When Walter Camp Involved Himself in Professional Football - And Decided a Championship

 by Jeffrey J. Miller

       Professional football was a fairly provincial sport before to the founding of the American Professional Football Association (precursor to the National Football League) in 1920.  Prior to that time, pro teams banded together in unofficial leagues or associations, usually limited by city or state boundaries. In the city of Rochester, New York, for example, the municipal title was traditionally competed for between the Jeffersons and the cross-town rival Scalpers.  The Scalpers had won it in 1913 and ’14, while the Jeffs took the crown in 1915 and ’16.  The victory in 1916 gave the Jeffs a chance to compete for the much larger title of New York State champions.    

The 1916 Rochester Jeffersons.  Team Manager Leo Lyons is seated third from the left in the middle row.

There is no existing book of rules (at least for New York State) explaining exactly how it was determined which teams qualified to play in a championship game, and this often led to disputed title claims.  Some teams claimed overall record, while others contended head-to-head play, while still others might argue strength of competition in a team's schedule.  Even the outcome of a game could be grounds for debate.  The battle that took place for the championship of the Empire State in 1916 is a case in point, and one that required the intervention of Walter Camp—the recognized authority on college football—to settle.

Camp, the former head coach at Yale and Stanford, served on various collegiate football rules committees that developed the framework of American football and authored numerous books and articles on the subject.  He is credited with the creation of the sport's line of scrimmage, the system of downs, the reduction of the number of players per side from 15 to 11, the standardized offensive configuration of seven linemen (two ends, two tackles, two guards and a center) and four backs (quarterback, two halfbacks and a fullback), and much more.  In addition, Camp's Yale teams of 1888, 1891, and 1892 have been recognized as national champions. For these reasons and more,  Camp is considerded by historians to be the "Father of American Football."  Though this title was based on his role at the collegiate level, Jeffs owner and manager Leo Lyons asked Camp to insert himself into the dispute over a single play in the 1916 championship game that would decide the final outcome and, consequently, the winner of the state title.

            The Jeffs’ season, which culminated in the city title, earned them the honor of facing a team from Buffalo, called All-Buffalo, for the New York State crown.  The Bison City eleven had earned their appointment with a 5-3-1 record.  The game was scheduled for Sunday, December 3, at Buffalo.  When the teams arrived at Ryan’s Park in Buffalo that afternoon, they found the gridiron a sea of mud from early December precipitation.  Despite the conditions, the game got off to a fast start with All-Buffalo claiming a disputed touchdown midway through the first quarter.  The Jeffs had stopped an All-Buffalo drive and forced a punt by halfback Doug Jeffrey.  As the kick sailed toward the Rochester end zone, All-Buffalo quarterback Gene Dooley raced downfield and caught the pigskin before it hit the ground or could be fielded by a Rochester player.  He then carried the ball into the end zone for what the Buffalo side thought was a touchdown.  Referee Rip Benzoni, however, ruled the play was off-side and disallowed the score, resulting in vehement protests from the All-Buffalo players.  After conferring with the team captains, Benzoni awarded the ball to All-Buffalo at the Rochester 20-yard line, but no points.  Play resumed, but the Jeffersons held and the first quarter ended in a scoreless tie.   The Jeffs found the end zone in the second period when Dutch Irwin returned another All-Buffalo punt 80 yards for a touchdown, putting his team in front 6-0, or so they thought.  During the halftime intermission, Benzoni and his crew met and ruled to restore the six points All-Buffalo insisted they had scored on Dooley’s disputed play in the first quarter. 

The second half devolved into a defensive battle with neither team able to muster a viable offense in the muck.  The game ended in either a 6-0 triumph for Rochester or a 6-6 tie, depending on whose side of the field one stood.  After time had expired, however, All-Buffalo—feeling they were owed the opportunity to try for the extra point they were deprived as a result of Benzoni’s original ruling—took the field and executed a successful conversion, and thus claimed a 7-6 victory.

So, who won?  The Buffalo papers, of course, sided with the local favorites.  Wrote the Buffalo Courier: “Resurrecting the on-side kick from the football archives where it was laid by the lawmakers several years ago, the All-Buffalos defeated the Jeffersons of Rochester yesterday at Ryans’ Park by a score of 7 to 6 in the final game of the year.”

The Rochester Democrat and Chronicle disagreed, writing: “Harry Irwin wasn’t very well known [in Buffalo] before this afternoon.  But he impressed his name very firmly upon local football annals when he caught a punt and ran eighty yards through a broken field to score the touchdown which gave the Rochester Jeffersons a 6 to 0 victory over All-Buffalo and took the state championship from here to Rochester.”

Neither team was backing down, and that indisposition could not be left unresolved as far as Leo Lyons was concerned.  He met with referee Benzoni the Tuesday following the championship game, but he did not record the nature or content of their conversation.  Perhaps he felt he could convince Benzoni to reverse his decision of allowing the All-Buffalo touchdown, or maybe make a definitive ruling as to the winner of the state title?  That bit of information, unfortunately, appears to be lost to history.

Unsatisfied with things as they stood, Lyons devised a bold plan to resolve the matter once and for all.  He decided to seek the counsel of none other than Walter Camp, the man considered the foremost authority on football matters in the country.  Who, he felt, would dare refute the patriarch of the gridiron game?

