2006 KANSAS CITY CHIEFS SEASONAL HIGHLIGHT CLIPS

Transcription

2006 KANSAS CITY CHIEFS
SEASONAL HIGHLIGHT CLIPS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
For Hunts, A Bond Forged On The Field – Bill King
40 Years of Peace – Ira Kaufman
An Army of One – Joe Posnanski
Edwards Faces Balancing Act In Kansas City – Len Pasquarelli
HANGING With Herm – Liz Merrill
Solari Should Be Fine As Chiefs Offensive Coordinator – Rick Dean
Johnson Is So Old School, He’s New School – Dennis Dillon
Larry Johnson #1 – Running To 2,000 Yards – Bob Gretz
Larry Johnson #2 – History Of 2,000 Yards – Bob Gretz
Larry Johnson #3 – Is 2,000 Possible? – Bob Gretz
Johnson Readies To Go The Distance in 2006 – Jim Corbett
Where’s The Chief? C’mon, You Still Can’t Miss Gonzalez – Rick Dean
Defense Remains In The Right Hands – Jonathan Rand
Chiefs Have Scheme Covered – Liz Merrill
He’s D-Lighted – Liz Merrill
The Great Escape – CNNSI.com
‘By The Grace Of God, I am Alive’ – Paul Attner
Printers, Croyle Battle For Shot – Associated Press
* Updated August 25, 2006
2-6
7-9
10-13
14-15
16-17
18-19
20-23
24-25
26-29
30-32
33-36
37-38
39-40
41-42
43-44
45-46
47-51
52-53
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Families in Sports: Fathers and Sons
For Hunts, a bond forged on the field
By BILL KING
Senior writer
Published June 12, 2006 : Page 01
Norma Hunt’s eyes still glisten with the preface to tears when she tells the story of Mother’s Day, 1972,
when her 7-year-old son went tumbling from a stone urn while playing on the back porch of their Dallas
home.
Clark Hunt landed hard and the urn fell on top of him,
pinning his right foot. When she reached him, he was
mangled and bleeding. It took 75 stitches to close the
wounds and further surgery to repair the damage, and
even then the orthopedists and vascular surgeons who
worked on him weren’t sure that they’d fixed it.
The small boy with the father who paid large men to run
fast went home in a wheelchair.
Six months later, he was back on his feet, but not fully
healed. And yet his father, Lamar, the son of an oil baron
and owner of the Kansas City Chiefs, had an idea to press
the bounds of his boy’s rehab.
He wanted Clark to run with him in a Thanksgiving Day
road race called the Turkey Trot.
An eight-mile run.
“His mother sort of came unglued, and of course the
doctors told her we shouldn’t do it,” Lamar Hunt says
today, sharing a favorite story. “Clark had an oozing
wound. And I’d never run eight miles in my life.”
Still, Hunt and son entered. They followed a plan meant to give Clark the best chance of finishing,
alternating between running and walking at two minute intervals. Norma Hunt parked the car near the
start/finish line and met them along the course with cups of water.
The design called for them to cover two miles out along the lake, then double back to their starting point.
Then, they would head two miles out in the opposite direction and come two miles back to the finish.
Clark Hunt made the first two miles without pain, but began to struggle on the way back. As they passed
the five mile marker, the boy’s pain persisted. They were headed outbound along the lake, away from his
mother and the car. Lamar Hunt remembers that it was cold and windy. He kept encouraging his son,
but the boy began to cry.
“We can do it, Clark,” Lamar said time and again. “We can do it.”
As they made the final turn the boy looked up, sobbing, but still trudging forward.
“We’ve got to do it, Dad,” Clark Hunt said, “because up there is where the car is parked.”
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Lamar Hunt smiles as he leans forward in an armchair at his son’s Dallas home, where they have
rendezvoused before heading off to watch the Major League Soccer team that the family owns, FC
Dallas. His eyes fire as he tells the story of the Turkey Trot all these years later.
Hunt is quick to point out that he is proud of all four of his children, but it is Clark who has taken the
path most similar to his, first as an athlete at SMU, then as an executive in the soccer league they
helped launch and, most recently, as chairman of the board with the Chiefs.
“There’s a great determination that Clark showed on that run that he has exhibited again and again since
then,” Lamar Hunt said. “I believe it sets him apart. He has always had great determination from an
athletic and academic standpoint, and now he has it in business.”
Both of his parents trace it back to the foot injury, and an eight-mile trek that could have harmed a
fragile body, but instead ignited a young spirit.
“I think it showed Clark that you can overcome tremendous obstacles,” said Norma Hunt, who is a fixture
alongside her husband and son in the family’s box at FC Dallas games, just as she has been for decades
at Chiefs games. “Despite all that he went through, he was able to be successful on the athletic field.
Like his father, he’s been successful in so many ways. He believes that whatever is put in front of him,
he can truly overcome it.
“Sometimes, very good things come out of bad things.”
Playing catch on the field
It is worth noting that, for all the gilded memories that are unique to Clark Hunt, all the sideline passes
and big-game perks that were part of his childhood, the cherished moment that comes to his mind first is
set in an empty NFL stadium.
That’s where he played catch with his dad.
Typically, the family would fly to Kansas City from Dallas on a Saturday and head directly to Arrowhead
Stadium, where Lamar and Norma Hunt turned the owner’s suite into an elaborate, two-story apartment,
replete with choir stalls from Spain, a fireplace from France and sports-themed artwork collected on trips
around the world.
After settling in, Lamar Hunt would take his son down to the field, where they’d break out a bag of
footballs, often alone.
“As a kid, to have the chance to be up there when there wasn’t a game going on — wow,” Clark Hunt
said. “On those Saturdays, I could get down on the field and throw the ball with my father. He was great
about that.”
Lamar Hunt crafted a game in which he and his son would trade punts, each of them trying to kick a
perfect spiral that would nose over and then land, accurately, in the other’s hands. When Clark became a
quarterback in high school, Lamar worked with him on passing.
“It’s an extremely special memory,” Clark Hunt said. “It’s something I’ll associate forever with my
father.”
When Clark Hunt was considering colleges, his father joined him at each of the seven schools he visited.
He chose SMU, but says Lamar Hunt never pushed him in that direction. Clark went with the intention of
playing football, but wound up on the soccer team, which he eventually captained.
Lamar Hunt has missed only 19 games in 46 seasons as owner of the Chiefs and their predecessors, the
Dallas Texans. He’d missed only three regular-season games when Clark started college: one for a
funeral, one for a wedding and one for the birth of his first son, Lamar Jr.
Hunt missed three games in four years to watch Clark play soccer at SMU.
“He picked my games over Chiefs games, which meant a lot to me,” Clark Hunt said. “And it means even
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more to me now.”
For all his success, Lamar Hunt paints his time at SMU as a one of vast fun, but little achievement. “I
was such a mediocre student, it’s embarrassing,” Lamar Hunt said. He spent four years on the football
team, but never lettered.
Clark Hunt graduated atop his class at SMU in 1987, an achievement that he attributes more to work and
desire than to innate intellect, although he clearly has the latter.
“I figured out how to be a good student because I was motivated to win,” Clark Hunt said. “Same thing
with soccer. I was a mediocre soccer player who worked hard enough to become a starter on a nationally
ranked team. It was not a talent that I was born with. And it’s not something your family can give you.”
That’s a distinction Clark Hunt points out at several stops on this guided tour of his life, and that Lamar
echoes in a separate conversation. Clark Hunt’s first job after school was a plum one at Goldman Sachs
in New York, an investment banking firm where his father says he had no connections. He spent two
years there before returning to a slot in the Hunt family’s conglomerate.
He had little to do with the sports teams, focusing instead on investment strategies. While working with
the family holdings, he started his own financial services business, which he says has been a success.
The 1994 World Cup, held in the U.S., changed his course. The event was a rousing hit. An idea for a
major U.S. pro league percolated. Lamar Hunt, a longtime soccer proponent who owned the Dallas
franchise in the NASL, but was admittedly gun-shy about doing it again, found himself sucked in by the
momentum.
He invited — or, in Clark Hunt’s words “dragged in” — his son to join him in the endeavor, assigning him
to assess a unique approach to ownership that the league was floating: a single-entity structure that
would allow investors to share all the franchises, rather than parceling them out.
“We needed the expertise that he had, not because he played soccer, but because he knew how to
analyze a business,” Lamar Hunt said. “The whole single-entity approach was new. Somebody had to
really analyze it to determine whether it could work.”
Clark Hunt was intrigued, but he wasn’t sure his father should open his heart and wallet to another goround with so fickle a temptress. Lamar Hunt also was making noise about spending millions to build
soccer-specific stadiums, and his son clearly thought that was too risky a venture.
Still, Lamar Hunt had a track record. There had been failures. The NASL collapsed under the weight of its
stars’ salaries. World Team Tennis, another Hunt signature, has survived for 30 years in varied states of
health, but never captured a large national audience. But his idea for the AFL was akin to Columbus
choosing to sail west, and after that, don’t you have to follow the man anywhere?
The Hunts went to work, side by side, to build the MLS.
“Lamar is the father of new sports leagues in this country,” Clark Hunt said. “There is nobody like him in
that regard. And I had a chance to be there with him on the ground floor with one of them.”
That was neither his expectation, nor his plan. Clark Hunt says that, like his father, who has carried the
nickname “Games” since childhood, he always has loved sports. But there are many tentacles to the
Hunt’s family business, and Clark Hunt says he never thought sports would be the one to grab him.
MLS changed that. Involved since its inception, he feels connected to it, much as his father does to the
NFL. Five years ago, Clark Hunt started upping his engagement with management of the Chiefs,
prompted by Jack Steadman, then-chairman of the team’s board of directors, and confidant to Lamar
Hunt since before he founded the franchise.
“None of us are getting any younger,” Steadman reminded Lamar Hunt.
Clark Hunt already was attending league meetings and Chiefs upper management sessions, but he was
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there without portfolio. Steadman suggested he take more responsibility. They named Clark Hunt vice
chairman.
His progression came as the Chiefs were in the midst of negotiations for a stadium renovation. The first
vote for public funding failed. It came to the ballot again in April, this time split into two measures: one
that would renovate the stadiums for the Chiefs and Royals and another that would incorporate a “rolling
roof” that would allow Kansas City to host a Super Bowl.
The voters delivered a split decision that had to be considered a victory, but was bittersweet for the
Hunts. The renovation was approved, but the voters refused the roof, which had been a dream of the
Chiefs’ patriarch, going back to the original plans for the sports complex that opened in 1972.
