Working Overtime, Circa 1965

If you're under 40, you almost certainly have no memory of a time when professional football didn't allow for overtime periods during the regular season.

And you definitely have no memory of a time when there was no Super Bowl.

It was 45 years ago this year that professional football teams last played a season without a Super Bowl to crown their champion.

The Super Bowl was introduced to the American public after the 1966 season — but, originally, it wasn't called the Super Bowl. In the early days, it was called the AFL–NFL World Championship Game.

The story behind how the Super Bowl got its name is an interesting one, but it isn't the one I wish to tell today.

Today, I want to talk about 1965. But I can't say that I have much to share in the way of personal memories of that year.

In 1965, I was so little I probably didn't know much about football. I'm sure I didn't. My parents didn't own a TV set in those days.

I've seen pictures of myself from those days in which I was wearing a football helmet. I don't know who gave it to me — my parents? my grandparents? — but it was very generic. No logo on the side, just plain red with a white stripe down the middle.

I doubt that I knew much, if anything, about its purpose. I probably didn't give it any more thought than I gave to the enormous red plastic fish that I carried with me wherever I went.

(You can see that big red plastic fish in the picture at the left, by the way. That's me, second from right, with the fish at my side, as always in those days.)

My grandfather was an avid fisherman, and I had been with him on many fishing expeditions in east Texas, but I had never seen him hook a fish that big.

And he certainly never landed a red fish.

It goes without saying, I guess, that I know much more about football now than I did in 1965. It should also go without saying that that isn't the only thing that has changed in the last 45 years.

As I mentioned, the Super Bowl has undergone a name change since its debut. And the NFL belatedly started allowing overtime to be played during the regular season.

The league was using overtime in the postseason before that. It had been in the rule books for more than a couple of decades.

The rationale for allowing overtime was that you couldn't permit a championship game to end in a tie, although the NFL's rules made that a possibility for more than 20 years, between the founding of the league in 1920 and the implementation of the overtime provision in the playoff guidelines in 1941.

Today, of course, the issue in professional football is not whether to allow games that are tied at the end of regulation to go into overtime. The issue is which kind of overtime format should be used.

It was a different world in the mid–1960s. But even though the overtime provision had been in the rules for nearly a quarter of a century, it had seldom been needed.

Overtime, as I say, was approved for NFL postseason games in 1941, but it hadn't been necessary until the late 1950s, when the Baltimore Colts and the New York Giants met in what has been called "the greatest game ever played."

A few years later, the fledgling American Football League played two overtime periods before the Dallas Texans defeated the Houston Oilers.

And those were the only two times, before this day in 1965, that American football fans had experienced sudden death.

Modern football fans — if they could be magically transported back to 1965 — would be astonished, too, by the way playoffs were handled. In 2010, a dozen playoff spots will be awarded in the NFL, and it will take about a month to crown the champion.

Prior to 1966, the NFL was split in two divisions. The regular–season winners faced each other for the championship the week after the season ended. No other teams were involved — unless a division ended in a tie. Then, there would be a one–game playoff between those two teams, with the winner advancing to face the other division winner for the title the following week.

Anyway, that is what happened. The Baltimore Colts and the Green Bay Packers ended the regular season tied atop their division (in the NFL, the divisions actually were called the Eastern and Western conferences at that time) with 10–3–1 records so they met in Green Bay on this day in 1965.

The winner would face the Cleveland Browns (in what would be Jim Brown's last game) for the NFL championship the next Sunday.

(A couple of points here — First, under modern rules, such a playoff would never have been necessary. The Packers and Colts, being members of the same conference, faced each other twice during the regular season, and the Packers won both games. If tiebreaker procedures had been on the books, the Packers would have won based on their head–to–head victories.

(Second, since the Packers swept their games with the Colts during the regular season, obviously the teams didn't play to a stalemate at some point during the regular season. The Packers, in fact, ended their season with a tie against San Francisco. If they had won that game, the third game with the Colts would not have been needed.)

On this day in 1965, the Colts scored 10 points in the first half, and the Packers scored 10 points in the second half. Don Chandler kicked a controversial 25–yard field goal (many Colts fans insisted it sailed wide) in overtime to win the game and send the Packers into the NFL championship game.

Actually, there was a third angle to the playoff between the Colts and the Packers — one that would almost certainly seem alien to 21st–century football fans.

During the 1960s, a game called the Playoff Bowl was played between the second–place teams in each of the NFL's conferences the weekend after the actual NFL championship was played.

The Packers, who were coached by Vince Lombardi in 1965, had played in the NFL championship game in 1960, 1961 and 1962, but they finished second in 1963 and 1964 and had to play in the Playoff Bowl

Lombardi hated the Playoff Bowl, and in 1965, he used that as motivation for his players prior to the playoff with the Colts. If they lost to Baltimore, he warned his players, they would wind up in the Playoff Bowl, which was, he told them, "the 'Shit Bowl' ...a losers' bowl for losers."

