Zordon
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I was randomly searching for some old DMN articles on the Cowboys and came across this link with some of Luksa's old articles. I thought some of you might enjoy it. In the 80s and 90s DFW had the best sport writers in the country, bar none.
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL**...ing-his-time-at-the-dallas-morning-news.html/
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL***/files/2012/10/FrankLuksaWaltGarrisonDonny-AndersonLeeRoyJordan.jpg
From left: Frank Luksa, Walt Garrison, Donny Anderson and Lee Roy Jordan at an Ice Bown reunion dinner in 2007 (File photo)
At present there’s no way to compile in one place a Frank Luksa best-of. To do that we’d need to wade through the archives of the Star-Telegram, then get lost in the Dallas Times Herald microfiche stored in our second-floor library. All of which I’d be more than happy to do: Frank, who died this morning at 77, was once a friend and a mentor, the man who took me aside in 1997, when I began writing sports pieces for the Observer, and told me to always be kind to the losers. Reminded Frank, “It’s not like theytried to lose.”
Frank hadn’t written for The News since March 2004, when he was at the tail end of a freelance contract that followed his storied stint as this paper’s star attraction. When he and the paper parted ways, one of his former colleagues told Eric Celeste something worth recalling today:
“He’s the last link to the city’s past in terms of sports,” says former DMN and Dallas Observer sportswriter Carlton Stowers. “He’s the last guy working at the daily papers who covered the Cowboys in the ’60s, who has that sort of institutional memory. Back when I started working here and we were competing, he told me, ‘First of all, this ain’t a war of knives.’ He knew how to put things in perspective, in life and on the page.”
I tried to keep that in mind while reading through some of Frank’s pieces in our online archives. Which is why there’s the column about Blackie Sherrod, Tex Schramm’s obituary and why the collection below begins with one about a man named Jerry Flemmons …
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL***/files/2012/10/TEX_SCHRAMM_21092933.jpg
Tex Schramm at the unveiling of the Dallas Cowboys' then-new training center (John F. Rhodes/Staff photographer)
Architect of a dynasty
Scorning business as usual, Tex aimed for ‘something special’
Published: July 16, 2003
Memo to heaven: Prepare for changes. Tex Schramm is on his way.
Tex was convinced there was nothing on earth he couldn’t do better than the knot-heads in charge of sports sections, television, baseball, government, NFL teams in general and the NFL commissioner’s office in particular. Why not heaven?
Schramm was rarely satisfied with status quo, excepting the flavor of J&B Scotch, for which he held an approving taste. I’m certain Tex arrived at his celestial venue with the same attitude. He could improve the place.
Maybe paint clouds royal blue and silver. Apply a Cowboys-designed star to St. Peter’s gate. With Clint and Tom already there, found another expansion franchise.
When Tex used to launch a filibuster about how nitwits were doing it wrong and he’d make it right if he were in charge, I always had the same reaction. I thought he probably could, because Schramm was an anti-status quo thinker.
Tex was forever thinking about how to do everything bigger and better with unique flair. And how to do it first-class so that when his days were done, people would say he left a mark of enduring brilliance.
Such was his announced mission when the Cowboys joined the NFL in 1960. Schramm rejected being viewed as ordinary. The ultimate curse of his restless mind was to be irrelevant, another face among the faceless multitude. He left modest ambition to the modest.
“I don’t hide the fact that I’m history-conscious,” he once said. “I want the organization to be remembered in such a way that everyone who was part of it – the players, coaches and people working in the front office – will look back and know they were part of something special, something great.”
So they were. So Tex said it would be from the first day of humble expansion birth. He envisioned what was to evolve in Dallas. It would be an NFL franchise to eventually rank with sports dynasties of the times: the New York Yankees, Boston Celtics and Montreal Canadiens.
Few could have predicted a glowing future for Texas Ernest Schramm Jr. in his youth. That in a distant year he’d be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame as its only non-player/coach/owner member. He was then a parental frustration, schoolboy problem and medical mystery.
In brief, a child who failed multiple grades at the elementary level because a mind stuck in overdrive wouldn’t allow him to sit long enough to concentrate. They tagged him as hyperactive in that era. He’d be diagnosed today with attention deficit disorder.
