The stands began to fill ninety minutes before kickoff. Fans came in their cars, on city buses, by foot. Politicians and paper mill owners came through the turnstiles, found their seats next to shift workers, hailed each other, and discussed the game. Years of losing hadn't dulled Green Bay's love for the Packers, especially early in a season, before the losses started piling up. Women dressed in their best clothes and paraded to their seats in the single-tier bowl. The Lumberjack Band, a flannel-clad marching band that had played at Packer home games since the 1920s, played a brief show.
In the press box, which hovered over the home-side stands, every seat was taken. Television and radio broadcast crews tested their equipment. A statistical crew, composed of moonlighting Press-Gazette business and news reporters, got ready to chart the game. Reporters from wire services, radio stations, and smaller papers sat at desks and prepared to cover the game alongside beat writers Art Daley and Lee Remmel of the Press-Gazette and Bud Lea and Chuck Johnson from the Milwaukee papers.
Halas took a walk on the field as his players dressed. He was pleased to see the Packers looking better, not that he would admit it. He usually just wanted to crush them; the Bears and Packers had the NFL's oldest and angriest rivalry, having traded low blows and broken bones since the 1920s while their fans brawled, bet, and threw liquor bottles at each other. At one time Halas had valued nothing more than a victory over Curly Lambeau, but the heat had gone out of their games since the Packers fell apart, and as much as Halas craved victories, he was a businessman first, and bitter games between the Bears and Packers were good for business. They made news, sold tickets, made seasons more interesting. Halas wanted the fire back in the rivalry. In 1956, when the Packers were campaigning to win funding for their new stadium, he had stumped on their behalf just before the election. More recently, when Packer president Dominic Olejniczak had asked him to recommend replacements for Scooter, he suggested Lombardi, whom he'd gotten to know at league events. Now that Lombardi was here, the Packers surely would be tougher. Halas smiled to himself and shook his head ruefully.
I need to whip his Italian ass today.
In the Packer locker room, players quietly went through their pregame rituals, anticipating the hard hitting ahead. They took off their street clothes and put on their uniforms, which the team's equipment manager, Dad Braisher, had arranged on hangers in their lockers. Then they went to Bud Jorgensen's training table to get their ankles taped. Jim Ringo, as always, also wanted tape on all ten fingertips.
They looked at each other with smiles as they put on their uniforms, which Lombardi had redesigned. The Packers had worn an assortment of different uniforms in the 1950s, seemingly unable to find a design they liked—navy blue jerseys with faded gold pants; all-white tops and bottoms with a single navy stripe down the side of the pants; and recently, dark bluish-green jerseys with three gold bands on the ends of the sleeves. Lombardi had gone with dark forest green jerseys with gold and white stripes on the ends of the sleeves, white numerals, and gold pants and helmets.
At noon, both teams went out to warm up as the Lumberjack Band played and fans shouted encouragement to the Packers and booed the Bears. Lamar McHan, Bart Starr, and Joe Francis threw passes to receivers running square-outs and crossing patterns. The backs and linemen ran through plays. The stands continued to fill.
After a half hour outside, the players returned to their locker rooms. Lombardi asked the Packers to gather around him. He was more nervous than he wanted to admit. He hadn't been in charge of a team since St. Cecilia's.
You're prepared. Go play like you can. Be physical. This is football. Do your job. Represent the Green Bay Packers. We can win. We can beat this team.
The players jumped up, crowded through the doorway, and sprinted down the tunnel to the field. Let's go! Come on! Lombardi had been encouraging and humiliating them since July. It had been an exhausting and, at times, discouraging process, and some players still weren't sure they wanted to play for him. But he had pushed them beyond what they thought their athletic limits were, and that was exhilarating. Unlike Scooter or Blackbourn, he had truly prepared them to compete.
This first game was critical for any team in any season, but especially so now for the Packers. Lombardi understood that. If the players lost after working so hard, they might rebel, thinking he was just a louder version of Blackbourn, just another guy destined to lose in Green Bay, and start resisting what he was teaching. All hell could break loose. But if they won, they would see the benefits and work even harder.
