State Your Case: Leon Gray

By John Turney 

Leon Gray is a name known to almost no one but hardcore NFL fans today ... and that's unfortunate. Because Leon Gray was a Hall-of-Fame talent who, as New England's left tackle in the 1970s, joined guard John Hannah as part of an offensive-line combo that -- at its peak -- was every bit as formidable as the Raiders' left-side duo of Hall-of-Famers Art Shell and Gene Upshaw.

"Leon Gray and John Hannah?" former New England coach Bill Belichick once said. "That’s as good a left side as you can get."

Hannah needs no introduction. As a first-ballot Hall of Famer, he's one of the best left guards to play the game. But Leon Gray? He's a virtual unknown, with so little support from the Pro Football Hall-of-Fame's Board of Selectors that he's never been a finalist or semifinalist, and that's hard to understand.

But don't listen to me. Listen to Hannah, who praised his former partner when Hannah was enshrined in Canton in 1991.

"There is not a better offensive tackle that ever played in the NFL,"he said. "Leon could dance. He had great power. He had great instincts. Leon was just an amazing athlete.

"He broke my string of being named Offensive Lineman of the Year. It was an award they gave every year at that time, and I’d won a few times in a row. He broke my string, and I was glad for him. He deserved it. He should absolutely be in the Hall of Fame."

But he's not. And he's never been close.

A four-time Pro Bowl pick (1976, ’78, ’79, ’81), three-time first-team All-Pro and seven-time first-or-second-team All-AFC choice, Gray anchored an offensive line that powered the NFL’s most dominant rushing attack. In fact, it was during his tenure that the Patriots’ run game produced some of the league’s most historic single-season performances.

One occurred in 1978 when New England racked up 3,165 rushing yards, a mark that remains the fourth-highest in NFL history, trailing only the 1948 AAFC San Francisco 49ers (recently validated) and the 2019 and 2024 Baltimore Ravens, led by Lamar Jackson. That same year, the Patriots scored 30 rushing touchdowns, still tied for sixth all-time.

An aberration? Hardly. Only two years before, the Patriots in 1976 rushed for 2,948 yards (14th all-time), with 24 touchdowns and an impressive 5.0 yards per carry average.

That was the beginning of what should have been a long and happy career with the Patriots. Except it wasn't. After the 1978 season, Gray was traded to the Houston Oilers in a salary dispute ... and I'll call on Hannah again to give us the details, as told to J.T. Keith of the Mississippi Clarion Ledger.

"In 1976," Hannah said, "Upshaw suggested that the offensive linemen selected to the Pro Bowl should write their salary on a piece of paper and put it in a hat. That way, no one knew whose the salary belonged to. Hannah said they started reading out the salaries − $105,000, $102,000, $98,500, $110,000, $30,000 and $28,500.

When Hannah returned to his hotel room, he got a call from Gray.

"Which one were you?" Gray asked.

Hannah said he was $30,000. Gray said he was $28,500."

Yikes.

The following season, both Gray and Hannah held out, missing the first three games, but new contracts never materialized. After the 1978 season, the Oilers intervened and offered New England a first-round pick (plus a sixth-rounder) for Gray, and the Patriots jumped -- sending a premier tackle to a conference opponent to block for Earl Campbell. Hannah later admitted the move was such a colossal mistake that it erased New England's Super Bowl hopes.

But look what it did for Houston. There, Gray elevated Campbell’s game, boosting the star running back’s per-game rushing total by 10 yards in 1979 and an additional 20 the following season. That's the good news. The bad? That story didn't end happily ever after there, either, with Gray -- again dissatisfied with his contract -- traded to New Orleans in 1982 for quarterback Archie Manning, with Saints' coach Bum Phillips -- the man who traded for Gray in 1979 -- behind the deal.

The trade is notable because it's extraordinary. Seldom has an offensive lineman been traded for the highest-paid quarterback in the league But that's a testament to how highly Gray was regarded. Critics can ... and have ... labeled him as greedy, but that's as unfair as it is wrong. Raised in poverty, Gray was simply driven to secure fair compensation.