The NFL did away with the Playoff Bowl after the merger of the NFL and AFL in 1970.

The Longest Day

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Christmas is one of those holidays — like Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July — that inspires memories, both great and awful, that seem to follow you as long as you live.

When you get right down to it, Christmas is just another day on the calendar. It's great for some, not so great for others.

But whatever happens on that day seems to take on more significance, simply because it is Christmas Day. Whatever happens on this day definitely does not stay on this day. It lives on in memory, and its details become, if anything, sharper with age.

Depending upon who you are, I guess, Christmas 1971 was just such a day.

It was, as I recall, the first of three consecutive Christmases my family spent at South Padre Island, Texas.

Ordinarily, we spent Christmas with my grandparents in Dallas, but, by Christmas 1971, my parents were in the mood to hit the road. They had purchased a popup camper (much like the one you can see at the right) a few years earlier, and we had taken it on family trips in the spring and summer.

(Actually, that picture is a pretty fair representation of the camper we had, except that the bottom part wasn't white, it was green. Frankly, I never thought it was a very attractive shade of green, either, but my mother really liked it. She dubbed the camper the "Big, Bright Green Pleasure Machine" after a Simon & Garfunkel tune.)

In December 1971, we took it about as far south as you can go in Texas and set up our campsite at a campground not far from the beach. It was, as I remember, a couple of days before Christmas when we arrived.

The weather was gorgeous for late December, which wasn't unusual in Port Isabel, Texas. That certainly hasn't changed. Even after it cooled off here in north Texas late this week, it stayed in the 70s in Port Isabel. Temperatures there might dip into the mid–60s today, but I'm sure that still sounds pretty good to many Americans right now.

It was probably like that 39 years ago. I don't remember if I even knew what the temperature was that Christmas. All I remember is that it was warm and sunny.

Just another Bethlehem–like day slightly north of the border.

The campground actually had a putt–putt golf course that campers could play for free. All you had to do was go by the office and get a putter and a ball. It didn't take me long to make a friend and spend hours playing miniature golf with him in the warm south Texas sun.

Anyway, when Christmas arrived, we did our family Christmas in that camper. It was kind of cramped in there for much Christmas festivity for a family of four with a dog so when the gifts had been exchanged and all the rituals had been observed, I exited the camper and hooked up with my new friend to play some miniature golf.

I don't know how long we played. We never kept score, we just putted until we both got our balls in the hole, then we proceeded to the next hole, and we could do that for hours. (It really is amazing how much energy you have when you're a child — and how oblivious you are to extremes in temperature.)

Anyway, at some point, we returned to the campground office, perhaps to turn in our putters and balls for the day.

And I recall that most of the men from the campground — workers and campers alike — had gathered there to watch the AFC playoff game between the Miami Dolphins and the Kansas City Chiefs.

I'm sure no one realized it at the time, but a new order was emerging in professional football.

People seldom seem to recognize such transitions for what they are at the time. It is only with the benefit of hindsight — and a certain amount of distance — that most can see things clearly.

Up to that time, the dominant teams in the AFC were probably the Chiefs, Raiders and Jets, all charter members of the old American Football League. The Colts (still in Baltimore at that time) had just won the first Super Bowl to be played following the NFL–AFL merger, and they had done so as members of the AFC, but the Colts were NFL refugees. They had no history against the AFL — other than their upset loss to the New York Jets in Super Bowl III in January 1969.

By 1971, the Chiefs had been to as many Super Bowls as the Packers and the Colts — and they had won as many, too. The Dolphins, meanwhile, had never been to one before. In fact, they were making only their second–ever playoff appearance that Christmas Day — but they were doing so with the Colts' former coach, Don Shula, and he knew something about getting to the Super Bowl, as he demonstrated that year.

I don't remember what the point spread was, but I'm sure the Chiefs must have been heavy favorites.

And they got off to a fast start. Jan Stenerud nailed a field goal and Ed Podolak scored a touchdown, and Kansas City had a 10–0 lead when the first quarter ended. But Miami rallied with a Larry Csonka touchdown and a Garo Yepremian field goal in the second period, and the score was tied, 10–10, at intermission.

My friend and I, being normal boys who couldn't understand why anyone would stay indoors when it was warm and sunny outside, didn't spend much time in the office until after the sun went down that day. We popped in for a drink of water — and a score update — from time to time, and we heard that the teams traded touchdowns in the third and fourth quarters, and the game went to overtime with the score tied, 24–24.

By that time, if my memory serves me, the sun had gone down, and we remained in the office with our fathers, who were engrossed in the game — so engrossed, in fact, that many of the men remained in the office even after their children came to tell them that dinner was ready back at their campsites.

I recall that my own father was among those who resisted the calls from their wives.

It really seemed the Chiefs were going to put an end to things early in overtime, but the Dolphins blocked what would have been the game–winning field goal, and the defenses, who must have been wearing down, dominated things through the first overtime period ...

... and into the second.

