John and I, we had lunch about three years ago—and I don’t even know if John remembers this—but we were sitting in a restaurant and we’re talking about the old times, the old teams, the old players, and he said to me, “Eric, I don’t want you to think I’m saying this because you’re in front of me, but I just want to tell you, you were the greatest running back I’ve ever seen in my life.”
To me, that meant more than all the contract disputes I’d ever had. To me, it just laid everything to rest for someone to take notice of my talent and say that. And John, I just want to thank you for that moment. I don’t know if you remember it, but I remember it very well.
Last of all, my dad never saw me play in the National Football League. He only saw me play in high school because he passed away. He would go sit in the stands and he would sit there and read his Bible while I played and while I practiced. And I’d go sit beside him after practice and he’d say, “Son, let me tell you something. This is great. But I want you to understand one thing. You can gain the world, but don’t lose your soul.”
And at one point, I never understood what that meant—gain the world but don’t lose your soul. And as an older man, I understand. I really do understand now.
These are things we will soon pass up and leave behind but my dad loved me so much, and I loved him so much, and he would always say these words to me: “Son, all you do, do what you might, things done by halves are never done right.”
And as I played in the National Football League, I think I did it right.
Dan Hampton
Chicago Bears Defensive Lineman
Class of 2002
Despite enduring ten knee surgeries during his career—five on each knee—Hampton still finished twelve seasons in Chicago with eighty-two sacks and four Pro Bowls.
Playing the game of football will teach you so many things. How lucky was I that as I learned to compete in this game, that the good Lord had me go to Chicago, where I got to play with one of the greatest competitors of all time, number 34, Walter Payton. I’ve got to tell you something: I got to play nine years with Walter Payton. Man, it wasn’t because Walter was the biggest or strongest or fastest that he was the NFL’s all-time leader in yardage. It’s because he had the biggest heart….
In every player’s life, you get a certain coach that really touches your soul. Buddy Ryan was from Oklahoma, I was from Oklahoma, and right off, we hit it off.
As a first-round pick, I really felt like the Chicago Bears expected an awful lot of me. I started playing pretty good at the end of my rookie year, and I got a little bigheaded. I thought I was doing a pretty good job and we go into Pittsburgh my second year, when they had this juggernaut. And we go in there, and I swear, not only do I not make a play but I’m not even on the film. It’s like I walk into a spaceship or something. You don’t even find me on tape.
The next morning we come into the meeting after getting beat about 40–0. Buddy is standing up in front of the meeting and he’s got tears in his eyes. And he says, “You know, Big Rook, I thought we could count on you. With you playing the way you’re capable of, you give us a chance to be special. Now if I can get some other guys to show up and they have a great game, man, we’ve got a chance to really have a great defense. But if I can’t count on you to be the player that we expect, man, we’re dead. We’ll get gutted week in and week out.”
I went home and I didn’t sleep for three days. And I realized then that what he used to say is true. Football is not a game where you make a living; it’s not about making money. To us, the guys that really care about it, it’s about winning. It’s a game of finding the difference in people, looking in their hearts and seeing who’s willing to compete and to make a difference. And who wants to be a man.
I remember my very first awards banquet. I was the first one in high school to make All-American and I went to the awards banquet and I sat down right in front, thinking I’m going to get some awards. And boy, I couldn’t wait when the head coach, Bill Reed, said, “Our offensive lineman of the year is…” and I thought to stand up, and he says, “…Lee Monroe.”
I said, “That’s okay, I play both ways, I’ll wait.” The next thing he said is, “Our defensive lineman of the year goes to…” and I was about to stand up again and he says, “…Rodney Jansen.” I’m saying, “Wait a minute, what’s up with this?” Then I remembered we had the big award, the Red Devil Award, and I thought, “Oh yeah, that’s me.” And he said, “Our 1975 Red Devil Award winner of the year is…” and I stood up, and he said, “…Fernando Weathers,” and I immediately led a standing ovation for Fernando Weathers.
But I realized right then that maybe you’re not as great as you think you are. Man, I’ll tell you what, this is a humbling game. The thing that coach told me in high school is, “The reason I didn’t give you those awards, Dan, is because the guys that you played with, they played just as hard, and they cared just as much, and they practiced just as long, and they bled just as much, they sweat just as hard, and they’re not going to get a chance to go to college. And you are because the good Lord has given you a great gift. So instead of these awards, you think about honoring the good Lord and His gift to you by going and making the most of your talent.”
George Allen
Los Angeles Rams and Washington Redskins Coach
Class of 2002
Allen never suffered a losing season and ranked tenth in coaching victories at the time of retirement.
Presented by Rams, Chargers, and Redskins Defensive End Deacon Jones
My experience with George Allen began in 1966, when he was hired to lead the Los Angeles Rams out of the depths of despair. I remember walking into the locker room that first morning and seeing little signs plastered all over the place—little sayings that you might find posted on a grammar school wall, one-liners that seemed ridiculous. The Rams had not had a winning season since 1958, and we needed a miracle worker, not a schoolteacher. We all looked at each other and shrugged. But then we met Coach Allen. And that was exactly what we got—a miracle worker of the utmost degree.
