About those concussions . . .

The firestorm over concussions in the NFL spurred me to dig up these two wrestling videos. (Yes, wrestling videos.) The first features Wahoo McDaniel, the AFL folk hero, against Ric Flair. The second has Ernie Ladd, the mammoth Chargers defensive tackle who played at the same time as Wahoo, tangling with Dusty Rhodes.

That was quite the head-butt Wahoo laid on Flair. And those were quite the elbows Ernie took from Rhodes — right on the noggin.

McDaniel and Ladd both wrestled during the offseason, as did scores of other pro footballers in the early years. How much head trauma do you suppose they absorbed in the ring? Was it all just playacting, or were there some hard knocks? (Too bad we can’t ask Andy Kaufman.)

By the way, did you see Rhodes hurl that referee through the ropes? It’s a good thing no NFL officials moonlighted as wrestling refs. Or did they?

Just having a little fun here. Unless, of course, I’m dead serious.

R. C. Owens’ one-of-a-kind field-goal block

A couple of years ago, when R. C. Owens died, newspapers mentioned the unusual way he’d once blocked a field goal try for the Colts. From his New York Times obituary:

In 1962, the 6-foot-3 Owens wowed fans by standing under the goal post at the goal line (goal posts have since been moved to the back of the end zone) and leaping to block a long, line-drive field-goal attempt by the Washington Redskins. The tactic was legislated out of existence.

Unfortunately, none of Owens’ obits featured a photo of his amazing play, perhaps because papers couldn’t find one. I ran into the same problem 25 years ago when I was digging up art for my first book, The Pro Football Chronicle. Nobody had kept the negative — or something.

Too bad. As you can see, R. C. really got up there. He was already on his way down (along with the ball) when this was snapped. Don’t ask me where it came from.

(For more, see: “R. C. Owens’ one-of-a-kind block, revisited.”)

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60 years ago: Curly Lambeau’s last day in the NFL

Does anyone else find it strange that not one but two Hall of Fame coaches had their NFL careers end in training camp? One was George Allen, who returned to the Rams in 1978 — after seven seasons with the Redskins — and was canned after just two preseason games, both losses. (The veterans balked at his strict regimen and were weirded out by some of his idiosyncrasies, such as the compulsive neatness that caused him to “be distracted . . . by the sight of crumpled paper cups strewn across the practice field.”)

Allen later coached in the USFL (Chicago Blitz, Arizona Wranglers) and at the college level (Long Beach State) but never got his hands on another NFL club. UPI summed up the Rams debacle nicely:

[Owner Carroll] Rosenbloom and Allen simply was not a match that was going to last. Rosenbloom has spent his entire NFL existence alienating himself from his coaches, and Allen has spent his alienating himself from his owners.

Then there’s Packers icon Curly Lambeau, who had moved to the Redskins in 1953 — only to be dumped in the ’54 preseason after a run-in with owner George Preston Marshall over team discipline. Accounts of the episode vary. According to the Associated Press’ version, two players had shown up in the hotel bar following a 30-7 loss to the 49ers in Sacramento, and Marshall was upset that Lambeau had merely “shooed them out” without fining them. (Drinking while in training was a big no-no with George.) A summit meeting was hastily convened in the lobby, and “the conversation soon degenerated into a rowdy near-fight” that cost Curly his job.

Lambeau went on to coach the College All-Stars in some of their annual games against the defending NFL champs, including a 30-27 win over the Browns the next summer, but he was through in the league he’d helped build since Year 2. What an exit.

Yup, training camps sure could be eventful back in the day. Now, of course, they’re usually so quiet you can hear a chinstrap drop.

Art Rooney hits it big at the track, August 1937

Contrary to legend, Art Rooney didn’t buy the Pittsburgh franchise with some of his winnings from a huge score at the racetrack. After all, his nationally publicized run of luck with the ponies was in the summer of ’37. By then, he’d been an NFL owner for four years.

Still, it’s a classic tale that tells you much about pro football in that period, a time when gambling by sports figures didn’t cause nearly the palpitations it does now. The story of Rooney’s hot streak, just before training camp got underway, made the front page of the Pittsburgh Press — and was picked up by plenty of other papers around the country. Imagine a headline like this appearing today:

(And in ’33, remember, when the Steelers joined the league, franchises cost $2,500.)

