LONDON - One of the first questions Gabby Douglas faced, with the gold medal still around her neck and the final chords of the Star Spangled Banner seemingly still hanging in the air, was the most predictable one: "What are your thoughts on becoming the first black woman to win the individual gold medal in gymnastics?"
Douglas' initial response was telling: "Oh gosh, I'd completely forgotten about that." And then she went to give a perfectly fine answer that was perfectly atypical of a 16-year-old being asked to speak extemporaneously on the world stage. But there was a moment there, however brief, when, just maybe, the color of her skin didn't matter. If she had forgotten it was an important moment, maybe it wasn't so important?
Of course, she could have been caught up in the whole proceedings. After the individual all-arounds were over, Douglas admitted she broke the cardinal rule of people in the lead by looking at the scoreboard. And she did so after every round. So she knew going into the floor routine that she had a .03-point lead, and that any slip would cost her the gold. But she didn't slip. Her music blared and she bounced around the mat like her legs were made of springs, and when she stuck the landing at the end of the routine, her big smile lit up the arena. Her closest competitors still had to go, but she knew she had won the gold.
And so came her moment, when the national anthem was played and she stood on the middle spot on the podium between two Russians who were supposed to defeat her handily. It was a moment when she momentarily forgot the historic significance, when instead of being the first woman of color to win, she simply became the third straight American woman to win all-around gold. Race didn't matter.
Or ... maybe it did. Because realistically, Gabby Douglas should have become more famous than she did. She had the great back story - she moved from Virginia to Iowa by herself at age 14 to train for this very moment - she had the great personality and the world-class smile. And sure, she got plenty of special notice at first from the late night talk shows and from Oprah and so on. But things didn't seem quite right.
Immediately after winning her gold, after all the compliments and people gushing about her life story, Douglas started to inexplicably face questions about her hair. And the problem was ... well, I'm not sure, really. That her hair wasn't picture perfect? It's hard to say. What was certain is that we were criticizing how a 16-year-old's hair looked while she was winning a gold medal.
Then Douglas completely faltered in the individual event finals, failing to medal in any of them after being so dominant in the all-around competition. That gave her the appearance of a flash in the pan, someone who had one great moment and would never begin to duplicate it. People started wondering if she was a fluke, that she won the gold medal that was destined to go to her teammate Jordyn Wieber (who, incidentally, got more publicity for crying after not making the all-around final than Douglas got for making it). Then McKayla Maroney was unimpressed with her silver in the vault and became exponentially more famous than Douglas.
That wasn't it, either. Douglas appeared on the cover of Corn Flakes, not Wheaties. That was weird. She spoke to Oprah about the difficulties of being a black gymnast, about the racial abuse she received in training in Iowa, and was instantly called a liar. She was the all-around gymnastics champion, but she already seemed to be getting pushed aside. It's not like she was getting ignored, per se, but it seemed more and more that when she made an appearance on a talk show, it was with her four other teammates.
And what, exactly, had she done? When she won, she was happy yet humble, was friendly and God-fearing, and showed the appropriate balance between awe at what she had done and the confidence that she knew all along what was going to happen. In short, she did everything right and nothing wrong.
It could mean nothing, of course. There have been times where the best athlete on a team is not the most famous, or second-most famous. It could be a coincidence.
Or it might not be.
No matter what, though, Gabby Douglas made history. Whether that kind of history is still important in 2012 is up for debate, but what she accomplished will never be taken away from her. Because she was more than just the first black gymnastics champion. On August 2, 2012, Gabby Douglas was the best gymnast in the world.
Showing posts with label Sports by the Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sports by the Day. Show all posts
Friday, August 2, 2013
Monday, January 31, 2011
January 31, 1970: Pistol Pete
BATON ROUGE, La. - He was a man ahead of his time, an athlete seemingly plucked from the future and dropped into the past to give basketball fans of the late 60s a glimpse of what the future would hold. He was the son of a coach, the kind of gym rat that you always read about or see in fictional, inspiration basketball movies. Pete Maravich's life seems fictional, but everything, including all the ungodly numbers he put up in college, was true.
Given the nickname "Pistol" and coached by a father named Press, Maravich walked onto the campus of Louisiana State in the fall of 1966 and joined the freshman basketball team. In his first game, he scored 50 points. LSU fans drooled at what was to come. But they had to wait a year, as freshmen weren't eligible for varsity play back then. So Pistol starred in relative obscurity, averagine 43.6 points a game against other overmatched freshmen while biding his time before he could join the big boys.
The next year, he was ready, entering the starting lineup as a sophomore and never looking back. His college career was consistently brilliant, as he averaged 43.8, 44.2, and 44.5 points a game in his three seasons with the Tigers. It wasn't just the scoring, though, that made Pistol so memorable. It was the passing, which made him look like Magic Johnson when Magic was still a young boy named Earvin. It was the dribbling, putting the ball behind his back and through his legs and around his waist - anything to confuse his opponents, to put on a show.
Overall, it was the flare. Sure, Pistol's NCAA-record 3,667 career points would be reason enough to remember him, but the showmanship is what put him over the top, what turned a great scorer into a legend.
On January 31, 1970, Pistol climbed into the NCAA record books, scoring 53 points to reach 2,987 for his career, allowing him to pass Oscar Robertson as the NCAA's all time leading scorer. What was especially impressive about the record was the Maravich broke it with 13 games still to play in the regular season, and he would pad nearly 700 more points onto his total to make the record all but unbreakable.
I say all but unbreakable, because Pistol has been caught. A guy by the name of John Pierce passed him in the 80s while playing for Lipscomb. But while Lipscomb is currently a Division I school, they weren't back then; in fact, they were only NAIA back then. So does it count as the record? That's debatable.
What isn't debatable is how Pistol was stuck in the wrong era. While Pierce had four years to get as many points as he could, Pistol only had three because of the freshman elibility rules in place. Also, Pistol played before there was a three-point line, meaning he got all his points two at a time. A man who followed Pistol's entire career at LSU charted every game he played, then figured out what his career average would have been if there had been a three-point line. The results were shocking: Maravich's career mark of 44 points a game would have jumped to 57 points a game, based solely on adding an imaginary three-point line to the court in all the games he played. That mark of 3,667 points would have become 4,731. And that's if you assume he wouldn't have taken a few more shots from beyond the arc knowing he'd get the extra point.
No matter how you look at it, Maravich was one of a kind. The numbers he put up at LSU were so staggering that they're almost hard to comprehend. And while he didn't put up the same kinds of numbers in the NBA, he still played with the same flair, still had the same showmanship he always had in college.
As the years pass and we get further away from Pete Maravich's career, knowledge of his greatness and importance to basketball is starting to fade. But nobody who ever saw Pistol Pete play basketball will ever forget him. He was truly a man ahead of his time.
Given the nickname "Pistol" and coached by a father named Press, Maravich walked onto the campus of Louisiana State in the fall of 1966 and joined the freshman basketball team. In his first game, he scored 50 points. LSU fans drooled at what was to come. But they had to wait a year, as freshmen weren't eligible for varsity play back then. So Pistol starred in relative obscurity, averagine 43.6 points a game against other overmatched freshmen while biding his time before he could join the big boys.
The next year, he was ready, entering the starting lineup as a sophomore and never looking back. His college career was consistently brilliant, as he averaged 43.8, 44.2, and 44.5 points a game in his three seasons with the Tigers. It wasn't just the scoring, though, that made Pistol so memorable. It was the passing, which made him look like Magic Johnson when Magic was still a young boy named Earvin. It was the dribbling, putting the ball behind his back and through his legs and around his waist - anything to confuse his opponents, to put on a show.
Overall, it was the flare. Sure, Pistol's NCAA-record 3,667 career points would be reason enough to remember him, but the showmanship is what put him over the top, what turned a great scorer into a legend.
On January 31, 1970, Pistol climbed into the NCAA record books, scoring 53 points to reach 2,987 for his career, allowing him to pass Oscar Robertson as the NCAA's all time leading scorer. What was especially impressive about the record was the Maravich broke it with 13 games still to play in the regular season, and he would pad nearly 700 more points onto his total to make the record all but unbreakable.
I say all but unbreakable, because Pistol has been caught. A guy by the name of John Pierce passed him in the 80s while playing for Lipscomb. But while Lipscomb is currently a Division I school, they weren't back then; in fact, they were only NAIA back then. So does it count as the record? That's debatable.
What isn't debatable is how Pistol was stuck in the wrong era. While Pierce had four years to get as many points as he could, Pistol only had three because of the freshman elibility rules in place. Also, Pistol played before there was a three-point line, meaning he got all his points two at a time. A man who followed Pistol's entire career at LSU charted every game he played, then figured out what his career average would have been if there had been a three-point line. The results were shocking: Maravich's career mark of 44 points a game would have jumped to 57 points a game, based solely on adding an imaginary three-point line to the court in all the games he played. That mark of 3,667 points would have become 4,731. And that's if you assume he wouldn't have taken a few more shots from beyond the arc knowing he'd get the extra point.
No matter how you look at it, Maravich was one of a kind. The numbers he put up at LSU were so staggering that they're almost hard to comprehend. And while he didn't put up the same kinds of numbers in the NBA, he still played with the same flair, still had the same showmanship he always had in college.
As the years pass and we get further away from Pete Maravich's career, knowledge of his greatness and importance to basketball is starting to fade. But nobody who ever saw Pistol Pete play basketball will ever forget him. He was truly a man ahead of his time.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
January 30, 2000: One yard short
ATLANTA - Imagine being that close. Everything you've played for in your career, all the work you put in that season, all about to pay off in the ultimate way. You have the ball, you see the end zone, you stretch out the ball, and ... nothing.
To many fans, Kevin Dyson is eternally stretching, reaching, straining. His image has been shown countless times, the ultimate picture of heartbreak. Dyson should be most famous for being on the receiving end of the Music City Miracle, but somehow his name often gets forgotten when that play comes up. But nobody forgets that Kevin Dyson was the man who was tackled one yard short of the end zone on the last play of the Super Bowl.
Of course, it wasn't Dyson's fault. After all, it was Rams linebacker Mike Jones who brought him down by the ankles, making the single greatest tackle in NFL history. Jones rightfully receives all the credit for saving the Super Bowl for the Rams. But all the images of the play show Dyson, stretching the ball out in vain. All you see of Jones is his helmet, maybe his arms. You see all of Dyson, all of his heartbreak.
Jones' tackle of Dyson overshadowed what had been a brilliant final drive by the Titans. After scoring 16 straight points to tie Super Bowl XXXIV, Tennessee watched St. Louis take the lead right back in only one play, as Kurt Warner found Isaac Bruce for a 73-yard touchdown with just under 2:00 to play. From there, Steve McNair took over, leading one of the greatest drives in Super Bowl history. Continually ducking out of sacks and scrambling away from pressure, McNair willed the Titans downfield with his arm and his legs. The defining moment came on the Titans' second-to-last play of the drive, when McNair scrambled both directions in the pocked, ducked out of two sacks, then found Dyson for a first down at the 10 yard line.
The Titans had time for one more play. McNair took the snap from the shotgun, dropped back, then hit Dyson on a slant pattern. Dyson was open and made the catch with only Jones to beat. Jones won.
One yard short.
(Game highlights, including the final play, are here, since NFL.com doesn't allow embedding apparently)
Friday, January 28, 2011
January 29, 1995: What could have been
MELBOURNE, Australia - This should have been just the next chapter of their rivalry, another highlight in their decade-long head-to-head opus. As Andre Agassi finished off the 1995 Australian Open with an ace on match point, beating Pete Sampras in the final, their rivalry looked like it was as even as ever. Instead, Agassi's third major championship ended up being the high point for many years, the spot when the wave started to roll back.