He drove us to make the most of ourselves, and he made us winners. And we learned to love those little sayings of George Allen. Teamwork, hard work, pride, determination, and competitive spirit. Every stop he made, every level of football he coached, he had a winning season using these five points that I believe make a champion. Through George Allen’s leadership, forty men made a total commitment to our coach and to winning.
George Allen is the only coach in the history of the NFL to have coached twelve years or better and never had a losing season. He taught us that the harder we worked, the luckier we got. And boy, did we get lucky, and stayed that way, through his tenure.
I recently read a quote from George, and I remember it like it was heard yesterday. “I have told my team,” said coach, “that God, family, and football are the three most important things in their lives. During the season, football comes first. And we all should have some leisure time. Leisure time is the five or six hours you sleep each night.”
Yes, that exemplified George Allen and the ethics he required when you worked for him. Often times, it’s best to describe someone in their own words. And I can find none better that exemplified Coach George Allen than these words: “In sports, the only measure of success is victory. We must sacrifice everything to this end. The man who can accept defeat and take his salary without feeling guilty is a thief! I cannot think of a thing that this money can buy that a loser can enjoy. Fancy cars, clothes, parties, and pretty women are only window dressing. Winning is the true goal. Only the winner’s alive; the loser’s dead, whether he knows it or not.”
Accepting on Behalf of George Allen,
His Son, Former U.S. Senator George Allen
I know if my father were here today, he would tell you all, “Gosh, this sure is a great day to be alive!” But I feel that George Allen is with us all, in the living spirit of all those who have gathered to celebrate this pinnacle of footba
ll honors, joining with this great class of inductees and their presenters.
My father would have celebrated with a typical glass of milk—maybe even allowed one blackberry brandy. But he would also say this honor is a team victory. He would give thanks to God and say, “This is a victory for all of the players, coaches, and staff who were on our teams.”
In 1990, my father remarkably turned Long Beach State into a winner, and in what turned out to be the last weeks of his life, he penned an article for Sports Illustrated about, what turned out to be, enduring values.
“At a time when concepts like working together and being positive seem old-fashioned to some people,” he wrote, “it’s reassuring that those ideas still have value. I learned that players need the same things they needed in 1948—discipline, organization, conditioning, motivation, togetherness, love. No matter what a player did, I usually gave him another chance. It wouldn’t have helped to kick players off the team, because then I wouldn’t have had a chance to work with them.”
George Allen loved his players, he loved his coaches, he loved the game. To my father, I hope you are enjoying this reunion because many of the gang’s all here to celebrate the contributions you made during your inspiring life. Thank you for the blood and spirit that you gave to your family, and to the joy of life that you gave to all your winning teams and their fans.
Coach Allen, you are with us all in our hearts and in our memories.
James Lofton
Green Bay Packers, Los Angeles Raiders,
Buffalo Bills, Los Angeles Rams, and
Philadelphia Eagles Wide Receiver
Class of 2003
Over sixteen seasons, Lofton caught 764 passes for seventy-five touchdowns and a then-record 14,004 yards. He was voted to eight Pro Bowls.
Presented by His Son, David Lofton
Growing up in a home centered around football, I’ve always had dreams of playing in the NFL. I share these dreams with many of my peers not knowing that it would take more than a dream to make my aspirations become a reality. And even though I had a dad with firsthand experience, I often overlooked his advice. He would try to help me realize what I had to do to achieve these dreams but I often didn’t want to make the sacrifices that he often preached about.
I think back to the summer before my freshman year. At the time that I was probably the most frustrated with my dad than I’ve ever been. As a normal fourten-year-old, I saw the summers as a time to stay up all night watching TV, playing around, and sleep in the next day.
My dad had slightly different views than me. He would wake me up before seven in the morning and would take me out to the track with him and then to the health club to lift weights and I hated it. And every morning I would let him know it. I thought he was crazy. Even if I had a friend spend the night, he would make them come out to the track with us. It’s probably why none of my friends wanted to ever come to my house after the first time.
Every morning I would complain and ask him why he had to wake me up early. My friends were on vacation, and I had to get up and work out. He would always tell me that in football there’s no substitute for strength and no excuse for the lack of it. He explained to me that if I wanted to make it to the next level that it was going to take extra work. Looking back at those times, I’m ashamed for not trusting his expertise. He was just pushing me to be the best I could be and taught me that being a great athlete takes sacrifice. That season, I realized how much I had benefited from all the work outside that at one time I despised.
I now look at that summer as a turning point in my athletic career. My dad taught me how not to settle for mediocrity, to expect the best from myself, and how to achieve it. Without his advice, support, quotations, and early-morning wake-up calls, I’m sure that I wouldn’t be where I am today.
James Lofton
During my first three years at Stanford, Jack Christiansen—another Hall of Famer—was one of my coaches. And at Stanford those first three years, I was a role player. Okay, I’ll be honest; I was a nonstarter, a benchwarmer. But that was in the fall.