Rooney was hardly the only owner who walked in this world, either. The Giants’ Tim Mara was a legal bookie in the days before parimutuel betting. The Cardinals’ Charley Bidwill owned a horse track and some dog tracks. The Eagles’ Bert Bell, meanwhile, routinely wagered on four-legged creatures, two-legged creatures and the occasional three-legged race (and kept it up even during his term as commissioner). It was what a “sportsman” — as so many of them were called — did in the ’30s.

The $100,000 figure — thanks to picking five winners on opening day at Saratoga — was probably just the beginning for Rooney, by the way. Most estimates put his haul at between $250,000 and $380,000. The Press story, you see, only deals with his first pass at the tracks. Being en fuego, he naturally made other visits until the streak ran its course. When he was done, the previously obscure football owner from Pittsburgh was a Known Entity (though it would be another decade before his struggling team began to emerge from the shadows).

“He likes to bet fancies, hunches, on a whim, and the man is not afraid to bet,” Frank Ortell wrote in the New York World-Telegram. “He sends it along in a fashion that recalls the days when the old plungers used to go into action.”

It took a while, but his bet on the Steelers eventually paid off as well — with four Super Bowl wins in six seasons beginning in 1974. Some guys just have the touch.

End zone catch photo, 1935

Before instant replay, a team didn’t have much recourse if it felt an official had missed a call. It might send a film clip to the commissioner, just to prove its point, but that was as far as it went. No call was ever reversed.

It was the same in 1935, when the Pittsburgh Pirates (as they were known then) lost 13-7 to the Brooklyn Dodgers on a disputed touchdown catch. The difference then was that a Pittsburgh Press photographer had gotten a good shot of the play, one that suggested — but didn’t conclusively prove — the left foot of receiver Wayland Becker was out of bounds when he secured the pass from Red Franklin.

It might have been the NFL’s first photographic controversy. (And just think how much more primitive the technology was then, how much harder it must have been to get a shot like that. Never mind the luck involved.)

Take a look at the photo and see what you think. The quality isn’t good, but the sideline is faintly visible beneath Becker’s foot. The question is: Where exactly did his heel come down? From this angle — and at this juncture — it’s pure speculation.

Photo controversy, 1935 Here, too, is the link to the Pittsburgh Press page from Nov. 4, 1935. Maybe you’ll find the clarity a bit better.

If indeed Becker got away with one, he didn’t escape unscathed. He missed the Dodgers’ next two games — rematches with Philadelphia and PIttsburgh — because he “sustained a broken jaw in the first game with the Pirates,” the Brooklyn Eagle reported. What a coincidence.

Jamaal Charles: Mr. 5.58

Through six NFL seasons, one of which he essentially missed because of a knee injury, Jamaal Charles’ per-carry average stands at 5.58. This just happens to be the all-time record for a running back with 1,000 or more attempts. Whether the Chiefs Pro Bowler can stay at this level, or even close to it, remains to be seen, but it’s a significant accomplishment regardless. After all, it’s hard enough to average 5 yards for a single year, never mind over a six-year stretch. Tony Dorsett, a breakaway back like Charles, never did it (high: 4.84 as a rookie in 1977). Eric Dickerson, another speed guy, did it just once.

Granted, there are many ways to measure a running back, and yards per carry probably isn’t as telling as some others. But as Hall of Famer Joe Perry once told me, “I always thought what mattered most was what you did with the ball when you got it” — and Joe took great pride in his 4.82 career mark (5.04 if you count his two years in the rival All-America Conference). So a little respect, please, for rushing average, one of the redheaded stepchildren of football stats.

At the moment, only one back in NFL history has finished his career with 1,000 carries and a 5-yard average: Jim Brown. If you include guys who only cleared the 750- or 500-carry threshold, a few more make the list — but just a few.

1,000 CARRIES, 5-YARD AVERAGE, CAREER

Running back, Team(s)	Years	Att	Yds	Avg
Jamaal Charles*, Chiefs	2008-13	1,043	5,823	5.58
Jim Brown, Browns	1957-65	2,359	12,312	5.22

750 CARRIES, 5-YARD AVERAGE, CAREER

Running back, Team(s)	Years	Att	Yds	Avg
Mercury Morris, Dolphins/Chargers	1969-76	804	4,133	5.14
Gale Sayers, Bears	1965-71	991	4,956	5.00

500 CARRIES, 5-YARD AVERAGE, CAREER

Running back, Team(s)	Years	Att	Yds	Avg
Bo jackson, Raiders	1987-90	515	2,782	5.40
Bobby Mitchell, Browns/Redskins	1958-68	513	2,735	5.33
Dan Towler, Rams	1950-55	672	3,493	5.20
C.J. Spiller*, Bills	2010-13	590	3,021	5.12
Tommy Wilson, Rams/Browns/Vikings	1956-63	508	2,553	5.03

*active

An awfully small club, isn’t it? And I’m fudging a bit on Mitchell, who switched to receiver with the Redskins and might not have had 500 carries as an Actual Running Back. So if you want to throw him out, go ahead. That would get us down to eight backs, two of them active.