Hence Tex had no patience for board games or card-playing. He read only two books in his life, The Godfather and a biography of Wyatt Earp. He absorbed lessons in college by filing the contents as they were read aloud by wife Marty.
Mention of Marty reminds that much of life lost its luster for Tex when she died in December 2002. Something vital within him went with her. He noted her absence during a last-hurrah appearance at Texas Stadium in April when the Cowboys belatedly revealed Tex’s inclusion in the Ring of Honor.
Nothing pleased Tex more than being center stage, and it was good that he knew a last stroke of public affection. He literally rose to the occasion, discarding a walking cane in stubborn rebellion against infirmity. Tex straightened his bent body as best he could and made his way to the stage to bask in forthcoming attention.
The scene energized Schramm for reasons beyond personal acclaim. It seemed the calendar had reversed, and the ’60s and ’70s returned. Scores of the old gang returned. Secretaries and trainers, players and coaches, media pals and periphery figures honored him with their presence.
Random memory intrudes with a trait about Tex that I don’t think anyone ever mentioned. That is, he was a red-white-and-blue patriot. An America-first fan when it came to any international competition. Our guy could be Joe Jerk, but if he was USA stock, Schramm rooted for him.
Another thing about Tex. He avoided firing anyone in the front office. He’d have them transferred. If it came to dismissal, he couldn’t face pulling the plug.
Schramm has been described as opinionated, irascible, hot-tempered, innovative, ribald and … that’s just a start. He also was generous, immensely likable and loyal, and he thrived on late-night verbal sparring.
All is now past tense for Tex. He died Tuesday shortly after his 83rd birthday June 2. Tex lived long. He lived well.
His legacy endures in a form that should satisfy Schramm’s lofty standards. A work of enduring brilliance forever will be attached to his name. It’s called history.
----
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL***/files/2012/10/COWBOYS_JERRY_20TH_FOOTBALL_4078703.jpg
This Feb. 1, 1992 file photo shows Dallas Cowboys head coach Jimmy Johnson, left, and team owner Jerry Jones smiling at a team party, in Santa Monica, Calif., after winning Super Bowl XXVII against the Buffalo Bills.
SUPER BOWL ODDITIES LIVEN UP DREARY WEEK
After 26 years, shenanigans are legendary
Published: January 19, 1992
At age XXVI, the Super Bowl has matured to the point that its countdown rhythm can be forecast. A definable routine has emerged for each day of the week preceding the kickoff. The Super Bowl is designed to lock-step to annual conclusion with military precision. And with decorum borrowed from Buckingham Palace. At least that is forever the staid NFL’s uneasy but prevailing hope.
Happily, a maverick element frequently intrudes. Jim McMahon puts his best face forward in practice and moons a TV helicopter. Coach Bud Grant complains of sparrows in his team’s shower, forgetting they were there before he arrived. A hot-air balloon designed to lift itself out of Tulane Stadium crashes into the lower deck.
The odd and oddball spice Super Bowl lore otherwise devoted to humdrum recall of who won or how many times Minnesota lost. These events we remember more vividly than most of the games. Even if, on a special occasion, Vince Lombardi might wince.
Lombardi’s widow, Marie, helped perform the pre-game coin toss for Super Bowl XV. What might her husband have thought of her special recognition?
“He’d probably have said, “What the hell is a woman doing on the field?’ ‘ Marie said.
What follows is a day-by-day diary of previous Super Bowls in terms of what is supposed to happen as opposed to what actually did. Monday
Traditional arrival date for teams at the Super Bowl site. Normally a dull day. But not always.
The Los Angeles Raiders once landed in the middle of a political flap. The Tampa, Fla., City Council voted to “adopt’ the Washington Commanders as its team. Any breach of neutrality by the host site is considered bad form.
As the Raiders disembarked from their plane, a local hostess apologized for the council’s behavior.
“It doesn’t matter,’ said one Raider. “We’re not welcome anywhere.’
Political intrigue also intruded upon the Cowboys before they left for New Orleans to play Miami. President Nixon had called Dolphins coach Don Shula to suggest a play. Use Paul Warfield on a down-and-in pass against the Cowboys, Nixon told Shula.
