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

by John Eisenberg

  "It's a shame," Lombardi told the reporters. "We played well enough to win. We could have won three of these last five we've lost."

  There was a pause. "So when are you going to win again?" someone finally asked.

  It was the kind of question that could cause Lombardi to explode, but he answered patiently, as if he shared the frustration.

  "I don't know. The way it is going, I don't now. We'll have to..." His voice trailed off. Then he continued: "I'll say this much. This club hasn't quit. They've stayed right in there, and it's to their credit and their credit alone."

  He praised Starr, who had passed for 242 yards ("He played a fine game"); Dowler, who had caught eight balls for 147 yards ("This might be the making of him"); and Taylor, who had rushed for 79 yards, caught two passes for 30, and scored three touchdowns ("He is already playing well and will continue to get better"). Between those performances, Hornung's 63-yard run, and McGee's four catches for 65 yards, the offense had enjoyed quite a day.

  "We played better today than we did in any of our wins," Lombardi said. "We just made some mistakes in the first half or we would have had two strong halves and won the ball game."

  Lombardi had to give Starr credit: the young man had played a winning game, not only with his passing and running but also with his leadership. McHan would probably be ready to go next week, but how could Lombardi put Starr back on the bench after this? McHan had never run the offense so deftly.

  Lombardi had to smile at how unpredictable this game was. Maybe the starting quarterback he wanted had been on his roster all along.

  18

  THE EARLY WINTER weather turned brutal as the Packers prepared for their next game, against the Washington Redskins at City Stadium. Temperatures dropped to near zero as three inches of snow fell Wednesday followed by an all-day blast Thursday. Yet the Packers had to practice outside because the Green Bay Bobcats minor-league ice hockey team was using the arena. "I've learned a lot about coaching in the weather here," Lombardi lamented. "Once November hits, you can't put in anything new. You have to go with what you've already taught them."

  The players were in a grumpy mood, especially after the heater in their locker room conked out. They were cold, miserable, wrung out from months of Lombardi's criticism, and after five straight defeats, had forgotten what it felt like to win. Some of the loyalty Lombardi had developed in the locker room started to teeter. Maybe he wasn't so great after all, some players wondered. They had all experienced a moment, either in the film room or on the field, when they wanted to knock him cold. They were willing to put up with him if he turned them into a winning team, but if he didn't, well, the heck with him.

  When the team separated into units to watch film of the Baltimore loss, the defense heard Lombardi through the wall, roaring at offensive players who had made mistakes.

  Max! Max!!! Have you just forgotten how to catch?

  No, Coach.

  Fuzzy, did you notice that when you pivoted the wrong way you wrecked the play?

  Yes, Coach.

  As their quieter session rolled along with the professorial Phil Bengston quietly offering suggestions, the defensive players wondered if their offensive brothers would survive the season. They had played a hell of a game against the Colts and were still getting reamed out.

  Of course, after Lombardi tore you down, he always came around later, flashed that grin, hit you on the shoulder, complimented you, and asked about your kids, and suddenly, instead of being angry, you just wanted to play better.

  The way he plays with your attitude, damn, it's so confusing!

  The players weren't dumb. They saw that some of Lombardi's plays and philosophies worked. It felt great to be in shape. The offensive line was knocking people around; Forrest Gregg had shut down Gino Marchetti on Sunday, and no one did that. The running game was formidable, especially with Jim Taylor carrying the ball. Even though they had just two more wins than Scooter McLean's 1958 Packers through eight games, they knew they were a more competitive team.

  A year earlier, when they were getting pounded on Sundays, they basically gave up, and Scooter didn't command enough respect to make them work harder. They couldn't do that now. Lombardi scared them too much. They knew he was right to be pushing them, demanding that they respect themselves more. Yes, they were still coming up short on Sundays, but they were a solid team now, even a dangerous one. They would win soon enough.

  They practiced crisply for the Redskins despite the weather and the losing streak. They focused on their assignments and took few missteps. Their energy level was high. "They just won't quit," Lombardi said, beaming.