Most of the eight are readily identifiable. Brown and Sayers (as well as Mitchell) are Hall of Famers. Bo Jackson was one of the greatest athletes of the 20th century. And Morris played on two title teams with the Dolphins, including the 17-0 bunch. As for the others, Towler was a terrific fullback who led the league in rushing in 1952, and Wilson at one time held the NFL record for rushing yards in a game (223 vs. the Packers in ’56, his rookie season). Charles and Spiller, I suspect, you’re well acquainted with.

Per-carry averages tend to decline as a player ages (along with everything else, I might add). The longer your career, the less likely you are to average 5 yards. Lenny Moore, for instance, was averaging 5.01 after 10 seasons (964 attempts) but tailed off to 4.84. Hugh McElhenny was at 4.99 through 1,002 carries but finished at 4.70. More recently, the Panthers’ DeAngelo Williams was at 5.04 when he hit 1,000 . . . but has since dropped to 4.84. It makes you appreciate Tiki Barber, who averaged 5.15 in his final two seasons with the Giants at the ages of 30 and 31.

The record book says Barry Sanders averaged 5.0 for his illustrious Lions career, but that’s rounded up. His real average was 4.9866. Sorry, but we don’t round up here at Pro Football Daly, not for something as important as this. Five-Point-O is Five-Point-O, not Four-Point-Nine-Eight-Six-Six.

And how’s this for heartbreak? Sanders was averaging 5 going into his last NFL game in 1998 — 5.0043 to be precise. Alas, he was held to 41 yards in 19 attempts by Ray Lewis and Co., and his average fell to the aforementioned 4.9866. In fact, you can pinpoint the play he went under 5 to stay: his fourth carry of the day, a third-and-6 from the Detroit 41, when Ravens defensive end Keith Washington nailed him for a 3-yard loss. (Though he did rally with back-to-back gains of 31 and 6 in the third quarter to get to 4.9951.)

In case you’re curious, .9866 = 35.5 inches. In other words, Sanders came up half an inch short, per carry, of the Five-Point-O Club. (And if football is a “game of inches,” it’s even more a game of half-inches.) Half an inch, by the way, translates into 41 yards (spread over 3,062 attempts).

Going into this season, the Vikings’ Adrian Peterson is sitting at 4.98, so he also has a chance to join the group. The question is whether, at 29, his rushing average will head north or south. His 4.54 per carry a year ago was the second-lowest of his career.

Whatever your opinion of Charles, there’s no denying he’s putting together a nice resumé. Last season he became just the sixth back — NFL or AFL — to score 12 rushing and 6 receiving touchdowns in a season. The company he keeps:

12 RUSHING AND 6 RECEIVING TOUCHDOWNS IN A SEASON

Year	Running Back, Team	Rush TD	Rec TD
2013	Jamaal Charles, Chiefs	12	7
2001	Marshall Faulk, Rams	12	9
2000	Marshall Faulk, Rams	18	8
1975	Chuck Foreman, Vikings	13	9
1975	O.J. Simpson, Bills	16	7
1965	Gale Sayers, Bears	14	6
1962	Abner Haynes, Texans (AFL)	13	6

That’s twice now I’ve mentioned Charles in the same breath with Sayers. What do you suppose it means?

Sources: pro-football-reference.com, The Pro Football Chronicle

Guess who’s coming to dinner?

The close connection between fans and pro football players in the early years, especially in small towns like Portsmouth, Ohio, is hard to imagine today. After the Spartans’ 14-0 win over the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1931 season opener, locals flocked to a dinner attended by both teams. The invitation that ran that day in the Portsmouth Times:

The one and only Jimmy Conzelman

“[Light-heavyweight champ] Philadelphia Jack O’Brien thought I had a future as a fighter, but I’m glad I didn’t follow up on that. As for music, I had an expert opinion from the late Eddy Duchin. We were good friends, and I used to pretend to him that I seriously thought I was in his league as a piano player.