“I’d say he picked a pretty good play,’ Cowboys coach Tom Landry said. “Miami has been hitting it all year. Heck, it was a good play when Warfield was with Cleveland.’
A telegram arrived for Landry before takeoff. The message was from former President Lyndon B. Johnson and read: “My prayers and presence will be with you in New Orleans, although I have no plans to send in any plays.’
Landry was moved by the gesture. “At least,’ he said, “we have one president on our side.’ Tuesday
Picture Day. First chance for media to interview players. However, only if they wish to speak.
Duane Thomas did as a Cowboys rookie before Super Bowl V. Asked how he felt playing in the ultimate game, Thomas replied with impeccable logic, “If it was the ultimate game, they wouldn’t be playing it next year.’
Thomas spent idle moments sitting on the Florida beach, staring out to sea. His inner thoughts?
“I was thinking about New Zealand,’ he replied. “It seems like a nice place to retire.’
Thomas played the mummy before Super Bowl VI. He sat mute for 30 minutes, sprawled across three rows of wooden bleachers. A reporter sat alongside in mutual, wooden silence.
Thomas eventually moved his lips. Newsmen stampeded to the scene. What had Thomas said?
“He said, “I don’t feel like talking,’ ‘ the reporter reported. Wednesday
Interview Day I. Hype begins in earnest as media and players discuss the meaning of life inside a 3-4 defense.
“Writers and TV people spend two weeks building the game up,’ said Miami quarterback Bob Griese, “and the next four weeks tearing it down.’
Back off, Bob. Certain players seize the stage to promote themselves. Defensive lineman Lyle Alzado of the Raiders, for extreme instance, wished to magnify his macho-man image.
His opponent and pre-game target was offensive tackle Joe Jacoby of the Commanders. “I plan to rip his lips off,’ Alzado warned. Reporters rushed the ominous news to Jacoby, who, to put it gently, never would be mistaken for Robert Redford.
What did he think of Alzado’s intention to rip his lips away? “I think,’ Jacoby said, “it might be an improvement.’
No self-promoter topped Thomas “Hollywood’ Henderson of the Cowboys. Henderson spent Super Bowl week twitting the Pittsburgh Steelers.
“Terry Bradshaw,’ Henderson proclaimed, “is so dumb he couldn’t spell “cat’ if you gave him the “c’ and the “a’.’
As for Jack Lambert, Henderson said, “I don’t care for the man. He makes more money than I do, and he don’t have no teeth.’
Reserve tight end Randy Grossman was starting in place of injured Bennie Cunningham. Henderson cackled in elaborate disdain.
“How much respect can you have for a backup tight end? I mean, he’s the guy who comes in when everyone else is dead.’
Of all people, Chuck Noll, the stiff Steelers coach, topped Henderson. Someone asked Noll for his opinion of Hollywood’s bombast.
“Empty barrels make the most noise,’ Noll said. “Give a monkey a stage, and he’ll dance.’ Thursday
Interview Day II. Every decent question has been posed. Thus it is time for the dopey variety to emerge.
To Jim Plunkett: “Jim, let’s get this straight once and for all. Is it your father who’s blind and your mother who’s dead or vice versa?’
To Doug Williams: “How long have you been a black quarterback?’
To John Elway: “If you were a tree, what tree would you be?’
No one has been able to account for why an accredited newsperson would expose himself as brain-dead. Nearest explanation is that good help is hard to find. Friday
Final news conference for coaches. Tom Flores of the Raiders here defended his decision to merely fine John Matuszak for breaking curfew. Matuszak had made the rounds — and bought a few — on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.
Uptight rival Dick Vermeil of Philadelphia sniffed at such light treatment. Had Matuszak been a member of the Eagles, Vermeil said, “he’d be on the next plane back to Philadelphia.’
Matuszak’s teammate, Gene Upshaw, rolled his eyes in disbelief.
“If Tom Flores sent home every guy on this team who misbehaved,’ Upshaw said, “he’d be the only guy on the sideline.’