In New England, he explained, "John Hannah and I felt we were integral parts of the club. If we were among the best ... we deserved to be paid for it."

So he was. After his trade to Houston, the Oilers made Gray the NFL's highest-paid offensive lineman, though he had to take a bit of a winding road to get there. Miami's third-round draft pick in 1973, the Jackson State alum was waived by the Dolphins and claimed by New England, so starved for talented players that it made Gray its starting left tackle about a month into the season.

But then something unexpected happened: Leon Gray not only didn't go away; he anchored the position for five stellar years as the franchise became one of the NFL's best.  And he did it with dominance. Gray’s run-blocking was ferocious, earning him descriptions like "devastating," "mauler" and "dominant."

"I'm not a hard hitter," he told SPORT magazine, "but John Hannah is a load.”

Such modesty defined Gray, once called “self-effacing and highly intelligent." But he was more than that. He was such a positive influence on the field and in the locker room that he became a proverbial team leader.

"I remember that Leon always had a smile in the locker room," said the Patriots' Steve Grogan, the quarterback whose blind side Gray protected.

But that was his nature. While at Jackson State, Gray excelled in academics and music. In fact, he was a trumpet player who received a scholarship for music ... not football ... and who was in the Who's Who of American College Students directory. But his football legacy warrants much more than that; it warrants consideration for the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the Who’s Who of pro football greats.

"There's nobody better than Leon Gray,"  former Oilers' defensive end and Hall-of-Famer Elvin Bethea said of Gray shortly after he died in 2001 at 49.

Teammate Robert Brazile, another Hall of Famer, agreed.

"He should be in the Hall of Fame," he said. "If you ask John Hannah who made him a Hall of Famer, he will tell you, 'Leon Gray.' "

That's good enough for me, and it should be enough for Hall voters to take a long, hard look at Gray's resume. If and when they do, they'll find that his three consensus All-Pro seasons are as many as Gary Zimmerman, Orlando Pace, Dan Dierdorf, Rayfield Wright and Tony Boselli -- all of whom have busts in Canton. Furthermore, they're more than Hall-of-Famers Art Shell, Jimbo Covert, Bob St. Clair, Jackie Slater, Mike McCormack and Winston Hill.

But that's not all. Among tackles in the Hall, only Anthony Munoz, Bob Brown, Dan Dierdorf, Jackie Slater and Ron Yary had more of the various Offensive Lineman-of-the-Year awards that were available.

So we've established that Gray checks all the boxes for honors. What he doesn't check are titles, with his teams failing to break through to Super Bowls. Nor was he an all-decade choice. He wasn't a member of the 1970s' team, and maybe those factors hindered his chances for the Hall, I don't know.

Or maybe it was that he shifted franchises or didn't play long enough to satisfy voters. Gray retired after 11 seasons in an era when longevity mattered more than it does now. All I know is that if offensive linemen Jimbo Covert (nine seasons) and Tony Boselli (seven) can reach Canton after abbreviated careers, maybe Leon Gray can, too.

He should. He was as accomplished as many tackles who've been enshrined. His peers say so, and the awards say so. Hall-of-Fame voters don't ... at least not yet ... and it's well past time they join the chorus.

Why It's Time Canton Wakes Up to 49ers' Great Billy Wilson

By John Turney 

Billy Wilson

When you play on a team of stars, it's easy to be overlooked ... even if you're one of those stars. Such is the case for former San Francisco 49ers' receiver Billy Wilson.

Never heard of him? Not surprising because he's one of those forgotten players who deserves a chance to have his case heard by the Pro Football Hall-of-Fame's board of selectors.

Except he never has. 

He's never been a finalist nor semifinalist for Canton, including the Centennial Class of 2020 when he wasn't one of 20 finalists, and his name seldom -- if ever -- surfaces when the Hall's seniors committee convenes. But that doesn't mean he's not qualified.

He is.

Playing from 1951-60, Wilson led the decade in receptions ... by a lot. Nicknamed "Goose," he had 404, far ahead of the next-best receiver, Billy Howton, with 342. Three times he led the NFL in catches -- 1954, 1956 and 1957 -- tying the Eagles' Pete Pihos for the most titles in the decade and Raymond Berry, Lance Alworth, Sterling Sharpe and Tom Fears for the most in a career. 

