It's Time the Hall Heard About Harvey Martin's Career

By John Turney 

With the revised voting rules, maybe the Dallas Cowboys' defensive end finally gets his chance to be enshrined. Maybe.

The NFL's best player in 1977 was Hall-of-Famer Walter Payton. He was the league's MVP and led in most rushing categories. But any idea who was its second-best? A quarterback? Another running or receiver?

Nope and nope. 

In an era dominated by defense, in 1977 it was a defensive end.

Granted, it's a matter of opinion, but the case is strong that the Dallas Cowboys' Harvey Martin was the NFL's second-best player that year -- above all skill players and defenders. He was the NFL's Defensive Player of the Year, a consensus All-Pro and a Pro Bowler -- proof that his peers and media recognized him as elite.

But the 6-5., 250-pounder also left a remarkable statistical trail that season -- albeit unofficial. He had 20 sacks in the Cowboys' 14 regular-season games, the most by any player. Of course, the NFL didn't recognize sacks as an official stat until 1982, but gamebooks recorded them. 

And 20 are there.  Gamebooks also showed that he had three more sacks in the Cowboys' three playoff games, for a grand total of 23 sacks.

Martin sacked quarterbacks so frequently that the scoreboard operator at Texas Stadium would flash the message "MARTINIZED" on the huge screen when the star defensive end took an opposing passer down. Two of those "Martinizations" were part of his performance in Super Bowl XII when he delivered one of the most memorable defensive performances in Super Bowl history. Not only did he produce two sacks; he was a constant presence in the Denver Broncos' backfield, helping the Cowboys to a 27-10 victory.

Martin's performance was so dominant that he was named the game's co-MVP, sharing the honor with teammate Randy White -- the first time in Super Bowl history that defensive linemen won the award.

"Outside of Bob Lilly," coach Tom Landry once said, "Harvey is the best pass rusher we've ever had."

Martin had 114 sacks in his 11-year career, with 97-1/2 of those as the Cowboys' starting right defensive end from 1975-83 -- the second-most in the NFL during that time. But it wasn't just regular-season games where he gave left tackles fits; he came up huge in big games, too.

In 22 playoff contests, he produced 17-1/2 sacks -- more than the NFL's official postseason leader, the Patriots' Willie McGinest with 16. Again, they were "unofficial," but official or not, they happened ... and that's what matters.

Ask Washington quarterback Billy Kilmer. He called Martin "the NFL's premier defensive end." Better yet, ask Denver's Craig Morton. He's the quarterback who, prior to Super Bowl XII, kept staring at Martin during the coin toss -- something that didn't escape the notice of Martin's teammate, Ed "Too Tall" Jones.

"(It was almost as though) he KNEW something BAD was about to happen," Jones said.

If so, he was right. Morton spent most of the afternoon trying to escape Martin.

That season, plus all others Martin spent in Dallas, raises an intriguing question, one that I've often asked here: Why has he never been a finalist or semifinalist for the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 37 years as a modern-era and senior candidate? Seven times he was on the preliminary list, but that's as far as he got.

And let's be honest: His career deserves better.

Hopefully, with the Hall's new voting process, it will gain the necessary attention, and voters finally will have a conversation about the greatness of Harvey Martin.

Because they should.

Here's why: Aside from 1977 when he was everybody's All-Pro, he was named to three other Pro Bowls and was a second-team All-Pro in 1976, 1979 and 1982. In 1980, the Hall's board of selectors voted him to the 1970s' all-decade team -- an honor that Hall-of-Fame defensive ends Claude Humphrey and Elvin Bethea didn't achieve.

Plus, Martin wasn't a dog on his own hunt. Though his forte was pass rushing, he played in Landry's "Flex" defense on likely running downs and contributed to one of the best run defenses of that, or any era. During his 11 seasons, the Dallas defense -- dubbed "Doomsday II" -- allowed the NFL's second-fewest rushing yards, had the most quarterback sacks and allowed the third-fewest yards and fourth-fewest points. 

A well-known NFL axiom asserts that "defense wins," and the Cowboys were a prime example. During Martin's tenure, Dallas won 73 percent of its regular-season games (best in the NFL) and 59 percent of its playoff games (third in the NFL).

That's quite a list of accomplishments for someone from such humble beginnings; someone who was shy, awkward and even bullied through school -- that is, until a growth spurt made him tower over classmates and caused him to try out for football as a high-school junior.

He didn't play much at first, but when his school finished one victory short of a Texas state championship in his senior year, Martin earned a scholarship to East Texas State University. And it was developed into a standout player -- learning so much from upperclassman and future Pittsburgh Steelers' defensive lineman Dwight "Mad Dog" White that he told himself he'd follow him to the NFL.

And he did, after making honorable mention All-American as a junior and Little All-American as a senior while leading East Texas to the NAIA Division I national championship. 

The Cowboys grabbed the youngster (who could run a 4.7 40) in the third round of the 1973 NFL draft and immediately made him their designated pass rusher -- someone who entered games on third-and-long snaps. It was a smart move. He finished second on the team in "traps" -- the Cowboys' term for sacks -- and just missed All-Rookie recognition.

Serving the same role the following year, he led the team in sacks before becoming a starter in 1975, moving from the left side to the right. Then he went on to lead the Cowboys in sacks six times in the next nine seasons, establishing himself as the team's all-time sack leader -- a position he held until 2013 when Hall-of-Famer DeMarcus Ware eclipsed his franchise record by three.

In the process, he overcame his shyness and developed an on-field persona of "Too Mean" Martin, a play on teammate "Too Tall" Jones' nickname, by playing -- and acting -- so aggressively. He wasn't above giving a swift kick to an offensive lineman who went after his knees, for example, or delivering a quick slap to Conrad Dobler to send a message.

But along the way, he became involved in charity work, businesses and the media, even having his own radio program called "The Beautiful Harvey Martin Show". In short, he became a big deal in Dallas, where fans loved him and NFL left tackles and quarterbacks feared him.

So, given all that, why no love from Hall voters?

Perhaps his early death (Martin died of pancreatic cancer in 2001 at the age of 51) caused them to forget. Or maybe it's that other Dallas Cowboys were prioritized -- players like Bob Hayes, Rayfield Wright, Cliff Harris and Drew Pearson, all of whom were voted into the Hall this century.

Then there are those from the 1990s' Cowboys -- Emmitt Smith, Troy Aikman, Deion Sanders, Michael Irvin, Charles Haley, Larry Allen, coach Jimmy Johnson and owner Jerry Jones. And let's not forget Darren Woodson. He was a Top-10 finalist this year, joining a cadre of former Cowboys who may be sucking some of the oxygen out of the room for Martin.

Twenty-three players, coaches and executives who were predominately Cowboys are in Canton, and some voters -- perhaps suffering from "Cowboys' fatigue" -- may view that as a fair representation of the franchise.

But this is what puzzles me: His own team has yet to put him in its Ring of Honor. It's unclear why Jerry Jones has withheld that recognition for Martin, but he has. And that can't help his cause. 

As I mentioned, there's a new voting process for the Hall's Class of 2025 seniors' committee, with the group reduced from 12 to nine voters, including two non-selectors -- one of whom is an historian. Maybe that makes a difference. Maybe not. My hope is simply that Harvey Martin gets from the Hall what he's never had.

And that's a chance to be enshrined.