  But while he complimented the players publicly, he privately wondered how many would be coming with him into his second Packer season and beyond. Those decisions would be made during the off-season, but he was thinking ahead. He would keep the players who exhibited the consistency, concentration, and fire he demanded, and after five straight losses, he wondered how many fit that description.

  Quietly, he asked his assistants to assess every player on the roster. Bill Austin, Red Cochran, Norb Hecker, and Bengston completed the written assignment before Sunday's game. Lombardi asked for honest opinions, and he got them. The assistants believed Lamar McHan was the team's best quarterback, but they fell short of endorsing him wholeheartedly. He was "slow mentally," one wrote, and "just a fair passer, not the type to lead us to the world title," another said. What about Starr? The assistants didn't like him, at least not as a starter, his most recent game notwithstanding. "A number two at best, but smart and serious enough to do a satisfactory job in this capacity," one wrote. Another stated flatly, "I do not believe we can win with him. Not a consistent passer or a take-charge type of player."

  Hornung, who always generated strong opinions, had annoyed the assistants recently. After playing so well early in the season, he had fallen off badly. Although he was still the team's leading rusher and scorer, his long run against the Colts this past Sunday was his only memorable play in a month.

  "He is a problem as far as training and social life and I don't think he is going to change. Could be a great player but lacks drive," one assistant wrote. Another felt similarly, writing, "Paul is not a team player. Has ability to do many things but is very lax. Not a good blocker. Does not make the big play when called upon to do so. I question his value as a top-flight player. I don't believe we can depend on him to do the job."

  The assistants had made their assessments without consulting each other, so it was telling that they shared a negative opinion of Hornung. They felt similarly about McGee. "I don't think he tries all the time; bad for the team," one wrote. Another suggested that "Max could be a great end" but had a "poor attitude and was a bad actor off the field." They all wanted to see him traded or somehow replaced.

  Taylor stirred a mixed reaction. One assistant wrote that he was "a real good one," and another called him "our best back." But one was troubled by his relatively small stature: "Size is a handicap [and] Jim is not a good blocker, but he will have to be the number one fullback until we find a bigger man as tough."

  The assessments were full of strong opinions. Boyd Dowler was a "great prospect." Jerry Kramer "had great potential." Gregg was "a top tackle who could play anywhere." Henry Jordan was "very fast for a big man; no question about him." Bill Quinlan "continues to do a good job on Sundays despite having a good time all week." Dave Hanner was "a top tackle with several more good years left."

  Not every review was positive. Emlen Tunnell was "at the end of the trail." Bobby Dillon was "a big disappointment, just about over the hill." And the assessments of Ray Nitschke were brutal. "He cannot think and will never be able to play for us—trade him," one assistant wrote.

  Lombardi filed away the assessments, pledging to heed them, and turned his attention to the Packers' first game at City Stadium in more than a month. They had started the season by winning three straight sold-out games there—how long ago did that seem? The losing streak had quell
ed some enthusiasm. A thousand tickets were still available Saturday, and the crowd of 31,853 was shy of a sellout.

  The Redskins, like the Packers, had a 3–5 record under a first-year head coach (Mike Nixon) and had exhibited a range of capabilities. They had upset the Colts two weeks earlier, but they had the league's worst rushing defense. Now, their diminutive Pro Bowl quarterback, Eddie LeBaron, was out with a broken rib.

  The teams knew each other well from their yearly exhibition games in Winston-Salem, and they had also played a regular-season game in Washington in 1958, the Redskins rolling to a 34–0 lead before settling for a 37–21 win over Scooter's inept squad. Now the Packers were favored by five points, largely because the game was in Green Bay and LeBaron was injured.

  The skies cleared as the teams warmed up Sunday, but gusting winds sent up swirls of drifted snow. Many Redskins had their hands stuffed in their pants. Winter was well under way in Green Bay on November 22.

  Lombardi's game plan was straightforward. The Redskins' rush defense was soft. "Jimmy and Paul should get the ball a lot," he told Starr as the quarterbacks watched film of the Redskins during the week.

  "Yes, sir," Starr replied.

  Starr enjoyed that Lombardi sequestered himself with the quarterbacks and included their ideas in the offensive plan. He saw another side of the man—the levelheaded theoretician, as opposed to the growling taskmaster.