All anyone had to do to win was to score — any kind of score would do, even a safety, and, finally, someone did score. After more than 82 minutes, Yepremian kicked a field goal with 7:40 showing on the clock in the second overtime period, and the Dolphins advanced to the AFC Championship game.

It remains the longest professional football game ever played.

No one knew it at the time, but that was the last time anyone would see Kansas City in the playoffs for more than a decade, and it would be two decades before the Chiefs would win in the postseason. Miami, on the other hand, was about to go to the first of three consecutive Super Bowls. In all, the Dolphins have been in five Super Bowls since that Christmas Day 39 years ago. The Chiefs haven't been to any.

No one knew that on this day 39 years ago, but everyone did know it was the last time the Chiefs would play in Municipal Stadium. The Chiefs were scheduled to begin playing in Arrowhead Stadium the next year so when their 1971 season ended, so, too, did Municipal's existence.

In addition to serving as the home to the Chiefs' two Super Bowl teams, Municipal hosted Kansas City's baseball teams — the American League's Athletics (before they moved to California) and the Royals in their early years, the Negro Leagues' Monarchs, the minor leagues' Blues — for half a century.

The times they were indeed a–changin'. But no one seemed to know it.

Not yet.

A Christmas Eve Classic

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I'm a football fan. I've been a football fan all my life, and I have seen a lot of football games.

Most have been entertaining. Not all have been memorable.

It seems to me that there are three things, any one of which can make a football game truly memorable:

• Extreme conditions


• A remarkable individual performance


• A fantastic finish

When I say "extreme conditions," I'm talking about something like the "Ice Bowl," in which severe weather plays a significant role in the outcome.

Of course, I guess that could also mean playing a game under unusually stressful circumstances. This would have applied, I suppose, if the NFL had played its regularly scheduled games the weekends after the 9/11 attacks or the assassination of John F. Kennedy.

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When I say "a remarkable individual performance," I'm talking about something like the day 45 years ago this month when Chicago Bears rookie Gale Sayers scored six touchdowns against the San Francisco 49ers.

And when I say "a fantastic finish," I could be talking about something like the "Ice Bowl," which had the coldest air temperature ever recorded in an NFL game.

But sometimes what makes a game's finish truly fantastic is the fact that the issue is not resolved in the regulation 60 minutes and overtime is required.

One day, I guess, the NFL will perfect its overtime provision. It will probably have to experiment with different formats, including the one currently in use in the NCAA, in which each team gets a chance on offense, and the game continues if neither team has the lead after both have had that opportunity.

In that arrangement, it is advantageous to get the ball second. That way, your team knows how much it must score either to win the game or force another overtime period.

As things stand now in the NFL, the first team to touch the ball might score and the other team would never have that opportunity. Consequently, in this arrangement, it is to a team's advantage to get the ball first.

Of course, that practically assumes that, if you get the ball, you're going to score. It doesn't always work out that way.

It didn't work out that way 33 years ago today.

I remember the Christmas Eve of 1977 quite well. My family was visiting my grandmother in Dallas, as usual. And, as usual, I was sick that Christmas Eve.

When I think back on my adolescence, I recall being sick during the Christmas holidays — usually a cold but occasionally a virus — a lot more frequently than I recall enjoying good health.

And on Christmas Eve 1977, a stomach virus was keeping me close to the bathroom in my grandmother's house.

It was a Saturday, the first day of the NFL playoffs. The Oakland Raiders were the defending Super Bowl champions, but they had lost the AFC West to the famed Orange Crush of Denver so they were the AFC's wild–card team and had to travel to Baltimore to play the Colts, winners of the AFC East.

I remember stretching out on my grandmother's sofa and my father sitting in one of her parlor chairs. My mother must have been doing some last–minute Christmas shopping. My grandmother and my brother may have been with her.

My father and I are the only ones who were in that living room that afternoon, and we watched an intense struggle between the Raiders and the Colts, a back–and–forth affair that went into overtime, then went into a second overtime.

It wasn't the longest game ever played. That was the AFC playoff game between Miami and Kansas City on Christmas Day in 1971.

It wasn't a championship game. If it had been a championship game, it might have been the longest one ever played.

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The championship game that holds the distinction as the longest remains the AFL title game between the Dallas Texans and the Houston Oilers on Dec. 23, 1962. The Texans won that game, 20–17, 2:54 into the second overtime period.

The Colts–Raiders game falls somewhere in between. It went into a second overtime period, it matched future Hall of Famers and great coaches, it never appeared to be in either team's pocket until tight end Dave Casper scored the winning touchdown.

I will always remember watching it with my father in my grandmother's living room on Christmas Eve 1977.

Ironically, the teams may be poised to make some more holiday memories this weekend. The teams will meet in Oakland on Sunday.

Neither team can clinch a playoff spot on Sunday, and it is highly unlikely that the teams can match what their franchise ancestors did in Baltimore 33 years ago.

But it might be fun to watch — and possibly memorable.