That First Season: How Vince Lombardi Took the Worst Team in the NFL and Set It on the Path to Glory

by John Eisenberg

  Trying to run out the clock, McHan kept the ball on the ground, and Taylor and Hornung picked up two first downs before the Bears stopped them and forced a punt with slightly more than a minute left. McGee dropped back, took the snap, and sent a booming kick far downfield. The ball landed on the Chicago 10 and rolled out of bounds at the 2. The fans chanted McGee's name as he came off the field. He had sailed a sixty-two-yarder at the perfect moment.

  Halas sent Brown out, hoping for a last-gasp miracle, but when Brown dropped back on first down, Hanner and Jordan beat their blockers and swarmed him in the end zone. A referee ran up with his hands clasped over his head, signaling a safety, worth two points. The linemen rose from the ground and smiled at each other over the fallen quarterback. Green Bay led, 9–6, with forty-six seconds left.

  The Bears' only hope was to recover an onside kick, but Nitschke fell on the ball when they attempted it. The fans sent out thunderous cheers as the offense trotted onto the field for a final play. Partaking in a Packer tradition seldom seen in recent years, the fans counted down the final ten seconds and threw their programs and seat cushions into the air when time expired.

  Ringo grabbed the ball, raced over to Lombardi, and handed it to him. "Here, you deserve this more than anyone," he said. As noise rained down on them, the players followed Lombardi as he walked across the field to shake hands with Halas. The Bears coach managed to smile and offer congratulations. As Lombardi walked away, Lew Carpenter and Emlen Tunnell picked him up and ran toward the locker room with him on their shoulders. Lombardi, still holding the game ball, was too stunned to speak. McGee, Bobby Dillon, and Bill Quinlan trotted along behind him, whooping and hollering. They finally let Lombardi down as they crossed the goal line and neared the tunnel.

  Fans marveled at the scene. The Packers had played hundreds of games over the years and won a half-dozen championships, but no one could remember their coach being carried off the field.

  In the locker room, the players shouted as Lombardi held the game ball high and thanked them for their hard work. When he was finished, he sought out McGee, whose long punt had sealed the victory. Lombardi grabbed the receiver by the cheeks and kissed him right on the lips.

  When reporters were let in, they found Lombardi in the coaches' quarters, just off the main locker room. He wore "a smile that refused to come off," the Press-Gazette reported.

  "As I told you when I got here, you have to have a defense to win in this game, and our defense did a tremendous job," he said. "And our boys were so determined. Even when all those breaks went against us, they stayed right in there."

  McHan, standing at his locker, told reporters he had played the second half with a thigh bruise; he had connected on only three of twelve pass attempts. Lombardi said McHan stayed in the game because he was running the offense so well. "I don't know if it was apparent from the stands, but he changed the play at the line many times, including on the winning touchdown Jimmy ran," Lombardi said.

  McHan said he appreciated Lombardi keeping him in after he was injured. "I checked with him and he told me to keep going. When a man displays that kind of confidence in you, you'll do anything to keep from letting him down," McHan said. "This was a great team effort, especially on defense. If they can keep that up and we can iron out a few of our mistakes, we will have a tough ball club."

  No one knew that better than Halas, who was glum but gracious when he spoke to reporters. "The better team won, no question," he said. "You have to hand it to Vince. He did a splendid job. He had a fine team out there. The Packers have made a great transition under him."

  A steady rain fell as daylight ebbed, but it couldn't douse the excitement that swept through Green Bay. Fans left City Stadium and crowded into downtown bars and restaurants, anxious to celebrate. The Packers dominated conversations.

  McGee won it with a punt!

  Taylor and Hornung ran right through the Bears!

  You had to see it!

  Lombardi collected Vincent and drove home to dry off and warm up. He thought about taking Marie out to Jimmy Manci's for an Italian meal, or to Zeider Zee's, where they had a piano bar. But his house quickly filled with friends such as Jack Koeppler, Tony Canadeo, and Dick Bourguignon—the people who had brought him to town wanted to celebrate with him. Lombardi laughed and manned the bar. When Jerry Atkinson, another board member, called to congratulate him, he grabbed the receiver and roared into it.