Coaches devote a portion of the briefing to praise their counterparts. So it was that Bill Walsh of the 49ers touted former pupil Sam Wyche of Cincinnati: “I developed Sam right to the upper reaches of mediocrity.’ Saturday
Newspeople devote the day to a review of the week’s major headlines and best player quotes. Drew Pearson once drew top-quote honors with a description of Cowboys teammate Ed “Too Tall’ Jones.
“Ed was one of those “raw’ brothers,’ Pearson said. “He was from the back woods of Tennessee. He didn’t want any ointment, any tape. He only wore shoes because it was a league rule.’
Joe Namath also quarreled openly with the exalted New York Times before Super Bowl III. Namath already had “guaranteed’ the Jets would beat mighty Baltimore.
The Times rebuked Namath’s rash statement when its correspondent wrote: “In the opinion of many, the Baltimore Colts are the best team in the history of professional football.’
Namath brashly countered by asking, “In the opinion of many what?’
As for headlines, none was larger than what Fred “The Hammer’ Williamson created. The Kansas City cornerback described his tackling technique as “a blow struck perpendicular to the earth’s latitudes with sufficient force to break a man’s helmet.’ He promised to use it against Green Bay and without regret that he could not be held accountable for resulting damage.
Newspeople also devote the night to final mental preparation and last-second research. Houston police interrupted one session in the press room, prompting poker chips to scatter. Cool reaction by then-Chicago author Rick Talley prevailed. Shouted Talley: “No one moves until we finish the hand!’ Sunday
Game day at last. Time to settle boasts and toasts. The outcome of those from the past?
Jacoby’s lips are intact. Thomas retired halfway to New Zealand, in California. Nixon’s play for Warfield didn’t work. Namath proved the Colts weren’t the NFL’s best team ever.
Matuszak caroused until he died of a heart attack in 1990. Vermeil burned out of coaching. Henderson went straight and lives in Austin. Williamson got knocked out, although the Packers puzzled later over who did it and how.
Texas Tech rookie Donny Anderson finally received credit. Packers veterans had ragged on Anderson all season for receiving an $840,000 bonus. Based on the size of Anderson’s take, lineman Gale Gillingham reached a satisfactory conclusion to the Williamson mystery.
“Well, then,’ Gillingham said, “Andy must have hit him with his purse.’
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL**...ing-his-time-at-the-dallas-morning-news.html/
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL***/files/2012/10/FrankLuksaWaltGarrisonDonny-AndersonLeeRoyJordan.jpg
From left: Frank Luksa, Walt Garrison, Donny Anderson and Lee Roy Jordan at an Ice Bown reunion dinner in 2007 (File photo)
At present there’s no way to compile in one place a Frank Luksa best-of. To do that we’d need to wade through the archives of the Star-Telegram, then get lost in the Dallas Times Herald microfiche stored in our second-floor library. All of which I’d be more than happy to do: Frank, who died this morning at 77, was once a friend and a mentor, the man who took me aside in 1997, when I began writing sports pieces for the Observer, and told me to always be kind to the losers. Reminded Frank, “It’s not like theytried to lose.”
Frank hadn’t written for The News since March 2004, when he was at the tail end of a freelance contract that followed his storied stint as this paper’s star attraction. When he and the paper parted ways, one of his former colleagues told Eric Celeste something worth recalling today:
“He’s the last link to the city’s past in terms of sports,” says former DMN and Dallas Observer sportswriter Carlton Stowers. “He’s the last guy working at the daily papers who covered the Cowboys in the ’60s, who has that sort of institutional memory. Back when I started working here and we were competing, he told me, ‘First of all, this ain’t a war of knives.’ He knew how to put things in perspective, in life and on the page.”
I tried to keep that in mind while reading through some of Frank’s pieces in our online archives. Which is why there’s the column about Blackie Sherrod, Tex Schramm’s obituary and why the collection below begins with one about a man named Jerry Flemmons …
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL***/files/2012/10/TEX_SCHRAMM_21092933.jpg
Tex Schramm at the unveiling of the Dallas Cowboys' then-new training center (John F. Rhodes/Staff photographer)
Architect of a dynasty
Scorning business as usual, Tex aimed for ‘something special’
Published: July 16, 2003
Memo to heaven: Prepare for changes. Tex Schramm is on his way.