  Look at the defensive end taking that hard outside rush. The forty-eight left would attack that.

  Yes, sir.

  Look at the cornerback giving up all that room. You know what to do with that.

  Yes, sir.

  With backup quarterback Ralph Guglielmi leading the offense, the Redskins drove downfield early in the first quarter behind Don Bosseler, their hard-running fullback. From a first down at the Green Bay 14, Bosseler ran straight up the middle three straight times for nine yards, crashing into Hanner and Jordan. On fourth-and-one at the 5, he went back up the middle yet again, but Hanner didn't budge and Dan Currie and Tom Bettis flew over the pile and stopped him. The wind-whipped crowd cheered the defense.

  Starr and the offense trotted onto the field. OK, let's move that ball. Hornung swept left for five. Taylor swept right for seven. Taylor came back up the middle for five. The line cut down defenders, opening holes, and when the Redskins moved up their linebackers for support, Starr took advantage, throwing over the stacked-up front to Dowler for twenty and McGee for eleven.

  The ball was in Washington territory now. Bob Skoronski and Gary Knafelc opened a hole for Hornung, who picked up sixteen. Taylor swept right for seven, and a referee tacked on fifteen for roughing when a Redskin slugged Knafelc. That moved the ball to the 12. Two plays later, Knafelc ran a curl-in route and caught Starr's low throw just over the goal line, completing a ninety-five-yard scoring drive. Hornung's conversion put the Packers up, 7–0.

  The Redskins drove back into Green Bay territory but the Packer defense held and Jordan jumped up and blocked a thirty-two-yard field goal attempt, sending the ball spinning wide. Hank Gremminger scooped it up and raced twenty yards before being pushed out of bounds at midfield.

  Starr kept the ball on the ground. Taylor gained eleven off left tackle and fifteen sweeping left. Starr faked to Hornung and threw to Dowler for three. Taylor carried twice more for sixteen. With the ball on the 10, Starr rolled right and threw for Knafelc, who was open in the corner of the end zone. The ball went through Knafelc's hands. Starr patted his roommate on the rump and called the same play, but faked a throw to Knafelc and threw a hard spiral toward McGee in the back of the end zone. McGee held on for the score and later joked with Starr on the sideline, "It sure got there quick." The lead was 14–0 after Hornung's conversion.

  The Packers were upbeat in their locker room at halftime, encouraged to see their running game pummeling an opponent. The offense drove downfield again to start the third quarter. Hornung waited for Gregg to open a hole and sprinted through it for sixteen. Starr dumped a pass in the left flat for Taylor, who bulled for seven, dragging two tacklers. Taylor then ran up the middle, behind Jim Ringo, for a first down. Again, the Redskins fortified their front, and again, Starr took advantage, hitting open receivers everywhere—McGee for sixteen on a slant, Dowler deep over the middle for twenty-five, Knafelc for six on a curl.

  At the 5, Hornung swept left, Thurston and Kramer pulled and leveled defenders, and Hornung trotted across the goal line. As the fans cheered, Hornung kicked the conversion to make the sore 21–0 with nine minutes left in the third quarter. The game was effectively over, the run-oriented Redskins not built for comebacks, especially with LeBaron out. Packer linebackers red-dogged Guglielmi, sacked him three times, and harried him into incompletions.

  Starr came out of the game early in the fourth quarter after being poked in the eye. McHan came in, wondering where he stood now. He had been the starter just a few weeks earlier, but now seemingly had lost his job to Starr, who was playing error-free ball while executing Lombardi's game plans. McHan had always feared things wouldn't work out in Green Bay, and his fears finally were being realized. He hoped he would get another chance, but with the Packers winning, he kept quiet and just handed off to backs, running out the clock.

  For the first time since early October, the fans, delighted with the victory, counted down the final seconds together—six, five, four, three, two, one!—and flung their seat cushions into the air. They couldn't complain about this game. Normally erratic and ill-fated, the Packers had dispatched the Redskins with a professional ruthlessness. As the fans left to warm up at their favorite taverns and clubs, they shook their heads, surprised but pleased that their team could play so efficiently. Whew. They're looking pretty darn good, actually. Think they can keep it up?