“For my father, whose legacy — he is so closely intertwined with the Super Bowl,” Clark Hunt said. “To
not be able to bring his baby home for him was a disappointment. But he took it like a gentleman, like he
always does. He was a very celebratory part of the party.”
Complementary interests
Neither flies to the spotlight, but Lamar Hunt is even more understated, publicly, than is his son. He
eschews titles, insisting that he be referred to as founder, rather than owner. For most of his life, he
insisted on flying commercial, in coach, agreeing to book in first class only when traveling with wife
Norma, a grudging concession that she refers to as a “gift.” Recently, Clark Hunt convinced his father to
use the family’s private jet in deference to failing health.
“Lamar is as humble and unassuming as they come,” Clark Hunt said. “He has given me plenty of room
to be my own person and shape my own way. As I look 30 or 40 years down the road from now, thinking
about my own son, I wonder if it would work the same way, and I have a hard time seeing it.
“If my son came in and shared his thoughts sometimes like I do with Lamar, I’d think: ‘What in the world
is he doing as part of this business?’”
If Lamar Hunt has thought that, he’s never said it. He gushes about the acumen that Clark Hunt has
brought to the enterprise, which he describes as different from his own.
“The entertainment piece of the business is really what I was infected with: the marketing and ticket
sales,” said Lamar Hunt, who spent much of that Saturday afternoon before the FC Dallas game jotting
down ideas to better promote the team. “That’s not as much Clark’s bent.”
Lamar Hunt’s interests are most evident in the content of 50- and 60-item memos that he will craft after
a game, based on observations that he accumulates through the day, which invariably begins for him
with a walk-through of the stadium. He never takes notes, yet he opines in detail, with accuracy.
Clark Hunt says he focuses more on finance, asset values, organizational structure and making key hires.
The sports franchises capture more of his attention than they used to, but he remains engaged in the
family’s other businesses in ways his father rarely did.
Lately, Clark Hunt has begun to think of the sports properties as intertwined in something that his father
steadfastly refuses to acknowledge: the Lamar Hunt legacy.
“A huge responsibility that I think about all the time is that he has a legacy in sports that no one else in
this country has, and it’s my responsibility to make sure that that’s maintained for many, many years to
come,” Clark Hunt said. “In the context of the decisions we make, I have to consider how it will affect his
legacy. He won’t think about it that way. He’s not interested in creating a legacy. So those of us around
him need to think about it and take it seriously.”
A mother's last word
It is story time in the owner’s box at the FC Dallas game, and, prompted by a few questions, Norma
Hunt has shifted into a gear reserved for carnival barkers and mothers of sons.
There is more to the story of the rehabilitation from Clark’s foot injury — a supremely painful ordeal
which, by the way, Clark Hunt never mentioned during a three-hour conversation that made multiple
swings through his childhood.
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“Of course they told you about the geese,” Norma Hunt says matter-of-factly, stopping the conversation
dead.
The geese? Her son rolls his eyes.
It seems that soon after Clark Hunt returned from the hospital, while he was still confined to a
wheelchair, his father came home one afternoon with a dozen baby geese, and a plan to keep his son
occupied through the blazing Dallas summer.
Clark would help raise the hatchlings, and when they were ready to live on their own, the family would
hold a ceremony. Then, they would march the baby geese through the yard, into a pond, and on to selfsufficiency.
“Clark was still in the wheelchair when we had the parade,” Norma Hunt said.
But not for long after it.
40 Years Of Peace
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40 Years Of Peace
By IRA KAUFMAN The Tampa Tribune
Published: Jun 8, 2006
The statue of the Texas Ranger is still visible in the terminal at Love Field.
So is the legacy of that critical April 1966 meeting between Lamar Hunt and Tex Schramm in Dallas, where a pro football
war that couldn't be won was about to end with a historic merger.
It took only two months of negotiations to find enough common ground between owners of the established National
Football League and the upstart American Football League.
On June 8, 1966, the rival leagues issued a joint statement outlining the agreement that would eventually catapult pro
football past baseball as America's most popular sport.
"In view of the growth of our game in the last 40 years, that merger was a very significant event," said Hunt, still the only
owner in the history of the Chiefs franchise. "Back then, it was a sensible business decision. Nobody could have projected
so many positives would emerge after Tex and I agreed to meet at that Texas Ranger statue."
But that road to NFL-AFL peace was fraught with intrigue, paranoia and babysitters.
By the spring of 1966, owners were hurting and players were rejoicing.
With two leagues bidding for their services, rookies found themselves awash in bonus money. Houston Oilers owner Bud
Adams, who now owns the Titans, handed out almost $1 million in bonus checks during the 1966 draft, which was held just
after Thanksgiving the previous year.
"We were paying offensive linemen $350,000 a year … it was crazy," Adams said. "That merger was a must, and it was
the best thing for football. You've seen the results."
In 1960, the NFL had tried to ignore the AFL and its eight original teams, but the fledgling league had committed owners
with deep pockets. The signing of Joe Namath by the Jets and NBC's $36 million deal to televise AFL games meant the
new league was here to stay.
"I remember when Hunt's father [oil baron H.L. Hunt] said Lamar lost $11 million one season," former Cowboys personnel
guru Gil Brandt said. "At that rate, he said, Lamar could only last another 150 years."
Competition for top college prospects was so intense, the NFL resorted to babysitting prospective draft picks. Executives
would woo rookies, plying them with gifts, cash and women in an effort to seal the deal before draft day.
While the NFL successfully skimmed off most of the top talent, AFL teams like the Chiefs and Raiders landed their fair
share. In Oakland, owner Al Davis embraced the challenge of backdoor deals and sequestered players, revealing a knack
for duplicity that would help drive the merger.
"When Al Davis became president of the AFL, he said the gloves are off," said Hall of Fame quarterback Len Dawson, who
led the 1962 Dallas Texans and 1969 Chiefs to championships. "When Al went after quarterbacks like John Brodie and
Roman Gabriel, all of a sudden the attitude of the NFL changed."
Preliminary talks concerning a merger were quickly scuttled in 1965 when the NFL asked for a $50 million indemnity fee.
Believing they had all the leverage, NFL owners also demanded that the Jets and Raiders would have to move in any
merger scenario, rather than compete in existing NFL markets.
One year before the start of the Summer of Love, the tension between the leagues was palpable.
A merger made sense, but getting there was the problem.
NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle tabbed Schramm, the savvy Cowboys executive, to be the league's point man in
clandestine negotiations with Hunt, representing the AFL.
But even while talks began April 6 in a parking lot outside Love Field, complications arose that threatened to dash any
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40 Years Of Peace
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hopes for an agreement.
Two days after the initial Schramm-Hunt meeting, Davis was named AFL commissioner. Despite his new title, the hawkish
Davis was not briefed by Hunt or an inner circle of AFL owners concerning the status of merger discussions.
Then the NFL fired a warning shot in May as the Giants signed kicker Pete Gogolak, who had played out his option year
with the AFL's Buffalo Bills. It marked the first time a veteran had signed with a rival league, and some NFL owners were
stunned by the audacity of Giants owner Wellington Mara.
"The Gogolak thing was definitely a surprise," Hunt said. "Especially to Tex. Things happened very quickly after that."
Davis already was well motivated to take on the NFL, but the Gogolak signing kicked him into overdrive. He devised a plan
to sign targeted NFL players to "future contracts," starting with eight quarterbacks, including Gabriel and Brodie.
"Until then, frankly we didn't pay a lot of attention to the AFL," former Green Bay wide receiver Boyd Dowler said. "The
Packers were having a lot of success and we would call them 'the other league.' Once the merger came and they
announced we would play the AFL champions in the Super Bowl, we had everything to lose and nothing to win."
The June 8 merger announcement called for the first game ever between the rival leagues, and the Packers beat the
Chiefs 35-10 in the first Super Bowl at the Los Angeles Coliseum before 32,000 empty seats.
"The first time we laid eyes on KC, [Packers guard] Fuzzy Thurston looked across the field and said, 'They're a big bunch
of SOBs, aren't they?' " Dowler said. "Looking back, it was the right time for a merger. I'd call it the birth of the NFL as we
know it today."
Davis was stunned by the timing of the merger, and the Raiders and Jets cast the only two dissenting AFL votes.
"Those two teams had different agendas," Hunt said. "This was an AFL ownership proposal - this was not about Al Davis
or a war strategy. It's hard to believe 40 years has passed since the moment that set the tone for how our sport has
grown."
Davis wasn't the only AFL mainstay who entered the new NFL landscape with a few regrets.
"The NFL had tried their best to kill us as a league," Dawson said. "I remember Paul Brown saying don't worry about it,
they won't last more than a year or two. Then he ends up coaching the AFL's Bengals. How ironic was that?"
Before Pittsburgh, Cleveland and Baltimore agreed to join the 10 AFL teams in 1970 as part of a new American Football
Conference, the rival leagues played in four Super Bowls.
After Vince Lombardi's Packers beat the Chiefs and Raiders handily, the Jets and Chiefs struck a belated blow for AFL
equality.
"I remember the game the Jets upset the Colts because that gave impetus to the idea there was value to the AFL," said
Chargers coach Marty Schottenheimer, a former linebacker for the Bills and Patriots. "There is no comparison to football
then and now, and I'd have to say it was the merger that fueled our growth."
Contact Ira Kaufman
at (813) 259-7833 or
ikaufman@tampatrib.com.
MERGER TIMELINE
Key events that led to the historic agreement between the AFL and NFL:
Aug. 14, 1959 - The first meeting of the American Football League, in a Chicago hotel.
Sept. 9, 1960 - Denver defeats Boston 13-10 before a crowd of 21,597 at Boston University Field in the inaugural regularseason game of the eight-team American Football League.
Jan. 29, 1964 - The AFL signs a five-year, $36 million TV contract with NBC to begin with the 1965 season.
Jan. 2, 1965 - Owner Sonny Werblin announces the Jets have reached agreement with QB Joe Namath on a $427,000
deal.
April 6, 1966 - Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt and Cowboys executive Tex Schramm meet in a parking lot at Love Field in
Dallas to formally open merger discussions.
April 8, 1966 - Al Davis is named to replace Joe Foss as AFL commissioner and immediately embarks on a plan to sign
NFL quarterbacks.
May 17, 1966 - NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle announces the Giants have signed former Bills K Pete Gogolak to a
three-year deal worth $96,000.