Jim Ringo and Bill Forester, the team captains, went to midfield and won the coin flip. Lombardi chose to kick off; the wind was gusting to twenty-five miles per hour and he wanted the conditions in his favor early. The crowd rose and cheered as Johnny Morris, a Bears rookie, caught the opening kickoff at the goal line and ran forward. Ray Nitschke, the first man downfield for Green Bay, slammed into him at the 18-yard line. The ball popped loose and Nitschke pounced on it. What a start!
McHan exchanged a glance with Lombardi as the offense headed to the field. He knew what the look meant. Go ahead. This is a gift. Take a shot. McHan kneeled in the huddle and called for a halfback option. He took the snap and handed to Paul Hornung running right on what appeared to be a sweep. The defense came up to stop him, but Hornung slowed, looked downfield, and arched a pass toward his backfield mate, Lew Carpenter, who had circled behind the defense and was open at the goal line.
The crowd sent up a piercing roar, but Hornung, in his excitement, put too much on the pass. The ball sailed above Carpenter, who leapt and got one hand on it but couldn't control it as he fell. It bounced away, incomplete, as the crowd groaned.
Ooooooooh.
The near miss seemed to deflate the offense. The Bears stuffed Jim Taylor up the middle and McHan's third-down pass for Max McGee was incomplete. Hornung then missed a nineteen-yard field goal attempt, hooking the ball left. The crowd groaned again and Hornung's shoulders slumped as he jogged off the field. After all that, no points.
The Bear offense took the field for the first time with Ed Brown, a veteran quarterback, calling the plays. He sent Rick Casares off right and left tackle on the first two plays. Bill Quinlan and Nate Borden held their ground, and Forester and Dan Currie delivered strong hits to knock the sturdy Casares over. A third-down pass fell incomplete and Lombardi clapped as his defense came off the field. How to go there! That's some football!
The Packer offense fared better on its next possession. Hornung gained five yards on a sweep. Taylor picked up six up the middle. Hornung drifted out of the backfield and caught a short pass for five. In the game's first seven minutes Hornung had run, caught, kicked, and thrown the ball. He couldn't believe how drastically his fortunes had changed. He had gone from the end of the bench to the middle of everything.
The drive continued. Taylor gained seven behind Forrest Gregg and four behind Norm Masters. Lombardi paced, pleased to see his blockers winning battles. At midfield, McHan dropped back and looked to his left and right as Gary Knafelc got behind J. C. Caroline deep over the middle, around the Chicago 20. An on-target pass would have resulted in a touchdown, but McHan threw too hard and the ball sailed over Knafelc.
One play later, Boyd Dowler, the rookie, also got behind Caroline deep, around the 15, and McHan threw a perfect pass. Dowler dropped it. Lombardi kicked the ground, frustrated by the missed opportunities. Dowler would pay for his mistake.
Halas subbed in the younger Zeke Bratkowski at quarterback near the end of the first quarter, and the Bear offense perked up. Bratkowski completed two passes, moving the ball to the Green Bay 26. Three plays later, Halas went for it on fourth-and-one at the 17. The Packer defenders exhorted each other in the huddle, taking deep breaths to steel themselves. It was early in the game but their uniforms were already caked with mud. Bratkowski took the snap and tried to lunge across the line, but Dave Hanner and Henry Jordan outmuscled their blockers and stood him up. No gain!
Midway through the s
econd quarter, Bratkowski drove the Bears just far enough into Packer territory for their kicker, John Aveni, to try a forty-six-yard field goal. Aveni put it through to give the Bears a 3–0 lead.
Lombardi and McHan spoke on the sidelines before the next series. As much as he wanted to run the ball, Lombardi noticed Packer receivers were getting open.
Mix it up, Lamar. Don't be afraid to go deep.
Yes, sir.
After Taylor gained twelve yards behind Gregg on first down, McHan called for an option pass. Hornung took the pitchout, swept right, and stopped to throw. McGee, his deep target, was covered, so he arched a pass back over the middle to Knafelc, who grabbed the ball for a nineteen-yard gain. McHan, emboldened, threw deep on the next play for Dowler, the rookie receiver, who had gotten behind Caroline on a "streak" route, a straight downfield sprint. Caroline, a veteran, knew he had been beaten, and grabbed Dowler, intentionally interfering to keep the rookie from scoring.