The next day, Lyons fired off a letter to Camp hoping he could adjudicate the legality of All-Buffalo’s on-side kick and, ultimately, the winner of the big game. On Monday, December 11, Lyons received Camp’s reply affirming the Jeffs’ claim:    

Letter from Walter Camp to Leo Lyons, 

December 8, 1916. (From the Leo V. Lyons Collection)

 

   Wrote Camp:  "If the quarterback and end were ahead of the kicker when he punted from behind the scrimmage line, when they were both offside and could not legally touch the ball until it had been touched by an opponent.  If they touched it inside the ten-yard line it would go as a touchback to the opponents.  If they touched it when offside out in the field of play it would go to the opponents at the spot where they touched it.  Hence, the officials were perfectly right in calling the play you describe illegal, and the ball went properly to the Jeffersons.

   Now, as to the rest of the matter, there is no provision or precedent so far as I know of continuing the game after a decision of this kind and then going back and beginning the game over again at such a point, after one side has left the field and discontinued play."

         

    There it was.  Camp’s word was law when it came to matters of the gridiron.  The Rochester Jeffersons were the rightful champions of New York State!   

            A celebratory banquet was held December 19, with the team being presented a silver football-shaped trophy upon which was etched “JEFFERSON FOOTBALL TEAM – CHAMPIONS OF NEW YORK STATE.”  The trophy was donated by Harry “Spike” Wilson, a local businessman and avid supporter of the team, and became one of Lyons’ most prized possessions.  He displayed it proudly in his office for the rest of his life. 

Leo Lyons, circa 1970, with trophy signifying the 

New York State Championship of 1916.

(From the Leo V. Lyons Collection) 

            And it was all owed to the Father of American Football, Walter Camp. 

 Images from the Leo V. Lyons Collection cannot be reproduced without the express written permission of the collection's owner, John D. Steffenhagen.

(This story was excerpted from the new book, Leo Lyons, the Rochester Jeffersons and the Birth of the NFL, by Jeffrey J. Miller and John D. Steffenhagen.  Published June 2025 by McFarland & Company.)

Abner Haynes: The AFL's Gale Sayers?

By John Turney 

When a finalist for the Pro Football Hall of Fame is discussed, voters sometimes are reminded that "you can't write the history of the game" without that candidate. Former Dallas Texans' and Kansas City Chiefs' star Abner Haynes was never a Hall-of-Fame finalist, but that doesn't diminish his importance to pro football.

Because you can't write the saga of pro football’s wild, rebellious child -- the American Football League -- without Abner Haynes.

Sure, the Dallas Texans'/Kansas City Chiefs’ dynamo has never been a Pro Football Hall-of-Fame finalist, but don’t let that fool you. His mark on the game is indelible. The seniors’ committee ought to take a hard look at him, and soon. Because, as Chiefs CEO Clark Hunt put it when Haynes passed away last year, he left a legacy of “courage and leadership” off the field and sheer brilliance on it.

Exactly right.

From the moment Haynes donned a Dallas Texans' jersey in 1960, he was a revelation. The AFL’s inaugural year? Haynes owned it. Rookie of the Year? Check. Player of the Year? You bet. He bulldozed the league with 875 rushing yards, led it in rushing touchdowns (9) and punt return yards (211), and racked up a gaudy 2,100 all-purpose yards.

Consensus All-AFL pick? Naturally, he didn’t just play; he dominated, earning All-AFL honors the next two seasons, too. In 1962, he tied for the league lead in rushing scores and posted an AFL-record 19 touchdowns.

No one in the AFL’s history ever scored more touchdowns in a single season.

Then came the 1962 AFL championship, a double-overtime thriller against the Houston Oilers. Haynes punched in two scores, but he also sparked a quirky controversy. Winning the pvertime coin toss, he told officials that Dallas would “kick to the clock.” Only one problem: That wasn't the choice. You either picked the ball or the side. Not both. The Oilers cried foul, and officials flipped the call.

So Dallas kicked away from the clock and into a howling wind ... but it didn’t matter. Haynes and the Texans gutted out a 20-17 win over the defending league champions, sealed by a 25-yard field goal in the second overtime.

The Texans became the Chiefs in Kansas City in 1963, and Haynes kept rolling. Second-team All-AFL that year, he made his third straight AFL All-Star game—an event rocked by a boycott led by Haynes and other black players over racist nonsense in New Orleans. Their stand forced the game to Houston. 

That’s power.

In 1965, he was traded to Denver, where he led the AFL in kick returns. He later drifted to Miami in 1967 and closed out his career with three games for the Jets.

Short career? Maybe. Small impact? Not a chance. Haynes retired as the AFL’s all-time leader in all-purpose yards -- rushing, receiving and returns (12,065) -- with the league's fourth-most career touchdowns (69), most rushing scores (46) and third-most rushing yards (4,630).

In 1960 he led the new league with 2,100 all-purpose yards, making him only the third player in pro football history to do it. And through 1977, he was one of only eight players to have two seasons of 1,800 or more in one season.

And the Chiefs? He still owns their record books: Most touchdowns by a rookie (12), most scores in a game (5) and most rushing TDs in one game (4). Haynes was so extraordinary that some historians dubbed him the “AFL's Gale Sayers.”

High praise for a man who earned it.

Haynes may not have had the moves of Sayers, but he ended his career with more total yards, more total touchdowns and more receiving yards. Plus, Sayers never played in a league championship game, while Haynes not only played in one; he won it, hoisting the AFL’s third crown. No question, Sayers was a football god, one of the finest ever crafted, but don’t sleep on Haynes. He was every bit as electric.