You never would have expected the careers of Agassi and Sampras to take such diverging paths after the final in Melbourne on January 29, 1995. Agassi won the final in four sets, completely controlling the match from his normal position on the baseline, moving Sampras around the court like he was on the a string. After the match, Sampras, then the world's top-ranked player, admitted that he simply lost to a better player that day, that he didn't have a chance when Agassi was at his best.
After Agassi's Australian Open victory, the personal score between the two men was 7-6 in favor of Sampras. Sampras also had more major victories, five to Agassi's three, but both men were now missing only the French Open from their goal of a career Grand Slam. Both men were young - still in their 20s, even - and both were at the top of their game. With their contrasting styles - Sampras the epitome of powerful serve-and-volley tennis, Agassi the best return man in the world and the man who stayed on the baseline to wear down his opponents - this looked like the rivalry that would define tennis for a generation.
And then it fell apart.
After his win in Australia, Agassi beat Sampras two more times before they met in the U.S. Open final later that year. Sampras won, evening up their head-to-head record at 8-8. And from there, Agassi disappeared. Vanished from the top level of tennis, for reasons that seemed mysterious at the time. After the fact, Agassi admitted that the loss to Sampras in the U.S. Open destroyed his confidence. He started taking crystal meth, and he disappeared from competitive tennis.
Agassi started working his way back, but in that time, Sampras turned their personal rivalry one-sided. For the rest of the 90s, Sampras held a 9-3 edge in head-to-head matchups. A rivalry that had started out so even, in which the question of who was better would cause a legitimate debate, had turned lopsided. There was no question who was better now.
After Agassi found his way back from the wilderness, he beat Sampras three times in a row to even up the score a little bit. He salvaged the rivalry with a late-career resurgance, and we are able to look back now and admire how those two, for the most part, brought out the best in each other. Arguements about who was better still always point to Sampras and his 14 career Grand Slam titles, but detractors can always mention the fact that Agassi won the French Open that Sampras never could, that Agassi won the Olympic gold medal that Sampras never could.
It's still considered one of the greatest individual rivalries in tennis history, but it could have been so much more.
You never would have expected the careers of Agassi and Sampras to take such diverging paths after the final in Melbourne on January 29, 1995. Agassi won the final in four sets, completely controlling the match from his normal position on the baseline, moving Sampras around the court like he was on the a string. After the match, Sampras, then the world's top-ranked player, admitted that he simply lost to a better player that day, that he didn't have a chance when Agassi was at his best.
After Agassi's Australian Open victory, the personal score between the two men was 7-6 in favor of Sampras. Sampras also had more major victories, five to Agassi's three, but both men were now missing only the French Open from their goal of a career Grand Slam. Both men were young - still in their 20s, even - and both were at the top of their game. With their contrasting styles - Sampras the epitome of powerful serve-and-volley tennis, Agassi the best return man in the world and the man who stayed on the baseline to wear down his opponents - this looked like the rivalry that would define tennis for a generation.
And then it fell apart.
After his win in Australia, Agassi beat Sampras two more times before they met in the U.S. Open final later that year. Sampras won, evening up their head-to-head record at 8-8. And from there, Agassi disappeared. Vanished from the top level of tennis, for reasons that seemed mysterious at the time. After the fact, Agassi admitted that the loss to Sampras in the U.S. Open destroyed his confidence. He started taking crystal meth, and he disappeared from competitive tennis.
Agassi started working his way back, but in that time, Sampras turned their personal rivalry one-sided. For the rest of the 90s, Sampras held a 9-3 edge in head-to-head matchups. A rivalry that had started out so even, in which the question of who was better would cause a legitimate debate, had turned lopsided. There was no question who was better now.
After Agassi found his way back from the wilderness, he beat Sampras three times in a row to even up the score a little bit. He salvaged the rivalry with a late-career resurgance, and we are able to look back now and admire how those two, for the most part, brought out the best in each other. Arguements about who was better still always point to Sampras and his 14 career Grand Slam titles, but detractors can always mention the fact that Agassi won the French Open that Sampras never could, that Agassi won the Olympic gold medal that Sampras never could.
It's still considered one of the greatest individual rivalries in tennis history, but it could have been so much more.
January 28, 1996: The best team money can buy
TEMPE, Ariz. - The NFL's salary cap for the 1995 season was $37.2 million per team. Jerry Jones' Dallas Cowboys made a combined $62 million that year. Using a combination of signing bonuses and delayed payments to get around the league's hard salary cap, Jones made his Cowboys the best team money could buy.
He needed that money to keep that team together. Keeping offensive stars like Emmitt Smith, Troy Aikman, and Michael Irvin together long-term was expensive, not to mention one of the best defenses in the game. Plus, after the Cowboys had lost the previous year's NFC Championship Game to San Francisco, Jones went out and signed San Francisco's best defender, Deion Sanders, to shore up his defense.
The addition of Sanders was the spark the Cowboys needed to get back to their third Super Bowl in four years for the 1995 season, and in that game, Sanders had the impact Jones was looking for. He caught one pass for 47 yards and returned one punt for 11 yards - numbers that don't look too impressive. But Sanders' mere presence on one side of the defensive secondary forced the Steelers to ignore that side of the field completely in their passing game. This led to more throws being forced to the other side, where cornerback Larry Brown was waiting.
Despite all the star power on the Cowboys sideline, the Steelers stayed in the game. Bam Morris outrushed the future hall of famer Smith for the game. And while Steelers quarterback Neil O'Donnell is remembered for having a particularly bad game - throwing three interceptions - two of his interceptions came in the fourth as the Steelers were desperately trying to come back, and he actually threw for more yards than Aikman in the Super Bowl.
The Steelers entered the fourth quarter trailing 20-7, but, with the help of a successful surprise onside kick, cut that deficit to 20-17 with 6:36 left. After the Steelers forced a Cowboys punt, they got the ball back with 4:01 left with a chance to drive for the lead. But Brown intercepted O'Donnell on the second play of the drive - Brown's second pick of the game - and returned the ball to the 6-yard line. From there, Smith clinched the Cowboys' third title in four years with his second touchdown run of the game.
Brown was named MVP of the Super Bowl, the first cornerback so honored, then signed a big free-agent contract with the Raiders and had only one interception the rest of his career. The Cowboys had become the first team to win three Super Bowls in four seasons and had become the first NFL franchise to reach five Super Bowl wins, but that was the peak of their dynasty. They only won one playoff game the next season, then didn't win another one until 2009.
Still, Jerry Jones' spending spree paid off in the victory in Super Bowl XXX, as the Cowboys won the game that cemented their legacy as the Team of the 90s.
He needed that money to keep that team together. Keeping offensive stars like Emmitt Smith, Troy Aikman, and Michael Irvin together long-term was expensive, not to mention one of the best defenses in the game. Plus, after the Cowboys had lost the previous year's NFC Championship Game to San Francisco, Jones went out and signed San Francisco's best defender, Deion Sanders, to shore up his defense.
The addition of Sanders was the spark the Cowboys needed to get back to their third Super Bowl in four years for the 1995 season, and in that game, Sanders had the impact Jones was looking for. He caught one pass for 47 yards and returned one punt for 11 yards - numbers that don't look too impressive. But Sanders' mere presence on one side of the defensive secondary forced the Steelers to ignore that side of the field completely in their passing game. This led to more throws being forced to the other side, where cornerback Larry Brown was waiting.
Despite all the star power on the Cowboys sideline, the Steelers stayed in the game. Bam Morris outrushed the future hall of famer Smith for the game. And while Steelers quarterback Neil O'Donnell is remembered for having a particularly bad game - throwing three interceptions - two of his interceptions came in the fourth as the Steelers were desperately trying to come back, and he actually threw for more yards than Aikman in the Super Bowl.
The Steelers entered the fourth quarter trailing 20-7, but, with the help of a successful surprise onside kick, cut that deficit to 20-17 with 6:36 left. After the Steelers forced a Cowboys punt, they got the ball back with 4:01 left with a chance to drive for the lead. But Brown intercepted O'Donnell on the second play of the drive - Brown's second pick of the game - and returned the ball to the 6-yard line. From there, Smith clinched the Cowboys' third title in four years with his second touchdown run of the game.
Brown was named MVP of the Super Bowl, the first cornerback so honored, then signed a big free-agent contract with the Raiders and had only one interception the rest of his career. The Cowboys had become the first team to win three Super Bowls in four seasons and had become the first NFL franchise to reach five Super Bowl wins, but that was the peak of their dynasty. They only won one playoff game the next season, then didn't win another one until 2009.
Still, Jerry Jones' spending spree paid off in the victory in Super Bowl XXX, as the Cowboys won the game that cemented their legacy as the Team of the 90s.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
January 27, 1991: Wide Right
TAMPA - Everything two teams worked for, starting in the heat of July and continuing through the cold of January, was coming down to this: Eight seconds left in the Super Bowl, the Giants leading 20-19, and the Bills lining up for a 47-yard field goal attempt. Six months of preparation and hard work, followed by 59 minutes of tough, grinding football, coming down to the right leg of the smallest man on the field.
Good snap, good hold, solid kick.
As Scott Norwood's kick sailed through the Tampa air, the Bills surely had to be holding their breath. While he was a reliable kicker in the cold Buffalo air, he hadn't been great kicking on a grass field. This kick was right at the edge of his range, right at the edge of where they would feel comfortable. They shouldn't have been in this position. Their fast-paced, quick-strike offense had been unstoppable during the season, never more so than in their 51-3 demolition of the Raiders in the AFC Championship Game. But that offense had been unexpectedly shut down by the Giants most of the game. They couldn't fathom how they had only scored 17 offensive points. And then they had given up that go-ahead field goal early in the 4th. No matter what the Bills did, the Giants always seemed to be one step ahead of them. They had made some headway on this final drive, but they would have preferred to be closer for Norwood's kick.
Good snap, good hold, solid kick.
As Norwood's kick sailed toward the goal post, many Giants felt sick. Some said they felt pins and needles. Everything they had done leading up to this game could be ruined in the next four seconds. They had started 10-0, but started scuffling. They had lost quarterback Phil Simms to a broken foot, but had perservered. They had beaten the powerful 49ers in the NFC Championship Game without scoring a touchdown. And they had executed a picture-perfect defensive game plan against the high-octane Bills offense. All that, and they still only had a one-point lead, still had to hold their breath and hope that they'd get a block, or that Norwood would miss. As the kick went away, they didn't get the block.
It was never good. Kicking from the right hashmark, Norwood kept the ball to the right, never bringing it back to the center. There was no hook, no sudden gust of wind. The ball was travelling straight. And it was going to the right. It never had a chance. The Giants had won the Super Bowl by a point.
But in the end, the celebration is the same. Whether you win by 30 or you win by 1, all that matters is that you won. Bill Parcells got the Gatorade bath, got carried off the field. He retired after the game, going out on top.
The Bills walked off the field in anguish; they would make it back to the Super Bowl three more times, but they would never come as close to victory. Buffalo fans still see Norwood's kick in their nightmares. The hopes of an entire season dashed in four seconds. Wide Right.
Good snap, good hold, solid kick.
As Scott Norwood's kick sailed through the Tampa air, the Bills surely had to be holding their breath. While he was a reliable kicker in the cold Buffalo air, he hadn't been great kicking on a grass field. This kick was right at the edge of his range, right at the edge of where they would feel comfortable. They shouldn't have been in this position. Their fast-paced, quick-strike offense had been unstoppable during the season, never more so than in their 51-3 demolition of the Raiders in the AFC Championship Game. But that offense had been unexpectedly shut down by the Giants most of the game. They couldn't fathom how they had only scored 17 offensive points. And then they had given up that go-ahead field goal early in the 4th. No matter what the Bills did, the Giants always seemed to be one step ahead of them. They had made some headway on this final drive, but they would have preferred to be closer for Norwood's kick.
Good snap, good hold, solid kick.