  Jerry, why aren't you here?

  He was a long way from New York and just one game in, but already, indisputably, at home.

  13

  HORNUNG WAS TOO TIRED to celebrate that Sunday night. He enjoyed a night out more than anyone, but all that action had exhausted him. Lombardi wore my ass out! He had loved every minute, even when he missed those short field goals and almost ended up as the goat. He was in the middle of things again, a key player in the game. Scooter and Blackbourn had taken that from him, and Lombardi had given it back. Nothing could please him more. Packer fans didn't understand how much he loved to play and win. The closer his offense got to the goal line, the more he wanted the ball; he saw himself as a difference maker, a winner. He had been miserable when Notre Dame went 2–8 in his senior season and the Packers won just four games in his first two years. But those miseries made this win that much sweeter. They had beaten old man Halas!

  By Monday afternoon he was rested and ready. The players had the day off, and he and Max McGee headed to Appleton, twenty-five miles south of Green Bay, for an evening of fun. Since Lombardi had declared their favorite Green Bay haunts off-limits, they had to leave town to shake loose in their customary style. Fred Thurston, Ron Kramer, and Jerry Kramer were coming, and there was talk of Bill Quinlan also joining them.

  People at the bar bought them drinks and slapped their backs, still elated a day after the game.

  We really did beat the Bears, didn't we?

  The players would pay for their fun the next day when Lombardi started practice with a longer-than-usual grass drill. But they didn't regret celebrating.

  The Packers' victory shocked the rest of the NFL. Other players and coaches paused when they heard the score. Huh? Whaaat? How could the lowly Packers beat the mighty Bears?

  It wasn't the result of a lucky bounce or single, crazy play, either. The Packers had played better, controlling the ball for nearly forty of the game's sixty minutes, and rushing for 176 yards to Chicago's 75. Casares had gained just 29 yards on the ground, seldom finding running room in the middle of the Packer defense. Taylor and Hornung, meanwhile, had combined for 159 rushing yards, repeatedly charging through holes cleared by their blockers.

  Yes, the Packers had blown a handful of scoring chances and needed a gift, a fumbled punt by a rookie, to set up the winning touchdown. But they had worn the Bears down physically, especially in the fourth quarter.

  As the fans and players celebrated on Monday, Lombardi and his assistants were back at work, watching game film and grading individual performances. Lombardi didn't hold a news conference, just spoke—briefly—to any reporters who called. And unlike Scooter McLean, he didn't walk to the Northland Hotel to absorb a noontime grilling from the executive committee. Those days were over. Although Lombardi had only been in charge for one league game, it was laughable to think of him being second-guessed in such a way. The committee wouldn't dare.

  Lombardi was back to his grouchy self when practice resumed on Tuesday, wanting to review what had gone wrong, not right, in the Chicago game. The players split into offensive and defensive groups to watch film. The defensive session, led by Phil Bengston, was calm and quiet; the players could hear Lombardi through the walls, voice rising in anger as he showed the offensive mistakes he had unearthed.

  Fuzzy, you need to feint to the left there, not the right. Didn't we go over that?

  Yes, Coach. I will, Coach.

  Max, you need to sell that route much better than that. No one is going to buy that fake.

  I'll do that from now on, sir. />
  Paul, catch the damn ball!

  I will, sir.

  There was no chance of self-satisfaction setting in. When the players hit the practice field that afternoon, they focused on correcting mistakes and avoiding Lombardi's ire. Their big win was behind them. It was time to move on to their next game, against the Detroit Lions at City Stadium on Sunday.

  The Lions had lost their opener, 21–9, to the Colts, in a matchup of the two most recent NFL champions, the Lions having won their third title of the decade in 1957 before the Colts won in 1958. The once-mighty Lions had fallen off sharply since then, going 4-7-1 in 1958 with Tobin Rote playing quarterback after Bobby Layne was traded. Rote, the former Packer, had thrown four touchdown passes in the 1957 championship game, but now, at age thirty-one, seemingly was slipping. He had thrown four interceptions in the Baltimore opener and there was talk of him being replaced by Earl Morrall, a twenty-five-year-old journeyman.