Like Sayers, he could score from anywhere on the field with touchdown runs of 67, 59, 71, 46, 80, 47 and 65 yards and six touchdown catches of 52 or more yards, plus two long return touchdowns.

"He was a franchise player before they talked about franchise players," said former coach Hank Stram.

Abner was All-AFL three times, second-team All-AFL once and a member of the All-Time AFL team.

When Haynes was a modern candidate for the Hall of Fame, voters sniffed at his resume. Too short on elite seasons, they likely grumbled. Or maybe they sneered at the early AFL, convinced its talent pool was a shallow pond compared to the NFL’s deep water.

But that excuse is crumbling. Short careers? They’re no longer a dealbreaker. Gold jackets are worn now by players with brief but blazing primes. And if today’s voters still squint at pre-Super Bowl AFL stars, they’d better adjust their glasses. Roll the film on those early AFL cats: They pop with size, speed, fluidity and power. And nobody -- nobody -- shone brighter than Abner Haynes.

Born in Dallas, he broke ground at North Texas State (now the University of North Texas), where in 1957 he and a teammate became the first black players in an integrated college game in Texas. A two-time all-conference star, he led North Texas as a senior to the 1959 Sun Bowl, earning All-American honors from Time magazine. He was the Eagles’ top rusher, receiver and all-purpose yardage leader all three years, twice leading the team in scoring and even picking off passes as a junior.

He could do it all.

In November, 1959, the AFL’s Minneapolis-St. Paul franchise (later the Oakland Raiders) drafted him, but Haynes signed with his hometown Dallas Texans a month later. The rest is legend.

Haynes in Denver

Haynes’ No. 28 is one of 10 retired by the Chiefs, and he’s enshrined in their Hall of Fame. North Texas inducted him into its Athletics Hall of Fame in 1986, and in 1985 he received the NCAA Silver Anniversary Award. You can’t write the AFL’s story -- or pro football’s -- without Abner Haynes. And you shouldn’t try.

Pass the word to Canton.

Does Stanley Morgan Have the Goods for a Gold Jacket?

By John Turney 

Should former New England wide receiver Stanley Morgan be enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame? That’s a question worth chewing on, and the answer isn’t as simple as a yes-or-no snap judgment. What’s undeniable, though, is that Morgan’s career demands a serious look by the voters in Canton.

The man carved out an illustrious 14-year run with the Patriots and Indianapolis Colts, piling up numbers that stack up against the best of his era -- 557 receptions, 10,716 yards, 19.2 YPC, 72 touchdowns. Those aren’t just stats; they’re a testament to a guy who was first a deep threat, then a chain-mover and a clutch performer when New England needed it most.

Compare that to some Hall of Famers from his time. He’s not just in the conversation; he’s banging on the door. Sure, the doubters might point to his lack of All-Pro nods or a thin post-season resume, but dig deeper: Morgan was a four-time Pro Bowler who played in an era stacked with elite wideouts, and he did it with a revolving door of quarterbacks.

Stanley Morgan’s career? It’s like he was the Certs of NFL receivers -- yeah, you know the classic breath mint with that old tagline, “Two, two, two mints in one.” Morgan wasn’t just a wideout; he was two receivers rolled into one, a dual-threat maestro who could burn you deep or, later in his career, grind out first downs. That’s a player who makes you sit up and wonder why his name doesn’t come up more when Canton’s calling.

Let’s rewind to the first act of Morgan’s career, from 1977-82 when he was torching secondaries as one of the most lethal deep threats the game’s ever seen. But don’t take my word for it. Paul “Dr. Z” Zimmerman, the dean of football scribes, called him out as elite. Or trust your eyes. If you caught him streaking down the sidelines at Schaefer Stadium, would’ve backed that up.

And the numbers? They scream it. Over those six years, Morgan racked up 4,869 receiving yards. Only four players -- Steve Largent, Charlie Joiner, James Lofton and Harold Carmichael -- had more. Notice a pattern? All four are in the Hall of Fame.

But here’s where Morgan separates himself. He did it with fewer catches and bigger plays. In the first half of his career, the Patriots were a running team with a play-action passing attack. The idea was to suck defenses up to play a potent run game, then throw over the top ... and Morgan was just the guy to do it.

His average of 22.5 yards per catch over that span was a full two yards better than the next guy on the list. The four Hall of Famers ahead of him? They ranged from 15.8 to 18.1 yards per catch. That’s not just a gap; it’s a chasm.

For players with 200 or more receptions through 1982, nobody -- not Bob “Bullet” Hayes, not Homer Jones, not even Paul Warfield -- could touch Morgan’s yards-per-catch mark. Three words: Best. Deep. Threat.

"Stanley Steamer does not go for anything short," wrote one reporter. "He goes for it all .. he gets down in a sprinter's stance and takes off. His favorite move is to take off at full speed and run under a Steve Grogan pass. Real intricate, huh? Don't knock it, it works."

Then, from about 1983 onward, his game evolved. The Patriots didn’t just send him on "go" routes every snap. They reinvented him, blending his afterburner speed with the savvy of a possession receiver, the kind of guy who becomes the engine of a passing attack. This was by design.

"We want Stanley to obtain those big results on a more consistent basis," said his new coach.

