Former Patriots and 49ers Tight End Russ Francis Dead at 70

 By John Turney 

When former tight end Russ Francis died last weekend, we lost more than an illustrious football player; we lost someone whose life was so intrepid that New York Times columnist Dave Anderson described it as "every man's fantasy."

He made Hawaii his home and gained his pilot's license while still in college. He surfed and engaged in hot-dog skiing, cliff diving, stunt flying and motocross. He also tried SCUBA diving, hang gliding and riding on rodeo bulls. 

In short, he did things that wouldn't be allowed in today's NFL contracts. But that's what made Russ Francis so intriguing. He was unique. He was exceptional. And he lived a life he desired.

Sadly, that life ended Sunday when a Cessna 177 flown by a former U.S. Air Force pilot crashed outside of Lake Placid, N.Y. Russ Francis was 70, and his passing drew testimonials from across the country.

"Russ was a fan favorite throughout his playing career," New England owner Robert Kraft said in a prepared statement. "He was a dynamic player on the field who had an even bigger personality off it. He knew no boundaries, pushed the limits and lived his life to the fullest."

A tight end with the Patriots and San Francisco 49ers, Francis was a beloved figure -- the Thomas Magnum of the NFL, complete with the mustache but sans Ferrari. He had the "looks of a movie star," according to New England Patriots' scout Dick Steinberg, and the athleticism of few ... if any ... players in the NFL of the 1970s.

He stood 6-feet 6, weighed 245 pounds and once ran a 4.7 forty-yard dash. Barefoot. Twice. And that was after an out-of-shape Francis sat out his senior season of varsity football at the University of Oregon, and Steinberg timed him. In shape and with shoes, Francis was probably a tenth, maybe two, of-a-second faster. So his height, weight and speed made him a rare specimen for his position.

"Physically," Steinberg said, "he's everything you're looking for." 

It was no surprise, then, when Francis was drafted by the New England Patriots with the 16th overall pick of the 1975 NFL draft and immediately became a starter in Chuck Fairbanks' offense.

He was the ideal dual threat at tight end as a receiver and blocker. He was All-Rookie in 1975, second-team All-Pro in 1976-78 and named to the 1976-78 Pro Bowls. Additionally, he was second-team All-AFC in 1980.

In 13 NFL seasons, Russ Francis played 167 games (148 starts), with 393 receptions for 5,262 yards (a 13.4 average) and 40 touchdowns. He had a career-high 44 catches in 1985, with single-season bests in yards (664) and touchdowns (eights) in 1980.

Young fans who see those numbers today will dismiss them as little more than ordinary, but they're wrong. The 1970s were the dead-ball era of the NFL, and receiving numbers must be put into perspective. Moreover, even in a league that ran the ball far more than throw it, the Patriots were on the extreme end. They were a run-first team, which didn't leave much opportunity for skill players to catch passes.

The proof: While Francis was with New England (1975-80), only one team ran the ball more and for more yards than the Patriots -- who, it should be noted, tied for second in yards per rush and third in rushing touchdowns.

But while they threw the third-fewest passes, the Patriots' yards per completion tied for first. The passing game in Foxboro was built on play-action, then taking shots downfield to Patriots' wideouts Darryl Stingley, Stanley Morgan and Harold Jackson -- who averaged 18 (Stingley), 21 (Jackson) and 23 yards (Morgan) in those years.

Throws to tight ends or running backs were afterthoughts. The offense was not a tight-end-friendly scheme, which sometimes frustrated Francis.

"If Ken Stabler is throwing 60 passes a game," he said, "someone has to catch them ... and that is taking nothing away from Dave Casper."

Stabler never threw 60 passes, but Francis made his point. It took opportunities to put up receiving numbers, and Casper had them. If Francis played in today's game where tight ends are featured, he'd put up numbers like those of Rob Gronkowski, Travis Kelce, Antonio Gates and Tony Gonzales. Plus, he was as adept at blocking as Gronkowski and such a reliable receiver that one publication wrote "a one-handed grab is routine for Francis."