As Norwood's kick sailed toward the goal post, many Giants felt sick. Some said they felt pins and needles. Everything they had done leading up to this game could be ruined in the next four seconds. They had started 10-0, but started scuffling. They had lost quarterback Phil Simms to a broken foot, but had perservered. They had beaten the powerful 49ers in the NFC Championship Game without scoring a touchdown. And they had executed a picture-perfect defensive game plan against the high-octane Bills offense. All that, and they still only had a one-point lead, still had to hold their breath and hope that they'd get a block, or that Norwood would miss. As the kick went away, they didn't get the block.
It was never good. Kicking from the right hashmark, Norwood kept the ball to the right, never bringing it back to the center. There was no hook, no sudden gust of wind. The ball was travelling straight. And it was going to the right. It never had a chance. The Giants had won the Super Bowl by a point.
But in the end, the celebration is the same. Whether you win by 30 or you win by 1, all that matters is that you won. Bill Parcells got the Gatorade bath, got carried off the field. He retired after the game, going out on top.
The Bills walked off the field in anguish; they would make it back to the Super Bowl three more times, but they would never come as close to victory. Buffalo fans still see Norwood's kick in their nightmares. The hopes of an entire season dashed in four seconds. Wide Right.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
January 26, 1924: Winter gold
CHAMONIX, France - For a few years, events like figure skating and ice hockey were held during the Summer Olympics. It was an awkward setup, and though the medals awarded in those events were considered legitimate, the organizers of those sports wanted a more prominient showcase for their events.
In 1924, the French Olympic Committee organized International Winter Sports Week, to be held the same year as the Summer Olympics. Taking place in Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc, the competition allowed sports such as figure skating, speed skating, hockey, and skiing to have their moment of glory in a more natural setting.
Though they weren't referred to at the time as such, these events came to be known retroactively as the first Winter Olympic Games. As such, many Olympic firsts were set during this week in France.
And as for the very first winter Olympic gold medal? That honor went to Charles Jewtraw of the United States, who won gold in the 500 meter speed skating event, the first event held at Chamonix. The gold Jewtraw won was the only medal he won in his Olympic career and was the only American gold medal at the Chamonix games. In fact, he was the only man from outside Scandinavia to win a medal of any color in speed skating in the first two Olympics.
In 1924, the French Olympic Committee organized International Winter Sports Week, to be held the same year as the Summer Olympics. Taking place in Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc, the competition allowed sports such as figure skating, speed skating, hockey, and skiing to have their moment of glory in a more natural setting.
Though they weren't referred to at the time as such, these events came to be known retroactively as the first Winter Olympic Games. As such, many Olympic firsts were set during this week in France.
And as for the very first winter Olympic gold medal? That honor went to Charles Jewtraw of the United States, who won gold in the 500 meter speed skating event, the first event held at Chamonix. The gold Jewtraw won was the only medal he won in his Olympic career and was the only American gold medal at the Chamonix games. In fact, he was the only man from outside Scandinavia to win a medal of any color in speed skating in the first two Olympics.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
January 25, 1998: Holmgren's gaffe
SAN DIEGO - Somewhere between John Elway famously helicoptering his way to a first down and Broncos owner Pat Bowlen holding up the Lombardi Trophy and saying "This one's for John," there came a controversial coaching decision. Lost among Terrell Davis' three rushing touchdowns and John Elway's first Super Bowl victory was the decision by Green Bay coach Mike Holmgren to let the Broncos score the game-winning touchdown to give the Packers time for a potential game-tying drive. It was a gutsy call, one showing an incredible amout of faith in his offense and quarterback Brett Favre.
And it was the wrong one.
It's easy to say in retrospect that Holmgren did the wrong thing. Knowing what we know now - that Favre's last-ditch drive that started out looking so promising would end up fizzling out on a fourth-down incompletion at the Broncos' 35 - it's easy to say "See? He shouldn't have let them score! How can you do that in the Super Bowl?" But that's not why it was the wrong thing to do. It was wrong because Holmgren had the down wrong.
After a tense, back-and-forth game, the defending champion Packers had tied Super Bowl XXXII at 24 on a 13-yard pass from Favre to Antonio Freeman just more than a minute into the fourth quarter. From there, both defenses tightened up, and the score remained tied until the Broncos got the ball at midfield with 3:27 left. A facemask penalty and a 23-yard pass gave the Broncos first-and-goal from the 8.
This is where Holmgren's confusion likely set in. On the first play inside the 10, the Broncos committed a holding penalty, pushing the ball back to the 18-yard line. On first-and-goal from the 18, Davis carried the ball down to the 1-yard line with 1:47 left. Likely forgetting about the penalty, Holmgren thought this run gave the Broncos a first down and that, with the Packers holding only two time outs, they wouldn't have enough time to drive down field if the Broncos sufficiently ran out the clock. But it was second down, meaning that if the Packers had gotten two stops, the Broncos would have likely been kicking a go-ahead field goal with about 1:40 or so left on the clock - plenty of time for Favre to try for a last-ditch drive.
As it was, the Packers let Davis run in for the one-yard touchdown. Favre got the Packers down as far as the Denver 31 yard line in the fourth, but ran into two bits of bad luck. The first came when Freeman couldn't hold on to a pass that would have given Green Bay the ball at the 15 yard line, and the second came when the Packers had to use their final time out after that play because of an injured player. After Favre's final pass was broken up, the Broncos celebrated their first Super Bowl victory.
Would the final drive have played out differently if Holmgren had known the proper down and distance? Possibly. The Packers were in field goal range when their final drive fizzled out. But there's no guarantee they would have stopped Davis twice at the one-yard line anyway. And there's no guarantee the Broncos would have played the same prevent-style defense on the last drive if they were only holding a 3-point lead rather than a 7-point lead. Either way, the game has become known for Davis' three touchdowns and Elways famous helicopter run rather than for Holgren's gaffe, and it's probably better that way.
And it was the wrong one.
It's easy to say in retrospect that Holmgren did the wrong thing. Knowing what we know now - that Favre's last-ditch drive that started out looking so promising would end up fizzling out on a fourth-down incompletion at the Broncos' 35 - it's easy to say "See? He shouldn't have let them score! How can you do that in the Super Bowl?" But that's not why it was the wrong thing to do. It was wrong because Holmgren had the down wrong.
After a tense, back-and-forth game, the defending champion Packers had tied Super Bowl XXXII at 24 on a 13-yard pass from Favre to Antonio Freeman just more than a minute into the fourth quarter. From there, both defenses tightened up, and the score remained tied until the Broncos got the ball at midfield with 3:27 left. A facemask penalty and a 23-yard pass gave the Broncos first-and-goal from the 8.
This is where Holmgren's confusion likely set in. On the first play inside the 10, the Broncos committed a holding penalty, pushing the ball back to the 18-yard line. On first-and-goal from the 18, Davis carried the ball down to the 1-yard line with 1:47 left. Likely forgetting about the penalty, Holmgren thought this run gave the Broncos a first down and that, with the Packers holding only two time outs, they wouldn't have enough time to drive down field if the Broncos sufficiently ran out the clock. But it was second down, meaning that if the Packers had gotten two stops, the Broncos would have likely been kicking a go-ahead field goal with about 1:40 or so left on the clock - plenty of time for Favre to try for a last-ditch drive.
As it was, the Packers let Davis run in for the one-yard touchdown. Favre got the Packers down as far as the Denver 31 yard line in the fourth, but ran into two bits of bad luck. The first came when Freeman couldn't hold on to a pass that would have given Green Bay the ball at the 15 yard line, and the second came when the Packers had to use their final time out after that play because of an injured player. After Favre's final pass was broken up, the Broncos celebrated their first Super Bowl victory.
Would the final drive have played out differently if Holmgren had known the proper down and distance? Possibly. The Packers were in field goal range when their final drive fizzled out. But there's no guarantee they would have stopped Davis twice at the one-yard line anyway. And there's no guarantee the Broncos would have played the same prevent-style defense on the last drive if they were only holding a 3-point lead rather than a 7-point lead. Either way, the game has become known for Davis' three touchdowns and Elways famous helicopter run rather than for Holgren's gaffe, and it's probably better that way.
Monday, January 24, 2011
January 24, 1981: The race for 50 in 50
UNIONDALE, N.Y. - For 32 years, no NHL player had come close to Maurice Richard's accomplishment of 50 goals in 50 games. Then, in the 1980-81 season, two players made a serious run at it.
It wasn't too surprising that Mike Bossy of the New York Islanders made a good run at the hallowed mark. He had led the NHL with 69 goals two years before and had scored at least 50 in all three years he played in the NHL. As a player with a reputation as a top scorer, his run at Richard wasn't too much of a shock.
Charlie Simmer of the Los Angeles Kings didn't have the reputation for scoring that Bossy had, though Simmer had led the league in goals in the 1979-80 season. The 56 goals he scored that year were more than he had scored in his previous five seasons combined.
When Bossy and Simmer both got off to hot starts in the 1980-81 season, the talk began about whether either or both would reach the hallowed 50 goals in 50 games mark. Soon, an unofficial competition between the two scorers began to grow as they embarked on a race against each other and against Richard.
One thing that helped the competition was that both the Islanders and the Kings had their 50th game scheduled for the same day: January 24, 1981. That date was the finish line, the deadline for the two snipers to get their hallowed mark.
Entering play on January 24, Bossy had 48 goals and Simmer had 46, so both needed a big day to give Richard company among goal scorers. Simmer's Kings played a game in Boston that day, and he rose to the occasion with a hat trick. But Simmer couldn't find the fourth goal he needed and ended up just short of the mark. Still, as only the second player to score 49 goals in his team's first 50 games, his was still an impressive season.
That left the spotlight on Bossy, whose Islanders were hosting the Quebec Nordiques. For most of the game, the Nordiques kept Bossy in check, leaving him stuck on 48 goals. But in the final five minutes, he broke free, getting his 49th and 50th goals in teh final moments of a 7-4 victory.
Bossy's feat was celebrated around the league, and Richard himself was on hand to congratulate Bossy after the game. Bossy ended up with a league-high 68 goals for the season, his second scoring crown, as the Islanders won their second straight Stanley Cup that spring.
For Bossy, the 50 goals in 50 games was the high point of a brilliant but short career. He reached 50 goals in his first nine seasons in the NHL and is the only NHL player to have nine straight seasons of 50 or more goals. He joins Wayne Gretzky as the only two players to score at least 60 goals in five different seasons. But while Gretzky enjoyed a long enough career to collect every relevant career scoring record in the NHL, Bossy's career only lasted 10 seasons before being derailed by injury. Still, he holds the NHL record for most goals per game - a mark that is helped by the fact that his career wasn't long enough for him to play with depleted skills - and he is still ranked number 19 on the career scoring list.
It wasn't too surprising that Mike Bossy of the New York Islanders made a good run at the hallowed mark. He had led the NHL with 69 goals two years before and had scored at least 50 in all three years he played in the NHL. As a player with a reputation as a top scorer, his run at Richard wasn't too much of a shock.
Charlie Simmer of the Los Angeles Kings didn't have the reputation for scoring that Bossy had, though Simmer had led the league in goals in the 1979-80 season. The 56 goals he scored that year were more than he had scored in his previous five seasons combined.
When Bossy and Simmer both got off to hot starts in the 1980-81 season, the talk began about whether either or both would reach the hallowed 50 goals in 50 games mark. Soon, an unofficial competition between the two scorers began to grow as they embarked on a race against each other and against Richard.
One thing that helped the competition was that both the Islanders and the Kings had their 50th game scheduled for the same day: January 24, 1981. That date was the finish line, the deadline for the two snipers to get their hallowed mark.