And Morgan delivered. He went from averaging 36 catches a season through 1982 to 45 the rest of his career in New England. By 1986, he was hauling in 80 catches for nearly 1,500 yards, proving he could be the chain-mover, the go-to target, while still keeping defenses honest deep. 

"He can get deep," one publication observed, "but he has refined his game so he can work the middle of a defense." 

Two receivers in one, folks -- a rare breed who could dominate in different roles.

When Stanley Morgan retired, he’d done more than just put up numbers; he’d carved out a legacy that demands a hard look from the Hall-of-Fame voters. Stepping into a bigger role with the Patriots, he wasn’t just running fly routes; he was carrying the weight of the passing game and piling stats that scream elite.

By the time he retired in 1990, he sat fifth all-time in receiving yards with 10,716. Let that sink in -- fifth, in an era of defensive backs who would mug you and secondaries built to shut down the pass. But he wasn’t done. He was also 14th in touchdown catches with 72 and is still tied for ninth in yards per catch (19.2) among players with 200 or more grabs.

But here’s the kicker: For receivers with 500-plus career catches, Morgan’s yards-per-catch mark was numero uno. Not second, not close -- but first. And you know what? It still is. No “prolific” pass-catcher ... not then, not now ... has ever matched his deep-ball efficiency while hauling in a high volume of passes.

That’s not just a stat; it’s a statement.

Morgan wasn’t just great. He was a revolution at wideout. Harold Jackson, who was a teammate of his when Morgan was the deep threat and his position coach in the mid-1980s when his role was expanded, once said, "As long as you put the ball in Stanley Morgan's hands, he will make something happen."

The 25th pick in the 1977 NFL draft out of the University of Tennessee, Morgan set the school record for all-purpose yards with 4,642 playing receiver, running back and wingback. His versatility and 4.4 speed made an immediate impact in the NFL. He was All-Rookie after starting all 14 games, averaging 21.1 yards per catch and 13.8 yards per punt return, and built his resume from there -- earning end-of-season awards that put him among the elite. 

Four Pro Bowl nods? Check. Second-team All-Pro in 1980, when he was torching defenses as "Mr. Deep Threat" with a league-leading 22.5 yards per catch? Check. Another second-team All-Pro in 1986, when he’d morphed into “Mr. Complete.” Check. And don’t sleep on this: The Sporting News named him first-team All-NFL in 1986.

Pro Football Weekly's personnel guru, the late Joel Buschbaum, was also aware of Morgan's game, naming him to his personal All-Pro team in 1980, writing, "Not only is Stanley Steamer the quickest and most explosive receiver in football; he's also a superb downfield blocker."

Yep, he was a blocker, too. He had to be in the run-first offense that the Patriots ran in those years. 

Then there’s the cherry on top: Morgan wasn’t just a receiver. Early in his career, he was a dynamite punt returner, averaging 10.4 yards on 92 returns. In 1979, he took one 80 yards to the house, showing he could flip a game with one burst of speed.

So far, some Halls have recognized him -- both the University of Tennessee Hall of Fame and the Tennessee Sports Hall of Fame in 2000, the New England Patriots Hall of Fame in 2007 and the South Carolina Football Hall of Fame in 2016. For good measure, the Professional Football Researchers Association named Morgan to its Hall of Very Good Class of 2021.

So, why is Morgan’s name not etched in Canton? That’s the question. The closest he's come was this year when he was a seniors' semifinalist but fell short for the Pro Football Hall-of-Fame’s Class of 2025, and that's disappointing.

With yards that outshine most Hall of Famers, All-Pro honors in two distinct phases of his career and a return game that added another layer of brilliance, Morgan’s resume isn’t just Hall-worthy; it’s a demand for a long-overdue debate. Stanley Morgan is as complete a candidate as they come, and voters do him ... and themselves ... a disservice by not acknowledging it.

Matt Blair—Hall of Famer?

 By John Turney

The Minnesota Vikings’ Matt Blair has never been a finalist for the Pro Football Hall of Fame. In fact, in 20 years of modern-era eligibility since 1990, he was never a semifinalist. And since then? Well, since then, nothing's changed.

He hasn't been a semifinalist as a seniors' candidate, either.

In short, he's gotten the short end of the stick in that process, mostly because he was a playmaking dynamo -- a star linebacker who could do it all. Tackle. Force fumbles. Snag interceptions. Sack quarterbacks. He did it. 

Granted, plenty of all-time greats check those boxes. But with Blair, there was more. He had an extra gear that they did not: He could block kicks, and he did it with a reckless, game-changing flair. And it's that ability that not only makes him stand out from others but should have the Pro Football Hall-of-Fame's seniors committee on his case ... sooner rather than later.

Overcoming a knee injury in his junior season at Iowa State, Blair was drafted in the second round (51st overall) by the Vikings in 1974. Despite lingering questions about the injury, the Vikings did not hesitate -- with then-coach Bud Grant saying that, were it not for the knee issue, Blair would've been one of the first picks of the draft.

In his rookie year, he started a handful of games and made enough big plays on special teams that he was voted to the league's All-Rookie team. He spent the next year doing much the same before breaking through in 1976 when he locked down the left linebacker position and never looked back.

In an era stacked with elite outside linebackers -- Hall of Famers like Jack Ham, Ted Hendricks, Robert Brazile, Chris Hanburger, and Pro Bowl studs like Isiah Robertson, Brad Van Pelt and Tom Jackson -- Blair still shined. He snagged first-team All-Pro in 1980, second-team in 1981 and punched tickets to six straight Pro Bowls (1977-82). You could make a case he deserved Pro Bowl nods in ’76 and ’83, too.