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40 Years Of Peace
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May 26, 1966 - The Raiders announce they have signed Rams QB Roman Gabriel to a $400,000 package.
May 28, 1966 - QB John Brodie, making $38,000 with the 49ers, informs club executives the Houston Oilers have offered
him $250,000 per season.
June 7, 1966 - Patriots owner Billy Sullivan informs Davis the two leagues are on the brink of a merger.
Ira Kaufman
TERMS OF ENDEARMENT
Here are the major stipulations of the NFL-AFL merger, announced June 8, 1966:
• Pete Rozelle would serve as commissioner when the two leagues officially merge in 1970 to form one league with two
conferences.
• All existing franchises would be retained and no franchises would be transferred from present locations.
• The leagues agreed to play a world championship game, beginning in January 1967.
• A common draft would be held, effectively ending a prolonged bidding war over the top college prospects.
• AFL clubs agree to pay an $18 million indemnity, to be funneled to the Giants and 49ers for sharing markets.
• Two new franchises would be added by 1968 (became Saints and Bengals).
• Two more teams by 1970, or soon thereafter (expansion delayed until Bucs and Seahawks in 1976).
• Interleague preseason games would begin in 1967.
• Continued two-network TV coverage.
•The history and records of the American Football League would be incorporated into the new NFL, but the AFL name and
logo would be discontinued.
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An army of one
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Posted on Sun, Jul. 09, 2006
An army of one
Whether it’s the Chiefs or kids at his hometown football camp, Herm Edwards’ passion for building winners
runs deep.
JOE POSNANSKI
The Kansas City Star
MONTEREY, Calif. | Herman Edwards points to the street where he had shined the boots of soldiers on their way to
Vietnam. He was 13 then, and he would shout out: “Shoe shine 35 cents! Spit shine for 50!” He is 52 now. Edwards still
shouts out.
“If you want to wear a do-rag on your head, you can go play in the parking lot!” Edwards yells at the 800 or so kids who
sit and kneel in the grass. “Understand? Because I don’t care! This is a free camp! Free! And you are going to play by my
rules!”
Herm Edwards does not scrimp on exclamation points.
The kids listen because Edwards is an NFL coach, and he is speaking truth. This is a free camp. It may be true that in 11
years of running the Herm Edwards Football Camp in his old hometown he does not remember ever throwing anybody
out. He looks ready to do it, though.
“If you fight, you’re gone!” Edwards yells. “If you use bad language, you’re gone! It’s very simple to me! You do right, or
you’re gone! I don’t care!”
Only the last exclamation points to a lie.
•••
The white house on Highland Street in the town of Seaside has a shiny red Kansas City Chiefs sticker on the mailbox.
The green New York Jets sticker has almost been scraped away. Martha has worked hard scraping. Stickers can be
stubborn.
“Mom won’t live anywhere else,” Herman Edwards says.
The story of Herman Edwards, the Kansas City Chiefs coach, begins here, on this small street in this small house in this
small town that borders Monterey. Herm Edwards would pedal his Schwinn Sting-Ray to the end of Highland, turn west
and gaze down the hill — it looked as if he could coast all the way into Monterey Bay. The view sold Herm’s father,
Herman Edwards Sr., and he bought this house in 1961 with money he had saved over 20 years in the U.S. Army.
The couple next door quickly started a neighborhood petition to keep the family out.
“It wasn’t the ghetto here or anything like that,” Herm says. Now, he’s driving his Range Rover on Highland. “But it got
rough. I’ll put it this way. I always knew where I lived. I always knew I was in Seaside. That wasn’t plush. I wasn’t in
Monterey. I wasn’t in Carmel. I was in Seaside. I knew what that meant. I still know.”
The car glides past Martin Luther King Junior High, which was called something else before the assassination — Edwards
can’t remember what. In those days, he wore an afro so big he had trouble pulling a football helmet over it. Anyway,
basketball was his sport. “I used to tell people I was 6-foot-4,” Edwards says. “And with that afro, I was.”
Turn back to Highland. Martha’s home. She’s 81, but nobody ever believes it, least of all Martha. She shows off her prize
collection of Herman Edwards posters, paintings, pictures, magazine covers and bobblehead dolls. “I’m so glad he’s back
in Kansas City,” she says.
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An army of one
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“Mom,” Herm begins.
“Well, I am,” she continues. “New York was no good at the end.”
Herm grimaces. Martha’s right. The last season in New York was rough — even now it’s not exactly clear what went
down.
In four seasons, Edwards had coached more playoff games than any other Jets coach. But in 2005, quarterbacks went
down faster than Gatorade, and the team lost seven straight, finished 4-12. When the season ended, rumors flapped —
Herm wanted out or the Jets wanted him out or both or neither. For a couple of wild weeks, unnamed sources dueled in
the papers, talk-radio lines lit red, disloyalty accusations charged the air. Herm Edwards’ house on Long Island was
surrounded by reporters and television trucks. He says his wife, Lia, cried. The standoff ended with the Jets getting a
fourth-round pick. The Chiefs got Herm Edwards to be head coach.
“If the Jets had said they wanted me as their head coach, I would still be their head coach,” is what Herm Edwards wants
to say about that.
“I’m just so glad you are in Kansas City,” Martha says. “New York got so rough.”
“It wasn’t that rough,” Herm says, and his face hardens.
•••
As the Range Rover breezes through the turns of the old neighborhood, spectacular views — moving postcards — flash
through the window. Green mountains. Blue bay. Green mountain again. Edwards says he never noticed his hometown’s
beauty. “When you grow up around it, you don’t think about it,” he says. “I come back now and think, ‘How could I not
notice this?’ ”
He had other things on his mind. Young Herm told everybody he would become famous. He would be on television. Most
kids think like that, maybe. Edwards kept saying it even after he got into high school, long after other kids, for one
reason or another, dropped pipe dreams. Herm Edwards was going places.
“I was getting out of here, Coach, I knew that,” he says. When Edwards gets to know people a little, he calls them
“Coach.”
“You look around here now, and you think, ‘Wow, it’s beautiful.’ But it was jail to me then, Coach. I wasn’t going to live
in this town all my life and talk about how I played football in high school. No way, Coach. No way.”
He was in the first class of Seaside kids to be bused to Monterey High School. After football practice, the bus wouldn’t
get him home until 7 p.m. But he was on the best football team around. Herm intercepted 48 passes in three years —
almost two per game. It’s a record they still talk about. Edwards had wanted to be a wide receiver, but Monterey did not
throw the ball. Herm figured intercepting passes was about the only way he could get his hands on the ball.
“It was the craziest thing you ever saw, Coach,” Herm says. “I could see everything so clearly, it was like I was the one
running the pass patterns. I just knew where the ball was going. I wasn’t guessing. I knew. Craziest thing you ever saw.”
Actually, the craziest thing he ever did happened at Monterey Peninsula Junior College. The other team set up for the
game-winning field goal. Edwards, without telling anyone, drifted back toward the goalpost so that if the kick came up
short, he could return it. The kick was not short. It was true. So Herman Edwards did what came to mind. He stood in
front of the goalpost, jumped up and blocked the ball just before it cleared the upright. They still talk about that.
“It was all instinct,” Herm says. “I wasn’t trying to do that. It just worked out, Coach. Everything worked like magic. I
lived on instinct then. I still do now.”
•••
The old barracks on Fort Ord are deserted; the wood has warped. This is now the campus of Cal State-Monterey Bay,
where the sports teams are called Otters and the basketball arena is “The Kelp Bed.” With so many skeletons of Army
buildings standing, though, it still looks like a military base. This was where Sgt. Herman Edwards Sr. finished his Army
days after serving in two wars.
An army of one
Page 3 of 4
Herman Sr. met Martha on The Coleman Kaserne, a military facility in Germany. This was just after World War II ended.
Martha was German, and she worked as a telephone operator because her English was quite good. Like in the movies,
she fell for the stranger across a crowded room. He fell for her, too. They petitioned the U.S. government for the right to
marry. They were granted that right but were warned the wedding would not be legal in most states in the American
South. He was black. She was white.
“My father gave me discipline,” Herm Jr. says. “But my mother, Coach, my mother gave me passion!”
He says “passion” with the exclamation point, the word coming out like a shouted whisper. And he switches topics. He
points to the field where young soldiers used to drill and where now those 800-or-so children play football.
“I want you to notice something,” he says. “When you look at the field, what do you see?” There is a lot to see. Three
dozen volunteer coaches in red scream (none have whistles — at this camp, only Herm gets a whistle). A small child
shot-puts a football high in the air, and six or seven players stand together and wait for it to fall, like seagulls on the
beach begging for food. An older player tucks a football under his arm, and he fakes right, left, right, left again, and
someone behind him yells, “I already tagged you.” A large young man with the body of a lineman but the heart of a
quarterback throws a spiral. Later, when Herm Edwards asks for quarterbacks, he will stand up. “You’re a quarterback?”
Herm will ask with a grin. “You Daunte Culpepper?”
There are girls and boys here, tall and short, slim and chubby, white and black and all shades in between. This is the free
football camp Herm Edwards envisioned when he said to his friends in Monterey: “I don’t want to raise more money. I
want to touch the kids personally.” Herm hopes to bring a camp like this to Kansas City next year.
“What do you see?” he asks.
See? Happy kids playing football? “No!” he says. “You see a clean field! See that now? There’s no garbage on this field
anywhere! No pieces of paper! No cups! No garbage anywhere!”
He smiles. Herman Edwards Sr. always told his son: There is nothing more important than taking pride in what you do.
•••
People at the Monterey Boys and Girls Club love to talk about how small the place used to be. Opinions vary. Most say it
was roughly the size of an old trailer. Ron Johnson, a former NFL wide receiver who runs the club, says it was smaller
than that.
“That man won’t tell you this,” Johnson says, as he points at his lifelong friend and former NFL teammate Herm Edwards.
“But he built this place.”
Herm does not have to say anything because his name is on the wall, right above the cafeteria where 600 meals are
dished out to kids every day. Across a 5,000-square-foot play area, there’s the computer center, and research center,
two basketball courts and also the science center, where there’s a tarantula that scares Edwards.
“He looked at the old Boys and Girls Club and said, ‘Oh man, we’ve got to do better than this,’ ” Johnson says. “And he
started a capital campaign. And the money was raised. That’s just how Herm is. That’s how he has been for as long as
I’ve known him.”
Herm shrugs. “When I first thought we needed a new Boys and Girls Club, nobody saw it,” he says. “It’s like they
couldn’t picture it. It was too big, maybe. I don’t know. I always had this in mind. I could always see it.”