Entering play on January 24, Bossy had 48 goals and Simmer had 46, so both needed a big day to give Richard company among goal scorers. Simmer's Kings played a game in Boston that day, and he rose to the occasion with a hat trick. But Simmer couldn't find the fourth goal he needed and ended up just short of the mark. Still, as only the second player to score 49 goals in his team's first 50 games, his was still an impressive season.
That left the spotlight on Bossy, whose Islanders were hosting the Quebec Nordiques. For most of the game, the Nordiques kept Bossy in check, leaving him stuck on 48 goals. But in the final five minutes, he broke free, getting his 49th and 50th goals in teh final moments of a 7-4 victory.
Bossy's feat was celebrated around the league, and Richard himself was on hand to congratulate Bossy after the game. Bossy ended up with a league-high 68 goals for the season, his second scoring crown, as the Islanders won their second straight Stanley Cup that spring.
For Bossy, the 50 goals in 50 games was the high point of a brilliant but short career. He reached 50 goals in his first nine seasons in the NHL and is the only NHL player to have nine straight seasons of 50 or more goals. He joins Wayne Gretzky as the only two players to score at least 60 goals in five different seasons. But while Gretzky enjoyed a long enough career to collect every relevant career scoring record in the NHL, Bossy's career only lasted 10 seasons before being derailed by injury. Still, he holds the NHL record for most goals per game - a mark that is helped by the fact that his career wasn't long enough for him to play with depleted skills - and he is still ranked number 19 on the career scoring list.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
January 23, 2000: The defense (almost) won
ST. LOUIS - The ball floated toward the corner of the end zone. The Rams' two best receivers, Isaac Bruce and Torry Holt, were watching the ball sail over their heads. All-World running back Marshall Faulk was also watching it as it floated toward little-known and little-used receiver Ricky Proehl, who was pinned against the sideline. It looked like perfect coverage, like a ball that was being thrown away. It looked like the Rams would have to try again...
As the game kept slugging along, getting closer and closer to the end, everybody watching kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's no way, people watching thought, that this was going to end 6-5, right? There's no way the Greatest Show on Turf was going to be held without a touchdown at home, right? Right?
Remarkably, that's exactly what was happening. The high-powered St. Louis Rams offense, the offense that had set numerous NFL records that season, was being completely and utterly shut down by the powerful Tampa Bay defense. The immovable object was shutting down the irresistable force. If Tampa Bay had anything resembling a competent offense, this game would probably have been over. Instead, it was 6-5 late in the fourth quarter, when St. Louis got the ball back at midfield after an interception.
All game long, Tampa's defense had rose to the occasion. It started on the Rams' first offensive play, when Kurt Warner threw an interception that led to a Tampa Bay field goal. It was the start of a long day for Warner, who threw three interceptions total against the stifling Buccaneers defense, including one at the 3-yard line. But given one more reprieve, one more shot to get his team into the end zone, the former grocery store clerk from Cedar Falls, Iowa, finally delivered.
It wasn't a magical drive that helped the Rams beat the Buccaneers, not some magical formula that helped the league's best offense figure out how to beat the league's best defense. It was one picture-perfect pass. Warner threw it deep along the sideline toward Proehl. The pass was perfect, hitting Proehl in stride in the front corner of the end zone. Despite outstanding coverage by Tampa Bay defensive back Brian Kelly, Proehl was able to get his hands on the ball at the highest possible spot, securing the first touchdown of the game.
The two-point conversion failed, but it didn't seem to matter. Now trailing 11-6, the thought that Tampa Bay could drive down for a touchdown seemed laughable. But the Buccaneers put a scare into the Rams, overcoming two sacks to drive down deep into Rams territory.
Then came the controversy. Tampa Bay completed a pass to Bert Emanuel down to the St. Louis 22-yard line with 44 seconds left. Since the pass was completed in bounds, the Buccaneers called their final time out to stop the clock. While the teams were huddled up for the time out, the officials were called over to the replay booth to examine the play. While replays showed what appeared to be a perfectly good, unquestionable catch, the officials shockingly came out and announced that the play had been overturned and was an incomplete pass.
Now facing a fourth-and-22 rather than a fourth-and-10, Tampa Bay couldn't convert. Their perfectly executed defensive game plan, the one that had held the mighty Rams in check, had been foiled by one perfect pass and one completely imperfect call. The Rams went to the Super Bowl, while Tampa Bay would have to wait three more years to get there.
Proehl's catch:
Emanuel's controversial non-catch:
As the game kept slugging along, getting closer and closer to the end, everybody watching kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's no way, people watching thought, that this was going to end 6-5, right? There's no way the Greatest Show on Turf was going to be held without a touchdown at home, right? Right?
Remarkably, that's exactly what was happening. The high-powered St. Louis Rams offense, the offense that had set numerous NFL records that season, was being completely and utterly shut down by the powerful Tampa Bay defense. The immovable object was shutting down the irresistable force. If Tampa Bay had anything resembling a competent offense, this game would probably have been over. Instead, it was 6-5 late in the fourth quarter, when St. Louis got the ball back at midfield after an interception.
All game long, Tampa's defense had rose to the occasion. It started on the Rams' first offensive play, when Kurt Warner threw an interception that led to a Tampa Bay field goal. It was the start of a long day for Warner, who threw three interceptions total against the stifling Buccaneers defense, including one at the 3-yard line. But given one more reprieve, one more shot to get his team into the end zone, the former grocery store clerk from Cedar Falls, Iowa, finally delivered.
It wasn't a magical drive that helped the Rams beat the Buccaneers, not some magical formula that helped the league's best offense figure out how to beat the league's best defense. It was one picture-perfect pass. Warner threw it deep along the sideline toward Proehl. The pass was perfect, hitting Proehl in stride in the front corner of the end zone. Despite outstanding coverage by Tampa Bay defensive back Brian Kelly, Proehl was able to get his hands on the ball at the highest possible spot, securing the first touchdown of the game.
The two-point conversion failed, but it didn't seem to matter. Now trailing 11-6, the thought that Tampa Bay could drive down for a touchdown seemed laughable. But the Buccaneers put a scare into the Rams, overcoming two sacks to drive down deep into Rams territory.
Then came the controversy. Tampa Bay completed a pass to Bert Emanuel down to the St. Louis 22-yard line with 44 seconds left. Since the pass was completed in bounds, the Buccaneers called their final time out to stop the clock. While the teams were huddled up for the time out, the officials were called over to the replay booth to examine the play. While replays showed what appeared to be a perfectly good, unquestionable catch, the officials shockingly came out and announced that the play had been overturned and was an incomplete pass.
Now facing a fourth-and-22 rather than a fourth-and-10, Tampa Bay couldn't convert. Their perfectly executed defensive game plan, the one that had held the mighty Rams in check, had been foiled by one perfect pass and one completely imperfect call. The Rams went to the Super Bowl, while Tampa Bay would have to wait three more years to get there.
Proehl's catch:
Emanuel's controversial non-catch:
Saturday, January 22, 2011
January 22, 1989: When John Candy won the Super Bowl
MIAMI - The story is so perfect, so beyond belief, that it has to be apocryphal. Joe Montana, standing in the huddle with his team needing to drive 92 yards in three minutes to win the Super Bowl, about to call a play, when he suddenly looks up into the stands and says "Hey, isn't that John Candy?" His nervous teammates had a laugh, calmed down, and proceeded down field for the most famous drive in Super Bowl history.
Of course, the story is all the more better because it's true. It's the moment that officially cemented Montana's legend as Joe Cool, the unflappable leader who was impossible to beat when it mattered most.
The Bengals had just taken a 16-13 lead when the 49ers took over with just more than three minutes to play, and Cincinnati figured Montana would try to throw passes toward the sideline so his receivers could get out of bounds to stop the clock. With the Bengals defending the sideline, Montana's threw his first three passes down the middle of the field. The drive off to a good start, Montana had the 49ers down to the Bengals' 35-yard line three plays later.
An incomplete pass and an offensive penalty seemed to stall the drive, but Montana found Jerry Rice for a 27-yard catch and run on second and 20, putting the ball at the Cincinnati 18. An 8-yard pass to Craig came next, followed by Montana's famous slant route to John Taylor for the winning touchdown with 37 seconds left.
Rice was named the MVP for his 215 receiving yards, but it could have gone to Montana just as easily. Montana threw for a Super Bowl record 357 yards and two touchdowns, both coming in the fourth quarter. Craig ran for 81 yards and became the first running back to have more than 100 receiving yars in a Super Bowl. And while the game-winning score was Taylor's only catch of the game, he had 56 yards returning punts.
But maybe the true MVP was John Candy, who by merely showing up helped calm the nerves of the 49ers players, and who went down forever into Super Bowl lore.
HONORABLE MENTION:
January 22, 1973: KINGSTON, Jamaica - "Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!"
Of course, the story is all the more better because it's true. It's the moment that officially cemented Montana's legend as Joe Cool, the unflappable leader who was impossible to beat when it mattered most.
The Bengals had just taken a 16-13 lead when the 49ers took over with just more than three minutes to play, and Cincinnati figured Montana would try to throw passes toward the sideline so his receivers could get out of bounds to stop the clock. With the Bengals defending the sideline, Montana's threw his first three passes down the middle of the field. The drive off to a good start, Montana had the 49ers down to the Bengals' 35-yard line three plays later.
An incomplete pass and an offensive penalty seemed to stall the drive, but Montana found Jerry Rice for a 27-yard catch and run on second and 20, putting the ball at the Cincinnati 18. An 8-yard pass to Craig came next, followed by Montana's famous slant route to John Taylor for the winning touchdown with 37 seconds left.
Rice was named the MVP for his 215 receiving yards, but it could have gone to Montana just as easily. Montana threw for a Super Bowl record 357 yards and two touchdowns, both coming in the fourth quarter. Craig ran for 81 yards and became the first running back to have more than 100 receiving yars in a Super Bowl. And while the game-winning score was Taylor's only catch of the game, he had 56 yards returning punts.
But maybe the true MVP was John Candy, who by merely showing up helped calm the nerves of the 49ers players, and who went down forever into Super Bowl lore.
HONORABLE MENTION:
January 22, 1973: KINGSTON, Jamaica - "Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!"
Friday, January 21, 2011
January 21, 2007: The Colts conquer Brady
INDIANAPOLIS - The whispers surely started at halftime. If Peyton Manning hears the whispers, if he has demons, there would be no ignoring them right now. They'd be out in full force. "He'll never win the big one." "He's the next Dan Marino." "He'll always be all stats and no glory."
"He can't win the big one."
Trailing the Patriots 21-6 at halftime of the AFC Championship Game, Peyton Manning and the Colts were faced once again with the realization that their season would end against New England. It was the same old story for the Colts - great regular season, disappointing playoffs.
But not this year.
It only took the Colts 11 minutes to come back to tie the game, as Manning led them on a pair of 76-yard drives that both ended in touchdowns. Game on.
The Patriots responded, as they always do. There was a reason they had won three championships in the previous six seasons. Tom Brady drove them right into the end zone, although an 80-yard kick return helped. The Patriots were back on top entering the fourth quarter.
Oh, the fourth quarter. The quarter where the defenses were helpless against the onslaught of the two quarterbacks. Peyton Manning, so close to his first Super Bowl, and Tom Brady, the three-time champion who would never fold under the pressure of this game. Manning and Brady spent the rest of the quarter trading scoring drives, showing why they were the two best quarterbacks in the game.
Manning answered first, a 67-yard drive that almost ended in disaster when Dominic Rhodes fumbled at the 1-yard line. But center Jeff Saturday saved the day, recovering for the tying touchdown. It was Brady's turn, and he drove the Patriots down inside the Colts 15. For once, the Colts stiffened, and New England kicked a field goal. Two minutes later, Indy tied it again with a field goal; it took New England less than two minutes to kick another one.
And then the defenses woke up. Getting the ball back with 3:49 left, the Colts could do nothing and had to punt. You could only imagine what was going through Manning's mind as the ball flew away. Was that his last chance? Did he just kick away another shot at a Super Bowl?