In 1980, Blair was also voted the NFC's top linebacker by the NFL Players Association. Not just the top outside linebacker, mind you, but the top linebacker, period -- prompting one writer to say that "if (Blair) played in a high-exposure city, he'd be worshipped by the football world."

He might be right. Blair was a model of consistency, piling up splash plays that flipped games and fueled Vikings' victories. And his knack for blocking kicks? That was his calling card, a rare skill that turned games on end in ways stats don’t always capture. In all, he blocked 21 kicks -- a semi-official figure that doesn't include three more blocks in the playoffs.

You could count on one hand the number of players with that many rejected kicks/punts. 

"All of a sudden," Dolphins' coach Don Shula said, "this guy, Matt Blair, was jumping up like he was on a trampoline. Then, all of a sudden, he's blocking my guy's kick."

Blair acknowledged his extraordinary ability to block kicks, but the son of an Air Force serviceman always remained humble -- making sure the "grubbers" received the recognition often reserved for the Vikings' "leaper." 

"I can't do it by myself," he said. "The guys who penetrate the line should get credit, too."

As significant as it was, his special-teams' resume is not the whole story of Matt Blair. If it were, we wouldn't be talking about him as a Hall-of-Fame candidate. He made splash plays on defense, too. A lot of them, in fact, finishing his career with 23 sacks, 19 defensive fumble recoveries, 16 interceptions and -- according to official NFL gamebooks -- 981 tackles.

"He's got the capacity to be around the ball," said Grant. "If it's one on the ground or in the air and up for grabs, Blair is going to be someplace in the vicinity. He's literally a natural, a player tremendously gifted."

In 1978, for example, Blair showcased his versatility by making 151 tackles, defending 12 passes, forcing five fumbles and producing four sacks, according to NFL gamebooks. He also intercepted three passes, recovered three fumbles and returned one 49 yards for a touchdown against the Chicago Bears, a key play in a 24-20 win. Plus, for good measure, he blocked a kick.

Well, of course he did.

The next year, he blocked another five and again made 151 total tackles, had four sacks and intercepted three passes. He also forced a pair of fumbles and recovered two. But those are the two years prior to his first-team All-Pro year of 1980 -- perhaps his best season -- and it didn't stop there. In 1981, he had over 100 tackles for the sixth consecutive season and blocked five more kicks, sacked the quarterback a career-high six times, forced four fumbles and recovered two others.

You get the point. He was a big-play machine, year after year. And that's what you need to know. Correction: That's what voters need to know.

Blair appeared in two Super Bowls with the Vikings, Super Bowls IX and XI, but both were losses -- first to the Pittsburgh Steelers, then the Oakland Raiders. In Super Bowl IX, he blocked a Bobby Walden punt that was recovered in the end zone, preventing the a shutout, but it's possible the two losses are factors keeping Blair out of Canton. I mean, let's be honest: It sure seems like a lot of Vikings waited a long time to get their Gold Jackets. Plus, some like Blair never had a shot.

Outside of Hall voters, however, Blair’s accomplishments have been widely recognized. In 2010, he was named one of the 50 greatest Vikings of all time, and two years later he was inducted into the Minnesota Vikings’ Ring of Honor. He was also selected to the Vikings’ 25th and 40th Anniversary Teams.

Additionally, Blair was honored by his alma maters. In 1999, he was inducted into the Iowa State Athletics Hall of Fame. There, he earned Coaches’ All-American honors. In 2008, he was enshrined in the Northeastern Oklahoma A&M Athletics Hall of Fame, recognizing his contribution to its NJCAA national championship team before transferring to Iowa State.

All that's left, then, is the Pro Football Hall of Fame. 

Sadly, Blair passed away in 2020 at the age of 70. So, I'm urging the Hall's seniors committee not to forget who and what he was. At the very least, give the 6-foot-5½ inch, 232-pound prototypical linebacker --  a tackler, a sacker, an interceptor and a leaper --  a chance to have his case heard. Because Matt Blair's career demands it. 

Note: TFL are tackles for loss, not run/pass stuffs

What is Dubious About What PFWA Just Did with 'Dr. Z' Award—Timing

By John Turney

Jeff Stoutland

Earlier this week the Professional Football Writers of America (PFWA) tapped retired defensive coordinator Richie Petitbon and active Philadelphia Eagles' run game coordinator/offensive line coach Jeff Stoutland as recipients of its Paul Zimmerman ("Dr. Z") Award --  an honor given annually to salute assistant coaches. The award first began in 2014, and Petitbon and Stoutland are the 26th and 27th winners.

Petitbon? A no-brainer. He was the backbone of Washington defenses, churning out units that were tough, smart and championship-grade. He racked up 14 years as an NFL player, 20 more as an assistant and one as head coach. His defenses posted big numbers, developed talent and snagged rings. He’s the kind of coach the "Dr. Z" Award was built for -- pure pedigree.

And Stoutland? No question. The man’s a wizard with offensive lines, turning Eagles' blockers into Pro Bowl fixtures year after year. His work is a big reason that Philly’s run game has been a juggernaut, and his players love him. So he has the credentials,

Just one question: Why now? That's my only issue here. The finalist list included heavyweights like the late Tom Catlin, the late Floyd Peters (whom I voted for), the late John Teerlinck and the retired Terry Robiskie -- guys who’d hung up their whistles long ago.

