The Class of Football

by Adam Schefter

  Nearly thirty years ago, I was recruited from Norway to Montana State on a ski scholarship. One autumn afternoon my junior year in 1964, I did something that would dramatically change my life forever. I attempted to kick a football a couple of times.

  To keep in shape for ski season, I would always run the stadium steps at Montana State to get ready for the long, hard ski season. And the football team was always practicing. And this one day, I decided to go down and kick a few footballs. As a youth in Norway, I had played a lot of soccer and I guess I had an urge to try this oval ball. I went down and tried a few using my toes, the way everybody else kicked those days. All of a sudden, I realized if I approached this ball at an angle and hit it with the side of my foot, it was more comfortable for me. I did, and the basketball coach, Roger Craft, had observed me and ran over to the football coach, Jim Sweeney, and informed him that a ski jumper was kicking the hell out of the ball out there.

  A couple of weeks later, while I was running the stadium steps, Coach Sweeney summoned me down from the stands. He asked if I could kick off and showed me how to put the ball on the tee. I kicked off five times and two of them went through the goalpost—and that was from the forty-yard line in those days, seventy yards away. I wasn’t really sure if I had done okay or not. But I guess I did because Coach Sweeney tried to convince me to go out for spring football the next year, which I did.

  It is undeniable that a kicker’s position is isolated and that the skills that are necessary to become an outstanding kicker are different from those skills required to play most other positions. It is a job with intense pressure. I always felt if I had two bad games, I would be unemployed.

  Let me close by going back to where it started…ski jumping. When you get off that ramp and you fly through the air for a moment, you feel as though you have conquered the world as you are soaring high above the ground. Today with these memories, and this honor, I got the same feeling—the feeling that my feet are not touching the ground.

  Larry Little

  San Diego Chargers and Miami Dolphins Guard

  Class of 1993

  The anchor of the Dolphins’ powerful rushing attack in the 1970s, Little was voted to five Pro Bowls and started three Super Bowls.

  Presented by Colts and Dolphins Coach Don Shula

  No one was more misnamed than Larry Little. He wasn’t little; he was a giant in his profession and the first right guard and only the third guard overall to be voted into the Hall of Fame.

  He was a local product who made good. Growing up near the shadow of the Orange Bowl, when he finally made it as a player on that field, he cast a shadow of his own that symbolized the desire and determination of the great Dolphin teams. It was an honor to coach a player with heart, intensity, and the will to win.

  Larry Little

  I remember sitting all those Saturdays and watching these programs or inductions, and visualizing me being up here one day making my Hall-of-Fame speech. It is rewarding for the way I came into the league. It is especially rewarding because I wasn’t drafted, receiving a $750 bonus. Just being in the league and getting the opportunity to play was quite an honor, so I didn’t care how much money I made. I just wanted to have an opportunity.

  Football prepared me for so many things in life—how to deal with the peaks and valleys, the bitter with the sweet, self-motivation, and believing in myself and working with others. When I first went out for football at Booker T. Washington High School in Miami, I was in the ninth grade and only thirteen years old. I know I probably would have been voted the most unlikely to succeed. I was so bad I didn’t get equipment until the season started. But I was only a ninth grader.

  I had a friend of mine named Joe Walker who was a blind deejay in Atlanta, Georgia, who made a statement at the end of his show every week: “A winner never quits and a quitter never wins,” and I took that along with me because I knew I was going to be a winner.

  Dan Fouts

  San Diego Chargers Quarterback

  Class of 1993

  A six-time Pro Bowl selection, Fouts threw for 43,040 yards and 254 touchdowns. He was the NFL’s MVP in 1982.

  It has been said that a football career is similar to a roller coaster ride. I have gone from a pro prospect, to a third-round selection, to a rookie quarterback, to a fledgling quarterback, to a struggling quarterback, to a promising signal caller, to All-Pro almost, to All-Pro, to Player of the Year, to potential Hall of Famer, to aging superstar, to ex-quarterback, to certain Hall of Famer, to be elected in the first year of eligibility.

  This gold jacket, these steps, this Hall of Fame, and, as a roller coaster ride, it too has been thrilling.

  Mike Webster

  Pittsburgh Steelers and Kansas City Chiefs Center

  Class of 1997

  During a seventeen-year career, Webster played in 245 games, nine Pro Bowls, and won four Super Bowls.

  Presented by Steelers Quarterback Terry Bradshaw

  When Mike called and asked me to present him today, I was in shock. Quite honestly, I didn’t feel like I deserved this great honor, this great privilege that he has bestowed upon me. I actually said, “Why?” He said, “Who knows me better than you, Blond Bomber?”

  So I had to put together some thoughts about Mike Webster, and I got to thinking, when I was a child, I had a dream. Everybody here has dreamed. All of you out here at some point in time in your life sat down and had a dream. And whether or not it came true mattered not. But the fact that you had a purpose in your life and something to get up and try every day was all you needed.

  My dream was this: I want to play in the National Football League. So finally, after I had this dream, I said, “What’s it going to be like, Terry. What’s it going to be like?” I said, “Well, first of all, I got to have me a great offense. I got to have somebody that can run down the field, and when I throw it up in the air, there will be number 88 catching all these passes.”