One difference. They all own Gold Jackets. Wilson does not.

It's also more receiving crowns than Jerry Rice, who had two, and let's stop right there. Before you get the wrong idea, I'm not comparing Wilson's career to the G.O.A.T. I'm just noting that three receiving titles are a lot -- so many that even the greatest pass catcher in NFL history doesn't have that many. Wilson was also third in receiving yards and second in touchdown receptions in the 1950s, all the more remarkable when you consider that he played for a team that ran for more yards than anyone but the Los Angeles Rams.

The 49ers of the 1950s featured the "Million Dollar Backfield," with Hall-of-Famers everywhere: Quarterback Y.A. Tittle and running backs Joe "The Jet" Perry, Hugh "The King" McElhenny and John Henry Johnson. No wonder they threw fewer passes than all but a few NFL teams; they had the horses. And those horses grabbed the lion's share of attention.

But you can't keep defenses honest if you don't throw the ball, and the 49ers did ... mostly to Billy Wilson. He was THE receiving option. In fact, when he retired after the 1960 season, he ranked second only to then-G.O.A.T. Don Hutson in receptions and touchdown catches and was third in receiving yards.

So what's missing here? Championships, that's what, and that may have hurt his Hall-of-Fame candidacy. Not only wasn't he on a league champion; he was part of a franchise that participated in just one playoff game during his tenure -- the 1957 Western Conference contest vs. Detroit. But look what happened: Though the Lions won, 31-27, the 6-3, 190-pound Wilson caught nine Tittle passes for 107 yards and a touchdown.

And all this after getting a late start in pro football.

Born on a Cherokee reservation in Sayre, Okla., Wilson moved with his family to California at the age of 3 when his parents decided to escape the "Dust Bowl" of The Great Depression. After high school, he served 18 months in the U.S. Navy, then attended San Jose State where he shattered nearly every pass-receiving record. A 1949-50 All-Pacific Coast honoree, he dazzled as a receiver, excelled as an offensive blocker and dominated as a defensive end. Over three college seasons, he hauled in 66 catches for 948 yards and 10 touchdowns. 

“Billy’s a lock for the pros," his coach, Bob Bronzan said then, "potentially the league’s top rookie end.”

He was prophetic. Clearly, he knew something about his talented receiver that others would soon discover.

Six times Wilson was invited to Los Angeles to play in the Pro Bowl, including 1955 when he was the game's MVP. He was a second-team All-Pro in 1954 and named by media outlets to all the major teams. One year later, he was a first-team choice on the players' All-Pro squad (NEA), followed by first-team selections to the UPI and Sporting News' All-Pro teams in 1956.

Then, in 1957 he was first-team everywhere -- AP, UPI, NEA, The Sporting News; you name it, he was on it. He was the best receiver in the NFL. Bar none. A second-team All-Pro (NEA) in 1958 and 1959, he was a six-time first-or-second-team All-Pro -- including three times times on the first team and once as a consensus pick.

So how does that compare to Hall of Famers? Well, he populated more teams than Art Monk, Bob Hayes, Tommy McDonald, Tom Fears, Charley Taylor, Harold Carmichael, Isaac Bruce, John Stallworth, Charlie Joiner, Andre Reed, Bobby Mitchell and "Crazylegs" Hirsch, just to name a dozen.

The bottom line is that his "all" resume is in line with many receivers with busts in Canton. Yet despite the numbers and honors, Wilson has yet to break through from the Hall's preliminary lists.

And that's as wrong as it is baffling.

"He was the top pass receiver of his time," Hall-of-Fame coach Bill Walsh told the San Francisco Chronicle, "and one of the finest blockers; just a great all-around end. As I've seen the men inducted into the Hall, including myself, I've thought that Billy certainly should have been enshrined some years ago."

Walsh later told the San Jose Mercury-News that "Billy had speed and incomparable agility. He was also one of the best blocking receivers the game has seen."

Walsh wasn't alone. Others, including several Hall-of-Fame coaches, lined up behind him to praise Wilson:

-- "(H)e truly was a great receiver," said Don Shula. "He's one of the few players of another era that would excel today.''

