Garrett Lowell
09-12-2002, 09:38 AM
My hat's off, and my highball is raised.
The Man With the Golden Arm
By William Gildea
Thursday, September 12, 2002; Page D01
My father and I watched from the middle deck at Yankee Stadium. I never thought to keep the ticket stub, but I did make a scrapbook that I keep at home to this day. In one of the yellowed newspaper clippings Bob Considine writes, "Unitas was the greatest pitcher I've seen since Hubbell." Johnny Unitas was that, and more. That was the day, Dec. 28, 1958, when Unitas ushered the National Football League into its modern era.
Unitas catapulted his sport toward new status as national pastime with a demonstration of daring yet precise passing, inventing the two-minute drill as he took the Colts against the clock and the New York Giants into position for a tying field goal that sent the 1958 NFL title game into the league's first overtime period. Then he led the Colts again almost the length of the field for the winning touchdown in what came to be known as "the greatest game ever played." The performance wed pro football and television.
Those of us who grew up watching Unitas quarterback the Colts from 1956 through 1972 have no doubt he was the greatest quarterback there ever was. But trying to be as objective as possible about Unitas, who died yesterday at age 69, it can be said for certain that he ranks at least among the very best. More importantly, he is the player above all others who raised pro football from a game played mainly in baseball parks toward a time when Sundays spent in luxurious football stadiums became a part of American life. Unitas is to pro football what Arnold Palmer is to golf.
His gambler's instinct and precision passing made him a legend by the time his career was only three years old. In 1955, the year before he made his way to Baltimore for a tryout with the Colts, he had been cut by his hometown Pittsburgh Steelers and played a season of sandlot ball on fields of frozen dirt. From obscurity he would become the most familiar figure in the league with his bristle-brush haircut and black high-top shoes. He was tall enough at 6 feet 1 and heavy enough at 195 pounds, but his shoulders were rounded and his legs thin. His appearance, his ethnic roots and his determination helped define him as a special player, as did his nature, a person solitary, usually competing against some odds, often in pain.
As he would approach the line of scrimmage, his arms jangled and his shoulders dropped one at a time as he turned slightly each way to survey a defensive alignment. He faded to pass sideways, with quick, mincing steps, and his overhand passing motion became Baltimore's unsculpted monument.
It was often said that by watching Unitas's expression, one could never tell if he had thrown a touchdown pass or an interception. A photograph of Unitas, taken moments after Alan Ameche scored the winning touchdown to beat the Giants, 23-17, in overtime, shows him with head bent, walking toward the Colts bench as if nothing much had happened.
Immediately after that performance he was invited to be on "The Ed Sullivan Show," then the Sunday night TV window on American culture. Elvis Presley, the Beatles -- almost anybody who was somebody performed on stage or took a bow from the audience. But Johnny U. turned it down. He wanted to be with the team when it went back home that night to Baltimore.
There, at what is now BWI Airport, in what were vastly simpler days, 30,000 people ran onto the tarmac to greet the team and almost upset the bus carrying the players. There had been nobody like John Unitas in Baltimore sports since Babe Ruth, and he had made almost all his history out of town.
In 1959 Unitas led the Colts to a repeat title-game victory over the Giants, this time at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. During his career, he connected with an array of talented receivers, the most famous being Raymond Berry, who made most of the catches in the "greatest game." Another was Lenny Moore, a double threat as runner and receiver. Another was little Jimmy Orr, who caught enough touchdown passes in the closed end of the old stadium to have part of the end zone nicknamed "Orrsville."
Unitas and Berry perfected the pass play in which the ball was thrown to a particular spot. Berry, who was not fast but was a master faker, often would materialize at the last instant to catch the ball. Largely because of Berry's persistence, the two worked on pass routes routinely after practices, sometimes even after they had been overtaken by darkness. To beat the Colts in the 1960s, such rival coaches as Green Bay's Vince Lombardi and Los Angeles's George Allen had to field powerhouses of their own, the result being season after season of dramatic games as, all the while, the NFL grew in stature.
Unitas played in two Super Bowls, but by then he was past his prime and injured on both occasions. He was sent in late in Super Bowl III but could not overcome the Joe Namath-led upset in progress by the New York Jets. Unitas started Super Bowl V only to have an injury knock him out of the game in which the Colts eventually beat the Dallas Cowboys. Unitas played out his career in 1973 with the San Diego Chargers, then returned to Baltimore.
Not all icons of American sport have been able to play the after-game as elegantly as they played the game itself, and Unitas ranks among these. Several business deals he made failed to work out, and he maintained a low profile. "Unitas ought to have had a post-playing career like DiMaggio's," Ernie Accorsi, Giants general manager and former Colts general manager, once said. "From 1950 to 1955, just before John came along, pro football was a level above sandlot ball. College football was king. I think the game owes him a tremendous amount. It hasn't done nearly enough for him."
This much is for sure: For anyone who went to see him play for 17 seasons in Baltimore, the rest of life was easily eclipsed when Johnny U. was introduced and ran into the sunlight on a Sunday afternoon.