  Then I said, “I got one guy on the right. I got to have a receiver on the left to complement that tiny little number 88.” So he sent me a guy out of Alabama A&M, John Stallworth, who makes great catches.

  Then I said, “If we’re going to have all these great people, we got to have somebody to run the football. So give me a fullback out of Penn State, isn’t that right?” And if he’s going to be a great one, you got to have a nickname. We’ll call him the “Italian Stallion.” Franco Harris, inducted into the Hall of Fame, was our fullback. He ran the traps.

  And I sat back and took a look at my dream and I said, “Ah, this is good!” Now give me a defense that can stop all this offense, and give them a nickname ’cause you win with defense in the NFL. You got to have a nickname—“Steel Curtain.” And then the dream was complete. I had a great owner in Art Rooney; I had a great coach in Chuck Noll.

  What good is a machine if you ain’t got a center? And oh, did I get a center! I just didn’t get any old center. No siree, I got the best that’s ever played the game, ever put his hands down on a football.

  And I said to my dream, “If you’re going to give me this guy, make sure he ain’t as pretty as me,” and he ain’t. I said, “Make him six-foot-two, make him 250 pounds out of Tomahawk, Wisconsin.”

  Drafted in the fifth round, 1974, he was the only center I ever saw the first time that my arms actually were bigger than his. I loved him from the very first moment I put my hands under his butt.

  He was the total package. He could get down low and squat under a nose tackle. We didn’t have to double-team with him because he was strong, he was quick—quickest hands you ever saw—move right, move left, the man was outstanding. Nobody has ever compared to Mike Webster.

  I turned him on to Jimmy Dean Hot Pork Sausage. I taught him how to scramble eggs with whole butter. Taught him what apple butter was on toast, and he sat by me every Sunday morning as I went through my game plan ’cause he knew I couldn’t read real well and he helped me every Sunday morning. I showed him what buttermilk tasted like, and he drank
a gallon of it every Sunday morning on game day.

  I said, “Dream, give me a winner. Give me somebody I can count on. Give me somebody I can talk to. Give me somebody that’ll help me in a game, somebody that’ll tell me, ‘Terry, no, don’t run this play.’ Somebody to help me with the slide calls.” Mike did. Someone to help me with max protection, Mike did. Mike controlled it. Mike ran it. We needed him, we used him, we leaned on him. He was the strength in our offense.

  There has never been, or there ever will be, another man as committed, as totally dedicated to making himself the very best that he could possibly be. He was the backbone of our offense, our spine.

  There never has been and never will be another Mike Webster—Mike Lewis Webster. I love this man, I always have. He is dear and precious to us all. Ladies and gentlemen, the last time I was here in 1989, I said this: “Just one more time, let me put my hands under Mike Webster’s butt! Just one more time! Let me take that snap! Are you ready? Are you ready, Mike?”

  Mike Webster

  I was no ballerina out there. I wasn’t pretentious and I worked hard because I was scared. I was scared I’d fail, honest to God, I was scared I’d fail. And I’m still scared of that. Because that’s the motivator that we go through. And the failure I’m talking about is the failure to be the very best that we have been given the talent to be and are accountable for.

  But in a lot of ways, ladies and gentlemen, we are the same. We have the same fears, we have the same desires, we have the same temptations. But it is important to be truthful with ourselves so we understand them. And as a football player, you embarrass yourself a lot of times. I mean, over and over and over again. I’ve embarrassed myself over and over and over again, and I admit it.

  But you know what? If I concentrated or tried to concentrate and worked every second, twenty-four hours a day for every moment of my life not to do it, I’d still embarrass myself. And I’d still make mistakes and screw up, but that’s okay. And it’s okay for other people to do that. And if you do that and if you realize that, then you can make progress. Then you can be willing to go forward and attempt things and learn what life’s really all about.

  Lawrence Taylor

  New York Giants Linebacker

  Class of 1999

  A ten-time Pro Bowl selection, Taylor redefined the position of outside linebacker.

  Presented by His Son, Lawrence Taylor Jr.

  My father wants the best for me just as his parents wanted the best for him growing up in Williamsburg, Virginia. I would like to say thank you to my father for being there for me and never letting me settle for less.

  And even though he might not admit it, I thank Ron Jaworski for making my father what he is because without him, he probably would never have broken that sack record.

  Lawrence Taylor

  People ask me all the time, “Well, the Hall of Fame—you’re in the Hall of Fame. What do you want to leave to other people? What do you want other people to remember? What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind?”

  And I thought about that. And it’s indeed a great honor to be here. But the thing I want to leave all the people is that, life, like anything else, can knock you down. It can tune you out. You’ll have problems every day in your life. But sometimes, sometimes you just got to go play. You just got to go play.

  And no matter how many times it knocks you down, no matter how many times you think you can’t go forward, no matter how many times things just don’t go right, you can’t quit. Anybody can quit. Anybody can do that. A Hall of Famer never quits.

  A Hall of Famer realizes that the crime is not being knocked down; the crime is not getting up again.