  Lombardi was also delighted. Taylor had rushed for eighty-one yards, Hornung for seventy-eight. Starr had completed eleven of nineteen passes, with two going for touchdowns. The defense had recorded the Packers' first shutout since a 1949 victory over the immortal New York Bulldogs. Perfect!

  As the players enjoyed the warm locker room—it had been cold out there—reporters interviewed Starr. This was, somewhat incredibly, his first personal win as an NFL starting quarterback. The Packers had gone 3-16-1 in games he had previously started going back to 1956, and Starr had split time with other quarterbacks in the three wins. This was the first win for which he was solely responsible.

  He could smile about it now, but the losing had weighed on him. He shook his head in dismay and was typically humble. "That's some record, huh? Four years to get my first win," he said.

  Deflecting credit, he complimented the offensive line, which had controlled the game.

  "They're already good and getting better," he said. "They did a heck of a job on the runs today, don't you think? And they give you all the time you need to throw. I can count on one hand the times they have let the rush get in this season."

  Lombardi was similarly effusive. "They're one of the youngest lines in the league. Other than Ringo they're almost all second-year men. They blocked very, very well today," he said. He would single out Skoronski, Kramer, and Gregg after watching the game films. Those three would get their twenty-dollar bills this week.

  The players normally had Monday off, but they came in, watched film, and went through a light workout because they would play again on Thursday—Thanksgiving afternoon—in Detroit against the Lions. They had only Monday and Tuesday to prepare. Their flight left Wednesday.

  The Lions had hosted a Turkey Day game since the early 1930s; the owner had seen his team lagging behind baseball's Tigers in popularity and thought a holiday game might attract fans. He was right. The game had become a staple, selling out locally and drawing national radio (and now TV) audiences in the millions. Thanksgiving was a popular date for many high school and college teams to play their traditional rivals, and the Lions' game had become the NFL's annual holiday event.

  The Lions had prevailed on the league to schedule the Pack
ers as their Thanksgiving opponent throughout the 1950s. The Lions, with Bobby Layne at quarterback, were a powerhouse, and the Packers succumbed easily, sending the Detroit fans home to their turkey feasts with smiles on their faces. But now Layne was in Pittsburgh, the Lions were in decline, and Lombardi was in Green Bay. The Packers were no longer an easy homecoming-style opponent. They had pounded Detroit in the second week of the season and were still ahead of the Lions in the division standings. At 4–5, the Packers were in fourth. Detroit had a 2-6-1 record.

  At the top of the division, the Colts had pulled into a tie with fading San Francisco after pounding the 49ers, 45–14, in Baltimore. Lombardi reminded his players on Tuesday that they were only two games behind the coleaders, and while their chances of winning the division were slim, they did have a chance.

  "We may not get there this year, but we're going to be in the running soon enough," he told reporters.

  He avoided naming a starting quarterback, saying he would make his decision around kickoff. Starr "was getting better all the time," he said, but wanting to keep McHan's flagging spirits up, he stated that McHan had thrown four touchdown passes against Detroit earlier in the season and "has a much better arm."

  Privately, Lombardi told Starr he probably would start but that McHan might also play. Starr nodded. He would follow orders.

  The Packers flew into Detroit on Wednesday and found themselves in a discouraged football town. Fans and newspaper columnists, unaccustomed to losing, were giving the Lions a hard time. "Not all the turkeys are in the oven," the Detroit Free-Press commented. Tobin Rote, the former Packer star who had been demoted, was complaining publicly about his treatment and saying he might retire. His replacement, Earl Morrall, was on his fourth NFL team at age twenty-five.

  Despite the sour headlines, almost fifty thousand fans filled Briggs Stadium on a cool, cloudy afternoon. Sports fans in Detroit went to the Lions' game on Thanksgiving regardless of how the team was faring. Lombardi stated the obvious in the locker room before sending the players out: a victory would put them at .500 with two games remaining and give them a chance for a winning season, a feat no one had thought possible.