But no. The Colts stepped up, stopping the Patriots cold. New England could only take a minute off the clock before they punted the ball back. And so Manning was handed the ball, 80 yards from his first Super Bowl berth, and 2:17 to get there.
He didn't need nearly that long. It only took him 19 seconds to move the ball 70 yards, as three clutch throws and a penalty put the Colts in great position. Three plays later, Joseph Addai ran it in, giving the Colts their first lead of the game.
Now, no matter what happened, Manning couldn't be blamed for this one. He had given the Colts the lead with 1:00 to play in the AFC Championship Game. If they lost, it wouldn't be his fault. But he certainly wasn't thinking about that as the Patriots put a scare into the entire state of Indiana by driving to the Colts' 45-yard line. But finally - Brady's pass with 17 seconds left was intercepted. The Colts celebrated - they had finally beaten the Patriots. They were off to the Super Bowl, and there would be no doubt how that one would turn out.
"He can't win the big one."
Trailing the Patriots 21-6 at halftime of the AFC Championship Game, Peyton Manning and the Colts were faced once again with the realization that their season would end against New England. It was the same old story for the Colts - great regular season, disappointing playoffs.
But not this year.
It only took the Colts 11 minutes to come back to tie the game, as Manning led them on a pair of 76-yard drives that both ended in touchdowns. Game on.
The Patriots responded, as they always do. There was a reason they had won three championships in the previous six seasons. Tom Brady drove them right into the end zone, although an 80-yard kick return helped. The Patriots were back on top entering the fourth quarter.
Oh, the fourth quarter. The quarter where the defenses were helpless against the onslaught of the two quarterbacks. Peyton Manning, so close to his first Super Bowl, and Tom Brady, the three-time champion who would never fold under the pressure of this game. Manning and Brady spent the rest of the quarter trading scoring drives, showing why they were the two best quarterbacks in the game.
Manning answered first, a 67-yard drive that almost ended in disaster when Dominic Rhodes fumbled at the 1-yard line. But center Jeff Saturday saved the day, recovering for the tying touchdown. It was Brady's turn, and he drove the Patriots down inside the Colts 15. For once, the Colts stiffened, and New England kicked a field goal. Two minutes later, Indy tied it again with a field goal; it took New England less than two minutes to kick another one.
And then the defenses woke up. Getting the ball back with 3:49 left, the Colts could do nothing and had to punt. You could only imagine what was going through Manning's mind as the ball flew away. Was that his last chance? Did he just kick away another shot at a Super Bowl?
But no. The Colts stepped up, stopping the Patriots cold. New England could only take a minute off the clock before they punted the ball back. And so Manning was handed the ball, 80 yards from his first Super Bowl berth, and 2:17 to get there.
He didn't need nearly that long. It only took him 19 seconds to move the ball 70 yards, as three clutch throws and a penalty put the Colts in great position. Three plays later, Joseph Addai ran it in, giving the Colts their first lead of the game.
Now, no matter what happened, Manning couldn't be blamed for this one. He had given the Colts the lead with 1:00 to play in the AFC Championship Game. If they lost, it wouldn't be his fault. But he certainly wasn't thinking about that as the Patriots put a scare into the entire state of Indiana by driving to the Colts' 45-yard line. But finally - Brady's pass with 17 seconds left was intercepted. The Colts celebrated - they had finally beaten the Patriots. They were off to the Super Bowl, and there would be no doubt how that one would turn out.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
January 20, 1968: Basketball's Game of the Century
HOUSTON - The Houston Cougars wanted to prove to the country that their recent basketball success was no fluke. Sure, they had made it to the Final Four the previous season, losing to UCLA, but people still didn't fully believe. So they made a goal of putting together a tougher schedule to prove to their critics that they were as good as advertized.
In the late 1960s, putting together a tougher schedule meant you had to include UCLA, so the Cougars invited the defending champions to Houston for a regular-season game. Though they needed some convincing, the Bruins agreed, and a game was scheduled for January 20, 1968.
Hoping to get as much exposure for the basketball team as possible, the Cougars started advertising the game early, putting previews for it in their football programs that fall. As the game started getting attention, Houston decided to move the game off-campus and hold it in the brand new Astrodome, the first basketball game to be played in that arena. Meanwhile, the teams did their best to increase the hype, and both were undefeated entering their matchup in Houston.
With the matchup of two unbeaten teams, the top two teams in the rankings, and with the novelty of the game being held in the Astrodome, another novelty was added for the game. The TVS Television Network picked up the game with the intention of broadcasting it nationally. Up to that point, the only NCAA games to be televised nationwide were NCAA tournament games, so it was seen as a big financial risk to televise a regular-season game. TVS took the risk with the belief that basketball could hold up as a televised sport.
The risk paid off. More than 120 stations picked up the game across the country, leading to a vast television audience on top of the 52,000 fans that crammed into the Astrodome - which was, at the time, the largest crowd to ever see a basketball game. For their efforts, each school received a payday of $120,000, which was four times the amount each school had earned for participating in the previous year's NCAA tournament.
It helped that it was a classic game. Led by Elvin Hayes, the No. 2 Cougars stayed right with No. 1 UCLA. It helped the Cougars that UCLA center Lew Alcindor was playing with a scratched cornea, suffered the previous game. Alcindor ended up playing one of the worst games of his collegiate career that night, while Hayes starred.
After Houston went into halftime with a 46-43 lead, the scoring slowed down in the second half. UCLA's Lucius Allen made two free throws to tie the game at 69 late in the second half, but two free throws by Hayes put Houston back on top. Allen couldn't get his last jumper to fall, and Houston had a 71-69 victory, ending UCLA's 47-game winning streak.
Neither team lost again until they met again in the Final Four. UCLA gained revenge with a 101-69 victory on their way to their second straight title and fourth in five years. But the success of this game had ramifications far beyond that basketball season. With UCLA and Houston proving that fans would tune in to watch even a regular-season college game, the networks started paying more and more for the rights to televise NCAA games. A sport that had struggled to gain a following exploded in popularity almost instantly. The popularity of the modern-day March Madness can easily be traced to one game in Houston between a pair of unbeaten teams.
In the late 1960s, putting together a tougher schedule meant you had to include UCLA, so the Cougars invited the defending champions to Houston for a regular-season game. Though they needed some convincing, the Bruins agreed, and a game was scheduled for January 20, 1968.
Hoping to get as much exposure for the basketball team as possible, the Cougars started advertising the game early, putting previews for it in their football programs that fall. As the game started getting attention, Houston decided to move the game off-campus and hold it in the brand new Astrodome, the first basketball game to be played in that arena. Meanwhile, the teams did their best to increase the hype, and both were undefeated entering their matchup in Houston.
With the matchup of two unbeaten teams, the top two teams in the rankings, and with the novelty of the game being held in the Astrodome, another novelty was added for the game. The TVS Television Network picked up the game with the intention of broadcasting it nationally. Up to that point, the only NCAA games to be televised nationwide were NCAA tournament games, so it was seen as a big financial risk to televise a regular-season game. TVS took the risk with the belief that basketball could hold up as a televised sport.
The risk paid off. More than 120 stations picked up the game across the country, leading to a vast television audience on top of the 52,000 fans that crammed into the Astrodome - which was, at the time, the largest crowd to ever see a basketball game. For their efforts, each school received a payday of $120,000, which was four times the amount each school had earned for participating in the previous year's NCAA tournament.
It helped that it was a classic game. Led by Elvin Hayes, the No. 2 Cougars stayed right with No. 1 UCLA. It helped the Cougars that UCLA center Lew Alcindor was playing with a scratched cornea, suffered the previous game. Alcindor ended up playing one of the worst games of his collegiate career that night, while Hayes starred.After Houston went into halftime with a 46-43 lead, the scoring slowed down in the second half. UCLA's Lucius Allen made two free throws to tie the game at 69 late in the second half, but two free throws by Hayes put Houston back on top. Allen couldn't get his last jumper to fall, and Houston had a 71-69 victory, ending UCLA's 47-game winning streak.
Neither team lost again until they met again in the Final Four. UCLA gained revenge with a 101-69 victory on their way to their second straight title and fourth in five years. But the success of this game had ramifications far beyond that basketball season. With UCLA and Houston proving that fans would tune in to watch even a regular-season college game, the networks started paying more and more for the rights to televise NCAA games. A sport that had struggled to gain a following exploded in popularity almost instantly. The popularity of the modern-day March Madness can easily be traced to one game in Houston between a pair of unbeaten teams.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
January 19, 1974: 88
SOUTH BEND, Ind. - It was 70-59, 3:39 left in the game. It didn't look like there would be any miracles today. Notre Dame wouldn't be waking up the echoes against UCLA. Time to lick their wounds, accept their first loss of the season with grace, and get ready for the rematch next week. But what the heck - there was nothing to lose, so Notre Dame pressed, got right up in UCLA's face. If the Bruins were going to win, the Irish might as well make them earn it.
But something funny happened in that final 3:39 in South Bend. The unshakable, unstoppable UCLA team, the team that hadn't lost in 88 games, the team that had won seven straight national championships - that team started to panic.
Facing a full-court press and a frenetic road crowd, the Bruins started committing turnovers, running into each other. When they did get a shot off, it would miss wildly. They looked nothing like college basketball's greatest dynasty. They looked like a team not used to winning.
Notre Dame, meanwhile, kept coming back, kept making the shots that UCLA was missing. the lead was cut to nine, then seven, then five. Then everybody started to see what was happening, started to believe in the impossible.
UCLA hadn't lost a basketball game since January 23, 1971, losing to Notre Dame on this very floor. Their streak of 88 straight wins included four wins over the Irish, by 58, 25, 26, and 19 points. When they broke the NCAA record of 60 consecutive victories, their 61st straight was over Notre Dame. Aside from their conference opponents, nobody had suffered under UCLA's greatness more than Notre Dame. And now, the Fighting Irish were fighting back.
Trailing by five, Notre Dame's Gary Brokaw made two straight jump shots, cutting the Irish deficit to 70-69 with 1:10 left. That was still a lifetime in basketball terms, but UCLA wasn't playing anywhere near to its capabilities. Who knew if they'd be able to stem the tide. Keith Wilkes seemed to have done just that with a layup with 45 seconds left, but he was called for travelling. Notre Dame ball.
The Irish tried to get the ball to center John Shumate for the go-ahead basket, but UCLA smothered him. Open in the corner, though, was Dwight Clay, who had gone only 1-for-4 in the game. However, Clay had won three different games for Notre Dame that year with final-second shots. He was the man to take the huge shot, and there was bedlam when it went in.
Notre Dame led 71-70, having scored the last 12 points of the game. UCLA had 29 seconds left to try to take the lead. A really long time. How much can you do in 29 seconds?
If you're UCLA, you can see a player take a long jump shot and have it hit the back rim and bounce out. You have time to have two of your players try to tip the rebound in but miss, and you have time to see the ball bound out of bounds off a Notre Dame player. You have time to pass the ball in to the great Bill Walton, who had played the entire game after missing the previous three, and who had missed only one shot all game. But even he wasn't immune to the late-game struggles, and his shot came off the rim, too. There was still enough time for two more tip attempts, but by then it seemed like a foregone conclusion. Shumate grabbed the final rebound, the buzzer sounded, and Notre Dame had its biggest win in school history.
But something funny happened in that final 3:39 in South Bend. The unshakable, unstoppable UCLA team, the team that hadn't lost in 88 games, the team that had won seven straight national championships - that team started to panic.
Facing a full-court press and a frenetic road crowd, the Bruins started committing turnovers, running into each other. When they did get a shot off, it would miss wildly. They looked nothing like college basketball's greatest dynasty. They looked like a team not used to winning.
