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

by John Eisenberg

  Four losses in a row was about all he could take.

  17

  PAUL HORNUNG KNEW what was coming when the players sat down to watch film on Tuesday. He had steeled himself for the moment with a long, happy Monday night out. What the hell, right?

  But now came the hard part.

  Hornung, can't you catch a simple pitchout?

  Hornung, if you can't protect the ball better than that, your ass will be on the bench.

  As he listened to Lombardi chide him, Hornung wondered if he might end up selling real estate in Louisville after all. He had done virtually nothing for a month after starting the season so well. His stock was plummeting. His specialty was getting the ball over the goal line, but Lombardi had mostly left him on the bench as the Packers stumbled at the 1 against the Bears. When the coach did give him a chance, he fumbled.

  The Golden Boy didn't enjoy being criticized, but he was mostly angry with himself for performing so poorly. He was a man. He could admit it when he made a mistake. Lombardi had given him a great opportunity, a big role in the offense, and he was blowing it. He couldn't blame anyone else. He had dropped those balls in Chicago. He didn't know why. He had prepared for the game in his customary fashion, by having a hell of a good time the night before. Some people didn't like that about him, but it never kept him from playing his ass off the next day. He didn't need to change; the hell with that. He just needed to hold onto the ball better. He could play this game. He could get Lombardi off his ass.

  He pledged to keep having a good time—and to shut the old man up.

  Before the team hit the practice field on Tuesday, Lombardi called Starr into his office. You're starting on Sunday. Lamar has a pulled hamstring.

  Starr nodded, thinking he shouldn't admit he valued playing time more after being passed over in New York. Let's go out and win. We can do it.

  Their next game was a rematch with the Colts at County Stadium in Milwaukee. Though the opportunity to compete against the league champions excited him, Starr knew he was playing only because McHan couldn't. Lombardi's ambivalence about him was obvious. Asked by reporters about the decision to start Starr, the coach shrugged and said, "There's not much to choose between him and Francis. Perhaps Francis has a little better potential. Starr is smarter."

  That was hardly a ringing endorsement. But Lombardi couldn't help himself. The coach liked Starr's work ethic and intelligence but was bothered by his mild demeanor and penchant for making mistakes. Starr had played relatively well against the Bears on Sunday, Lombardi admitted, keeping the defense guessing with his play calls, scrambling away from red-dogs, and completing several nice passes, but it was typical that the offense's failure to score from the 1-yard line marred the overall effort. Starr could grasp complex material, play well at times, and was the nicest young man, but he walked around under a dark cloud. Receivers dropped his best passes. The ball mysteriously slipped out of his hand at the worst time. Something always went wrong.

  Lombardi feared Starr was just too nice. He didn't command the huddle or castigate teammates who made mistakes. He wasn't a leader like the Giants' Charlie Conerly, a grizzled ex-Marine who had fought in World War II. The decision to start him over Francis against the Colts was easy, Lombardi felt, because Starr was a better passer, more polished, and had shredded the Colts the year before in Milwaukee, passing for more than three hundred yards in that game in which the Packers blew a seventeen-point lead and, fittingly, Starr threw a late interception that cost Green Bay the game. But Lombardi didn't expect Starr to take this opportunity and elbow McHan out of the number one job.

  As the Packers prepared for the game, Starr burned to play well enough to impress Lombardi. He loved the simplicity and precision of Lombardi's offense, the logical methodology, the discipline Lombardi demanded. Starr had experienced enough ineffectual coaching to know effective coaching when he saw it. The Packers were going to improve, Starr believed, and he wanted to be around to experience that. Somehow, he had to convince Lombardi he was the best option. McHan's pulled hamstring had opened the door ever so slightly.

  The Packers' preparations were disrupted by another early blast of winter, this one far worse. Even though Thanksgiving was still two weeks away, temperatures dropped into the teens and snow fell on and off for two days. Drivers slipped across roads and bashed into each other, people fell walking to work, and the Packers again moved their practices indoors, this time running through plays in a large hall instead of the main arena, where the ice floor was laid down.