Then there’s a name like Hudson Houck, who, at 82, never made the finalist cut. Houck’s resume screams legend. At USC, he molded monsters like Marvin Powell, Anthony Muñoz, Keith Van Horne, Roy Foster, Bruce Matthews and Don Mosebar -- the best of many All-Americans. When he joined the Los Angeles Rams in 1983 under John Robinson, Jackie Slater hit his first Pro Bowl, and Eric Dickerson obliterated rookie rushing records before setting the NFL's single-season mark. 

Later, with the Dallas Cowboys, Houck built on Tony Wise’s foundation, coaching lines that sent guys to Pro Bowls in droves and cleared paths for Emmitt Smith, the NFL’s all-time leading rusher. Oh, and he picked up two Super Bowl rings along the way, too.

So, why not Houck? Or Peters, Catlin, Robiskie or Teerlinck? Why go with Stoutland, who’s still in the thick of it with only 12 years as an NFL assistant? Eagles' fans might scream that he’s the greatest O-line coach ever, and they may not be far off ... someday. But when you have coaches with full careers in the books, why not let Stoutland wait his turn? He’s still in his NFL prime, and his time will come.

The PFWA’s leaning hard into recentism here, a trap that Hall-of-Fame selectors have fallen into. Picking Petitbon along with, say, Peters, Catlin, Robiskie, Teerlinck, or even Houck, would’ve valued a  finished body of work. Instead, we have an outstanding assistant coach still adding chapters. 

So here’s my fix: Tweak the rules for the "Dr. Z" Award. Make it so that winners must be retired—maybe two or three years removed from the sideline. That way, you’re crowning legacies, not works in progress. Stoutland will get his due, no question. But let’s give the glory to those who’ve already run the race.

What About Tommy Nobis? Hall Worthy?

By John Turney 

Art credit: Merv Corning

When Atlanta CEO Rich McKay in 2021 wrote an open letter to Pro Football Hall-of-Fame voters, he gushed about former Falcons' star Tommy Nobis and referred to him as "an elite player." So how come voters didn't listen? Not once since then have they made Nobis a seniors' finalist. As a matter of fact, outside of the Centennial Class of 2020, they haven't made him a finalist, period ... modern-era or seniors.

Surprised? So is McKay.

"First pick of the franchise," he wrote. "Best player on a really bad team. Five Pro Bowl appearances in 11 years. Two times All-Pro. And he's on the all-decade team of the 1960s. So he is recognized as an elite player.”

Apparently not ... at least, not by voters. And that's puzzling. Because when Hall-of-Fame running back Larry Csonka was asked to assess Nobis, he didn't reach for the stars. He went beyond.

“I’d rather play against Dick Butkus," Csonka said, "than Tommy Nobis.”

A one-man wrecking crew at the University of Texas, the 6-4, 240-pound Nobis was built like granite slab and hit like one, too, tearing through college football in the mid-1960s. But he wasn't just a star linebacker; he was a two-way player, locking down the middle on defense while blasting open holes as a guard.

In 1963, he anchored a Longhorns' squad that steamrolled to a national championship, winning all 11 games and crushing Navy in the Cotton Bowl. By 1965, he was the gold standard in college football -- snagging the Outland Trophy as the nation’s premier interior lineman, the Knute Rockne Memorial Trophy as the best lineman of the year and the Maxwell Award as the best all-around player in the same year.

He was also a two-time All-American, three-time first-team All-Southwest Conference and someone who finished seventh in the 1965 Heisman Trophy balloting, with more votes than future NFL quarterbacks Bob Griese and Steve Spurrier.

“The Best Defender in College Football,” Sports Illustrated blared.

A cover star, his photo was plastered across all the big-time magazines, not just the ones covering sports, with Nobis and his square jaw the face of college football. So well known was he that, when he was drafted in 1965 by both the Falcons and Houston Oilers, astronaut Frank Borman -- then orbiting the earth for two weeks aboard Gemini 7 -- sent a message to Nobis via NASA's mission control.

It read: "Tell Nobis to sign with Houston."

He didn't. He chose the expansion Falcons instead, becoming No. 60 and "Mr. Falcon."

In his first season, Nobis was voted to the Pro Bowl and named NFL Rookie of the Year after a staggering number of tackles tallied by coaches. One year later, he won more votes in the AP All-Pro voting than Butkus and everyone else. Furthermore, the panel of writers for the New York Daily News named him first-team All-Pro, and did so again in 1968 -- edging Chicago's man in the middle. 

Clearly, he was neck and neck from jump street with the best in the business, and his resume proves it. With just three active seasons in the 1960s (he missed one due to injury), he nevertheless was voted to the NFL’s all-decade team -- proof that, as Minnesota's Bud Grant said, Nobis was "one of the three best middle linebackers in the league." 

And the others? Two were Butkus and Ray Nitschke. The third was Chicago's Larry Morris. Butkus and Nitschke are Hall of Famers. Nobis and Morris are not. Yet Hall-of-Fame center and former Raiders' star Jim Otto said he'd put Nobis on the same level as Butkus and Kansas City's Willie Lanier.

“I don’t think there was 30 seconds’ difference between them,” he said.