Eddy never caught on, he couldn’t see anything funny in the idea. So I began to get people to ask him just where he would rate me among the 10 best piano players of the country. Eddy used to blow his top. He’d yell, ‘Conzelman! He’s no piano player! Look at his left hand! As a piano player Conzelman is a bum!'”

— JImmy Conzelman

If you could invite any five people from pro football history to dinner, who would you choose? My first draft pick — playing the position of: Life of the Party — would be Hall of Famer Jimmy Conzelman. Conzelman was a man of many talents. A fine quarterback in the 1920s with the Rock Island Independents and other clubs, he also coached two teams to NFL titles (the single-wing Providence Steam Roller in 1928 and the T-formation Chicago Cardinals in ’47), was perhaps the most sought-after after-dinner speaker of his time and could even play the piano.

Sports Illustrated’s Gerald Holland wrote this piece about Conzelman in 1961, one that captures him in all his multifaceted glory. Hope you like it as much as I did. To me, Jimmy was a combination of John Madden and Art Donovan — with some Victor Borge, perhaps, mixed in. Of course, Jimmy always said his primary influence as a speaker was humorist Robert Benchley, who had a seat at the Algonquin Round Table.

Who had the best burst?

1. Bob Hayes (Cowboys/49ers, 1965-75) making up a massive amount of ground in the 4×100 relay at the ’64 Olympics:

2. Darrell Green (Redskins, 1983-2002) running down the Cowboys’ Tony Dorsett in the ’83 season opener:

3. Willie Gault (Bears/Raiders, 1983-93) zooming by everybody in the 100-yard dash final at the ’86 “Superstars” competition:

My two cents: I’m not sure any NFL player has run faster than “Bullet Bob” Hayes. Remember, those are the best sprinters in the world he’s blowing away down the stretch. As for Gault, an Olympic-caliber hurdler, he dusted a “Superstars” field that included James Lofton, Renaldo Nehemiah and St. Louis Cardinals base-stealer Vince Coleman (who was in camp with the ’82 Redskins as a receiver) — pretty fast company. Green is more of a What Might Have Been case. Like Gault, he gave up track after college to concentrate on football, though he went on to win all four of the NFL Fastest Man competitions he entered.

Then again, Ollie Matson (Cardinals/Rams/Lions/Eagles, 1952, ’54-66), another Olympian (bronze, 400 meters, 1952), has always had his supporters. Watch him take off here after nearly getting tripped up on a kickoff return:

The thing about Matson is that he was such a glider, it never looked like he was running that fast — until you noticed players disappearing behind him.

Granted, there are other worthy candidates for this list — including Ron Brown, the receiver-returner for the Rams and Raiders (1984-91) — but these are the best clips I could come up with. Feel free to submit your own.

The “Savagery on Sunday” trial

In October 1955 Life magazine tackled the issue of NFL violence head-on with an exposé titled:

Not surprisingly, two of the players the magazine identified as “bad boys,” middle guard Bucko Kilroy and linebacker Wayne Robinson of the Eagles, brought $250,000 libel suits against the publisher, Time, Inc. This led to one of the more entertaining — and educational — trials in league history.

The case wasn’t tried until 1958, by which time Kilroy and Robinson were retired. Here’s an excerpt from Kilroy’s testimony that deals with an episode during the ’48 preseason, when he kicked Bears guard Ray Bray in the groin. Keep in mind this is the future general manager of the Patriots talking:

https://profootballdaly.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Kilroy-Testimony-Excerpt.pdf

In the end, Life‘s “evidence” was too shaky to hold up. Kilroy and Robinson didn’t walk away with $250,000 for having their characters impugned, but they were awarded $11,600 each, which is more than either ever made in a season. More important, as far as the NFL is concerned: no publication since has gone after it so aggressively on the problem of dirty play. It’s just a hard accusation to prove, given the nature of the sport.

Down the road, I’ll post more testimony from the trial, which lasted eight days and saw Commissioner Bert Bell and fellow Hall of Famers Otto Graham, Doak Walker and Em Tunnell called to the stand. You haven’t lived until you’ve read the following words, straight from the commish’s lips:

I don’t read the rules too thoroughly. . . . I couldn’t study those rules in a hundred years. They are technical in every way else.

PRO FOOTBALL DALY

The whole 100 yards — and sometimes the end zones, too.