  With a 3–4 record, they had fallen behind the surprising 49ers, whose 6–1 record put them two games ahead of second-place Baltimore. The Colts, at 4–3, had lost two straight games and were coming to Wisconsin in a desperate mood. The Packers could knock them out with an upset, and their fans were worried about it. "Can Colts Rack Pack, Get Back on Track?" read a Baltimore headline that week.

  "The Colts are going to be especially tough. They surely feel they have to win this one," Lombardi told reporters. As for his own team, he said he wasn't discouraged by four straight defeats. "Actually, we played a finer game against the Bears on Sunday than we did in the three games we won," he said. "We just continue to make errors, and the same people are making them, dropping the ball and not catching passes."

  The latter was an obvious reference to Hornung and Max McGee.

  "Hornung is the only back we have who can run over anybody and gain where there is no hole. Taylor and McIlhenny need a crack [in the line]. But we put Paul in there and he dropped the ball," Lombardi said.

  What was wrong with Hornung?

  "I haven't the slightest idea," Lombardi snapped. "And if I did, I wouldn't say. But don't forget Paul has played four or five fine games for us. Just because he had a bad day doesn't mean he's all done. There's no use crucifying him for that."

  Hornung was encouraged when he read Lombardi's supportive comments in the paper. And the coach similarly defended McGee: "Yes, Max has dropped some balls, but the quarterbacks haven't been throwing to him much, either. He's been open a lot and they missed him. Maybe they aren't throwing to him as much because they've lost confidence in him. But he's had some good catches and good games."

  The losing streak had dulled the public's enthusiasm for the Packers in Milwaukee. A month earlier, they had brought a 3–0 record into a game against the Rams and drawn more than thirty-six thousand fans. Now, just twenty-five thousand came to County Stadium to watch them play the reigning NFL champions in wintry weather more suited to mid-January than the game's actual date, November 15.

  The field had been covered during the week so it was in good shape. The Packers came out passing. Starr immediately hit McGee for a thirty-seven-yard gain, moving the ball to the Baltimore 33. It was Max's first catch in three weeks, and Starr went right back to him, spotting him open at the 10, but sailed the pass over the receiver's head. Starr then also overthrew Hornung on a screen, and the Colts' massive defensive tackle, Eugene "Big Daddy" Lipscomb, intercepted.

  After Emlen Tunnell blocked a Baltimore field goal attempt, the Packer offense drove the ball again. Boyd Dowler broke open on a deep crossing route, and Starr hit him for a thirty-four-yard gain. Then Dowler ran the same route, pivoted, cut outside, and was open. Starr's pass hit him in the hands, but he dropped the likely touchdown. Dowler shuddered as he jogged back to the huddle. I can't believe it happened again! But Lombardi didn't pull him.

  Starr threw another interception late in the first quarter, failing to see a linebacker over the middle. Lombardi paced the sideline, wondering if he needed to try another quarterback. Starr was making too many mistakes. This was the problem with him. The game was played on the field, not in front of a projector.

  Starr stood next to him on the sideline, hoping he didn't get pulled, as the Colts staged an offensive clinic in the second quarter. Lenny Moore ran twenty-six yards for a touchdown. Unitas threw strikes to open receivers. Moore turned a short catch into a thirty-two-yard gain. Ameche did the sa
me for thirty. Berry ran a square-out route, beat Hank Gremminger, and caught a touchdown pass. A few minutes later, Unitas hit Jim Mutscheller for sixteen yards, and Moore, just too fast and elusive, gained forty-three with a short pass. Unitas hit Berry for another touchdown, and the Colts led at halftime, 21–3. The Colts just had too many weapons for the Packer defense.

  The Packers' locker room was tense. They knew they could do better. The defense had given up too many big plays, and the offense had misfired at key moments. Starr circled the room speaking to teammates. He felt optimistic despite his depressing first half; if the Packers just stopped beating themselves, he said, they could move on Baltimore's defense.

  Come on, we get the ball, let's go out there and do something.

  At the start of the third quarter, he looked around the huddle at Hornung, Taylor, Dowler, and McGee—a lineup with playmaking potential, for sure. Starr was tired of not making the most of his opportunities. Thinking back to how he felt when he was bypassed in New York, he surprised his teammates and shouted at them.