-- Marveling at Wilson's ability to get free on broken plays, Weeb Ewbank wrote that what drove him crazy was "Y.A. Tittle's maddening ability to scramble at the last instant and hit Billy on the sideline for a keep-the-drive-alive first down." 

-- "Whenever we needed a big catch," said Tittle, "I went to him. I knew he would make the play."

--- "Billy Wilson," said former Cowboys' coach Tom Landry, "was almost impossible to cover."

Landry and Shula should know. Each was a defensive back in the 1950s. So was Rams' veteran Hall Haynes, who called Wilson the most difficult man in the league to cover. Wilson was especially dangerous on hook routes, turning his back on a defender before making the catch. And he did it so often that teammates started calling him "Poor Devil," as in that's what he made opponents look like on the indefensible pattern. 

"Billy had hands like glue," said former teammate Bob St. Clair, another Hall of Famer. "His ability to run after the catch was amazing. He is probably one of the most underrated players in NFL history."

I'll second that.

Wilson's case for the Pro Football Hall of Fame is compelling and deserves more, much more consideration than it's been given. Because let's be honest: It's been given little, if any. Given his statistical dominance in the 1950s, his exclusion from a Hall discussion is so indefensible that it makes Wilson ... well, the "poor devil."

His numbers, his honors and his endorsements from football luminaries all support Wilson as a strong seniors' candidate -- that is, if voters ever revisit his candidacy, which they should. Because Billy Wilson wasn’t a faint twinkle amidst cosmic giants. He was a radiant force, propelling his team, redefining the game and blazing brilliantly.

Quality over Quantity? That's 'Tombstone' Jackson

By John Turney 

Rich Jackson

How short is too short for the Pro Football Hall of Fame, and how elite is elite? OK, let's try putting those two ideas together and asking the question another way: Can a player with a short career be considered great enough to be enshrined in Canton?

I think you know the answer.

Look at Chicago's Gale Sayers. He's the classic example of the post-two-way era. His seven-year career was long enough because for five of them he was a phenom ... making first-team All-Pro every year and wowing fans like few had before.

Or since.

But Sayers was the seven-season exception ... until 2017, that is. Then along came Kenny Easley, Terrell Davis, Tony Boselli and this year's seniors' inductee, Sterling Sharpe. So, if seven years is acceptable for those guys, why not for former defensive lineman and linebacker Rich "Tombstone" Jackson? He wasn't the five-time All-Pro like the "Kansas Comet," but he does seem comparable to others in terms of peak performance.

Let me explain.

Jackson was called one of the two best defensive ends Sports Illustrated's Paul Zimmerman ever saw. The other was Deacon Jones. But the former Hall-of-Fame voter never could get Jackson's name included in a serious discussion for Canton, mostly because of longevity. He didn't have it.

That didn't matter to "Dr. Z," who was all about quality over quantity. If he was considering two candidates, and one was better than the other -- even though he played fewer seasons and games -- he'd choose him. As I said, he always leaned on the side of quality. However, he wasn't persuasive enough with Jackson. He was never a Hall-of-Fame finalist or semifinalist.

But with the recent inductions of finalists with short careers, maybe he was on to something. When two candidates are close, maybe quality IS better than quantity. And what Zimmerman saw in Rich Jackson was a dominant defensive end who frightened and beat up offensive tackles.

At his peak, there were no better defensive ends in the NFL. He was an elite pass rusher who could go around or through blockers. But he was more than a one-trick pony. He was a force in the run game, too, acting more like a blocker than a tackler. Instead of absorbing blocks and trying to fight them off, he put his shoulder under an opposing lineman's pads and drove him backward ... off the line of scrimmage.

Essentially, his object was to win the collision, and he could -- often hurting his opponent. 

"I would run-block the run blockers, if you know what I mean," said the Southern University grad. "What they were trying to do to me, I just got there quicker and lower." 