The penalty gave the Packers a first down at the Chicago 17. Knafelc ran a square-out pattern and broke open in the end zone, but Richie Pettibon, at safety, gave him a subtle shove to the hip as McHan's pass neared. Knafelc stumbled without a referee's flag falling, and the ball sailed beyond him. A holding penalty on the next play moved the ball back fifteen yards, and then McHan, just looking to move the ball close enough for a field goal attempt, badly overthrew Hornung in the left flat. The ball sailed right to Bill George, who intercepted.
The half ended moments later, and McHan limped noticeably as the teams jogged to their locker rooms with the Bears ahead, 3–0.
"What's wrong?" Lombardi asked.
McHan explained that he had taken a hard hit from Atkins on his left thigh midway through that last drive. There was a bruise that kept him from planting solidly, he said, which might be why he had missed that last throw so badly.
The quarterback said he would understand if the coach took him out, but Lombardi shook his head no. I like what I'm seeing. The offense is moving the ball. You're changing plays at the line. Do your best.
McHan walked away determined to play well despite his injury. He couldn't remember a coach showing such faith in him, especially after a half in which the offense had been shut out. His prior coaches mostly just told him to play better.
Lombardi spoke optimistically to the squad. You're playing a hell of a ball game. The defense is doing a good job, a great job. We should be in good shape if we cut down on our offensive mistakes.
Early in the third quarter the Packer offense continued to move. Taylor swept around right end, hesitated as Jerry Kramer and Fred Thurston opened a hole, and dashed through for a twenty-one-yard gain. Then he went for twenty up the middle as Ringo sent George sprawling with a leg block. The fans implored Lombardi to take a risk on a fourth-and-one at the Chicago 19, but he felt it was important to score points and sent in Tim Brown to hold a field goal attempt by Hornung. The rookie hadn't been on the field all day.
The snap was perfect, but Brown mishandled the wet ball and dropped it. As he desperately tried to right it for the kick, he was smothered by the opposition.
The fans groaned as they sat. Another chance wasted! Damn!
This one annoyed Lombardi. He didn't mind the Bears stopping the Packers, but he loathed the sight of the Packers stopping themselves.
The Packer defense eased everyone's frustrations, again stopping the Bear offense cold to force a punt. Halas, nothing if not stubborn, was convinced he could run on the Packers; Chicago's rushing offense had been among the league's best the year before, and the Packers hadn't stopped anyone. He kept calling for Casares to slam into the middle of the line, expecting holes to open. But Hanner and Jordan held their ground, fending off blocks and crashing into the burly fullback, knocking their helmets askew as they rolled to the ground in a heap. Then Halas tried sending Willie Galimore wide on sweeps, but Forester and Currie sniffed them out, moving laterally down the line and tackling Galimore at the waist before he could find a hole, hitting him so hard that he lay on the ground for several seconds before wearily rising and returning to the huddle.
Lombardi clapped his hands as the defense came off the field, having again forced a punt. Tom Bettis, his bright-white uniform numerals gone dark with mud, stopped to talk to Phil Bengston, the quiet defensive coach, who, like his boss, wore a hat and overcoat.
They keep running it. I'm sticking with the base defense.
Yes, do that for sure. But be ready for when they open it up. They aren't going to runforever.
McHan kneeled in the huddle and called another long pass, came to the line, surveyed the defense, and didn't change the play—his receivers had been getting open against the Bears' man-to-man coverage. McGee faked a square-out and sprinted past Erich Barnes at midfield. McHan lofted a spiral toward him, and McGee caught the ball on the run at the Chicago 40. The crowd screeched as McGee raced for the end zone, his long legs churning. Barnes pushed him out of bounds at the 13 after a sixty-seven-yard gain.
Surely, Lombardi thought, this time the Packers would score. McHan sent Taylor into the line, but the Bear defense held him to a short gain. Then Taylor ran off left tackle, behind Masters, and Atkins slammed him to the ground. On third down McHan overthrew Dowler, his bruised thigh affecting the throw. Tim Brown came back out for another field goal try, and this time the snap and hold were flawless ... but Hornung stubbed the kick and the ball sailed left of the uprights. The Golden Boy put his hands to his helmet in disbelief as the crowd buzzed. Maybe it's just not meant to be.