He switches topics again, and like one song blending into another, he talks about the Chiefs. “The thing about the Chiefs
is everybody needs to understand the job. The job of the offense is not to score points. The job of the defense is not to
stop the other team from scoring points. You understand, Coach? That’s what people think it’s about. That’s the way this
team was playing. But that’s not what the job is.” Behind him, there are the cracks and laughter of kids playing pool.
“The job,” he says, “is to win. That’s all. Everybody’s heard me say that. You play to win the game (it is even the name
of his book), but nobody knows what I mean by that. What I mean is, sometimes scoring 30 points is worse than scoring
20 points because you score too quickly, and your defense is on the field all day and can’t stop anybody in the fourth
quarter. You understand me, Coach?
“I mean sometimes our defense has to stop the other team deep in their territory so Dante Hall will be in position to get
a punt return. I mean sometimes our offense needs to hold the ball for 6 minutes to give our defense a break. I mean it
An army of one
Page 4 of 4
all has to work together. Everybody has to work to win. That’s the whole thing.”
The kids then run at Herm in a swarm, and he signs his name on the backs of their T-shirts.
“We have a chance to win, Coach,” Herm says. “I can see it.”
•••
The small white house on Highland was Herman Edwards Sr.’s pride, the only house he ever bought. He died in 1978,
after Herm Jr.’s first season in the NFL. Edwards Sr. had been in a car crash, and Herm rushed to the hospital. He
promised to take care of his mother and sister. He watched his father die. Herman Sr. was 60.
“They said ‘natural causes,’
” Herm says. “What are those?”
He often tells stories about his father, both to the kids at the camp and to his players in the NFL. He has told the story
about his father making him “sweep the corners” in the backyard so many times that many of his friends and former
players can recount it word for word. He also tells of times the bugle would blow on Fort Ord. His father would stop the
car, get out and salute the flag. He would make young Herm salute the flag, too.
“But nobody’s around, Dad,” young Herm would say.
“That’s when it’s most important,” Edwards Sr. replied.
“His father instilled incredible loyalty in Herm,” says Lamonte Winston, the Chiefs’ longtime director of player
development. Winston says Edwards got him into the NFL more than 15 years ago. They had met at an NFL tryout camp
— Winston was coaching then. The two connected. Winston was hired by the Chiefs the next year based mostly on
Edwards’ recommendation. It never takes Edwards long to evaluate someone.
“He’s told me so many stories about his father,” Winston says. “I think he’s been trying to live up and be the kind of man
his father wanted him to be. I don’t think that’s ever very far from his mind.”
Yes, when Herman Edwards Sr. bought the small white house on Highland, the neighbors did start a petition. The
petition was sent to the real estate agent, but Herman and Martha got the message. We don’t want you. They bought
the house anyway. Martha still lives there 45 years later. She will not move. Everyone else who lived on the street is
long gone.
There’s another part of that story. A few years after the petition failed, those neighbors came over to see Martha
Edwards. They apologized. They said: “We were scared. But now we see what kind of people you are.” And they pointed
at Herm Jr. and his sister and they said, “We are so proud of the way you raised your children.”
“Coach, people can change,” Herm Edwards says. “That’s what I live for. That’s why I come back home every year. You
can help people change, Coach. You can make a difference in their lives. Football. Life. You can help people!”
And with that last exclamation point, he blows his whistle and runs back on the field, which is not far from where he used
to shine shoes and salute the flag and dream of being a star. He tells a young man to pick up a crumpled cup that the
wind had blown out of the garbage can.
To reach Joe Posnanski, call (816) 234-4361 or send e-mail to jposnanski@kcstar.com.
© 2006 Kansas City Star and wire service sources. All Rights Reserved.
http://www.kansascity.com
ESPN.com - Edwards faces balancing act in Kansas City
Page 1 of 2
ESPN.com: NFL
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Edwards faces balancing act in Kansas City
By Len Pasquarelli
ESPN.com
LAKE BUENA VISTA, Fla. -- Change is never a comfortable thing. Even in the NFL, where franchises turn over onethird of their teams every year and free agency has made roster reshaping a predictable rite of spring, major face-lifts
are never an easy undertaking.
Which is why it was somewhat surprising that Kansas City Chiefs head coach Herm Edwards, calm and congenial but
perhaps also calculating, appeared so relaxed during a Tuesday morning breakfast.
This has been an offseason of personal and professional upheaval for Edwards. First he switched teams, moving from
the New York Jets (after five seasons) to the Chiefs. And now he must change the makeup of a team that, for all its
sustained success, has grown old and is in dire need of a transfusion of youth.
The task of maintaining a winning program, and doing so while incorporating new faces into the lineup, is a difficult
daily double. But for Edwards, there's little choice but to green up the roster while trying to keep the Chiefs' win-loss
record in the black.
"It's a really hard thing to do, but we've got to address it, definitely," Edwards said when asked about the aggregate age
of his new team. "People say you can't do it overnight, to fix everything at once, and that's true. [But] if you don't hurry
up and take care of things, when you go [down], you go [down] fast."
Edwards insisted he is "excited by the challenge" but also acknowledged it wasn't until recently that he came to
understand the scope of what must be accomplished in roster-tweaking over the next few years.
In part because predecessor Dick Vermeil was so loyal to veteran players, and in part because some of the older
veterans were among the best in the league at their respective positions, Edwards inherited a roster that has ranked
among the oldest in the NFL each of the last five seasons. When Edwards took the job, after a prolonged and messy
divorce from the Jets in which New York collected a fourth-round draft choice as compensation for allowing Edwards
to walk away from the final two years of his contract, the Kansas City roster included 20 players age 30 or older.
All three quarterbacks on the depth chart were 30 or older when Edwards arrived, and starter Trent Green will turn 36
just before the start of training camp. One 30-something backup, Todd Collins, departed to the Washington Redskins
via free agency. The durable Green has started all 80 games since arriving in 2001. But if he ever goes down with an
injury, the top backup, 32-year-old Damon Huard, has thrown exactly one pass in the last five seasons and hasn't
started a game since 2000.
There are some key players who are young -- centerpiece tailback Larry Johnson (26), defensive end Jared Allen (23),
wide receiver Samie Parker (24) and linebacker Derrick Johnson (23) -- but there are not nearly enough of them.
Maybe the most glaring oversight has been the failure to develop a young quarterback, which helps to explain the
Chiefs' interest in former Detroit Lions starter Joey Harrington.
The collective tenure of the Chiefs, who have averaged 10 victories the past three seasons, wasn't a total shock to
Edwards when he accepted the job and signed a four-year, $11.5 million contract. But it was a sobering dose of reality
when he sat down to compile a depth chart.
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/print?id=2387569&type=story
3/29/2006
ESPN.com - Edwards faces balancing act in Kansas City
Page 2 of 2
Edwards is never going to bash Vermeil, his mentor, for eschewing the phase-in of younger players and leaving him a
club collectively long in the tooth. And, truth be told, the cupboard isn't devoid of talent. The problem is, some of the
talent is nearing its expiration date, and the younger veterans expected to step into the lineup simply don't have much
experience.
Typical of a team that hasn't relied much on younger players in recent seasons, the Chiefs' old guys have gotten older
and the projected replacements have grown stale while waiting for an opportunity.
"At first, when you look at it on paper, you don't think much of it," Edwards said. "But then you study it a little, and it's
like, 'Whew. What happened here?' But it's a reality we have to address."
But here's the conundrum: Can Edwards, who took the Jets to three playoff berths in five seasons, keep the Super Bowl
window open a while longer while ushering young players through the front door? And can he change the faces over
the course of the next few seasons, through the draft and selective use of free agency, without altering the expectations
of a fan base accustomed to annually challenging for a playoff berth? This isn't a league, remember, that readily accepts
the old theory that sometimes you take a step backward to be able to eventually move forward again.
"Oh, yeah," allowed Edwards, "it's a tricky deal."
That said, it's the deal that Edwards has been dealt in his first season. And he certainly knows the potential pitfalls and
the reality that he will be scrutinized.
Edwards, 51, is one of only two coaches from among the 10 who left their teams following the 2005 season to land on
his feet in a head coaching gig for 2006. Dick Jauron, who went from interim coach in Detroit to head coach at Buffalo,
is the other. Of the other eight, Vermeil retired, and the rest found employment either as assistant head coaches or
coordinators. There is this reality as well: Not only is Edwards a retread head coach but also a black retread head coach.
The engaging Edwards doesn't pay much attention to those things. His strength lies in his celebrated motivational
abilities; he is sort of a fire-and-brimstone preacher with a whistle hanging around his neck. His focus is on freshening
the Kansas City roster while maintaining the past winning standards. And in an attempt to accomplish those goals,
Edwards will rely on an old standby with a new face.
He wants to run the football -- and with Johnson on board and already elevated into the starting job he first assumed
when Priest Holmes was injured at the midpoint of the 2005 season, Edwards feels he has the young set of legs to help
him do so. The Chiefs, Edwards conceded, might throw the ball 10 fewer times per game in '06. Johnson, who finished
last season with nine straight 100-yard outings, including two performances of 200 yards or more, could be transformed
into a battering ram.
But at least he's a young battering ram.
"He's got the instructions," Edwards said. "I expect him to be a leader. Doing it for eight games [last year] is one thing,
but now he's got to do it for 16, and he's got the bull's-eye on his chest. He's part of the transformation, and we're going
to need more guys to get in line with what we need to do to get this team younger and better."
Len Pasquarelli is a senior NFL writer for ESPN.com. To check out Len's chat archive, click here .
ESPN.com: Help | Media Kit | Report a Bug | Contact Us | Site Map | Tools | Jobs at ESPN | Supplier Information | Copyright ©2006 ESPN Internet
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http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/print?id=2387569&type=story
3/29/2006
HANGING with HERM
Page 1 of 3
Posted on Tue, Apr. 18, 2006
CHIEFS COACH IS RUNNING TEAM HIS WAY
HANGING with HERM
Edwards likes to have things organized
By ELIZABETH MERRILL
T
he day started 12 hours ago, before the roosters and Katie Couric, and Herm Edwards is resting in a swivel chair
with one foot on his desk. But only for a minute. The NFL is a workingman’s game, move it or lose it, and Edwards
has the Chargers game on his flat screen and two months from now on his mind.