Tex was convinced there was nothing on earth he couldn’t do better than the knot-heads in charge of sports sections, television, baseball, government, NFL teams in general and the NFL commissioner’s office in particular. Why not heaven?
Schramm was rarely satisfied with status quo, excepting the flavor of J&B Scotch, for which he held an approving taste. I’m certain Tex arrived at his celestial venue with the same attitude. He could improve the place.
Maybe paint clouds royal blue and silver. Apply a Cowboys-designed star to St. Peter’s gate. With Clint and Tom already there, found another expansion franchise.
When Tex used to launch a filibuster about how nitwits were doing it wrong and he’d make it right if he were in charge, I always had the same reaction. I thought he probably could, because Schramm was an anti-status quo thinker.
Tex was forever thinking about how to do everything bigger and better with unique flair. And how to do it first-class so that when his days were done, people would say he left a mark of enduring brilliance.
Such was his announced mission when the Cowboys joined the NFL in 1960. Schramm rejected being viewed as ordinary. The ultimate curse of his restless mind was to be irrelevant, another face among the faceless multitude. He left modest ambition to the modest.
“I don’t hide the fact that I’m history-conscious,” he once said. “I want the organization to be remembered in such a way that everyone who was part of it – the players, coaches and people working in the front office – will look back and know they were part of something special, something great.”
So they were. So Tex said it would be from the first day of humble expansion birth. He envisioned what was to evolve in Dallas. It would be an NFL franchise to eventually rank with sports dynasties of the times: the New York Yankees, Boston Celtics and Montreal Canadiens.
Few could have predicted a glowing future for Texas Ernest Schramm Jr. in his youth. That in a distant year he’d be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame as its only non-player/coach/owner member. He was then a parental frustration, schoolboy problem and medical mystery.
In brief, a child who failed multiple grades at the elementary level because a mind stuck in overdrive wouldn’t allow him to sit long enough to concentrate. They tagged him as hyperactive in that era. He’d be diagnosed today with attention deficit disorder.
Hence Tex had no patience for board games or card-playing. He read only two books in his life, The Godfather and a biography of Wyatt Earp. He absorbed lessons in college by filing the contents as they were read aloud by wife Marty.
Mention of Marty reminds that much of life lost its luster for Tex when she died in December 2002. Something vital within him went with her. He noted her absence during a last-hurrah appearance at Texas Stadium in April when the Cowboys belatedly revealed Tex’s inclusion in the Ring of Honor.
Nothing pleased Tex more than being center stage, and it was good that he knew a last stroke of public affection. He literally rose to the occasion, discarding a walking cane in stubborn rebellion against infirmity. Tex straightened his bent body as best he could and made his way to the stage to bask in forthcoming attention.
The scene energized Schramm for reasons beyond personal acclaim. It seemed the calendar had reversed, and the ’60s and ’70s returned. Scores of the old gang returned. Secretaries and trainers, players and coaches, media pals and periphery figures honored him with their presence.
Random memory intrudes with a trait about Tex that I don’t think anyone ever mentioned. That is, he was a red-white-and-blue patriot. An America-first fan when it came to any international competition. Our guy could be Joe Jerk, but if he was USA stock, Schramm rooted for him.
Another thing about Tex. He avoided firing anyone in the front office. He’d have them transferred. If it came to dismissal, he couldn’t face pulling the plug.
Schramm has been described as opinionated, irascible, hot-tempered, innovative, ribald and … that’s just a start. He also was generous, immensely likable and loyal, and he thrived on late-night verbal sparring.
All is now past tense for Tex. He died Tuesday shortly after his 83rd birthday June 2. Tex lived long. He lived well.
His legacy endures in a form that should satisfy Schramm’s lofty standards. A work of enduring brilliance forever will be attached to his name. It’s called history.
----
http://thescoopblog.***BANNED-URL***/files/2012/10/COWBOYS_JERRY_20TH_FOOTBALL_4078703.jpg
This Feb. 1, 1992 file photo shows Dallas Cowboys head coach Jimmy Johnson, left, and team owner Jerry Jones smiling at a team party, in Santa Monica, Calif., after winning Super Bowl XXVII against the Buffalo Bills.