© 2002 The Washington Post Company
The Man With the Golden Arm
By William Gildea
Thursday, September 12, 2002; Page D01
My father and I watched from the middle deck at Yankee Stadium. I never thought to keep the ticket stub, but I did make a scrapbook that I keep at home to this day. In one of the yellowed newspaper clippings Bob Considine writes, "Unitas was the greatest pitcher I've seen since Hubbell." Johnny Unitas was that, and more. That was the day, Dec. 28, 1958, when Unitas ushered the National Football League into its modern era.
Unitas catapulted his sport toward new status as national pastime with a demonstration of daring yet precise passing, inventing the two-minute drill as he took the Colts against the clock and the New York Giants into position for a tying field goal that sent the 1958 NFL title game into the league's first overtime period. Then he led the Colts again almost the length of the field for the winning touchdown in what came to be known as "the greatest game ever played." The performance wed pro football and television.
Those of us who grew up watching Unitas quarterback the Colts from 1956 through 1972 have no doubt he was the greatest quarterback there ever was. But trying to be as objective as possible about Unitas, who died yesterday at age 69, it can be said for certain that he ranks at least among the very best. More importantly, he is the player above all others who raised pro football from a game played mainly in baseball parks toward a time when Sundays spent in luxurious football stadiums became a part of American life. Unitas is to pro football what Arnold Palmer is to golf.
His gambler's instinct and precision passing made him a legend by the time his career was only three years old. In 1955, the year before he made his way to Baltimore for a tryout with the Colts, he had been cut by his hometown Pittsburgh Steelers and played a season of sandlot ball on fields of frozen dirt. From obscurity he would become the most familiar figure in the league with his bristle-brush haircut and black high-top shoes. He was tall enough at 6 feet 1 and heavy enough at 195 pounds, but his shoulders were rounded and his legs thin. His appearance, his ethnic roots and his determination helped define him as a special player, as did his nature, a person solitary, usually competing against some odds, often in pain.
As he would approach the line of scrimmage, his arms jangled and his shoulders dropped one at a time as he turned slightly each way to survey a defensive alignment. He faded to pass sideways, with quick, mincing steps, and his overhand passing motion became Baltimore's unsculpted monument.
It was often said that by watching Unitas's expression, one could never tell if he had thrown a touchdown pass or an interception. A photograph of Unitas, taken moments after Alan Ameche scored the winning touchdown to beat the Giants, 23-17, in overtime, shows him with head bent, walking toward the Colts bench as if nothing much had happened.
Immediately after that performance he was invited to be on "The Ed Sullivan Show," then the Sunday night TV window on American culture. Elvis Presley, the Beatles -- almost anybody who was somebody performed on stage or took a bow from the audience. But Johnny U. turned it down. He wanted to be with the team when it went back home that night to Baltimore.
There, at what is now BWI Airport, in what were vastly simpler days, 30,000 people ran onto the tarmac to greet the team and almost upset the bus carrying the players. There had been nobody like John Unitas in Baltimore sports since Babe Ruth, and he had made almost all his history out of town.
In 1959 Unitas led the Colts to a repeat title-game victory over the Giants, this time at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. During his career, he connected with an array of talented receivers, the most famous being Raymond Berry, who made most of the catches in the "greatest game." Another was Lenny Moore, a double threat as runner and receiver. Another was little Jimmy Orr, who caught enough touchdown passes in the closed end of the old stadium to have part of the end zone nicknamed "Orrsville."
Unitas and Berry perfected the pass play in which the ball was thrown to a particular spot. Berry, who was not fast but was a master faker, often would materialize at the last instant to catch the ball. Largely because of Berry's persistence, the two worked on pass routes routinely after practices, sometimes even after they had been overtaken by darkness. To beat the Colts in the 1960s, such rival coaches as Green Bay's Vince Lombardi and Los Angeles's George Allen had to field powerhouses of their own, the result being season after season of dramatic games as, all the while, the NFL grew in stature.
Unitas played in two Super Bowls, but by then he was past his prime and injured on both occasions. He was sent in late in Super Bowl III but could not overcome the Joe Namath-led upset in progress by the New York Jets. Unitas started Super Bowl V only to have an injury knock him out of the game in which the Colts eventually beat the Dallas Cowboys. Unitas played out his career in 1973 with the San Diego Chargers, then returned to Baltimore.
Not all icons of American sport have been able to play the after-game as elegantly as they played the game itself, and Unitas ranks among these. Several business deals he made failed to work out, and he maintained a low profile. "Unitas ought to have had a post-playing career like DiMaggio's," Ernie Accorsi, Giants general manager and former Colts general manager, once said. "From 1950 to 1955, just before John came along, pro football was a level above sandlot ball. College football was king. I think the game owes him a tremendous amount. It hasn't done nearly enough for him."
This much is for sure: For anyone who went to see him play for 17 seasons in Baltimore, the rest of life was easily eclipsed when Johnny U. was introduced and ran into the sunlight on a Sunday afternoon.
© 2002 The Washington Post Company