Forty-five minutes ago, he was hunched down in a one-on-one blocking drill. Gotta do it on the grass, he says. Now he’s
inside his immaculate office on the fourth floor at Arrowhead Stadium on Monday, gazing at his perfectly stacked papers,
and someone asks Edwards whether he’s a neat freak.
“Take a look at the bathroom in there,” he says sheepishly.
A wooden door slides open, and somewhere, Martha Stewart is jealous. Five hand towels are neatly folded, and the floor
sparkles. A fat, red scented candle by the sink gives off a whiff of sophistication.
The motif comes courtesy of his wife. The upkeep is totally Herm.
“When you sit in this chair,” Edwards says, “five things are going to happen that you didn’t anticipate. If you’re not
organized, it sends you in a panic.
“I like things in order. Then you know where they are. You know what to do. There’s no indecision.”
Take a quick jaunt around the complex these days, and it’s obvious Edwards, in three months as Kansas City’s football
coach, has done some major redecorating to put his stamp on the program. The pool table in the middle of the locker
room is gone, and so are a handful of televisions that hung on the walls.
A sign says, “No cell phones.” A fresh coat of paint is being splashed in the players’ lounge, where a 6-foot NFL shield will
soon be plastered on the wall.
Edwards has his hands in everything, even on this seemingly mundane Monday in mid-April. After an early-morning
workout, he reads a Bible passage before dashing into a meeting. It’s from Job.
“One thing about Job is that he had a lot of patience,” Edwards says. “You go to Job this time of year because there’s a
lot of things flying around.
“Be really patient today, partner.”
Nothing — be it rain, snow, or locked doors — keeps Edwards from his early-morning workout. One time in New York,
when he was coaching the Jets, he scaled an 8-foot fence when his pass code didn’t work.
In Kansas City, Edwards usually arrives at the workout facility around 4:45 a.m., early enough that the Chiefs had to
change their security system to accommodate him.
Dressed in a blue T-shirt, black shorts and Pumas, Edwards, who turns 52 later this month, still looks fit enough to play
cornerback. He’s gathered his staff on the practice field Monday for their first clinic, a sort of Football 101 by position.
Each assistant will give a hands-on fundamentals lesson this week to the staff. It’s nerve-racking for some because
they’re doing it in front of their new boss.
Tim Krumrie, an old-school defensive-line coach who looks as if he just stepped off the set of “The Longest Yard,” is
unfazed. He picks up a one-man sled and tosses it like a rag doll. He barks a few expletives and tells everybody to listen
because he has the floor. He has Edwards run through ropes and simulate a defensive tackle.
Krumrie, it seems, has always been fearless. Back in his playing days with the Bengals, he suffered one of the most
http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascity/sports/14365450.htm?template=contentModule... 4/18/2006
HANGING with HERM
Page 2 of 3
gruesome football injuries ever televised. He shattered his leg in the Super Bowl against the 49ers trying to tackle Roger
Craig. For six years, Krumrie played with a 15-inch steel rod in his leg.
He dives on the ground Monday, his long, moppy locks flying, and scoops up a fumble in front of a collection of middleaged coaches.
“This is the baby right here,” Krumrie says as he holds up a football. “Never let it go.”
By 3 p.m., Edwards is back in the weight room, giving a tour. He points to a sign above the entryway that says, “Check
your ego at the door.” On a wall next to the windows is another message:
“Your habits form who you are.”
In the next few months, two symbols will be tattooed on the Chiefs’ collective psyche — the NFL shield and the
arrowhead logo. Both are everywhere on the complex now, from the floors to the walls to the windows.
The pool table in the locker room was removed, in part, because it was covering an arrowhead on the carpet. It also
symbolized something that Edwards doesn’t want in his locker room.
“I don’t want guys to get comfortable,” Edwards says. “I really don’t. I think you have to have a feeling in your gut when
you walk into this building of a little bit of anxiety. Because that keeps you alert. That keeps you alive. That keeps you
wanting to get better.”
Ever since he was a kid, Edwards was never comfortable. He grew up the son of an Army sergeant and was an undrafted
rookie cornerback at Philadelphia. Edwards gets uncharacteristically sentimental when he talks about the NFL shield. He
says its stars and stripes represent America. He wants it painted everywhere to remind the players that they’re in an
occupation that shouldn’t be taken for granted.
He likes the arrowheads because they represent team.
Edwards recently pulled out the list of locker spaces, traditionally assigned by position, and switched everything up. He
moved the offense with the defense, the quarterbacks with the defensive linemen.
“You create team unity and (the idea) that we’re all in this together,” Edwards says.
“Generally, the defensive backs don’t hang around with the offensive line. Because they’re out of the way, you don’t
think about that. Now all of a sudden, you sit next to a guy and he’s been on your team for five years and you’d be
surprised. He may have some of the same things in common that you have.”
Three months ago, when Edwards was settling into Dick Vermeil’s old office, the place was so empty that it almost
echoed. Now Edwards has added his own touch, albeit with a white glove.
He has a collection of mini-NFL mugs that are lined up perfectly on a shelf. He has three bobblehead characters — one of
himself, one of his good friend Tony Dungy and one of Vermeil.
“Dungy and Dick,” Edwards says. “The two wise men.”
Edwards, who played for Vermeil in Philly, doesn’t want a few coats of paint to cover everything his mentor put together
in five years. He’ll just do things a little differently.
He’s handed the team a schedule through June, and the players are bracing themselves for a more disciplined,
regimented training camp. Edwards was already working on that schedule Monday. He likes to work at least two months
ahead.
And on Monday, there was no slowing down. There are draft meetings and staff meetings and film to watch. Edwards
hopes to hop into his Chiefs-red Chevy SUV and be out of the office by 7 p.m.
He grabs some of the neatly stacked papers. Be patient, partner.
To reach Elizabeth Merrill, Chiefs reporter for The Star, call (816) 234-4744 or send e-mail to lmerrill@kcstar.com
Dean: Solari should be fine as Chiefs' offensive coordinator 02/11/06
Page 1 of 2
CJOnline.com / Topeka Capital-Journal
Published Saturday, February 11, 2006
Dean: Solari should be fine as Chiefs' offensive coordinator
By Rick Dean
The Capital-Journal
KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- Mike Solari knew all about the stereotypes, unfair though he knew them to be.
Conventional wisdom in football holds that offensive line coaches are not prime candidates as offensive coordinators
because they lack expertise in the passing game. Quarterback or receiver coaches consequently get most of the
promotions.
Along those same shaky fault lines, defensive line coaches battle a similar rap. Their lack of background in pass
coverages supposedly leaves them ill-prepared for the defensive coordinator jobs that usually go to secondary or
linebacker coaches.
For 17 NFL seasons and 11 collegiate campaigns, all but one of them spent coaching offensive linemen or tight ends,
Mike Solari heard the slights and suffered in silence, a quiet man coaching unsung heroes in football's trenches.
In 2006, however, Solari will be speaking for line coaches everywhere as he moves off the
line and into the press box as the new coordinator of the Chiefs' high-flying offense, the NFL
leader in total yards over the past two seasons.
The guess here is that Solari, a man with his feet planted firmly on the ground, will represent
his trench brethren well as the replacement for Al Saunders, a passing game guru.
Rick Dean
"This is not an issue," Solari said Friday, the first day he was presented to reporters since
new Chiefs coach Herm Edwards promoted him three weeks ago.
"I've been blessed in 18 years in this league to have been around some great coaches. I
worked with Tom Landry (in Dallas), Gene Stallings (at Phoenix and the University of Alabama), George Siefert and
Bill Walsh (at San Francisco) and here in Kansas City with Marty Schottenheimer, Gun (Cunningham) and Dick
Vermeil. I've had a great opportunity to learn."
And the one thing he's learned most about offense in that time?
"The game is won up front," Solari said. "You've got to run the ball to win games, and you've got to pass the ball to win
championships.
"Offensive line coaches understand (pass) protections and they understand the run game," Solari added. "And those
who have a history in the league understand the passing game as well.
"Now, do they know it as well as the quarterback coach or the receiver coach? No. But, why can't a guy prepare over
four or five months and be ready after spring workouts and four preseasons games? Preparation brings confidence, and
I'm ready."
http://cjonline.com/stories/021106/chi_solari.shtml
2/13/2006
Dean: Solari should be fine as Chiefs' offensive coordinator 02/11/06
Page 2 of 2
It will help even more that Solari will inherit most, if not all, returning elements of a Chiefs offense that was productive
last year even as it grows long of tooth.
"This is a great opportunity mainly because of the players here," Solari noted. "What a great situation to have a Trent
Green, a Larry Johnson, a Priest Holmes and Tony Gonzalez. What a great situation to have an offensive line with three
Pro Bowl players. It's just a great situation for any coordinator."
Of course, that situation won't look as great if his two retirement-eligible Pro Bowl linemen, Will Shields and Willie
Roaf, don't return in 2006. It won't look as good if Holmes decides not to return as an invaluable backup for young
Johnson, a back capable of a 2,000-yard season.
Whether Solari's promotion sways the retirement decisions of his aging stars remains to be seen. But this much is
known -- in bucking conventional wisdom and making an offensive line coach his new coordinator, Edwards did so
with a keen sense of what made the Chiefs became a perennial playoff contender in the 1990s.
"The history of this place since 1989 is that there's always been a good offensive line and they've always known how to
run the ball," Edwards said. "That hasn't changed. They've done some new things on offense -- they aren't as boring as
we were back then -- but they've always been strong in places where you need to be strong.
"When you talk about offense, the first thing you have to do is get people blocked," Edwards added. "Some people lose
sight of that, get involved with all the pretty things receivers do. But when you know how to run the ball, you have a
better chance to complete passes. And Mike knows how to run the ball.
"Will he have some growing pains? Yes. But what I've told him is, whenever he feels like he's in a jam, he's got a
quarterback who's really good in this system, and a quarterback coach who's very good.
"And, at the end of the day, he can always just turn around and give the ball to our runner and we'll be OK."
Rick Dean can be reached at rick.dean@cjonline.com.
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2/13/2006
SportingNews.com - Your expert source for Johnson is so old school, he's new school
Page 1 of 4
You can find this article at:
http://www.sportingnews.com/yourturn/viewtopic.php?t=117670
Johnson is so old school, he's new school
August 15, 2006
Dennis Dillon
You're all thumbs. Your opposable digits move at rapid-fire speed as they punch the controller's buttons. Video game
face firmly affixed, you're not about to lose this match. Playing as the Chiefs, of course, you call your own number.