SUPER BOWL ODDITIES LIVEN UP DREARY WEEK
After 26 years, shenanigans are legendary
Published: January 19, 1992
At age XXVI, the Super Bowl has matured to the point that its countdown rhythm can be forecast. A definable routine has emerged for each day of the week preceding the kickoff. The Super Bowl is designed to lock-step to annual conclusion with military precision. And with decorum borrowed from Buckingham Palace. At least that is forever the staid NFL’s uneasy but prevailing hope.
Happily, a maverick element frequently intrudes. Jim McMahon puts his best face forward in practice and moons a TV helicopter. Coach Bud Grant complains of sparrows in his team’s shower, forgetting they were there before he arrived. A hot-air balloon designed to lift itself out of Tulane Stadium crashes into the lower deck.
The odd and oddball spice Super Bowl lore otherwise devoted to humdrum recall of who won or how many times Minnesota lost. These events we remember more vividly than most of the games. Even if, on a special occasion, Vince Lombardi might wince.
Lombardi’s widow, Marie, helped perform the pre-game coin toss for Super Bowl XV. What might her husband have thought of her special recognition?
“He’d probably have said, “What the hell is a woman doing on the field?’ ‘ Marie said.
What follows is a day-by-day diary of previous Super Bowls in terms of what is supposed to happen as opposed to what actually did. Monday
Traditional arrival date for teams at the Super Bowl site. Normally a dull day. But not always.
The Los Angeles Raiders once landed in the middle of a political flap. The Tampa, Fla., City Council voted to “adopt’ the Washington Commanders as its team. Any breach of neutrality by the host site is considered bad form.
As the Raiders disembarked from their plane, a local hostess apologized for the council’s behavior.
“It doesn’t matter,’ said one Raider. “We’re not welcome anywhere.’
Political intrigue also intruded upon the Cowboys before they left for New Orleans to play Miami. President Nixon had called Dolphins coach Don Shula to suggest a play. Use Paul Warfield on a down-and-in pass against the Cowboys, Nixon told Shula.
“I’d say he picked a pretty good play,’ Cowboys coach Tom Landry said. “Miami has been hitting it all year. Heck, it was a good play when Warfield was with Cleveland.’
A telegram arrived for Landry before takeoff. The message was from former President Lyndon B. Johnson and read: “My prayers and presence will be with you in New Orleans, although I have no plans to send in any plays.’
Landry was moved by the gesture. “At least,’ he said, “we have one president on our side.’ Tuesday
Picture Day. First chance for media to interview players. However, only if they wish to speak.
Duane Thomas did as a Cowboys rookie before Super Bowl V. Asked how he felt playing in the ultimate game, Thomas replied with impeccable logic, “If it was the ultimate game, they wouldn’t be playing it next year.’
Thomas spent idle moments sitting on the Florida beach, staring out to sea. His inner thoughts?
“I was thinking about New Zealand,’ he replied. “It seems like a nice place to retire.’
Thomas played the mummy before Super Bowl VI. He sat mute for 30 minutes, sprawled across three rows of wooden bleachers. A reporter sat alongside in mutual, wooden silence.
Thomas eventually moved his lips. Newsmen stampeded to the scene. What had Thomas said?
“He said, “I don’t feel like talking,’ ‘ the reporter reported. Wednesday
Interview Day I. Hype begins in earnest as media and players discuss the meaning of life inside a 3-4 defense.
“Writers and TV people spend two weeks building the game up,’ said Miami quarterback Bob Griese, “and the next four weeks tearing it down.’
Back off, Bob. Certain players seize the stage to promote themselves. Defensive lineman Lyle Alzado of the Raiders, for extreme instance, wished to magnify his macho-man image.
His opponent and pre-game target was offensive tackle Joe Jacoby of the Commanders. “I plan to rip his lips off,’ Alzado warned. Reporters rushed the ominous news to Jacoby, who, to put it gently, never would be mistaken for Robert Redford.
What did he think of Alzado’s intention to rip his lips away? “I think,’ Jacoby said, “it might be an improvement.’
No self-promoter topped Thomas “Hollywood’ Henderson of the Cowboys. Henderson spent Super Bowl week twitting the Pittsburgh Steelers.