Notre Dame, meanwhile, kept coming back, kept making the shots that UCLA was missing. the lead was cut to nine, then seven, then five. Then everybody started to see what was happening, started to believe in the impossible.
UCLA hadn't lost a basketball game since January 23, 1971, losing to Notre Dame on this very floor. Their streak of 88 straight wins included four wins over the Irish, by 58, 25, 26, and 19 points. When they broke the NCAA record of 60 consecutive victories, their 61st straight was over Notre Dame. Aside from their conference opponents, nobody had suffered under UCLA's greatness more than Notre Dame. And now, the Fighting Irish were fighting back.
Trailing by five, Notre Dame's Gary Brokaw made two straight jump shots, cutting the Irish deficit to 70-69 with 1:10 left. That was still a lifetime in basketball terms, but UCLA wasn't playing anywhere near to its capabilities. Who knew if they'd be able to stem the tide. Keith Wilkes seemed to have done just that with a layup with 45 seconds left, but he was called for travelling. Notre Dame ball.
The Irish tried to get the ball to center John Shumate for the go-ahead basket, but UCLA smothered him. Open in the corner, though, was Dwight Clay, who had gone only 1-for-4 in the game. However, Clay had won three different games for Notre Dame that year with final-second shots. He was the man to take the huge shot, and there was bedlam when it went in.Notre Dame led 71-70, having scored the last 12 points of the game. UCLA had 29 seconds left to try to take the lead. A really long time. How much can you do in 29 seconds?
If you're UCLA, you can see a player take a long jump shot and have it hit the back rim and bounce out. You have time to have two of your players try to tip the rebound in but miss, and you have time to see the ball bound out of bounds off a Notre Dame player. You have time to pass the ball in to the great Bill Walton, who had played the entire game after missing the previous three, and who had missed only one shot all game. But even he wasn't immune to the late-game struggles, and his shot came off the rim, too. There was still enough time for two more tip attempts, but by then it seemed like a foregone conclusion. Shumate grabbed the final rebound, the buzzer sounded, and Notre Dame had its biggest win in school history.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
January 18, 1960: In an Iowa cornfield
CARROLL, Iowa - It was a bit of a risk, but the plane took off in an ice storm. It was just as well, too, as the Minneapolis Lakers were sick of waiting. Coming off a loss to the St. Louis Hawks, they were stuck on the runway in St. Louis as an ice storm came through, grounding all flights. Finally, after sitting in an idling plane for what seemed like forever, the Lakers were given permission to take off.
The plane was soon in the air. When the plane stopped climbing, a couple players got out a makeshift card table to begin a game, but as soon as the first card was dealt, the lights went out. Coach Jim Pollard thought at first that a player had played a prank, but when he went up to the front of the plane, he saw co-pilot Harold Gifford reading the instruments with a flashlight. After sitting and idling for so long, the plane had lost all battery power.
It could still fly, though, so pilot Vern Ullman took the plane up above the storm, hoping to catch a glimpse of the North Star to direct it to Minneapolis. It was a terrible flight - with no battery power, there was no heat in the cockpit, no air pressure control. Players and passengers were shivering and becoming short of breath. The pilots, meanwhile, came to a realization: with no battery power, they had no way of knowing if they had enough fuel to make it to Minneapolis.
Fearing the worst, Ullman and Gifford decided to scan the ground to look for an airport, any airport. In the winter storm, though, it was hard to see anything. Finally, they saw the lights of a city up ahead. They turned and flew by the water tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of the city they were by. All they could see was three letters: "OLL."
Meanwhile, down at street level, the townsfolk of Carroll, Iowa, knew what was going on. It didn't take them long to realize that a plane was in trouble over head, and though they didn't know who was on the plane, they did what they could. A gas truck followed the plane along the highway, trying to catch its attention to direct it toward the airport. Meanwhile, calls were placed around the town, telling townsfolk about the situation and imploring them to turn on their lights to give better visibility to the plane.
Up above, passengers in the plane noticed the town suddenly light up like a Christmas tree. But there was still no sign of an airport. Ullman was flying low to the ground, along a highway, trying to find the airport. He didn't notice that the highway had turned, and that they were flying straight toward a grove of trees. Catching his mistake at the last minute, Ullman pulled up just in time, saving the plane from doom.
Down below, townsfolk were paying close attention, worried that there was nothing they could do. The plane was being followed by, among other vehicles, an ambulance and the town hearse. Things looked grim.
Ullman and Giffords decided to give up looking for the runway. Sticking their heads out of the window because of a frosted-over windshield, they spotted a cornfield in the distance that seemed like it had enough clearance for which to land. Luckily, the farmer hadn't harvested his crop that fall because of overly wet weather. The cornstalks made it possible to spot the field in the dark.
The plane turned and went for the cornfield, making a perfectly smooth landing. It was so smooth, in fact, that some people on the plane didn't even realize they were finally on the ground. Helping matters was that Ullman had accidentally hooked part of the tail fin on a barbed wire fence, which helped bring the plane to a stop as if it had landed on an aircraft carrier.
The townsfolk cheered the perfect landing, then were stunned when they saw the passengers disembark. There were an awful lot of tall men in Carroll, Iowa, that night. One by one, the players waded through the snow to the vehicle of a Carroll resident, to be brought to the town hotel. The last to get off the plane was Pollard, who took a ride in the only vehicle left: the aforementioned hearse. He said that he hadn't been worried at all during the flight. It was only when he realized the plane had been followed by a hearse that he realized how close the Lakers had come to disaster.
The Lakers took a bus to Minneapolis the next day, and the pilots - aided by a makeshift runway plowed into the cornfield - were eventually able to fly the plane out of Carroll and back to Minneapolis. It was an incredibly lucky flight, and it underscores another significant fact: despite having teams travelling around the country for more than a century, whether by train, bus, or plane, no major American professional sports team has ever had a major transportation accident. It's happened to college sports teams, and it's happened to professional sports teams in other countries, but never to an American team. And the NBA world has Vern Ullman and Harold Gifford to thank for that.
The plane was soon in the air. When the plane stopped climbing, a couple players got out a makeshift card table to begin a game, but as soon as the first card was dealt, the lights went out. Coach Jim Pollard thought at first that a player had played a prank, but when he went up to the front of the plane, he saw co-pilot Harold Gifford reading the instruments with a flashlight. After sitting and idling for so long, the plane had lost all battery power.
It could still fly, though, so pilot Vern Ullman took the plane up above the storm, hoping to catch a glimpse of the North Star to direct it to Minneapolis. It was a terrible flight - with no battery power, there was no heat in the cockpit, no air pressure control. Players and passengers were shivering and becoming short of breath. The pilots, meanwhile, came to a realization: with no battery power, they had no way of knowing if they had enough fuel to make it to Minneapolis.
Fearing the worst, Ullman and Gifford decided to scan the ground to look for an airport, any airport. In the winter storm, though, it was hard to see anything. Finally, they saw the lights of a city up ahead. They turned and flew by the water tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of the city they were by. All they could see was three letters: "OLL."
Meanwhile, down at street level, the townsfolk of Carroll, Iowa, knew what was going on. It didn't take them long to realize that a plane was in trouble over head, and though they didn't know who was on the plane, they did what they could. A gas truck followed the plane along the highway, trying to catch its attention to direct it toward the airport. Meanwhile, calls were placed around the town, telling townsfolk about the situation and imploring them to turn on their lights to give better visibility to the plane.
Up above, passengers in the plane noticed the town suddenly light up like a Christmas tree. But there was still no sign of an airport. Ullman was flying low to the ground, along a highway, trying to find the airport. He didn't notice that the highway had turned, and that they were flying straight toward a grove of trees. Catching his mistake at the last minute, Ullman pulled up just in time, saving the plane from doom.
Down below, townsfolk were paying close attention, worried that there was nothing they could do. The plane was being followed by, among other vehicles, an ambulance and the town hearse. Things looked grim.
Ullman and Giffords decided to give up looking for the runway. Sticking their heads out of the window because of a frosted-over windshield, they spotted a cornfield in the distance that seemed like it had enough clearance for which to land. Luckily, the farmer hadn't harvested his crop that fall because of overly wet weather. The cornstalks made it possible to spot the field in the dark.
The plane turned and went for the cornfield, making a perfectly smooth landing. It was so smooth, in fact, that some people on the plane didn't even realize they were finally on the ground. Helping matters was that Ullman had accidentally hooked part of the tail fin on a barbed wire fence, which helped bring the plane to a stop as if it had landed on an aircraft carrier.
The townsfolk cheered the perfect landing, then were stunned when they saw the passengers disembark. There were an awful lot of tall men in Carroll, Iowa, that night. One by one, the players waded through the snow to the vehicle of a Carroll resident, to be brought to the town hotel. The last to get off the plane was Pollard, who took a ride in the only vehicle left: the aforementioned hearse. He said that he hadn't been worried at all during the flight. It was only when he realized the plane had been followed by a hearse that he realized how close the Lakers had come to disaster.
The Lakers took a bus to Minneapolis the next day, and the pilots - aided by a makeshift runway plowed into the cornfield - were eventually able to fly the plane out of Carroll and back to Minneapolis. It was an incredibly lucky flight, and it underscores another significant fact: despite having teams travelling around the country for more than a century, whether by train, bus, or plane, no major American professional sports team has ever had a major transportation accident. It's happened to college sports teams, and it's happened to professional sports teams in other countries, but never to an American team. And the NBA world has Vern Ullman and Harold Gifford to thank for that.
Monday, January 17, 2011
January 17, 1988: The Fumble
DENVER - If you freeze the play at just the right time, you can imagine it as the most exciting moment in franchise history. There was Earnest Byner, ball in his right hand, big hole in front of him, about to tie the AFC Championship game at 38.
This was the Browns' destiny. Last year, it was Cleveland with the 7-point lead late in the fourth quarter, playing at home, then watching John Elway drive down the field to tie the game. That became forever known as "The Drive," and Cleveland fans were still bitter about it.
Now, the tables were turned. It was the Broncos who had the 7-point lead late in the fourth quarter, playing at home. It was the Browns who drove down the field, putting themselves in position to tie the game. Then they called that handoff to Byner, who got the ball cleanly and started running off-tackle left. It looked like he would walk in ...
In the immediate years preceding the Super Bowl, the Browns were an NFL dynasty. They won four straight AAFL championships, then won four titles in 14 years after joining the NFL. The Browns last NFL title was in 1964, the year before the Super Bowl was instituted. Bad luck there. Twice more in the 1960s, they lost with the Super Bowl just a game away. Then ... nothing. No playoff wins for 16 years as they tried to return to the top. They finally broke through in 1986, before Elway and The Drive knocked them away. This year, it would finally happen.
Byner looked like he was coming in clean, but Broncos defensive back Jeremiah Castille had a shot at him. Castille reached in and hit the ball, jarring it loose, the fell on the ball at the 2-yard line. The Browns were devastated. Their fans went catatonic. Two yards from the goal line, and the ball was lost. Their best chance at a Super Bowl, and they came up 2 yards short.
The Broncos gave the Browns an intentional safety, cutting their lead to 38-33, but there wasn't enough time left for the Browns to mount a touchdown drive. They would be sitting out the Super Bowl again. Two years later, they lost to the Broncos in the AFC championship a third time. They've never been as close to the Super Bowl since.
The next year, when the Browns released their team media guide, people took notice of the cover. At first, it didn't seem odd - it was just a stylized version of a photograph of quarterback Bernie Kosar handing off to Byner. But at closer look, people came to a stunning realization: the picture was taken moments before The Fumble. The Browns had chosen the moment immediately before the most painful turnover in team history to highlight their upcoming season.
In a way, it made sense - a reminder of how close they came to their goals, a way to inspire the team to do just a little bit more. In retrospect, it's haunting, a picture captured at the absolute peak of the franchise, the moment the Browns started to sink.