A lot. By early in the second quarter, you have rushed 14 times for 191 yards and four touchdowns and have built a
41-7 lead. Gushing with superiority, you take a football and spike it on the floor inside the Pro Football Hall of
Fame.
Hold on. Something is wrong with this picture. It doesn't jibe with the image of a throwback who has an appreciation
for pro football's history and the players who have come before -- all of which is exhibited on the level above.
Didn't your father, a longtime high school coach in the Washington, D.C., area who now coaches the defensive line
at Penn State, stick a football into your crib on the day you were born? Didn't he wean you on old NFL Films tapes?
Together, you watched them over and over. You played the NFL's greatest running backs tape so often, it corroded
and got tangled in the VCR.
On the night before you received the Doak Walker Award as college football's best running back in 2002, didn't you
listen attentively, respectfully, as Earl Campbell told you how he used to annoy Texas coach Darrell Royal by
sneaking on to the Longhorns' special teams -- once even blocking a punt? You never mentioned how you blocked
two punts and scored three touchdowns when you played special teams at Penn State.
Didn't you pay tribute to your NFL forebears by spending thousands of dollars to have miniature jerseys embroidered
into the leather upholstery of your 2002 custom blue Mercedes-Benz G500 SUV? Among the 30 players represented
are Dick "Night Train" Lane, Sam Huff, Marion Motley, Jim Parker, Lance Alworth and 15 Hall of Fame running
backs.
Now, on this Friday morning in late June, you're in Canton, Ohio, inside football's hallowed Hall, and what has your
juices flowing? Artifacts such as the brace that protected the fragile knee of Jets quarterback Joe Namath and the
square-toed shoe of Saints kicker Tom Dempsey and the specially padded helmet worn by Chiefs linebacker Willie
Lanier? How about the enshrinement gallery featuring the Hall's 229 busts? The team-by-team displays? The
memorial to NFL players who served in the military?
No, you're geeked up about beating Kyle Motts, the 15-year-old son of the Hall's vice president of marketing, in
Madden football, a game you can play in any other place on any other day. Explain yourself, Larry Johnson.
"Very rarely do I beat anyone younger than me in Madden."
Try again.
"Being here so many times, I might as well get a bed down here."
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OK, so this is your fifth trip to the Hall. You probably could lead a tour if asked. Your dad brought you and your
brother, Tony, here when you were in high school. And you made three pilgrimages while you were at Penn State,
driving four hours each way from State College, Pa.
Still . . . there's trace evidence of old-school.
Like the way you run. Other backs spin, twist or dance to avoid tacklers. If there's a defender in your path, you'll
muscle up your 6-1, 230-pound frame and try to run over him. Collisions are you. "He's a beast," Vikings fullback
Tony Richardson, a former Chiefs teammate, says. "He loves running in between the tackles. He likes mixing it up in
there and getting hit and knocked around. With Larry, the more you hit him, the more times he comes back."
Like the way you dress. Other backs wear extra protective equipment, such as elbow pads, shin guards and knee
braces. You accessorize only with tape on your wrists -- you have jammed them using stiff-arms -- and gloves when
it's cold. You've watched teammate Priest Holmes before a game. As he put foam pads on his knees, calves and
ankles, you wondered if he might as well put on a bulletproof vest, too.
Like the era you would like to have played in. "In the '50s, before they had all that unnecessary roughness stuff," you
say. "Where anything could go. Guys were clotheslining, tripping, leg-whipping, scratching, biting."
This may not be your decade, but it is your year. After standing in Holmes' shadow for 2 1/2 seasons, you are now
the Chiefs' No. 1 running back -- a designation Herm Edwards made as soon as he was named the team's coach last
January -- and every fantasy player's No. 1 draft pick. And why not? After sharing the running load for the first
seven games last season, you stepped up big when Holmes suffered a season-ending neck and spinal injury. You
rushed for 1,351 yards and 16 touchdowns in the final nine games, finishing the season with 1,750 yards, 20 TDs and
a trip to the Pro Bowl.
Your football career has been marked by a quadrennial pattern. In high school and college, you didn't become the
starter until your senior year -- and then, when you got your chance, you produced prodigiously. This will be your
fourth NFL season. The rest of the league has been warned.
It's easy to prescribe patience, but it can be a vexatious virtue when you're the one trying to swallow it. You've had
so many doses, it has stuck in your gullet and left a bitter aftertaste.
God, there were times you hated being a coach's son. It wasn't fair the way some of your youth league coaches
treated you. They went out of their way to curtail your playing time in football and basketball rather than risk
showing preferential treatment. Before your junior season in high school, Larry Sr. joined Joe Paterno's staff at Penn
State and you transferred to State College Area High School, where you sat behind two other running backs. Then, as
a senior, you rushed for 2,159 yards and 29 touchdowns. At Penn State, you were part of a committee of running
backs that spent three seasons behind Eric McCoo until you were a senior and Paterno finally let the leash out. All
you did was score 23 touchdowns and lead the nation in rushing with 2,087 yards.
Even your arrival in the NFL came amid controversy. You were the highest-rated player on the Chiefs' board when
general manager Carl Peterson took a risk and made a trade with the Steelers, dropping from the 16th to the 27th spot
in the first round of the 2003 draft. Dick Vermeil, then the Chiefs' coach, wanted to take Colorado defensive end
Tyler Brayton at No. 27. But Peterson wasn't about to pass on you again -- especially given his concern about a hip
injury Holmes had suffered late in 2002 -- and overruled Vermeil.
Talk about a prickly beginning. You couldn't understand why a team that already had Holmes -- he had rushed for
1,555 yards in 2001 and 1,615 yards in '02 -- would draft you. And the coach was miffed about not getting the
defensive player he wanted. It was a tossup whether you or Vermeil was more discouraged.
As a rookie, you were inactive for 10 games and rushed only 20 times for 85 yards. You felt frustrated and isolated.
There were many late-night phone calls to your father. After Penn State's season ended, he even flew to Kansas City
for a face-to-face, heart-to-heart weekend.
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It didn't get much better in 2004. Vermeil uttered his infamous quote about it being time for you "to take off the
diapers" -- it became known as Diapergate throughout the organization -- which only deepened the chill between you
and him. You were the No. 3 running back, behind Holmes and Derrick Blaylock. Finally, you went to Peterson and
asked to be traded.
"I'm not going to trade you. You're too valuable to the Chiefs," Peterson told you. "Whether you like it or not, you
and I are attached at the hip. You will always be my choice, and I will always be the guy who chose you. . . . You've
just got to hang in there."
After consecutive rushing performances of 118, 104 and 151 yards late that season, you came into training camp last
summer and energized the line with your fierce competitiveness. That attitude carried over into games. "There were
times when he was as physical as we were running the ball and getting after the defensive players," left guard Brian
Waters says. "You'd see him get in a lot of verbal confrontations, which sparked us because he's our guy."
You aren't just a steamroller. You have a distinctive characteristic that separates you from other punishing, downhill
runners. "Typically, when you have a bruising back like that, they don't have the speed to run away from you," says
Texans general manager Rick Smith. "Once he breaks a tackle, he has the speed to finish a run off and take it the
distance. That's what makes him special."
Last season was exceptional, but with only 476 carries and 12 starts in three seasons, your career barely has lifted
off. There are things you must do to reach cruising altitude and become a premier back. Improving in pass protection
is foremost. Your missed blitz pickup of Cowboys linebacker Scott Fujita last December was costly; it resulted in a
sack and fumble by quarterback Trent Green and wiped out a scoring opportunity in a game the Chiefs lost, 31-28.
Becoming adept at picking up blitzes will increase your chances of staying on the field in third-down situations and
give you more opportunities as a receiver. Although you're righthanded, you've been working on carrying the ball in
your left hand, to protect it from being stripped on runs to the left.
The running landscape has changed in Kansas City. Holmes' career is on hold -- he's on the physically unable to
perform list -- Michael Bennett was recently acquired from the Saints, and now you're the man.
About damn time.
You often wear a scowl on your face and a chip on your shoulder. You're moody --definitely not a morning person -and aloof. You don't trust many adults. That's the persona you portray. But if the public could chip away that facade,
it might be surprised by what it would find underneath.
You're happiest when you're around kids. You volunteer as a coach in the Junior Player Development program,
which teaches football fundamentals to pre-high school players. You were the host for an Easter egg hunt at the
Chiefs' practice facility. You have adopted and donated equipment to a Kansas City T-Ball team, "L.J.'s Young
Lions," whose games you attend and whose players you invite to your practices and games. You undergo a change of
character around children, for whom you are a ray of light in worlds filled with too much darkness. Once, during
your rookie season, a young boy knocked on your door, soliciting contributions for a school fundraiser; you wrote
him a check for $2,000.
You love to dance -- on the football field. Whether you're playing at home or away, standing on the sideline or in the
huddle, when music plays through the stadium sound system, you start wiggling.
"We called him 'Mr. Boogie,' " Richardson says.
You take a hands-on approach when it comes to interior decoration. Each picture, wallpaper pattern and piece of
furniture inside your suburban Kansas City house was personally selected by you. Among the contents that might
catch a visitor's eye are several paintings by neo-mannerist artist Ernie Barnes, a former AFL player; a collection of
jazz music featuring Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Etta James; a bookcase lined with organized crime novels; and
a freezer door filled with boxes of Popsicles.
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Your brother now lives with you on a quiet cul-de-sac 20 minutes south of Arrowhead Stadium. Tony, who played
wide receiver at Penn State and is two years younger, had just joined a Pittsburgh law firm as a paralegal when, at
the behest of your father, he put his life on hold last September to come to Kansas City and help manage yours.
His role is part business manager, part travel agent, part adviser -- but mostly he is a friend and confidant.
You'll turn 27 in November, but your body has absorbed moderate punishment and you haven't had any major
injuries. You figure you can play another nine or 10 years. Compared with the running backs enshrined here in
Canton, you barely have started on your journey, but you aspire to a grandiose ending.
"When I leave the game," you say, "I want to be known as the greatest ever at my position."
If that happens, you'll make many more trips to the Hall of Fame. They'll never give you a bed there, but you might
get a bronze bust.
Copyright © 2006
All rights reserved.
8/21/2006
Kansas City Chiefs - GRETZ: Larry Johnson #1 - Running to 2,000 Yards
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GRETZ: LARRY JOHNSON #1 - RUNNING TO 2,000 YARDS
JUL 03, 2006, 8:43:55 AM BY BOB GRETZ - FAQ
In his fourth season of scholastic football at State College High School, Larry Johnson ran for 2,159 yards over 12 games
for the Little Lions.