  Like the Bears, the Lions depended on their defense to stay in games. They had one of the league's tougher fronts, led by end Bill Glass, tackle Alex Karras, and Joe Schmidt, the brilliant middle linebacker. Lombardi publicly said the Lions "looked more solid than the Bears" on defense, but privately believed they were vulnerable in the secondary, a notion Wally Cruice seconded. Cruice had watched them shut down Baltimore's running game in the opener but succumb to Johnny Unitas's passing.

  When he met with the quarterbacks on Wednesday, Lombardi suggested McHan pass more; the Packers had rushed on forty-eight of their sixty-two plays against the Bears.

  "I was hurting. And we were running well," McHan explained.

  Lombardi nodded. That was fine. He never minded pounding the ball on the ground. And obviously, it had worked out in the end.

  But remember, the Lions will see the films of the game. They'll be ready for the run. We need to prepare for that.

  Starr, who had studied film of Detroit's defense at home, suggested plays that might work. McHan nodded. What a pleasure all this was, he thought. In all his time with the Cardinals, he had never gone into such detail preparing for games.

  Surely it would pay off.

  Early in the week Lombardi made a tough decision. Tim Brown had alternately impressed and annoyed him; the speedy, self-assured rookie could make big plays and had done so at camp and early in the exhibition season, but lately he had mostly made mistakes, dropping passes and punts. The botched field goal attempt on Sunday was, for Lombardi, the last straw. Role players had to be more dependable than that.

  He summoned Brown to his office and soberly delivered the bad news.

  Brown, we're going to have to let you go.

  Brown quietly nodded, turned in his playbook, and went back to Indiana, figuring his football career was over and it was time to find a job singing. Getting cut would mark him as a fringe player, a tough label to shake, especially if you were black. Brown knew he was as good as, if not better than, many white NFL halfbacks—he had seen them and knew he compared favorably—but teams obviously still didn't want too many black players. This is just how it is. I don't like it, but I have to live with it.

  Lombardi replaced Brown with another rookie, Bill Butler, a tough little defensive back from Berlin, Wisconsin, who had played at Tennessee-Chattanooga. He could return kicks and had better hands, Lombardi felt. Lombardi had cut him during camp but kept him around, thinking such a hardnosed player might eventually make the team.

  Before the end of the season, Brown would catch on with the Philadelphia Eagles as part of their "taxi squad" reserve of signed players who didn't play on Sundays unless a starter was injured.

  In time, he would become known as perhaps the best player Lombardi ever cut.

  When the players came to practice on Thursday, they found a paper tacked to the locker room bulletin board. Lombardi had posted their individual grades for the Chicago game.

  An 86! I knew I did a hell of a job.

  Shit, I'm toast.

  A 68? What film did they watch? I did better than that.

  The assistants herded the players into a meeting room, which fell silent as Lombardi entered and cleared his throat.

  "We had some people play some damn fine ball on Sunday," he said. "You've seen the grades. Forrest, come on up and get paid."

  He had their attention now. Get paid? What was the crazy bastard talking about?

  Gregg rose from his seat with a sheepish smile and ambled up to Lombardi, who handed him a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

  "Nice game, son," he said.

  The other players clapped and hollered, but seeing their baffled faces, Lombardi explained what was happening. Players who graded above certain levels or made big plays would get paid, in cash, out of Lombardi's pocket. Ten dollars for a quarterback sack or a thirty-yard run. Twenty when a guard made his block on 60 percent of the running plays and 85 percent of the passing plays—65 percent and 85 percent for tackles.

  Lombardi made a show of calling up players who had qualified and presenting them bills as the rest of the squad clapped.

  Hornung was irritated not to earn a bill and left the room grumbling. I played my ass off. This doesn't seem right. He didn't care about the money; ten dollars wouldn't cover one night at a bar. But he wanted those kudos from Lombardi. He wanted the hard-ass coach to have to shake his hand and say, "Good job, Paul."

  I'm going to play even harder this Sunday. I'm going to do what I need to do.

  I'm getting paid next week.