"He was a warrior with a kind heart," former teammate and Hall-of-Fame defensive back Ronnie Lott said on X, formerly known as Twitter. "He was the best at his position."

The son of professional wrestler "Gentlemen Ed" Francis, the younger Francis participated in over 50 tag-team bouts with his father before he played in the NFL, once going solo to take on the legendary Killer Kowalski in a Texas Death Cage match.

He was an outstanding all-around athlete who excelled in the decathlon and javelin throw in high school. In fact, his 1971 throw of 259 feet, nine inches was a national scholastic record until 1988 and had Francis eyeing the Olympics until an arm injury and what he considered poor coaching at the University of Oregon vanquished that idea.

But that's only part of his story. He was an accomplished baseball pitcher, too, drafted by the Kansas City Royals, and an all-state basketball player in high school. As mentioned, he was also a decathlete, who competed in six different events as wide-ranging as swimming, sprinting, soccer and tennis in the ABC made-for-television "Superstars" competition where he won over $75,000.

He played collegiately at the University of Oregon but sat out his senior season when he objected to the politics involved in the firing of his head coach. That might have jeopardized Francis' pro football future, but he was unconcerned. He stood on principle. He was who he was -- his own man, even at a young age.

What Francis did on the field in New England and San Francisco may not pass today's statistics test, but it eclipsed the "eye test" by such a wide margin that former ABC broadcaster Howard Cosell dubbed Francis the "All World" tight end.

Not just All-NFL. All-World.

Cosell wasn't alone. Proscout, Inc. (PSI), the independent scouting firm then run by the late Mike Giddings, rated Francis as the best tight end in the NFL in 1976. Despite his relatively low stats, Francis drew PSI's top rating that season, as well as in several others, with Giddings once calling Francis the best tight not in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

"Russ has more ability than anyone I've seen in the NFL," Hall-of-Fame guard and former teammate John Hannah said of Francis, "or, for that matter any athlete I've ever seen."

In today's NFL and under the guidance of a coach such as Andy Reid, Francis would be a 100-catch, 1,200-yard, 10-touchdown receiver. Trust me, he could do anything that any tight end you care to name could. He just played in an era where that wasn't possible. 

Plus, he gets extra points for toughness, playing through a shot to the nose (that broke it in four places) by Raiders' safety George Atkinson in the 1976 AFC playoffs. Francis sat out one series and then finished the game, catching a touchdown pass before it was over. In another season he played three games with broken ribs. 

Francis retired after 1980 for "personal reasons," saying he'd become conflicted with football and the philosophical aspect of the game. But he returned in 1982 after speaking with 49ers' coach Bill Walsh at the Pro Bowl, where Francis was working for ABC. That led to a trade to San Francisco, where he started for the next five-and-a-half years, earned a Super Bowl ring in 1984 and caught five passes for 60 yards in Super Bowl XIX.

Ironically, coaches threw to him more in the playoffs than the regular season. If you prorate his post-season stats to a 17-game season, they'd work out to 66 catches for 895 yards and six touchdowns. Had they done that more often, Francis would've been a first-team All-Pro almost every year and in Canton by now.

Nevertheless, he did get his share of post-career accolades, aside from the lack of Hall-of-Fame consideration. The Professional Football Researchers Association named Francis to its Hall of Very Good Class of 2021, while he was voted to the New England Patriots' All-1970s' Team and 35th Anniversary Team.

After retiring, Francis returned to professional wrestling, was involved in sports radio and even dabbled in politics -- all true to his esoteric personality. But that raises a question: Did that eagerness to live uninhibited, outside the norms of pro football, keep him from Gold Jacket consideration?

Probably. 

So, should voters on the Hall-of-Fame seniors committee listen to PSI and hear the case of the NFL's athletic Renaissance man? 

Probably.

It would be only fair to hear the case of someone considered one of the most complete tight ends in NFL history. However, if the Hall is about numbers and only numbers, it won't happen. But if it's about doing what is asked of an individual ... and doing it better than his peers ... the Hall-of-Fame case for Russ Francis should be heard.