Another veteran center, Ken Iman of the Rams, said essentially the same thing in 1970 -- calling Nobis, Butkus and Nitschke the top three middle linebackers in the game. Two years later, however, he changed his mind -- labeling Nobis the best middle linebacker in the NFL.

“Tommy is the best open-field tackler I've ever seen," said linebacker Karl Rubke, who teamed for two years (1967-68) with Nobis. “I'm not saying he's the best linebacker in the league -- with guys like Ray Nitschke and Dick Butkus around. But I'd say he's as good as any of them.”

So would Morris, the other linebacker from the 1960s' all-decade team not in Canton. He spent his final pro season with Nobis, and, apparently, seeing was believing.

"Nobis is the best rookie linebacker I ever saw," he said, "and I was there (in Chicago) when Dick Butkus broke in with the Bears.”

All told Nobis was a five-time Pro Bowler (1966-68, 1970, 1972) in his first seven seasons, missing a clean sweep only because of knee injuries -- the first in 1969 and the second in 1971. Yet, that was enough for Dallas Pro Bowl running back Don Perkins to join the crowd in praise of the Falcons' star.

“I got tired of reading his press clippings," he said, "but now I'm a believer. He's the best linebacker I've ever played against.”

I think you get the point. Tommy Nobis was, as the Falcons' McKay proclaimed, "an elite player." Yet, despite the raft of post-season honors, accolades and acclaim, he's been snubbed by the Pro Football Hall's board of selectors. Only once -- in 2020, the centennial year of the NFL -- was he a finalist, but it wasn't the board of selectors that chose him. It was a specially selected panel of voters, media members and Hall of Famers. 

So what's going on? It's hard to say, but my guess is that it probably involves Atlanta's lack of success. During Nobis' tenure with the Falcons, they never went to the playoffs and lost twice as many games as they won. Moreover, they had just two seasons above  .500 and seven times won four or fewer games. 

But the Hall is based on individual achievements, not team success. So voters should look at Nobis' situation as they did Browns' tackle Joe Thomas. He didn't win, either. Yet selectors made him a first-ballot choice in 2023.

Tommy Nobis is a member of the Atlanta Falcons' Ring of Honor, the Texas Sports Hall of Fame, the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame, the Atlanta Sports Hall of Fame, the College Football Hall of Fame and the Pro Football Researchers Association's Hall of Very Good. But that resume is incomplete without the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

And the Pro Football Hall of Fame is incomplete without Tommy Nobis.

Note: "For loss" are tackles for loss, not run/pass stuffs. Numbers are

similar but not identical.

Is it Time for Canton to Get It Right With Lee Roy Jordan?

By John Turney 

Credit: Merv Corning

In the late 1960s through the 1970s, the Dallas Cowboys had a unit so formidable that it was called the "Doomsday Defense." In the middle of it was linebacker Lee Roy Jordan, and talk about appropriate. A tackling tornado, he amassed 1,236 team-credited stops as the linchpin of the run-stopping juggernaut.

“We shut down the league’s top backs in a run-heavy era,” Jordan declared. 

In Tom Landry’s flex defense, his unit was a fortress: Only two teams allowed fewer points or yards, and just one allowed fewer rushing touchdowns. With Jordan in the middle, Dallas five times led the league in fewest rushing yards and twice in yards per attempt. In short, its front was an impenetrable wall, thanks to a lot of accomplished players -- with Jordan the best of them.

Yet, despite his dominance, Jordan’s Hall-of-Fame momentum somehow stalled after he was a modern-era finalist in 1988 ... and then it wilted. He’s the only finalist among that year's modern-era candidates not to reach Canton (seniors' nominee Lou Rymkus that year has also been snubbed), and, yes, that message is directed to the Hall's seniors committee.

Making Jordan a "one-and-done" finalist isn't just unfair. It's wrong. 

I don't know what happened, but I know that a flood of Hall-worthy Cowboys leapfrogged him in the process. In 1990, Landry was inducted; in 1991, Tex Schramm followed. In 1994, Mel Renfro made the final 15, and in 1995, Randy White and Tony Dorsett were enshrined. Then, Renfro was voted in two years later. 

Meanwhile, other Cowboys like Chuck Howley, Bob Hayes, Drew Pearson, Rayfield Wright, Harvey Martin, Cliff Harris and Ralph Neely appeared on preliminary lists, potentially overshadowing Jordan. Thanks to the seniors committee, Hayes, Wright, Harris, Pearson and Howley eventually gained immortality. So did former executive Gil Brandt, a 2019 contributor enshrinee.

But Lee Roy Jordan? Nope. He's still on the outside looking in. It can't be that he lacks Hall-of-Fame worthy numbers because he doesn't. His numbers are so impressive that they're worth reciting. And so I will: 

-- His 32 interceptions tie him with Hall-of-Famer Nick Buoniconti as the most by a middle or inside linebacker-- ever.

-- Only three linebackers, all outside guys, matched or exceeded his interception total: Don Shinnick (37), Stan White (34) and Jack Ham (32). 

-- With 16 fumble recoveries, Jordan’s 48 career takeaways are tied with Bill Bergey for second among inside linebackers. Only Ray Lewis has more (51). And among all linebackers -- inside, outside or any side for that matter -- he’s tied for third behind Ham (53) and Lewis. 

-- Turning to single-season marks, Jordan's two seasons with six or more interceptions are tied for the most ever by a linebacker -- sharing the mark with Lambert, White and Eagles' outside linebacker William Thomas.