  Hush up and listen! Come on! Let's do something here!

  Dowler ran a crossing route and Starr hit him for a twenty-yard gain. Taylor ran left on a sweep, lost a shoe, bulled through a tackler anyway, and picked up fourteen. The huddle was upbeat; it was uplifting to see your fullback crush a tackler. Starr went back to Dowler, open along the right sideline, for fourteen. Taylor swept around right end for eighteen, sprung by Thurston's powerful clearing block. Moments later Taylor plunged over left tackle and into the end zone from the 2, cutting the margin to 21–10.

  Lombardi clapped as the offense came off the field. That was a textbook drive, employing strong-shouldered runs to open up passing routes. Starr had executed the coach's wishes perfectly, and thrown some nice passes, too. Nice job by the determined young man from Alabama.

  The touchdown raised spirits on the Packer bench. Down eleven with twenty-four minutes left, they felt they had a chance. Henry Jordan crashed into Ameche on a run up the middle, and the ball popped free. Dave Hanner fell on it at the Baltimore 34. The crowd cheered as the offense jogged back onto the field. This could get interesting.

  On first down Starr looked for Dowler, who had beaten his defender, veteran Andy Nelson, and was open at the Baltimore 20. Nelson grabbed the lanky rookie's long arms, blatantly interfering to avoid a completion. The referee flagged the penalty and the Packers had a first down. Starr then handed to Taylor going off right tackle, and the fullback waited for Forrest Gregg's block and picked up eight yards. Then Taylor faked a block, slipped out of the backfield, and caught a pass from Starr in the left flat. The Colts were preoccupied with Dowler and McGee, and Taylor jogged to the end zone, scoring for the second time in seventy-eight seconds. Hornung's extra point made the score 21–17.

  The fans were on their feet now, cheering the Packer defense. Ameche was stopped for a short gain. A pass to Moore gained four. On third down, Unitas retreated to pass but couldn't find an open receiver. Pressed by Jordan, he ran to his right, looking downfield, but finally just threw the ball away. The Packers had held!

  After a punt, Starr and the offense started a possession at their 27, looking for the lead. Starr called for Hornung to sweep right after a fake to Taylor, who had been carrying a heavy load. The ruse worked. As the Colts ganged up on Taylor, Hornung burst through an opening, cut to his right, and broke into the clear, churning down the sideline in front of the stunned Baltimore bench. He was no sprinter, but he crossed midfield and appeared headed for the end zone until Andy Nelson caught him and tugged him down at the 10. The sixty-three-yard run was the longest of Hornung's NFL career. He rose and nodded his head. Yes sir, that's me.

  The crowd was charged up, sending out howls, as light snow began to fall from a darkening sky; the stadium lights would need to be turned on. The Packers had come from eighteen points down against the NFL champions and were poised to take the lead. Lombardi paced the sideline, pleased to see his offense moving so well.

  On the other side of the ball, Lipscomb and Gino Marchetti and the rest of the veteran Colt defense dug into the turf, accustomed to perilous situations. Starr handed to Taylor up the middle on first down. Art Donovan fended off Jim Ringo and slammed Taylor down after a one-yard gain. On second down, Starr threw too high for McGee in the end zone. On third down, Starr again looked for Dowler, but Marchetti slipped past Gregg, bore down on Starr, and trapped him at the 15.

  Hornung, still breathing hard from his long run, stayed on to attempt a short field goal. The snap was perfect and Starr placed it on the turf with the laces out. Hornung swung his right leg through but didn't catch the ball flush with his toe. It sailed high but drifted to the left of the uprights. No good.

  Lombardi grimaced but patted Hornung on the shoulder as the Golden Boy came off. Hell of a run, Paul. Get the next kick. The Packers had lost their momentum but needed to keep playing hard.

  Unitas sauntered back on with his offense. The fans feared he had been held down long enough and would make the Packers pay. Sure enough, he hit Berry for thirteen and Mutscheller for twenty-nine on sharp throws over the middle. After Moore picked up four off right tackle, Unitas dropped back and looked right for Berry, covered by Dillon. Jordan and Hanner bore down on him, and Unitas drifted to his right while looking downfield. Jordan caught him with one hand and tried to sling him down, but Unitas shook off the tackle and hurled a desperate long throw for Mutscheller near the goal line. Bobby Freeman jumped for the ball but Mutscheller got his hands on it and fell into the end zone.