  Jackie Slater

  Los Angeles/St. Louis Rams Offensive Tackle

  Class of 2001

  A seven-time Pro Bowl selection, Slater blocked for seven different one-thousand-yard rushers. He played twenty seasons and 259 games.

  Presented by Rams Coach John Robinson

  After about three or four years in the league, Jackie decided to become a great football player. Becoming great for him was not going to be a sudden flash of brilliance or some unbelievable number of yards. It was down and dirty, play after play after play. His work habits were always good, but suddenly they seemed to become almost fanatical. When all the rest of us were going home, you could see Jackie out there working on that backstep.

  Jackie Slater

  January 7, 1990, Michael Martinez wrote in the New York Times: “There is no glamour down there. It is dirt and grass stains, grunting and grabbing, a sea of arms and feet, and numbers—a pile of bodies. It is everything about football and yet nothing. From autumn till winter, the game is played on the line, a place where the strong and the strong-willed survive. Or where careers are seemingly lost in a blink.”

  You know, functioning in an environment of organized chaos was a way of life for me for twenty years and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I loved it….

  The theme of the Hall of Fame this year is about dreaming. Today is also a confirmation that if you have a dream, you should let no person, place, or thing discourage you from trying to accomplish your dreams.

  You see, in 1976, I want to share with you that I left Jackson State University and I went to Skokie, Illinois, to play in what then was the college all-star game, the last one they had. And I was a small school boy and when I got there, I found out that I was third-string left tackle, and third-string left guard, and all the way across the line of scrimmage, I was third string. But I was, first and foremost, step it and fetch it.

  “Slater, we need some papers. Can you run down there and get those papers? We’re out of pencils, Slater. Can you go and get some pencils for the guys? On the football field, Slater, we need the bags. Could you drag them up here so we can do some drills and hit them?” I made up my mind at that time that I would always do the things that would give me a chance to be a great football player and not a step it and fetch it in the National Football League.

  In closing, I would like to simply say these are the words that I pretty much lived by for twenty years. A wise man said, “There’s nothing better under the sun for a man to do than to eat, to drink, and to tell himself that his work is good.” I like to think my work was good and I would like to thank you for telling me that.

  John Stallworth

  Pittsburgh Steelers Wide Receiver

  Class of 2002

  Stallworth scored the go-ahead touchdown in Super Bowl XIV on a seventy-three-yard reception. He finished his career with 537 receptions for 8,723 yards and sixty-three touchdowns.

  Presented by His Son, John Stallworth Jr.

  When I was five years old, I was in the Pittsburgh Steelers locker room, waiting for my dad, and a reporter came up to me and asked me, “Who’s your favorite football player of all time?” With all the confidence in the world, I said, “Lynn Swann.”

  Today, to my dad and to everyone here, I’d like to correct that statement a little bit and say that my favorite player of all time is John Stallworth.

  In preparation for this occasion, I was looking through some of my dad’s old memorabilia and came across a Sports Illustrated issue in which the title of an article read, “The Stalwart”—spelled s-t-a-l-w-a-r-t“of the Steelers.” I had seen that article when I was younger and I remembered thinking, “My gosh, Sports Illustrated misspelled Stallworth.” Of course they had not misspelled Stallworth. They had used an adjective meaning perseverance, being powerfully built, and being steadfast. And those three adjectives perfectly describe my father.

  At the early age of five or six, my father was tested, his perseverance was tested, when he was paralyzed and told by the local physician that he had polio. Of course he didn’t, but the doctor had told my father that he could never play football or walk again. But my dad’s unquestionable spirit was apparent even at that young age. He was able to shrug off those inauspicious predictions and later become a captain of his high school football team, although in his sen
ior year, they won only one game.

  But my dad’s dreams did not end there because he was able to go to Alabama A&M, and his dreams began to take flight. But John Stallworth is also a man that is powerfully built. I’m not talking about his physical strength; I’m talking about the strength of his character, his will, and his determination.

  My father at Alabama A&M was playing defensive back and running back, positions that he didn’t really feel comfortable in, positions that he felt his destiny could not be fulfilled. And at the time, Alabama A&M was not a passing offense, so he went to Coach Lewis Crews and asked to be put in a receiver position. Of course, he was met with a little speculation. But he felt his destiny would be made as a receiver and he was determined to become one.

  So he came to practice earlier and he stayed later than all of his other teammates. And after seeing the records for touchdowns scored in a season, passes caught in a season, and leading his team to a conference title, he became All-American.

  He had faced the limitations of a situation and soared over the doubts of others with pure determination. Vince Lombardi once said, “There’s only one way to succeed in anything and that is to give everything. I firmly believe that any man’s finest hour, his greatest fulfillment of all he holds dear, is the moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle—victorious.”

  Today my father is still a stalwart of life. I stand here with the pleasure to be a part of my dad’s finest hour and to help him and others look back on the playing field of his life and to say yes, Dad, you are victorious. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my honor to present to you a stalwart of all-time, my dad, John Stallworth.

  John Stallworth

  Johnny spoke of a time in my childhood where I was paralyzed, and I came away from that time with a deep appreciation of joy of just running, an appreciation of how precious time is and awakening to the importance of relationships.