“Terry Bradshaw,’ Henderson proclaimed, “is so dumb he couldn’t spell “cat’ if you gave him the “c’ and the “a’.’
As for Jack Lambert, Henderson said, “I don’t care for the man. He makes more money than I do, and he don’t have no teeth.’
Reserve tight end Randy Grossman was starting in place of injured Bennie Cunningham. Henderson cackled in elaborate disdain.
“How much respect can you have for a backup tight end? I mean, he’s the guy who comes in when everyone else is dead.’
Of all people, Chuck Noll, the stiff Steelers coach, topped Henderson. Someone asked Noll for his opinion of Hollywood’s bombast.
“Empty barrels make the most noise,’ Noll said. “Give a monkey a stage, and he’ll dance.’ Thursday
Interview Day II. Every decent question has been posed. Thus it is time for the dopey variety to emerge.
To Jim Plunkett: “Jim, let’s get this straight once and for all. Is it your father who’s blind and your mother who’s dead or vice versa?’
To Doug Williams: “How long have you been a black quarterback?’
To John Elway: “If you were a tree, what tree would you be?’
No one has been able to account for why an accredited newsperson would expose himself as brain-dead. Nearest explanation is that good help is hard to find. Friday
Final news conference for coaches. Tom Flores of the Raiders here defended his decision to merely fine John Matuszak for breaking curfew. Matuszak had made the rounds — and bought a few — on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.
Uptight rival Dick Vermeil of Philadelphia sniffed at such light treatment. Had Matuszak been a member of the Eagles, Vermeil said, “he’d be on the next plane back to Philadelphia.’
Matuszak’s teammate, Gene Upshaw, rolled his eyes in disbelief.
“If Tom Flores sent home every guy on this team who misbehaved,’ Upshaw said, “he’d be the only guy on the sideline.’
Coaches devote a portion of the briefing to praise their counterparts. So it was that Bill Walsh of the 49ers touted former pupil Sam Wyche of Cincinnati: “I developed Sam right to the upper reaches of mediocrity.’ Saturday
Newspeople devote the day to a review of the week’s major headlines and best player quotes. Drew Pearson once drew top-quote honors with a description of Cowboys teammate Ed “Too Tall’ Jones.
“Ed was one of those “raw’ brothers,’ Pearson said. “He was from the back woods of Tennessee. He didn’t want any ointment, any tape. He only wore shoes because it was a league rule.’
Joe Namath also quarreled openly with the exalted New York Times before Super Bowl III. Namath already had “guaranteed’ the Jets would beat mighty Baltimore.
The Times rebuked Namath’s rash statement when its correspondent wrote: “In the opinion of many, the Baltimore Colts are the best team in the history of professional football.’
Namath brashly countered by asking, “In the opinion of many what?’
As for headlines, none was larger than what Fred “The Hammer’ Williamson created. The Kansas City cornerback described his tackling technique as “a blow struck perpendicular to the earth’s latitudes with sufficient force to break a man’s helmet.’ He promised to use it against Green Bay and without regret that he could not be held accountable for resulting damage.
Newspeople also devote the night to final mental preparation and last-second research. Houston police interrupted one session in the press room, prompting poker chips to scatter. Cool reaction by then-Chicago author Rick Talley prevailed. Shouted Talley: “No one moves until we finish the hand!’ Sunday
Game day at last. Time to settle boasts and toasts. The outcome of those from the past?
Jacoby’s lips are intact. Thomas retired halfway to New Zealand, in California. Nixon’s play for Warfield didn’t work. Namath proved the Colts weren’t the NFL’s best team ever.
Matuszak caroused until he died of a heart attack in 1990. Vermeil burned out of coaching. Henderson went straight and lives in Austin. Williamson got knocked out, although the Packers puzzled later over who did it and how.
Texas Tech rookie Donny Anderson finally received credit. Packers veterans had ragged on Anderson all season for receiving an $840,000 bonus. Based on the size of Anderson’s take, lineman Gale Gillingham reached a satisfactory conclusion to the Williamson mystery.
“Well, then,’ Gillingham said, “Andy must have hit him with his purse.’
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