-- Again, counting just the middle linebackers, Jordan and Lambert are the only ones with two such seasons.

Now for the can of worms: If you're not a stats nerd, skip over the next several paragraphs because here's the scoop: The reported tackle total for Lee Roy Jordan—1,286—isn't the full story. It's higher.

The 1,286 figure comes from coaches' film reviews, where Landry's staff meticulously tracked defensive stats, including tackles, assists, forced fumbles and sacks (or "traps," as they called them). However, that number only accounts for the last 10 seasons of Jordan's career. For reasons unclear, the totals from 1963-66 are missing. 

My suspicion? The records from those years may be lost. I've searched for them myself. In fact, while researching Cowboys' history in the early 1990s, I uncovered documents that credited Jordan with 59 tackles in 1964 alone.

Confusing? Absolutely. But stay with me.

The missing years -- 1963, 1965, and 1966 -- might pose a problem if official NFL gamebooks from those seasons didn't offer a solution. But they do. By using press box stats from gamebooks as a substitute for coaches' tallies, we can arrive at Jordan's tackles for those years. And when you add them to the known coaches' total, Lee Roy Jordan's career tackle total jumps to 1,567.

Granted, it's a hybrid figure derived from two legitimate sources, but it's a more complete view of Jordan's tackles -- and it's the most in franchise history. Maybe you think it's Darren Woodson, but think again. It's Lee Roy Jordan. 

But let's not stop there. Jordan’s end-of-season accolades are equally impressive:

-- After earning All-Rookie honors in 1963, he gained All-Conference recognition in 1966, followed by his first Pro Bowl in 1967.

-- He continued with All-Conference honors and Pro Bowl selections in 1968 and 1969.

-- In 1973, he was a consensus choice on two of three major All-Pro teams, was named NFC Defensive Player of the Year by the Kansas City Committee of 101 and reached his fourth Pro Bowl.

-- In 1974, he added a fifth Pro Bowl, and in 1975, he was named All-NFC.

For those counting, that means eight of his 14 seasons were marked by notable honors. Plus, his five Pro Bowls not only match Sam Huff; they surpass Ray Nitschke. Considering Jordan's contemporaries were middle linebackers like Nitschke, Dick Butkus, Willie Lanier and Nick Buoniconti, his "alls" are more than Hall-worthy. And that doesn't include great non-Hall guys like Tommy Nobis, Bill Bergey and Mike Curtis.

It was truly a golden age of middle linebackers and competition for All-Pro teams and Pro Bowl slots was tough -- especially for someone who, at 6-feet-1, 220 pounds, was small for the position. But Jordan relied on his smarts, and Landry -- who called him "a head coach on the defense" -- relied on Jordan.

“If you had to fight a war," wrote former teammate Bob Lilly, "you'd want Lee Roy Jordan on your side. He would never give up. He was extremely intense on the field and a fierce competitor with tremendous self-confidence. Lee Roy was a student of the game, and he played it hard and he played it well.”

Jordan's collegiate coach, Alabama's Paul “Bear” Bryant, went one step farther.

"He was one of the finest football players the world has ever seen," he said. "If runners stayed between the sidelines, he tackled them.” 

Someone pass that on to the Hall's senior committee.

Jordan has been a candidate for that group for 24 years, but he's never been a finalist ... and, as I've said, I don't get it. Maybe it's because, with so many Cowboys enshrined in Canton (particularly as seniors), voters may think that a group with that much talent should have fared better in the playoffs. A book entitled “Next Year’s Champions: The Story of the Dallas Cowboys” said precisely that, suggesting they were underachievers.

However, critics forget that they were victims of several heartbreaking losses in NFL title games against Green Bay (twice), Baltimore (Super Bowl V) and Pittsburgh (Super Bowl X)—nail-biters that could’ve gone Dallas’ way. Still, the Cowboys’ 24-3 rout of the Miami Dolphins in Super Bowl VI ensured that Jordan gained his ring, and that should be enough for Hall selectors.

It is for me.

Consider this: Hall-of-Famers Bill George, Mike Singletary, Sam Huff and Willie Lanier each won only one championship. Furthermore, seven of the 17 middle or inside linebackers in Canton have no rings. Jordan’s single championship isn’t underwhelming compared to most; it only pales next to Nitschke and Lambert, who have five and four rings, respectively. 

If that was a reason, then it should have been debunked. 

Jordan’s competitiveness, stats, accolades, and leadership made the Cowboys’ defense iconic, and his undersized frame only amplifies his accomplishments.

“I don't guess anyone loved to play the game more than I did," Jordan said of his career. "I loved practice like I loved the games. I just enjoyed playing, period.”

Lee Roy Jordan's case checks a lot of boxes, and the clock’s ticking. At 84, he's waited long enough on Canton. Voters should give him what he deserves ... and that's one more shot at a Gold Jacket. 

*******************************

Career stats—

Note: TFLs are tackles for loss, not stuffs

Playoff stats—

Career honors—

• 1963—All-Rookie
• 1964
• 1965
• 1966—All-Conference; Pro Bowl
• 1967—Pro Bowl
• 1968—All-Conference; Pro Bowl
• 1969—Second-team All-Pro (NYDN), All-Conference; Pro Bowl
• 1970
• 1971
• 1972—Honorable mention All-Conference
• 1973—Consensus All-Pro; All-Conference; All-Conference
• 1974—Pro Bowl
• 1975—All-Conference
• 1976

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