REMEMBERING CONCRETE CHARLIE
If you've been
reading my columns for any length of time you'll know I'm an apostate
American in the sense of not believing more is always better, and
I've been critical of many moves the NFL has made in the direction of more.
But I have to say honestly that I admire the way in which they have
turned the off-season into a non-stop attention-getter. I still would
prefer to see the draft come in the next few weeks, but after the
most fascinating free-agency period I can remember, and the creation
of the 'veterans combine' (which falls way short of the return of a
development league, but is a good step, and ought to be called the
'veterans pro day') I appreciate what the league has done to stay in
the spotlight since the Super Bowl. If it gets any busier, I'm going
to need my weekly column back in the off-season!
Iron Mike is,
however, at heart old school, so this month's column won't be about
any of the issues and moves that have filled your consciousness for
the past few weeks. Instead, it's about Chuck Bednarik, because they
didn't come any more old-school than Concrete Charlie.
You probably know he
was the last of the full-time both-ways players, at center and
linebacker. EJ Holub might have challenged his mark, but Holub, who
played for the Dallas Texans/Kansas City Chiefs had nine knee
surgeries, and played one or the other, mostly at linebacker until his knees forced the move back to
center. In fact he started Super Bowl II at linebacker, and Super
Bowl IV at center; no one else has ever done that.
But they couldn't keep Bednarik from playing both ways. In 1960, when the Eagles won the NFL title, he was 35 years old, and exclusively a center until Bob Pellegrini was injured in week five. Bednarik, formerly the middle backer, assumed his spot on the outside, which is where he was when he leveled Frank Gifford at Yankee Stadium. The hit put Gifford out of the game for a year and a half, with concussion symptoms, and was immortalised in John Zimerman's photo of Bednarik celebrating over Gifford's prostrate form. But when you watch the film you realise that Bednarik wasn't celebrating the hit, that the photo has been misinterpreted for half a century.
But they couldn't keep Bednarik from playing both ways. In 1960, when the Eagles won the NFL title, he was 35 years old, and exclusively a center until Bob Pellegrini was injured in week five. Bednarik, formerly the middle backer, assumed his spot on the outside, which is where he was when he leveled Frank Gifford at Yankee Stadium. The hit put Gifford out of the game for a year and a half, with concussion symptoms, and was immortalised in John Zimerman's photo of Bednarik celebrating over Gifford's prostrate form. But when you watch the film you realise that Bednarik wasn't celebrating the hit, that the photo has been misinterpreted for half a century.
On film the hit
looks like a body slam. I worked with Frank at ABC, and I recall his
talking about it only once, in Kitzbuehel, Austria, where we were
covering the skiing. He said it looked worse than it was, that it was
the impact with the hard infield surface of Yankee Stadium that had
done the real damage. He emphasized that the hit was perfectly legal
(Giants' fans like to insist it was a clothesline) but came from
his blindside. In fact, you see Bednarik do a great job of playing
the scrambling quarterback, George Shaw, then chasing down Gifford
after the catch.
But what's
fascinating is watching Bednarik first go toward the fumbled ball, which the
Eagles recovered behind the play. Zimmerman's photo was taken only
AFTER Bednarik turned back to Gifford, looking back toward the
Eagles' side of the ball, and he was celebrating the fumble recovery
that sealed the Eagles' win.
Bednarik's second
most-famous tackle came in the NFL championship game that year, when
he stopped Jim Taylor on another pass play out of the backfield,
Taylor had broken one tackle and slipped another, but Bednarik
actually had some help with the stop, at the seven yard line, and
with holding Taylor down until time had expired. But his quote
remains famous: 'You can get up now, Jim, this game's over'. That
game was the only playoff match Vince Lombardi ever lost.
Bednarik made the
NFL's all-decade team for the 1950s as a center. He didn't make the
75th anniversary team, although he probably should've got
some recognition for being a two way player. Looking at film, seeing
his athleticism down-field and his instincts at the line of
scrimmage, I suspect linebacker may have been his better position.
But during his career, his only real competition as the NFL's best
center was Jim Ringo (Jim Otto in the Sixties AFL has now passed
both) or maybe Chicago's Mike Pyle. At middle linebacker you could
choose from the Bears' Bill George and Dick Butkus, the Lions' Joe
Schmidt, the Packers' Ray Nitschke, or the Giants' Sam Huff.
I wrote Bednarik's
obituary for the Daily Telegraph. It was designed for people
who didn't know anything about football, but the details of his life
are worth repeating. He was the son of Slovak immigrants; his father
worked at the hearth (or 'heart', as Bednarik pronounced it) in a
steel mill in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Chuck didn't start speaking
English until he went to school, and became a football star at
Bethlehem's Liberty High. But with World War II raging, he enlisted
before graduation (his mother collected his diploma) and at the age
of 18 found himself flying as the waist gunner in a B-24 Liberator.
He flew 30 missions, and when he came back after the war his plans
had changed. He'd intended to get a job at the mill to help his father; now the GI Bill sent him to the University of Pennsylvania, where he became a three-time All-American and finished third in the 1948 Heisman Trophy voting, playing center and linebacker. He was drafted first overall in 1949 by the Eagles, which meant he didn't even have to change stadiums; the Eagles played at Penn's Franklin Field.
The Eagles were the
defending NFL champions, having won the famed 'Snow Bowl' 7-0 on
Steve Van Buren's touchdown in 1948. That they had the first pick in
the draft was the result of the NFL's 'lottery', which was soon
discontinued. Bednarik moved right into the starting lineup, and the
Eagles won the NFL title again in 1949. Through the Fifties, however,
the Eagles were a team in decline. That changed when Buck Shaw
arrived to coach in 1958, and in 1960 traded for quarterback Norm Van
Brocklin from the Rams.
Bednarik's nickname
reflected his hardness, but came because he was, literally, an
industrial concrete salesman. He worked not only in the off-season
but in season after the day's practice was over. After all, he had
five daughters to support, and in those days even an NFL star's
salary couldn't do it. And he didn't live large; all his life was
spent between Bethlehem and Philly. He paid the price for his career: look at his snapping hand in that photo with another guy he tackled often, Jim Brown.
He retired after the
1962 season, aged 37, still being forced by circumstance to go both
ways. Maxie Baughan, who was drafted to be his replacement at
linebacker, and was a great one, called Chuck the best he'd ever
seen. Bednarik headed the Pennsylvania state athletic commission, overseeing
boxing and wrestling, but he also became one of football's most
outspoken and entertaining curmudgeons. He complained about overpaid
players and a soft game, and laughed out loud when reporters tried to
compare Deion Sanders' occasional forays as a wide receiver to his
two-way play. 'He couldn't tackle my wife,' Concrete Charlie laughed.
He was a popular speaker, and once, at a charity roast of Frank
Gifford, he arranged to have the lights shut off as he took the dias.
When the lights came back on after a minute, he told the audience
'now you know how Gifford felt when I hit him.'
His family said he
was suffering Alzheimers when he died, aged 85, and attributed that
to his football career. Jim Brown called him 'a true gladiator'. For
me, Chuck Bednarik symbolises better than almost anyone what football
was about when I was young, and wanted to play. It was something you did on your way to being a man. Being a man was defined differently in those days, and in some ways that's for the better now, but Chuck Bednarik's passing reminds me that in many ways it's not, and being a man like Chuck was not a bad aspiration.
Terrific piece, Iron Mike. I hope the Bednarik family reads it. You did him proud.
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