In his fourth season of playing college football at Penn State University, Johnson ran for 2,087 yards over 13 games for
the Nittany Lions.
This is Larry Johnson’s fourth year of pro football.
Will the four-year trend of 2,000-yard seasons continue in 2006 with the Chiefs? Will L.J. join what is a very exclusive
group of backs that have run for that magical total?
First, understand that Johnson knows there will be plenty of talk about getting to 2,000 yards based on how he finished
up last season with his remarkable run of nine-games with 100-plus yards.
But know this: reaching 2,000 yards is not a pre-season goal for the Chiefs running back.
“Two-thousand yards is very reachable, but everything has to click. It has to be the right time for the running back and
it has to be the right time for the team,” Johnson said.
“I really want to get to the Super Bowl. I want to walk around with my Super Bowl ring like everybody else does, and
kind of sit on the plane, and put my arm on the arm rest and have that big Super Bowl ring and have somebody ask ‘Oh,
OK you were part of the Super Bowl champs.’
“You get more respect being a Super Bowl champion than you do for being a Super Bowl champion of somebody’s
fantasy league.”
A year ago this kind of talk about Johnson’s production would have been considered fantasy. He was just looking to get
on the field. A season with 1,000 yards seemed an unreachable goal.
Then came the neck injury suffered by Priest Holmes and Johnson’s ascension to full-time status. He grabbed his
opportunity and ran hard with it, showing the entire NFL that there was a new offensive force in Kansas City.
Last year, Johnson’s nine-game run produced 1,351 yards, or an average of 150.1 yards per game. Now, project that
over a full 16-game season and L.J.’s total yardage would reach 2,401 yards. That would shatter the NFL record for
rushing yardage set by Eric Dickerson in 1984 of 2,105 yards.
Over 16 games, a back would have to average 125 yards per game to hit 2,000 yards. To break Dickerson’s record, a
back would have to average 132 yards per game.
After what he did over the second half of last season, it all seems very doable for Johnson.
“Looking at what he (Dickerson) did in that season and looking at what I did, they were so similar, maybe it (2,000-plus
yards) could have happened last year if I started the whole season,” Johnson said. “As far as Eric Dickerson’s record, I
don’t know if I really want to break it because I have so much respect for Eric Dickerson.
“When they bring those records up, those guys names stay alive. As soon as you break them, nobody talks about them.
When Walter Payton was approaching Jim Brown’s record (career rushing yards), everybody talked about Jim Brown, Jim
Brown, Jim Brown. Then when he broke it, all the talk was about Walter Payton and nobody wanted to talk about Jim
Brown.
“I have so much respect for those guys, Dickerson, Payton, Brown, Earl Campbell. I shouldn’t be on a list with those
guys. Put me on a separate list of guys who have done things like that in the last five years.”
More math: Johnson averaged 5.2 yards per carry last season and over his NFL career, his average is 5.08 yards per
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Kansas City Chiefs - GRETZ: Larry Johnson #1 - Running to 2,000 Yards
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carry. If he maintains that rate in the coming season, it would take 394 carries to reach the 2,000-yard plateau.
Last year, he carried the ball 336 times, so he would need about four more carries per game. Understand that he
averaged just eight carries per game over the first four weeks of the season and that would seem to be an easily
reachable number. In fact, it would break down to 25 carries per game over the 16-game season.
Over the last nine games of the ‘05 season, Johnson averaged 29.5 carries per game.
The rest of the Chiefs think 2,000 yards is very possible.
“Can he do it? Absolutely,” said guard Brian Waters. “But there’s a lot of things that have to go right. And he needs
some help, not just from the offensive line, but from Eddie Kennison, Tony Gonzalez and the passing game.
“Getting everything to fall together isn’t easy, or you would see it happen all the time.”
Coming on Wednesday: It’s not easy to run for 2,000 yards. We’ll look at those backs and teams that have
made rushing history.
The opinions offered in this column do not necessarily reflect those of the Kansas City Chiefs.
A former beat reporter who covered the Pittsburgh Steelers during their glory years, Gretz covered the Chiefs for the
Kansas City Star for nine years before heading up KCFX-FM's sports department. He is a member of the Pro Football Hall
of Fame's Board of Selectors. His column appears three times a week during the season.
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Kansas City Chiefs - GRETZ: Larry Johnson #2 - History of 2,000 Yards
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GRETZ: LARRY JOHNSON #2 - HISTORY OF 2,000 YARDS
Since the merger of the AFL and NFL that was completed in 1970, there have been 36 seasons of pro football. In that
time, the league has grown from 26 to 28 to 30 and finally to the 32 teams.
Do the multiplication of the teams and in 35 full schedules (not counting the strike shortened nine-game season of 1982)
that works out to exactly 1,000 seasons among all those individual teams.
In those 1,000 seasons, NFL teams have produced 429 where a running back has gained 1,000 yards or more. That’s 43
percent of the seasons.
In those same 1,000 seasons, NFL teams have produced five where a running back has gained 2,000 yards or more.
That’s one-half of one percent of the seasons.
That’s how tough a 2,000-yard season is for an NFL running back. Those are the odds Larry Johnson faces as the Chiefs
head into the 2006 season. It’s been done by five running backs over those 36 seasons, or once every seven-plus years.
Here are the greatest rushing seasons in league history.
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As these numbers show there is no single formula for a running back to reach the 2,000-yard mark and there’s no
prototype of a back that has achieved that mark. Here’s how each back got the job done.
DickersonIn just his second NFL season, Dickerson needed 15 games to break Simpson’s record that was set over 14
games. He averaged 23.7 carries and 131.6 yards per game. Dickerson was the Rams offense that year, as his rushing
total was 74 percent of the rushing yards (2,864 yards) and 42 percent of the Rams total offense (5,006 yards.) Despite
his season, the Rams did not lead the NFL in rushing, as their 179 yards per game average was second behind the
Chicago Bears. They were 27th or next to last in passing yards per game, averaging just 133.9 yards per game. The
Rams defense that year finished 14th in yards allowed.
Dickerson had two things going for him that season: his head coach John Robinson, a man that believed in the running
game, and a talented and veteran offensive line. At tackle were Bill Bain, Jackie Slater and Irv Pankey, with Dennis
Harrah and Kent Hill at guard, Doug Smith at center and David Hill as the tight end. With the exception of Pankey, all of
those guys were six years or plus in NFL experience (Pankey was in his fourth season.) The offensive line coach was
Hudson Houck, who is still considered one of the best line coaches in the league (he now works for the Dolphins.) Jeff
Kemp was the starting quarterback.
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In 16 games that season, Dickerson ran against nine defenses that finished the season ranked in the top half of the
league. The best defense and best run defense that year was Chicago, and he ran for 149 yards against the Bears. The
No. 2 defense was Cleveland and he ran for 102 yards against the Browns. New Orleans was the No. 4 defense and he
ran for a total of 313 yards in two games against the Saints.
There were only four games were he did not gain at least 100 yards, with his worst performance coming against San
Francisco, when he had 38 yards on 13 carries.
The Rams finished 10-6, making the playoffs as a wildcard team. They lost at home in the first round to the New York
Giants 16-13. Dickerson ran for 107 yards on 23 carries.
Dickerson played nine more seasons after his biggest season, but never came close to reaching that level, although he
did run for 1,821 yards in the 1986 season for the Rams. He is currently ranked as the sixth leading rusher in NFL
history with 13,259 yards.
LewisAmong all those runners who have cracked the 2,000-yard mark, right now Lewis looks like the one that does not
belong. After running for his 2,066 yards in the 2003 season, he’s produced just 1,912 yards in the two seasons since.
Lewis has battled injuries, NFL suspensions and jail time in trying to get his career back on track.
In his big season, he averaged 24.2 carries and 129.1 yards rushing per game. Lewis was the Ravens offense that year,
as he finished with 77 percent of the rushing yards (2,674) and 42 percent of the Ravens total offense (4,929 yards.)
Baltimore led the league in rushing, but finished 32nd and last in passing yards, averaging just 140.9 yards per game.
That was Kyle Boller’s rookie season and he started nine of the 16 games. The Ravens defense was ranked third in the
league in fewest yards allowed.
That defense and a mammoth offensive line is what Lewis had going for him in his run to the 2,000-yard mark. Led by
Ray Lewis, the Baltimore defense was not quite up to the standard it set three seasons previous in a run to a Super Bowl
title, but they allowed the second fewest first downs and only 25 offensive touchdowns. The offensive line was massive
and experienced, averaging 339 pounds across the board. Tackles Orlando Brown and Jonathan Ogden were both in their
eighth seasons. Center Mike Flynn was in his sixth season and guard Edwin Mulitalo was a fifth-year player. Guards
Bennie Anderson and tight end Todd Heap were the youngsters, both in their third seasons.
That season, Lewis ran against seven defenses that ranked among the top half of the league’s units. Denver finished
fourth that year in fewest yards allowed and Lewis ran for 134 yards against the Broncos. Cleveland was the 15th ranked
defense that season, but Lewis ran for 295 and 205 yards against the Browns. There were four games where he did not
gain at least 100 yards and his lowest output of the season was 68 yards against Jacksonville.
The Ravens finished the season 10-6 and won the AFC North division title. In a first-round game in the playoffs against
Tennessee, Lewis ran 14 times for 35 yards and Baltimore dropped a 20-17 decision.
SandersNobody would have thought Sanders was going to run for 2,000 yards based on his first two games of the 1997
season. He ran for 33 yards in the opener against Atlanta and then had just 20 yards in Game No. 2 against Tampa Bay.
With 14 games to play he was 1,947 yards away from the magical figure.
Over those last 14 games, he ran for exactly 2,000 yards, finishing with 2,053.
Of the five backs to crack 2,000 yards, Sanders was the oldest, playing that season as a 29-year old in his ninth season
of NFL action. Before the 1997, he had come close to the 2,000-yard mark only once, when he ran for 1,883 yards in
1994.
Sanders averaged 20.9 carries and 128.3 yards per game. In the Lions offense that season, Sanders accounted for 83
percent of the rushing yards (2,464 yards), but only 35 percent of the offense (5,798 yards.) Detroit was second in
rushing yards and second in overall offensive yards gained. The Lions defense finished 14th in fewest yards allowed.
Bobby Ross was the Detroit head coach that year, with Sylvester Croom as the offensive coordinator. The Lions offensive
line was a veteran group led by center Kevin Glover, guards Mike Compton and Jeff Hartings, tackles Ray Roberts and
Larry Tharpe and tight end David Sloan. The quarterback was Scott Mitchell.