As the Broncos' enforcer, Jackson filled an additional role on defense. His job was to teach lessons to offensive linemen guilty of frequent fouls, especially holding. When Lyle Alzado was a rookie with Denver, for instance, a tackle tried "trash-talking" him until Alzado complained to "Tombstone." So the two switched positions, and, according to Alzado, Jackson "knocked the guy out. Head slap. All I heard was pow! And this guy was on the ground."

Then there was the time Jackson went mano-a-mano with Hall-of-Fame tackle Bob Brown.

"Rich just devastated the guy," said Alzado, who described Jackson as the toughest man he ever met. "Rich had his nose bleeding, knocked out his teeth, broke his helmet. I saw Rich knock guys to their knees with the head slap. Knocked them on their back."

Hard to believe, but he did this from a 245-250-pound frame. Though not huge by NFL standards, Jackson was strong. Legendarily strong. He may have had more natural strength than any defensive end ever, bench-pressing over 550 pounds. By almost all accounts, when healthy, Rich Jackson was a mismatch for all opponents. In fact, Hall-of-Fame quarterback Len Dawson said that when he thought of him, he thought of pain.

I don't care that his career was short. Neither should the Hall's seniors committee. After all, his three All-Pro seasons are the same as the other seven-season phenoms -- Boselli, Davis, Easley and Sterling Sharpe. But Jackson was also on the AFL's All-Time team. He was also voted his league or conference's defensive lineman of the year in 1969 and 1970. 

According to Broncos' gamebooks, in his three All-Pro seasons, "Tombstone" averaged 90 tackles, 11 sacks, seven passes defensed and two forced fumbles. He ended his career with 45 sacks, and while that total is not prodigious, remember this: He was the individual opponents targeted on the Denver defense, often assigning a tight end or running back to assist tackles who couldn't block him.

Unfortunately, the Broncos of Jackson's era (1967-71) were not winners. He had winning seasons only in his first and last pro seasons, and they weren't with Denver. They were with the 1966 Raiders and the 1972 Browns..

Maybe that backed off voters, I don't know. But times have changed, and voters should, too. A star player who is in the Black College Football Hall of Fame, the Greater New Orleans Sports Hall of Fame and the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame deserves a shot to be in the ultimate Hall of Fame -- the one in Canton, Ohio.

Anyone with a peak like Rich Jackson's must be considered. 

Career stats and honors—

Why Bucko Kilroy Is 'The Epitome of a Hall Contributor'

By John Turney 

Bucko Kilroy

Francis Joseph "Bucko" Kilroy's 64-year career in the National Football League (NFL) as a player, scout and executive left an indelible mark on the sport. His contributions, both on the field and in the front office, make a compelling case for his induction as a contributor into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. 

Yet in the 10 years that the Hall's board of selectors voted on contributors, he never was discussed as a finalist.

I know, he was a semifinalist for this year's class. But he didn't make the final cut. In fact, Kilroy's most significant foray in the Hall's voting process occurred in 2020, when a specially selected committee chose him as one of 10 contributor finalists for the Centennial Class commemorating the NFL's 100th anniversary.

He wasn't elected then, either. Paul Tagliabue, George Young and Steve Sabol were.

It's time that changes for the most obvious of reasons: Bucko Kilroy is the epitome of a Hall-of-Fame contributor, with a 64-year NFL career surpassed only by Wellington Mara. His tenure as a player, coach, scout and executive outlasted even George Halas. But it's not his longevity in those roles that makes him an ideal choice; it's that he was successful in all of them.

"Very few in the Hall have his resume," said former NFL executive Upton Bell, who hired Kilroy as New England's player personnel director in 1971. "He should've been elected to Canton a long time ago."

A Philadelphia native, Kilroy earned All-America honors as Temple’s first standout lineman before becoming a two-way player at offensive and middle guard for his hometown Eagles. But he wasn't just a player; he was an outstanding player, making first-or-second-team All-Pro every year from 1948 through 1954. He also went to three Pro Bowls and was named to the NFL’s 1940s' all-decade team.

Kilroy's presence on the line anchored a unit that powered Steve Van Buren to the Hall of Fame and led the Eagles to NFL titles in 1948 and 1949. In both championship games, the Eagles' 5-2 defensive front -- with Kilroy at its heart -- delivered historic shutouts, the only back-to-back title game shutouts in NFL history.