  Unbelievable. Touchdown, Baltimore.

  The cheers on the Colt sideline could be heard throughout the suddenly silent stadium as kicker Steve Myhra added the extra point to put the Colts up, 28–17.

  Deflated, the fans sat down. As the Packer offense returned to the field, Starr spoke encouragingly. Come on, we're moving the darn ball. Let's keep doing it! He dropped back and found Dowler open over the middle. The rookie, enjoying a huge day, reeled in the pass for a twenty-six-yard gain, moving the ball to midfield. But one play later, when Starr again threw for Dowler, a Colt safety read the play and intercepted. Starr stood at midfield with his hands on his hips. This is what always happens!

  After a punt, the Packer offense began another possession at its 25 with seven minutes left; not much time for the two scores the Packers needed. But Starr was upbeat in spite of the deficit and his mistakes. He had dented Baltimore's defense—more than dented it, actually. The Packers had generated almost four hundred yards of offense. They had moved the ball on the ground and in the air. Starr had experienced an epiphany of sorts. Some of the possibilities Lombardi had discussed during the week had crystallized right in front of him, the holes and receivers opening up just as Lombardi had said they would. Wow! Starr had been impressed with Lombardi all along, but his appreciation soared even higher. There was no doubt the man's offense could roll over defenses. That gave Starr confidence, sent an electric charge through his body. If we run the plays right, we'll move the ball. We will!

  As the offense huddled around him, his excitement was palpable, his enthusiasm infectious. We have time. We can do this. We're going right down the field.

  The other players' eyes met before they broke the huddle and headed to the line. They all had the same thought. Where did mild-mannered Bart go? Who was this confident new guy? Not that they disapproved of the change in their kindly teammate. They had always liked him. It was fun to see him so charged up. They felt inspired to go hit someone, go make something happen.

  Starr came to the line, surveyed the defense, and audibled: One man on Dowler. He dropped back to pass and hit the rookie on the right sideline for ten yards. Then he passed to Taylor in the left flat, and the fullback bulled through a tackler and picked up eleven. Starr went back to Dowler for thirteen. Hornung gained six around left end. The offense had never looked better, accumulating chunks of yardage at a time. With the Colts expecting passes, Taylor ran twice for a first down, and th
en Starr dropped back, looking for McGee, who was covered. Starr eluded the onrushing Marchetti, put the ball under his arm, and scrambled for thirteen to the Baltimore 11.

  His teammates pumped him up in the huddle. Attaway, Bart. Good stuff. Good running.

  They all felt his excitement now.

  After three plays gained nine yards, Starr called for Taylor to run behind Gregg on fourth-and-one at the 3. The burly tackle cleared an opening with a crushing block on Marchetti, and Taylor rolled into the end zone for his third touchdown of the day. Hornung's extra point left the Packers down 28–24, with two minutes left.

  Lombardi congratulated Starr on the sideline. Way to go there. Hell of a drive, hell of a day. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the Colt defense so confused. The Packers could win this thing if they could just get the ball back.

  The fans stood, imploring the defense to make a stop. Phil Bengston's unit had played hard, but Unitas was never better than in the final minutes of a close game. He kept the defense guessing with a blend of passes and runs. As the Packers frantically burned up their remaining timeouts, Ameche picked up a first down with a six-yard run off left tackle, and Moore produced another first running around right end.

  The fans had witnessed a superb comeback, but they watched in silence as the final seconds ticked off the clock.

  Five straight losses now.

  Lombardi walked to midfield and shook hands with Colts coach Weeb Ewbank, who admitted feeling relieved. The Packers had generated 455 yards of offense, their highest single-game total since October 1956. True, the defense had allowed more (505 yards), but Unitas routinely rolled up that much, so it was no disgrace. The story of the game was Green Bay's offense—and the fact that the Packers hadn't collapsed after falling so far behind.