  The Packers dominated conversations around Green Bay during the week. Can we do it again? Heard anything about McHans thigh? The Detroit game would reveal a lot, it was believed. The Packers had seldom won back-to-back games in recent years.

  Sunday's weather was overcast but drier and warmer. Another sellout crowd packed City Stadium. The Packers started their first possession at their 45 after a Detroit punt. McHan handed off to Don McIlhenny, who swept around left end, cut through an opening forged by a Bob Skoronski block, and broke into the clear along the sideline. He angled back across the field as he ran, throwing off his pursuers, and gained forty-six yards before a pair of Lions dragged him down at the 9.

  An early score seemed likely, but McHan fumbled the snap on the next play, and the Lions recovered. The fans groaned, wondering if another long day of frustration loomed. But the Packer defense pulled them back to their feet. Phil Bengston had devised a plan calling for linebackers to red-dog blitz the relatively immobile Tobin Rote—wait until the snap and then charge into the backfield, hopefully catching the blockers off-guard. Bill Forester came at Rote on second down, forcing the quarterback to scramble to his left and throw hurriedly toward his safety receiver. Bobby Freeman read the route, intercepted the pass, and raced down the sideline until he was pushed out of bounds at the 9.

  One play later, McHan dropped back to pass and looked for McIlhenny over the middle, but the back was covered so he checked his second option, Knafelc, who was open in the end zone along the near sideline. McHan fired the ball low and Knafelc reeled it in, hugging it to his midsection as he fell. Touchdown, Packers.

  Lombardi slapped McHan on the shoulder as the quarterback came off the field. How to go, Lamar!

  The offense was back on the field within minutes. Hornung, sprung by a Thurston block, ran for twenty-two yards around right end. McGee ran a deep sideline route, eluded Detroit cornerback Terry Barr, and caught a spiral from McHan for a forty-seven-yard gain. At the Detroit 5, McHan rolled right and threw for McIlhenny, who caught the ball just over the goal line with a linebacker on his back. Hornung's extra point put the Packers up 14–0 with three minutes left in the first quarter.

  The crowd cheered, the Lumberjack Band played, and the Lions were stunned; they had won fifteen of their last eighteen games against the Packers, usually by a wide margin, and still saw themselves as contenders despite their fading fortunes. Most of their players had won at least one championship; several had won three. It was inconceivable to them that the Packers could push them ar
ound.

  They responded to the challenge. Their defensive front rose up, stopping the run and forcing punts on every Green Bay possession in the second quarter. Meanwhile, Rote completed three passes to move the Lion offense into scoring range, and Nick Pietrosante, a rookie fullback, bulled over for a touchdown, the first the Packers had allowed all season. With his team ahead 14–7 at halftime, Lombardi was perturbed. The Packers had started quickly but stalled like a temperamental car engine.

  The Packer offense kept sputtering after halftime as the Lions focused on stopping the run, putting seven defenders on the front line to overwhelm the Packer blockers. Taylor and Hornung found defenders plugging the holes they had run through against the Bears. (Taylor would end the game with sixteen yards on ten rushes, Hornung forty-four on fourteen.) "We should have passed more," Lombardi would say later. "We knew they had that [seven-man front] defense but didn't expect them to use it like they did."

  But the Packer defense didn't yield. After an interception gave the Lions the ball at midfield early in the third quarter, Forester and Currie came on an all-out rush that forced Rote to throw into coverage. Bobby Dillon intercepted. Later in the quarter, after the Lions drove to the Green Bay 37, Forester red-dogged again and drove Rote to the ground, breaking the quarterback's nose. Rote rose shakily and was helped off the field, replaced by Morrall.

  Late in the third quarter, the Lions' Jim Martin kicked a fifty-yard field goal to narrow Green Bay's lead to 14–10. The crowd had been given little reason to cheer for two quarters, and it grew quieter when Morrall drove the Lion offense to the Green Bay 40 as the quarter ended. But the Packer defense made a stop with a red-dog rush. Forester bore down on Morrall, who turned and ran backwards, but Forester caught him by the shoulders and slung him down for a seventeen-yard loss. On the next play, Pietrosante fumbled and Jesse Whittenton fell on the ball at the Detroit 41.