HONORABLE MENTION -
January 17, 1999: MINNEAPOLIS - I don't know why everybody blames Gary Anderson. I suppose it makes sense for fans of poetic irony - the kicker that hadn't missed all season missing the kick that would have clinched a berth in the Super Bowl. But he just became a convenient scapegoat. After all, when that kick sailed wide left, the Vikings still had a 7-point lead, just over a minute to play. The Falcons shouldn't have had time to drive for a tying touchdown. And they wouldn't have had time if Robert Smith, remembering his knee injury from a couple years before, hadn't run out of bounds untouched three times on that final drive. Stay in bounds once, Robert, and the Falcons certainly don't have time to tie the game. And everybody always forgets that a) the Vikings had 30 seconds left to try to break the tie at the end of regulation and took a knee and b) they got the ball first in overtime but couldn't score. It's just ... it's just ... I don't want to talk about it any more. It's stupid....
This was the Browns' destiny. Last year, it was Cleveland with the 7-point lead late in the fourth quarter, playing at home, then watching John Elway drive down the field to tie the game. That became forever known as "The Drive," and Cleveland fans were still bitter about it.
Now, the tables were turned. It was the Broncos who had the 7-point lead late in the fourth quarter, playing at home. It was the Browns who drove down the field, putting themselves in position to tie the game. Then they called that handoff to Byner, who got the ball cleanly and started running off-tackle left. It looked like he would walk in ...
In the immediate years preceding the Super Bowl, the Browns were an NFL dynasty. They won four straight AAFL championships, then won four titles in 14 years after joining the NFL. The Browns last NFL title was in 1964, the year before the Super Bowl was instituted. Bad luck there. Twice more in the 1960s, they lost with the Super Bowl just a game away. Then ... nothing. No playoff wins for 16 years as they tried to return to the top. They finally broke through in 1986, before Elway and The Drive knocked them away. This year, it would finally happen.
Byner looked like he was coming in clean, but Broncos defensive back Jeremiah Castille had a shot at him. Castille reached in and hit the ball, jarring it loose, the fell on the ball at the 2-yard line. The Browns were devastated. Their fans went catatonic. Two yards from the goal line, and the ball was lost. Their best chance at a Super Bowl, and they came up 2 yards short.
The Broncos gave the Browns an intentional safety, cutting their lead to 38-33, but there wasn't enough time left for the Browns to mount a touchdown drive. They would be sitting out the Super Bowl again. Two years later, they lost to the Broncos in the AFC championship a third time. They've never been as close to the Super Bowl since.
The next year, when the Browns released their team media guide, people took notice of the cover. At first, it didn't seem odd - it was just a stylized version of a photograph of quarterback Bernie Kosar handing off to Byner. But at closer look, people came to a stunning realization: the picture was taken moments before The Fumble. The Browns had chosen the moment immediately before the most painful turnover in team history to highlight their upcoming season.
In a way, it made sense - a reminder of how close they came to their goals, a way to inspire the team to do just a little bit more. In retrospect, it's haunting, a picture captured at the absolute peak of the franchise, the moment the Browns started to sink.
HONORABLE MENTION -
January 17, 1999: MINNEAPOLIS - I don't know why everybody blames Gary Anderson. I suppose it makes sense for fans of poetic irony - the kicker that hadn't missed all season missing the kick that would have clinched a berth in the Super Bowl. But he just became a convenient scapegoat. After all, when that kick sailed wide left, the Vikings still had a 7-point lead, just over a minute to play. The Falcons shouldn't have had time to drive for a tying touchdown. And they wouldn't have had time if Robert Smith, remembering his knee injury from a couple years before, hadn't run out of bounds untouched three times on that final drive. Stay in bounds once, Robert, and the Falcons certainly don't have time to tie the game. And everybody always forgets that a) the Vikings had 30 seconds left to try to break the tie at the end of regulation and took a knee and b) they got the ball first in overtime but couldn't score. It's just ... it's just ... I don't want to talk about it any more. It's stupid....
Sunday, January 16, 2011
January 16, 1972: Birth of America's Team
NEW ORLEANS - There was a time when the Cowboys weren't known as America's team, but rather as the team that always seemed to be one season away from a championship. Led by quarterback Roger Staubach, that all changed in 1971.
During a cold, windy day at Tulane Stadium - the kickoff temperature of 39 degrees is the coldest in Super Bowl history - the Cowboys met the Dolphins for Super Bowl VI. It was the second straight Super Bowl appearance for the Cowboys, who had lost the previous year's game on a final-play field goal. This year's team was different in that Roger Staubach had finally been anointed as the team's starter halfway through the year. After naming Staubach as starter at the halfway point of the season, the Cowboys turned a 4-3 record into an 11-3 finish.
Meanwhile, the Dolphins were loaded, featuring many of the same players who would go undefeated the next season. Miami's defense wasn't well-known, but it was good; in fact, Dallas coach Tom Landry inadvertently gave the Dolphins their "No-Name Defense" name by saying before the game that he didn't know any of their defender's names, but they all scared him.
Landry didn't need to be worried. The Cowboys ran all over the Dolphins, outgaining them on the ground 252-80. Staubach threw two short touchdown passes, and the Cowboys scored in every quarter on their way to an easy 24-3 victory. In the 45-year history of the Super Bowl, this one was the closest the game has ever been to a shutout. In fact, it was the only Super Bowl where a team failed to score a touchdown.
The Dolphins were beaten, but they bounced back. It was their only loss in the 1972 calendear year, and Miami wouldn't lose again until September 23, 1973.
During a cold, windy day at Tulane Stadium - the kickoff temperature of 39 degrees is the coldest in Super Bowl history - the Cowboys met the Dolphins for Super Bowl VI. It was the second straight Super Bowl appearance for the Cowboys, who had lost the previous year's game on a final-play field goal. This year's team was different in that Roger Staubach had finally been anointed as the team's starter halfway through the year. After naming Staubach as starter at the halfway point of the season, the Cowboys turned a 4-3 record into an 11-3 finish.
Meanwhile, the Dolphins were loaded, featuring many of the same players who would go undefeated the next season. Miami's defense wasn't well-known, but it was good; in fact, Dallas coach Tom Landry inadvertently gave the Dolphins their "No-Name Defense" name by saying before the game that he didn't know any of their defender's names, but they all scared him.
Landry didn't need to be worried. The Cowboys ran all over the Dolphins, outgaining them on the ground 252-80. Staubach threw two short touchdown passes, and the Cowboys scored in every quarter on their way to an easy 24-3 victory. In the 45-year history of the Super Bowl, this one was the closest the game has ever been to a shutout. In fact, it was the only Super Bowl where a team failed to score a touchdown.
The Dolphins were beaten, but they bounced back. It was their only loss in the 1972 calendear year, and Miami wouldn't lose again until September 23, 1973.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
January 15, 1967: A Super Bowl
LOS ANGELES - Taken out of context, looking at it just from a standpoint of the quality of the game, the Packers' 35-10 win over Kansas City was not very memorable. Green Bay was expected to have no problem dispatching the Chiefs, and they didn't. The Packers never trailed, Kansas City never got close in the second half. The better team won, and easily.
But that doesn't tell the whole story. It doesn't tell of the Kansas City players who were so nervous that they were throwing up in the tunnel before the game. It doesn't tell of Green Bay coach Vince Lombardi being so nervous that he was shaking in a pregame interview. And it doesn't tell how this game was the beginning of a great tradition, something that started as a novel idea and eventually grew enough to become an unofficial American holiday.
The first Super Bowl wasn't even called that at first; it was called the AFL-NFL World Championship Game. The NFL's representatives were the Green Bay Packers, who had won five league titles in seven years and were considered among the most pristigious NFL franchises. The Chiefs were seen as the perfect team to represent the AFL, as their owner, Lamar Hunt, had been instrumental in the formation of the league in 1960.
While the fact that the two leagues had agreed to an eventual merger gave credibility to the AFL, it was still widely believed that no AFL team would be able to play with the best the NFL had to offer. In fact, the NFL was seemed as so superior that the Packers almost had too much pressure on them, knowing how they'd be letting their league down if they lost. That explains why Lombardi was actually shaking during a pre-game interview. He didn't want to be the coach of the team that lost to an AFL team.
The nerves were there for the Chiefs, too. They had won the right to be the first AFL team to play an NFL team, and they didn't want to encourage the idea that the AFL was the weaker league.
Maybe it had to do with the strength of the leagues, or maybe the Packers were just good. Either way, it wasn't close. A 14-10 Packer lead kept growing in the second half as the Chiefs couldn't stop them. Little-known wide receiver Max McGee scored twice for Green Bay, as did running back Elijah Pitts. Bart Starr's 250 passing yards single-handedly topped Kansas City's 239 total yards.
Though the game itself was a bit of a downer, it started a tradition. Anticipation for the Super Bowl grew throughout the years, and today it's the most anticipated game on the American sports calendar.
HONORABLE MENTION
January 15, 2006: INDIANAPOLIS - Quarterbacks have made scores of season-saving throws in football history. They've also kept the ball themselves for season-saving rushes. But the list of season-saving tackles by quarterbacks is short. In fact, Ben Roethlisberger might be the only one on the list. With the Steelers clinging to a 21-18 lead in the final minutes against Indianapolis, Pittsburgh was trying to punch one more into the end zone to clinch a victory. But Jerome Bettis fumbled for the first time all season and the ball was picked up by the Colts' Nick Harper. With only Roethlisberger to beat, Harper made a move that caused Roethlisberger to spin and lose his balance, but as he was falling, the Pittsburgh quarterback reached out and tripped Harper up by his ankles, preventing a sure touchdown. When the Colts' Mike Vanderjagt missed the tying field goal with 17 seconds remaining, Roethlisberger's tackle instantly became the most important ever made by a quarterback.
But that doesn't tell the whole story. It doesn't tell of the Kansas City players who were so nervous that they were throwing up in the tunnel before the game. It doesn't tell of Green Bay coach Vince Lombardi being so nervous that he was shaking in a pregame interview. And it doesn't tell how this game was the beginning of a great tradition, something that started as a novel idea and eventually grew enough to become an unofficial American holiday.
The first Super Bowl wasn't even called that at first; it was called the AFL-NFL World Championship Game. The NFL's representatives were the Green Bay Packers, who had won five league titles in seven years and were considered among the most pristigious NFL franchises. The Chiefs were seen as the perfect team to represent the AFL, as their owner, Lamar Hunt, had been instrumental in the formation of the league in 1960.
While the fact that the two leagues had agreed to an eventual merger gave credibility to the AFL, it was still widely believed that no AFL team would be able to play with the best the NFL had to offer. In fact, the NFL was seemed as so superior that the Packers almost had too much pressure on them, knowing how they'd be letting their league down if they lost. That explains why Lombardi was actually shaking during a pre-game interview. He didn't want to be the coach of the team that lost to an AFL team.
The nerves were there for the Chiefs, too. They had won the right to be the first AFL team to play an NFL team, and they didn't want to encourage the idea that the AFL was the weaker league.
Maybe it had to do with the strength of the leagues, or maybe the Packers were just good. Either way, it wasn't close. A 14-10 Packer lead kept growing in the second half as the Chiefs couldn't stop them. Little-known wide receiver Max McGee scored twice for Green Bay, as did running back Elijah Pitts. Bart Starr's 250 passing yards single-handedly topped Kansas City's 239 total yards.
Though the game itself was a bit of a downer, it started a tradition. Anticipation for the Super Bowl grew throughout the years, and today it's the most anticipated game on the American sports calendar.
