denver really didn't need him to contribute much.

The Steelers scored 21 on the Broncos in the first round of the playoffs, but the Broncos unexpectedly scored more points than they had in any other game all year (even though Morton completed less than half of his passes) and advanced to the AFC championship game, where they beat the Oakland Raiders.

But Dallas' Doomsday Defense overwhelmed Morton, who completed about one–fourth of his passes and was intercepted four times.

Coaches' Day

---

---

Today is September 11, and, in the eyes of most of the people living today, it is the ninth anniversary of the worst terrorist attack ever on American soil.

In fact, this date is so closely linked to terrorism that I presume it will always be remembered — in memory as well as history books — that way.

And, considering what happened on this day in 2001, that is as it should be.

I'm not so sure it deserves the label of Patriots' Day. Perhaps the passengers on Flight 93 staged a revolt that led to the plane crashing in a Pennsylvania field, but the passengers on the other three planes did nothing particularly patriotic. As nearly as I can tell, they huddled in the back or remained in their seats while the terrorists flew the planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

That isn't meant as a criticism. Far from it. Had I been on board one of those planes nine years ago today, I, too, would have done whatever I was told in the mistaken belief that cooperating would help to defuse the situation.

But, in fact, cooperating only made things easier for the terrorists to achieve their goals. Nearly 10 years after the hijackings, I have heard suggestions that only the passengers on one of the airplanes tried to resist. But that is understandable. Who among us had any idea that morning what those goals might be? On Sept. 11, 2001, no one except the Muslim extremists who dreamed up the plan had given much thought to the idea of turning jets into bombs.

So I'm torn over the idea of calling today Patriots' Day. It isn't that I don't feel the people who lost their lives on that day should be remembered. I do. I'm just not convinced that the passengers on those planes acted particularly heroically. In death, they have become propaganda symbols, like the folks who died in the Alamo and on board the USS Maine.

But, before this day nine years ago, it was like any other day on the calendar. In some families, it was someone's birthday. In other families, it was a wedding anniversary. And, in still others, it was the anniversary of a death.

Over the years, important things did happen on this date, but nothing that even approached the devastation of that day in 2001.

• For example, nearly 400 years before two airplanes slammed into the World Trade Center, Henry Hudson discovered Manhattan Island on Sept. 11, 1609.
  
  As more Europeans came to North America, it was probably inevitable that Manhattan would be found by someone so Hudson can hardly be blamed for what happened four centuries later. Nor could he be said to have put everything in motion.
  
  And Hudson didn't make what could arguably be called the sweetest deal in the history of real estate transactions, buying the island for about $24 worth of beads and baubles. That was someone else many years later.
  
  But his discovery was the beginning of a story that certainly must include the events of 9/11.


• And it was 60 years before the terrorist attacks, on Sept. 11, 1941, that Charles Lindbergh, the famous American aviator who flew nonstop from New York to Paris in 1927, gave a speech accusing the British, the Jews and the Roosevelt administration of being advocates of a war with Germany and manipulating public opinion in that direction.
  
  I find that ironic, given the recent flap over plans to build a Muslim facility near Ground Zero and the even more recent controversy over a Florida pastor's announced intention to burn the Quran today.
  
  "We cannot blame them for looking out for what they believe to be their own interests, but we also must look out for ours," Lindbergh said as he insisted that he wasn't attacking the British or the Jews. "We cannot allow the natural passions and prejudices of other peoples to lead our country to destruction."

Well, before 2001, this day was noted as the birthday of two legendary football coaches — Paul "Bear" Bryant and Tom Landry.

Both men coached in other places before they took the jobs with which they always will be linked in the lore of football — Bryant at Alabama and Landry at Dallas. If you lived in the South in the 1960s and 1970s, you couldn't avoid them.

There were many great college coaches in the South in those days, actually — Darrell Royal of Texas, Vince Dooley of Georgia, Charles McClendon of LSU, Ralph "Shug" Jordan of Auburn, Barry Switzer of Oklahoma and Frank Broyles of my alma mater, Arkansas — but no one had the charisma, the raw star power of Bryant.

