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

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

NFL's New Award Gives Big Boys Up Front Respect They Deserve

By John Turney 

It's about time. 

Starting this season, the NFL will launch a "Protector of the Year" award to honor the league’s top offensive lineman, much like the MVP and Offensive and Defensive Players-of-the-Year awards. The goal is to spotlight the unsung heroes of the offensive line, and let's face it: It's long overdue.

So what happened? Much of the credit goes to Buffalo Bills' tackle Dion Dawkins, who pushed hard for this recognition, and by golly, he and others made it happen.   

The NFL made the announcement Wednesday, then revealed more details 24 hours later for an award that, according to NFL executive Troy Vincent, will "symbolize protection, durability, and the unsung heroics of the players who shield their teammates and drive their teams forward."

That works for Dawkins, whom Vincent applauded at this week's Spring League Meeting in Minnesota.

"This Protector of the Year award is finally giving the big boys up front the respect we deserve," Dawkins said. "I've been knocking on doors and spearheading this movement because offensive linemen are the true foundation of every team's success.

"We might not have all the fancy stats as the skinnies or end up on a highlight reel every week, but, without us, there's no rushing titles, passing titles, or touchdowns. This award is for all the unsung heroes who put in work every snap. I won’t stop fighting to give offensive linemen the respect and recognition we deserve."

Rather than a vote of Associated Press (AP) writers, the new award will be selected by a panel of six former offensive linemen and be based on the following criteria:

-- Skill Metrics: pass-block win rate, run-block win rate, penalties allowed, sacks allowed, helmet contact.

-- Impact: contribution to the team’s offensive success (e.g., total rushing yards, QB protection stats).

-- Leadership: display of leadership, teamwork and consistency on and off the field.

-- Durability: minimum number of snaps, games played.

-- Strength of Opponent: Success vs. high-performing defenders.

It seems specific criteria are to be met, with more details to follow. But I’d bet that “skill metrics” will come from analytics platforms like Pro Football Focus, Sports Information Solutions and/or others, though nothing’s been confirmed. Beyond that, the panel evaluates stats (e.g., rushing yards, sacks allowed, snap count) and balances them with intangibles -- similar to how writers and former players approached awards like this in the past.

In other words, the concept isn’t new; it’s been done before.

The AP had a “Lineman of the Year” award from 1957-59, but it covered offensive linemen, defensive linemen and linebackers. Only one offensive lineman -- Giants' Hall-of-Fame tackle Rosey Brown -- was the recipient. Nevertheless, the AP had the right idea with an award for non-backs, even if it wasn't for blockers alone.

In 1964, a Wisconsin civic group called the National 1,000-Yard Club (think college awards like the Rotary Club’s Lombardi Award for interior linemen) introduced an "Outstanding Blocker" award. Then, the NFL Players' Association started its own offensive lineman of the year in 1967, with the NFL Alumni and a few others following.

Unfortunately, they’re all gone.

Interest fizzled, and the last one, from the NFL Alumni, hung on until 2010. On the bright side, Pro Football Focus has been handing out the “Bruce Matthews Award” to its highest-graded offensive lineman, but it's only known to PFF subscribers.

That's why I'm happy with the "Protector of the Year" award. It's a solid step forward, and, yes, I’m a sucker for end-of-year awards, postseason honors or whatever you want to call them. But if this one catches on, it might dust off the history books and bring attention to some of those outdated awards, known mostly to historians, researchers, and astute football writers.

Reflecting on the past, we can honor Miami's Hall-of-Fame center Dwight Stephenson, who dominated the NFLPA AFC Offensive Lineman of the Year award for five consecutive seasons from 1983-87. Likewise, Hall-of-Famer Jackie Slater claimed the same award four times during the 1980s.

However, the undisputed champion of offensive lineman awards is Anthony Muñoz. In an era when multiple organizations offered such honors, Muñoz secured at least one award seven times throughout his career.

Here’s the breakdown of his accolades:

1981: Seagram's 7 Crowns of Sports, Football Digest

1982: NFLPA-AFC, NFL Alumni, Football Digest

1986: Seagram's 7 Crowns of Sports

1987: NFL Alumni

1988: NFLPA-AFC, NFL Alumni

1989: NFLPA-AFC, NFL Alumni, Miller Lite

1990: NFLPA-AFC, NFL Alumni, Miller Lite

Note: The above awards were voted on by a diverse group, including magazine editors (Football Digest), assistant coaches (Seagram's 7 Crowns of Sports), sportswriters and broadcasters (Miller Lite), active players (NFLPA), and retired players (NFL Alumni).

I believe the consistent ranking of Muñoz as the top left tackle in numerous polls is compelling evidence that he's the greatest left tackle ever and potentially the finest offensive lineman, regardless of position, of all time -- with polls one metric for such evaluations.

However, it's unfortunate that no offensive lineman award existed for a decade and a half. Imagine how many accolades players like Zack Martin, Trent Williams or Jason Kelce might have earned. Water under the bridge, I guess.

But at least now the "offensive lineman of the year" legacy endures, and that's due in large part to Dawkins’ efforts to revive appreciation for the position as well as it is to the NFL’s willingness to respond. And you know something? I like it.

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.