HONORABLE MENTION
January 15, 2006: INDIANAPOLIS - Quarterbacks have made scores of season-saving throws in football history. They've also kept the ball themselves for season-saving rushes. But the list of season-saving tackles by quarterbacks is short. In fact, Ben Roethlisberger might be the only one on the list. With the Steelers clinging to a 21-18 lead in the final minutes against Indianapolis, Pittsburgh was trying to punch one more into the end zone to clinch a victory. But Jerome Bettis fumbled for the first time all season and the ball was picked up by the Colts' Nick Harper. With only Roethlisberger to beat, Harper made a move that caused Roethlisberger to spin and lose his balance, but as he was falling, the Pittsburgh quarterback reached out and tripped Harper up by his ankles, preventing a sure touchdown. When the Colts' Mike Vanderjagt missed the tying field goal with 17 seconds remaining, Roethlisberger's tackle instantly became the most important ever made by a quarterback.
Friday, January 14, 2011
January 14, 1973: Perfect
LOS ANGELES - There's a reason there's only been one unbeaten and untied team in NFL history. It not only takes an incredible amount of talent, but also almost immeasurable luck to make it through the season without a slip-up.
The 1972 Dolphins are famous for being the NFL's only perfect team, and they certainly had a lot of luck along the way. For one thing, they had the easiest schedule in the NFL that season, with only two of their 14 regular-season opponents finishing with a winning record. The combined winning percentage of their opponents was .396, which was the second-easiest in team history. Still, though, they had to be good to win every game; a less talented team would have slipped up somewhere along the way.
The Dolphins trailed in the second half in both AFC playoff games, coming back to beat Cleveland and Pittsburgh. Meanwhile, the Washington Redskins cruised through the NFC playoffs, giving up only six points total in their two games to roll to the Super Bowl. The Redskins' domination might partially explain how the Dolphins, despite going into the Super Bowl undefeated, were actually underdogs for Super Bowl VII.
The game was played in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, and in the first half, the Dolphins showed exactly why they went undefeated. Their "No-Name Defense" completely dominated the first two quarters, holding Washington to only 49 yards of offense. Miami's offense wasn't faring much better, though, but a Jim Kiick touchdown run with 18 seconds left in the half gave the Dolphins a 14-0 halftime lead.
In the second half, the Redskins put up the biggest challenge to the Dolphins perfect season. Using short passes, they were able to start moving downfield against Miami, starting with the first drive of the third quarter. The Redskins got as far as the Miami 17 yard line when quarterback Billy Kilmer saw running back Charley Taylor open at the 2-yard line. That's when the Dolphins got lucky again, as Taylor stumbled just as the pass was coming and he was unable to pull it in. After a sack, the Redskins missed a 32-yard field goal, keeping the score at 14-0.
After an interception ended the Dolphins next drive, the Redskins moved downfield again, moving 79 yards in 12 plays. On a second-down play from the Miami 10, Kilmer saw tight end Jerry Smith wide open in the end zone, but his pass hit the goalpost and fell incomplete - again, the Dolphins got lucky. The Redskins' next pass was intercepted in the end zone by Jake Scott, who returned it across midfield.
The biggest problem with the Redskins' failed scoring drive was how long it took. Though they were able to move down the field, it took them seven minutes to do so, so there were only five minutes left in the game when the Dolphins took over.
After getting one first down, the Dolphins lined up for the game-clinching field goal. Garo Yepremian's kick was blocked and bounced off toward the sideline. In one of the most famous mistakes in NFL history, Yepremian picked up the ball himself and tried to throw a pass, only to have the ball slip out of his hands. Making matters worse, Yepremian tried to bat the ball out of bounds, but succeeded only in knocking the ball up in the air again, and Washington's Mike Bass grabbed the ball out of mid air and returned it for the touchdown that made it 14-7.
The Dolphins were stunned, but they got another lucky break. Despite there being only 2:07 left in the game, the Redskins inexplicably chose to kick the ball away rather than try an onside kick. Washington forced the Dolphins to punt as they had hoped, but they had to use up the rest of their time outs while doing so. The Redskins got the ball back at the 30, needing to go 70 yards in 1:07 with no time outs.
Miami wasn't going to let that happen. After two incomplete passes and one pass completion that went for a loss, Miami's Vern Den Herder ended the game with a fourth-down sack as time expired.
The Dolphins lifted coach Don Shula on their shoulders and celebrated. They had become the first team in NFL history to go through a season without a loss or a tie. They remain the only team to have done so.
The 1972 Dolphins are famous for being the NFL's only perfect team, and they certainly had a lot of luck along the way. For one thing, they had the easiest schedule in the NFL that season, with only two of their 14 regular-season opponents finishing with a winning record. The combined winning percentage of their opponents was .396, which was the second-easiest in team history. Still, though, they had to be good to win every game; a less talented team would have slipped up somewhere along the way.
The Dolphins trailed in the second half in both AFC playoff games, coming back to beat Cleveland and Pittsburgh. Meanwhile, the Washington Redskins cruised through the NFC playoffs, giving up only six points total in their two games to roll to the Super Bowl. The Redskins' domination might partially explain how the Dolphins, despite going into the Super Bowl undefeated, were actually underdogs for Super Bowl VII.
The game was played in the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, and in the first half, the Dolphins showed exactly why they went undefeated. Their "No-Name Defense" completely dominated the first two quarters, holding Washington to only 49 yards of offense. Miami's offense wasn't faring much better, though, but a Jim Kiick touchdown run with 18 seconds left in the half gave the Dolphins a 14-0 halftime lead.
In the second half, the Redskins put up the biggest challenge to the Dolphins perfect season. Using short passes, they were able to start moving downfield against Miami, starting with the first drive of the third quarter. The Redskins got as far as the Miami 17 yard line when quarterback Billy Kilmer saw running back Charley Taylor open at the 2-yard line. That's when the Dolphins got lucky again, as Taylor stumbled just as the pass was coming and he was unable to pull it in. After a sack, the Redskins missed a 32-yard field goal, keeping the score at 14-0.
After an interception ended the Dolphins next drive, the Redskins moved downfield again, moving 79 yards in 12 plays. On a second-down play from the Miami 10, Kilmer saw tight end Jerry Smith wide open in the end zone, but his pass hit the goalpost and fell incomplete - again, the Dolphins got lucky. The Redskins' next pass was intercepted in the end zone by Jake Scott, who returned it across midfield.The biggest problem with the Redskins' failed scoring drive was how long it took. Though they were able to move down the field, it took them seven minutes to do so, so there were only five minutes left in the game when the Dolphins took over.
After getting one first down, the Dolphins lined up for the game-clinching field goal. Garo Yepremian's kick was blocked and bounced off toward the sideline. In one of the most famous mistakes in NFL history, Yepremian picked up the ball himself and tried to throw a pass, only to have the ball slip out of his hands. Making matters worse, Yepremian tried to bat the ball out of bounds, but succeeded only in knocking the ball up in the air again, and Washington's Mike Bass grabbed the ball out of mid air and returned it for the touchdown that made it 14-7.
The Dolphins were stunned, but they got another lucky break. Despite there being only 2:07 left in the game, the Redskins inexplicably chose to kick the ball away rather than try an onside kick. Washington forced the Dolphins to punt as they had hoped, but they had to use up the rest of their time outs while doing so. The Redskins got the ball back at the 30, needing to go 70 yards in 1:07 with no time outs.
Miami wasn't going to let that happen. After two incomplete passes and one pass completion that went for a loss, Miami's Vern Den Herder ended the game with a fourth-down sack as time expired.
The Dolphins lifted coach Don Shula on their shoulders and celebrated. They had become the first team in NFL history to go through a season without a loss or a tie. They remain the only team to have done so.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
January 13, 1968: Death on the ice
BLOOMINGTON, Minn. - The January 13 game was four minutes old when Bill Masterton skated into the attacking zone. After being penned in by the defence, Masterton flipped a pass over to teammate Wayne Connelly. Soon after passing, Masterton got tangled up with two defenders and fell, hitting his head on the ice.
Play stopped immediately as players and officials saw the pool of blood under Masterton's head. A teammate who had rushed to tend to him heard him mumble "never again, never again." He was taken off the ice on a stretcher, still bleeding, and taken to the hospital.
Masterton had starred at the University of Denver but had trouble getting his professional hockey career going. He retired from the game to take a job at Honeywell in Minneapolis, only to return when the NHL rewarded a franchise to Minnesota. At the age of 29, Masterton had scored four goals in 38 games in the 1967-68 season, including the first goal in North Stars franchise history.
Now, though, he was tragically going to be remembered for something else. When Masterton was taken to the hospital, the doctors saw that the damage was so extensive that they could not perform surgery. Masterton never regained consciousness after his injury and died two days later. He was the first NHL player to die as a result of an on-ice injury.
Considering the nature of the sport, many people saw it as a minor miracle that nobody had been killed during a game before Masterton. After all, players wore blades on their feet while shooting a hard rubber disk up to 100 miles an hour, all while checking and fighting each other. Oh, and nobody wore helmets back then.
That's where Masterton's death, however tragic, did some good. At the time, the NHL was the only hockey league at any level where players didn't wear helmets, even though there had been calls for years to change that. While it's possible Masterton's injury was severe enough that a helmet wouldn't have saved him, it's also possible that it would have. Players around the league started to realize this; faced with their own mortality, they started to see that the pros of wearing a helmet - i.e., they can save your life - outweighed the cons - i.e., they were heavy, cumbersome, sweaty, and distracting.
Things moved slow, though, and helmets weren't mandated in the NHL until 1979. Still, players who had played without one before 1979 were allowed to remain helmetless. It took until 1997, with the retirement of Craig McTavish, until every player in the NHL wore a helmet.
Masterton's legacy lives on in both the Stars franchise and the NHL. The North Stars never issued his number 19 again, retiring it officially in 1987. The NHL established the Bill Masterton Trophy, given to a player who "best exemplifies the qualities of perseverance, sportsmanship, and dedication to hockey." The award is often given to players who have returned from career- or life-threatening injuries or illnesses.
Play stopped immediately as players and officials saw the pool of blood under Masterton's head. A teammate who had rushed to tend to him heard him mumble "never again, never again." He was taken off the ice on a stretcher, still bleeding, and taken to the hospital.
Masterton had starred at the University of Denver but had trouble getting his professional hockey career going. He retired from the game to take a job at Honeywell in Minneapolis, only to return when the NHL rewarded a franchise to Minnesota. At the age of 29, Masterton had scored four goals in 38 games in the 1967-68 season, including the first goal in North Stars franchise history.
Now, though, he was tragically going to be remembered for something else. When Masterton was taken to the hospital, the doctors saw that the damage was so extensive that they could not perform surgery. Masterton never regained consciousness after his injury and died two days later. He was the first NHL player to die as a result of an on-ice injury.
Considering the nature of the sport, many people saw it as a minor miracle that nobody had been killed during a game before Masterton. After all, players wore blades on their feet while shooting a hard rubber disk up to 100 miles an hour, all while checking and fighting each other. Oh, and nobody wore helmets back then.
That's where Masterton's death, however tragic, did some good. At the time, the NHL was the only hockey league at any level where players didn't wear helmets, even though there had been calls for years to change that. While it's possible Masterton's injury was severe enough that a helmet wouldn't have saved him, it's also possible that it would have. Players around the league started to realize this; faced with their own mortality, they started to see that the pros of wearing a helmet - i.e., they can save your life - outweighed the cons - i.e., they were heavy, cumbersome, sweaty, and distracting.
Things moved slow, though, and helmets weren't mandated in the NHL until 1979. Still, players who had played without one before 1979 were allowed to remain helmetless. It took until 1997, with the retirement of Craig McTavish, until every player in the NHL wore a helmet.
Masterton's legacy lives on in both the Stars franchise and the NHL. The North Stars never issued his number 19 again, retiring it officially in 1987. The NHL established the Bill Masterton Trophy, given to a player who "best exemplifies the qualities of perseverance, sportsmanship, and dedication to hockey." The award is often given to players who have returned from career- or life-threatening injuries or illnesses.
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