 "I enjoyed playing defense," Kilroy once remarked. "Offense was drudgery."

His reputation as one of the era’s toughest players (or dirtiest, depending on your perspective) was cemented when Life magazine labeled him the NFL’s dirtiest in 1955 in an article entitled, "Savagery on Sunday." The story featured a grinning cover photo of Kilroy, with more shots inside and commentary from former football players that were supposed to corroborate the so-called "dirty play."

"If you played the Eagles," said Chicago Bears' Hall-of-Famer Doug Atkins, "you knew Bucko was going to get his shots in -- late hits, elbows, stepping on you in the pile. You didn’t shake his hand after the game; you checked to see if he broke it."

Another famous anecdote involves a game in which an opposing lineman allegedly told his coach, "If you want me to block Kilroy, you better give me a weapon."

Exaggerated or not, stories like these cemented Kilroy’s legacy as a feared enforcer -- someone whose name was as much a warning as it was an identity. Nevertheless, Bucko wasn't pleased with the label, and he and one of his teammates, Wayne Robinson, sued the publisher, Time, Inc., for $250,000. They won and were awarded $11,600 each.

Dirty? Maybe. OK, likely. But when you're called "bad boy" by Hall-of-Fame quarterback Otto Graham or an "onery critter" by Lions' end Cloyce Box, that's not really a knock. I think it's more like a compliment for that era.

When he died in 2006, Kilroy was quoted by Patriots.com as having said, "It was smash-mouth, or what I called 'mash-mouth' football in those years. The rules were different. First, you played two ways up to 1950. Another thing, forearms were legal."

And, apparently, enjoyable.

"We didn't play for money," Bucko said. "We played for fun."

But Kilroy’s impact didn't end there It extended far beyond the field. After coaching for the Eagles, he revolutionized scouting, creating the NFL scouting combine and pioneering the Dallas Cowboys’ data-driven player evaluation system. Joining Dallas in 1965, Kilroy and Hall-of-Fame executive Gil Brandt transformed drafting into a science, relying on measurable data over guesswork.

"The more measurements you got, the more you could confirm," Kilroy explained.

His approach replaced outdated methods like the reliance on college football yearbooks with a systematic, numbers-based process.

"Gil Brandt and Bucko put together a system in Dallas," recalled former GM Ernie Accorsi. "Bucko never got enough credit. He took that scouting system to New England and refined it."

In Dallas, Kilroy helped draft Roger Staubach despite his Naval commitment, laying the groundwork for Tom Landry’s dominant 1970s' teams. But it was Brandt who won the Gold Jacket, not Kilroy. And maybe that's because he went elsewhere, while Brandt stayed put during the Cowboys' dynasty from the mid-1960s through the mid 1980s.

But Kilroy left in 1971 for New England, where he spent 36 years as scouting director, GM, vice president, and consultant. His keen eye identified Hall-of-Famers John Hannah and Mike Haynes, along with stars like Russ Francis, Stanley Morgan, Raymond Clayborn, Steve Nelson, Julius Adams, and Steve Grogan -- players who turned the Patriots into playoff contenders in the 1970s and 1980s and contributed to Super Bowl teams in 1985 and 1996.

As an innovator, Kilroy co-founded the National Football Scouting Combine, now a cornerstone of the NFL's talent evaluation process. He was also credited with helping to shape the modern NFL draft and contributing to the development of the Super Bowl as we know it today.

The Boston Globe in 1982 called him "the man who helped create the science of pro scouting," while Dick Steinberg, a former Jets' GM and Kilroy protégé, said, "He knows as much about pro football as anyone in history."

His 36 years with the Patriots included contributions to 14 of the franchise's 15 playoff seasons and all five of their Super Bowl appearances during his tenure, including their first in 1985.

If that doesn’t qualify, what does?

His inductions into the North Catholic High School Hall of Fame, Temple University Athletics Hall of Fame and Philadelphia Sports Hall of Fame underscore his regional and institutional significance. But his contributions to the NFL warrant more. They warrant national attention from the Hall's board of selectors.

Hopefully, sooner rather than later.