In the winter and spring, I was tutored and influenced by Payton Jordan, my track-and-field coach. He had been the coach of the 1968 Olympic team. Coach Jordan, by word and deed, taught me to think like a champion, to practice like a champion, to perform as a champion. But, above all, despite where you are, believe that you would always become a champion. Thank you, Coach Jordan.
In the fall of 1977, a sweeping change came to the Stanford University campus and my path to the Hall of Fame really got a jump-start. A young man with slightly graying hair was hired as the new football coach. Bill Walsh had not reached genius status then, he was just a smart guy. But he did have some pretty good pass plays, although the first installment of the “West Coast” offense got off to a slow start.
My first game as a starter my senior year, zero catches, zero yards. Bill, as he preferred to be called, came over to me and sat down next to me in the locker room. And he told me that I’d be okay, that I would catch a dozen passes in a game. And I’m thinking, “Yeah, the coach is just blowing a little smoke up me. Here’s a guy who’s been riding the pine for three years and he’s telling me I’m going to catch a dozen passes in a game.”
But a dozen it was by the middle of the season against the Washington Huskies. Thank you, Bill Walsh, for having confidence in me when my own was pretty low. Thank you.
Barry Sanders
Detroit Lions Running Back
Class of 2004
A ten-time Pro Bowl selection, Sanders rushed for 15,269 yards, including at least one thousand in ten seasons. He scored ninety-nine touchdowns. He was the NFL’s co-MVP in 1997.
My first year as a nine-year-old was a memorable year for me because I think that a couple years before that, I had been bugging my dad about letting me play, and he thought I was too small, believe it or not. So he wanted me to wait until I got a little older. I went and joined the team because I went to football practice with an older kid and I had to join up, regardless of what my dad said. I was scared of my dad growing up, but let consequences be what they may, I was going to join the football team.
I played on good teams and bad teams, and some teams I played a lot and other teams I never got in the game. But I was always glad to be part of a team and going to practice and just being part of a special unit going out every weekend or whatever with the same purpose and goal in mind. And in that way, I felt special.
I can think of the day where I learned a precious lesson from my father. My sophomore year in high school, I was fortunate enough to be on the junior varsity and I played a little bit of cornerback, and I returned punts and kickoffs. We were just a little bit outside of our town, Wichita, playing against a team. And it was a very close game and the fourth quarter came, and it was close and I was in there catching the kicks, and I wouldn’t run up and catch the ball. I wouldn’t run up and catch the punts.
But after the game on the ride home, my dad asked me…because it was sort of unusual, he never really said anything about what I should do on the field, he saved his advice for off the field, and trust me, he had plenty of advice for that.
He asked me, “Barry, why weren’t you catching the punts?” And I was like, “Well, Daddy, it was a close game, and I didn’t want to run up and drop the punt and cause us to lose the game.” He said, “Son, you can play the game the way it’s supposed to be played. Don’t be scared to make mistakes. In life you’re going to make some mistakes. Even if you wanted to stay in bed all day and avoid the whole world, that’s not the answer, especially in the game of football. You’re going to make some mistakes. Go out and play the way you’re capable of. The coach has you in there for a reason, he has confidence in you.”
That was some of the best advice I think I’ve ever gotten, because as a young player you want to do everything right and it doesn’t always happen that way. As Mr. [Chris] Berman pointed out, sometimes I did lose yards on a run, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying.
And I can credit William Sanders for that great lesson that allowed me to be a great player, to be here today.
Art Monk
Washington Redskins and
New York Jets Wide Receiver
Class of 2008
A three-time Super Bowl winner, Monk caught 940 passes for 12,721 yards and sixty-eight touchdowns. He was the first receiver to catch more than one hundred passes in a season.
My class and I had a luncheon with all the Hall of Famers yesterday. And as we were eating and some of them started standing up and talking, I took a moment to just look around the room, and I focused on the face of each and every Hall of Famer that was in there. And I suddenly realized that I was sitting in the middle of a room of the greatest athletes that have ever played this game.
Some played just because the love of the game. Some broke through the color barrier and persevered through the struggles of racism, and others sacrificed for the benefit of those who follow in their footsteps.
And for me, it was a privilege for me to be sitting in that room with them, some of which I never knew, some of which I’ve watched in awe growing up, wanting to be like them, emulating them, and others that I’ve had the opportunity to play with, compete against. And even though they were my competitors, I greatly appreciated and respected their abilities. And I loved playing against them because they were the best, and they helped bring the best out in me.
And now to be standing here next to them as one of them is truly an honor and an awesome, awesome moment in my life.
There’s a scripture that I think about almost every day and I’ve come to personalize it to my life. It says: “Lord, who am I that you are mindful of me?” And the Apostle Paul says, “Think of what you were when you were called. Not many were wise by human standards. Not many were influential. Not many were born of noble birth.” And when I look at my life and how I grew up, I certainly had none of those qualities or benefits.
The Class of Football Page 16