A shiver ran through the stands as Galimore finally punctured the Packer defense on the next series, turning a short pass into a thirty-two-yard gain that moved the ball past midfield. The drive stalled after that, but the Bears' Aveni sailed a forty-two-yard field goal attempt high into the mist and between the uprights. Despite having been badly outplayed and outgained, the Bears now led, 6–0, as the third quarter ended.
The fans grumbled. This game would be so different if we had their kicker.
As the fourth quarter began McHan misfired on two passes and McGee dropped back to punt. He kicked the ball, but an onrushing defender ran into him and an official dropped a flag, signaling a roughing penalty. The Packers would retain possession with a fresh set of downs. But even better, Pettibon fumbled as he returned the punt, and Ringo, having sprinted downfield after the snap, fell on the ball at the Chicago 26. Lombardi declined the penalty, and the Packers had a first down deep in Chicago territory.
As the offense broke its huddle and approached the line, the fans stood, drawn to their feet by the tension. If we don't score now, we probably won't. Lombardi walked down the sideline toward the action as the Bear defense dug in. Moments such as this were why he had put players through all those sprints and grass drills. Being in shape could make all the difference at the end of a rough ball game.
McHan fretted that he couldn't throw effectively, so he kept the ball on the ground. Hornung gained six around right end as Kramer and Thurston cleared a path. Taylor, going the other way behind Masters, slammed into a hole and gained five for a first down at the 15. Hornung swept right again for five. Taylor went for two up the middle, and George, making a critical mistake, hit the runner late and was flagged, the personal foul giving the Packers a first down at the 4.
There were eight minutes left in the game. The crowd was shouting, the wind gusting, a light mist falling. Lombardi stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. He couldn't do anything. He just had to hope his guys came through.
Hornung ran right on a sweep, but George cut through Kramer's block and tackled him for a one-yard loss. On second down at the 5, McHan knelt in the huddle and called for Hornung to run up the middle behind Ringo, but he changed his mind when he reached the line. The Bears wouldn't expect the Packers to run right at Atkins, their right end—not now, with the game on the line.
McHan barked an audible signaling that Taylor would now carry around left end.
One, thirty-four!
/> Two months of chalkboard sessions and on-field practices had prepared the players for this moment. They heard McHan and adjusted to the new play call. When the ball was snapped, Kramer and Thurston pivoted and ran to their left down the line as Knafelc carried the outside linebacker toward the sideline—a sealing block that created a lane. Taylor took the ball from McHan, saw the opening, cut sharply inside Knafelc, and slammed into the hole. His forceful push sent the pile toward the end zone, and Taylor rode it across the goal line like a surfer catching a wave.
The fans erupted. Touchdown! At last! The cheers were so loud the stadium's concrete underpinnings vibrated.
The stands quickly quieted as Hornung stayed on the field for the extra point, ordinarily a sure thing but not on a day when he had missed three field goals, including two from inside the 20. The fans prayed he wouldn't give them one more reason to criticize him. Come on, Golden Paul! Don't blow this one!
The snap, hold, and kick were perfect. The ball sailed through the uprights. Horning exhaled. The Packers led, 7–6, with six minutes to play.
The Bears started a possession at their 34 after the kickoff return, needing to gain around twenty-five yards for Aveni to have a shot at a field goal. The Packer defense dug in. Galimore swept right for nine yards and picked up six on a swing pass. Halas tried a piece of trickery, a reverse. Ed Brown handed to Casares running left, and Casares handed to Galimore coming the other way. The deception didn't fool Hanner. He saw the play unfolding, waited for Galimore, and slammed the runner to the grass for a six-yard loss. That put the Bears in a hole. Brown's second-down pass was dropped, and a third-down throw to Galimore gained just a yard, as Forester hounded the elusive Bears back and brought him down. The Bears punted.
That First Season: How Vince Lombardi Took the Worst Team in the NFL and Set It on the Path to Glory Page 17