True, Royal was said to have revolutionized college football with the development of the "wishbone" offense. And he did win three national titles. So, too, did Switzer. But Bryant won six.

With his trademark hat and his gravelly voice, Bryant would have stood out, anyway, but he was always more noteworthy than his peers. He had sort of a John Wayne aura that probably would have been a weekly hit on TV if college football teams hadn't been restricted in their regular–season appearances in those pre–cable days

---

---

Landry wore a similar hat to Cowboys games.

He was born on Bryant's 11th birthday, and, for decades, he was the only coach the Dallas Cowboys ever had. That changed, of course, as it was bound to. Landry built the franchise, from its first games in 1960 to perennial Super Bowl contender (and occasional winner), but he left when the team was in decline and the whispers that the game had passed him by were no longer whispers.

That concept would have been laughable when I was a child. In those days, Landry was seen as an innovator, a coach who was always ahead of the curve.

In my childhood, the Cowboys were just about the only successful pro football team in the South. New Orleans was decades from becoming a legitimate Super Bowl contender, as was Atlanta. Houston had its moments but never seriously challenged anyone for much until Earl Campbell came along in the late 1970s.

The other option was Miami, which became more appealing after the Dolphins went undefeated in 1972. But, in my hometown in central Arkansas, Miami was too far away. Dallas was close enough that actually attending a game there was possible — even if, much of the time, it wasn't likely.

So the Cowboys had a clear fan base in my hometown that was influenced by both the team's success on the field and its proximity.

Now, much of the time, the Cowboys were known as the team that couldn't win the big one. They always seemed to be coming up short in the conference championship game or the Super Bowl, which Landry lost three times (twice to Terry Bradshaw and the Steelers).

The Cowboys were always in the thick of things. They became known as "America's Team," for which they were both loved and loathed.

My grandparents lived in Dallas, so I visited the city far more often than most of my friends when I was growing up. And, occasionally, my father and my brother and I attended Cowboys games. I saw Roger Staubach and Landry in person, and they had a magical quality of their own.

I also saw Bryant in person once. It was a Sugar Bowl game against Penn State in the mid–1970s. No national title was on the line on that occasion, unlike their next meeting in New Orleans a few years later.

Some folks will tell you that they think of Alabama's legendary rivalry with Auburn when they think of the Bear. Or perhaps they'll mention the series with LSU or Tennessee or Georgia.

But, even though the schools seldom played each other, I always think of Alabama's rivalry with Penn State, both on the field and off the field, when I think of Bear Bryant. Even if they didn't play each other on New Year's Day, they were rivals for the pollsters' affections.

And, in my mind, Joe Paterno and the Nittany Lions are forever linked to Bear Bryant and the Crimson Tide.

Therefore, it seems appropriate to me that the schools are playing each other today, on what would have been Bryant's 97th birthday.

And tomorrow night, the Cowboys will kick off the season against the Washington Redskins.

In his coaching career, Landry had many rivals. His Super Bowl meetings with the Steelers of the 1970s are legendary. His NFC clashes with the likes of the Vikings and the 49ers were classic, and his rivalry with Vince Lombardi's Green Bay Packers produced the iconic "Ice Bowl."

Thoughts of Landry really bring back a lot of memories for me. In part, I suppose that is because I could watch him on TV just about every week. I was far beyond the blackout range but close enough to see just about every game every Sunday (except for one fall when my father, a college professor, went on his sabbatical and took the family with him to Nashville, Tenn., where, as I recall, we got more variety in our weekly pro football coverage than we had in Arkansas).

But I guess you could say that I always think of Dallas' rivalry with the Washington Redskins when I think of Landry. The Redskins emerged as a force to reckon with in the 1970s, and the Cowboys–and–Indians imagery was just too enticing.

So, likewise, it seems appropriate that, on the day after what would have been Landry's 86th birthday, the Cowboys and the Redskins will open their season against each other.

Happy Coaches' Day.