Over the season, Sanders ran against only six defenses that finished among the top half of the league. Tampa Bay was
third in fewest yards allowed that year, and Sanders ran for 20 yards in one game, but came back and ran for 215 yards
in the second meeting. He also ran for 216 yards against an Indianapolis defense that finished 10th in fewest yards
allowed. Those first two games were the only time he failed to eclipse the 100-yards mark during the season.
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Despite his performance, the Lions finished just 9-7 and ended up tied for third in the NFC Central division. They made
the playoffs as a wildcard team but lost in the first week, falling to Tampa Bay 20-10. Sanders had 65 yards on 18
carries in that game.
Sanders played just one more season and finished his career with 15,269 yards on 3,062 carries a remarkable career
average of five yards per carry. He’s currently the third ranked rushing in league history behind Emmitt Smith and
Walter Payton.
DavisNo back as ever put together an entire season like Davis did in 1998 with the Broncos. He rushing total for 19
games (16 regular season and 3 in the playoffs, including the Super Bowl) was 2,476 yards. That’s an average of 130
yards per game from September 7th through January 31st.
In the regular season, he averaged 24.5 carries and 125.5 yards per game. One of the biggest factors in Davis’ favor
that year was the offense around him, led by Hall of Famer John Elway. He was 81 percent of the Broncos running game
(2,468 yards) but was just 33 percent of the offense (6,092 yards.) Denver was second in rushing and third in offensive
yards.
Davis also had a veteran and stable offensive line to run behind. Head coach Mike Shanahan and line guru Alex Gibbs
constructed a group that was lightweight and mobile and the starting five opened all 16 games during the regular
season. Tony Jones and Harry Swayne were the veteran tackles, Dan Neil and Matt Schlereth were the guards, Tom
Nalen was the center and Shannon Sharpe worked at tight end.
In 16 regular season games, Davis ran against only four defenses that ended that season ranked among the top half of
the league in fewest yards allowed. San Diego was the No. 1 defense in 1998 and Davis ran for 69 and 74 yards against
the Chargers. He ran for just 29 yards in a game No. 15 loss to the New York Giants as he was held under 100 yards five
different times. He ran for 208 yards against Seattle.
In the playoffs Davis ran for 199 yards against Miami, 167 yards against the New York Jets and 102 yards against
Atlanta in the Super Bowl. All three of those defenses were ranked in the league’s top 10 in fewest yards allowed.
That season was really the swan song of Davis’ career. Over the next three seasons he started just 16 games because of
various injuries and closed out his career with 1,655 carries for 7,607 yards.
SimpsonWhat Simpson accomplished during the 1973 season must go down as the greatest regular season rushing
performance in pro football history. It would just be regular season, because despite the fact he was the first back to
pass the 2,000-yard standard, Simpson’s Buffalo Bills did not make the playoffs.
Over 14 games, Simpson averaged 23.7 carries and 143.1 yards per game. To say Simpson was the Bills offense that
year would be an understatement. He accounted for 67 percent of the rushing yardage (3,008 yards) and 49 percent of
the total offensive yards (4,085 yards.) The Bills were 1st in rushing in the NFL that season and 10th in total offense.
They were 26th and last in passing, as starting quarterback Joe Ferguson threw for just 939 yards during the season.
Overall, the Bills quarterbacks had a 42.7 passer rating.
Simpson’s offensive line became known as “The Electric Company” although they will not go down in history as one of
the great offensive lines. Guard Joe DeLamielleure is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame and he was a rookie that season,
who started all 14 games. The other guard was Reggie McKenzie, with Dave Foley and Donnie Green at the tackles and
Mike Montler and Bruce Jarvis handling the center duties. Paul Seymour was the tight end. Lou Saban was the head
coach.
Buffalo faced four defenses that ranked in the top half of the league in fewest yards allowed that season. Miami was No.
3 and held Simpson to 55 yards. The Chiefs were seventh, but Simpson ran for 157 yards in a mid-season Monday night
game in Buffalo. He was held under 100 yards three times, but ran for 200-plus yards three times, including 250 yards
in the opener against New England and then 219 yards against the Patriots in Game No. 13. In the last two weeks of the
season – in freezing cold, on field that were snow covered – he ran for a total of 419 yards
The Bills were 9-5 and in second place in the AFC East that year and out of the playoffs. Simpson played another six
seasons with the Bills and San Francisco and finished his career with 2,404 carries for 11,236 yards. He currently ranks
14th in NFL history.
Coming on Friday: based on his ability, his teammates, his opponents and history, can Larry Johnson run for
2,000 yards in the coming season?
GRETZ: Larry Johnson #1 - Running to 2,000 Yards
7/5/2006
Kansas City Chiefs - GRETZ: Larry Johnson #3 - Is 2,000 Possible?
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GRETZ: LARRY JOHNSON #3 - IS 2,000 POSSIBLE?
So, can Larry Johnson run for 2,000 yards in 2006?
“It’s certainly possible,” said Chiefs head coach Herm Edwards. “But a lot of things have to fall together for that to
happen.
“I don’t think you plan to run for 2,000 yards. It just happens.”
The ingredients are certainly in place with the Chiefs for Johnson to reach that magic mark. That starts with Edwards, a
head coach who believes in getting a lead, controlling the clock and running the football.
Here’s how Johnson compares to the five men who have done the deed:
Here are other key factors in the run to 2,000:
WINNING TEAMIt’s just about impossible for a back with a losing team to reach a standard like 2,000 yards. The
previous five backs were all on winning teams, even though only one of those five saw victory in the post-season (Davis
with the ‘98 Broncos.)
Teams that are losing games are generally behind in the second half of games. They aren’t trying to kill the clock with
the running game. They are throwing the ball all over the field in hopes of cutting the margin on the scoreboard. Games
like that limit the opportunities for a running back to carry the ball.
AVAILABILITYEvery back that has reached the 2,000-yard mark played every game of that season. That does not
mean that they weren’t hurt, because considering the number of carries they had in those seasons, there’s no way they
didn’t have bothersome bumps and bruises.
Johnson has not had the opportunity to prove yet that he can carry the load for 16 games. His nine-game run last year
where he averaged 32 touches per game was impressive.
With the exception of Sanders, all of the previous backs did the job early in their careers, which is just where Johnson is
at this point. He’s got just 476 carries in three seasons, so there are not a lot of running back miles left on this machine.
He’s also the right age compared to previous 2,000-yard backs; the average age was 25.8 years. Johnson will be 26 in
November.
VETERAN OFFENSIVE LINENot only does a back need some experienced blockers opening up holes for him, he needs
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them to be available. Davis in his ‘98 season with the Broncos had the same five blockers start each of the 16 games.
Johnson certainly has a veteran group in front of him. The quartet of Willie Roaf, Brian Waters, Casey Wiegmann and
Will Shields is unmatched in the league right now for ability, productivity and longevity. To reach 2,000 yards, he needs
them to stay healthy and needs Kyle Turley, Kevin Sampson or Jordan Black to step up and solidify the right tackle
position. He also needs a healthy Jason Dunn to help in the two tight end alignment.
HELP FROM THE PASSING GAME OR DEFENSEA running back can’t do it all alone. A balanced offense that can throw
the football effectively takes defensive attention away from stopping the running game. It is no coincidence that the only
Super Bowl season for a 2,000-yard rusher was Davis, when he was just 33 percent of the Broncos offense. As much as
Davis helped John Elway finally win the Super Bowl, it was Elway’s presence that helped Davis to his best season.
If help doesn’t come from the passing game, then a back needs a defense that’s going to be able to keep the other team
off the field and off the scoreboard. Of the previous 2,000-yard runners, four of the five had defenses that finished in the
top half of the league in fewest yards allowed. It was the Ravens defense that allowed Jamal Lewis to overcome a poor
Baltimore passing game to reach 2,066 yards.
The only back able to reach 2,000 without passing help and one of the league’s better defenses was Simpson. He was
nearly half of the total Buffalo offensive output and the Bills’ defense finished in the bottom half of the league that year,
although they were 14th out of 26 teams.
Johnson can’t ask for better help than Trent Green at quarterback, Eddie Kennison at wide receiver and Tony Gonzalez at
tight end. Improvement from the Chiefs defense will only help his chances at reaching 2,000 yards.
THE OPPONENTSThe other guys get paid to stop a running back like Johnson. Based on last year’s numbers, the Chiefs
will face eight of the 16 defenses that allowed the fewest yards last year: Pittsburgh (4), Baltimore (5), Jacksonville (6),
Arizona (8), San Diego (13), Denver (15), Cleveland and Seattle (t-16.) They will also face five of the 10 defenses that
allowed the fewest rushing yards in ‘05: San Diego (1), Pittsburgh (3), Seattle (5), Baltimore (9) and Arizona (10.)
In today’s NFL, numbers do not always translate from one year to the next. But recent history has shown us that
defenses in Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Jacksonville and Denver are almost always among the better units in the league.
The difference this season for Johnson is that he will begin the season with a bull’s eye on his back. He may have caught
some teams by surprise last season. That won’t be the case this year. The Broncos and Chargers have been working all
through the off-season on how to stop the Chiefs and Johnson. It’s a sure bet that Marvin Lewis and the Bengals
coaching staff have done the same for the regular season opener at Arrowhead, especially after the way Johnson dented
them for 200 yards in the finale on New Year’s Day.
Ultimately, the question must be asked: is 2,000 yards by a running back a good thing for an NFL team? Consider that of
the five teams that had a back run for that type of yardage, only one had post-season success: the 1998 Denver
Broncos won the Super Bowl. A 2,000-yard back may come because he’s the team’s only offensive weapon (Simpson,
Lewis and Dickerson.) That creates an imbalance in the offensive attack that makes it hard to achieve the type of
success that wins division titles, creates home-field advantage and instills the type of confidence needed to win a
championship.
If the Chiefs could write a script, they would prefer that Johnson ran for about 1,500 yards and a healthy Priest Holmes
was around to contribute another 800 or so rushing yards. Throw in about 3,500 passing yards for Trent Green and
about four touchdowns per game from the offense and Edwards would be a very happy and successful coach.
But there are no advance scripts in the NFL, and there’s nothing to say the Chiefs couldn’t follow the path of the ‘98
Broncos and have their cake (a 2,000-yard back) and eat it too (a Super Bowl trophy.)
Johnson has proven he has the ability. Now, he must prove he has the consistency, that he can do it for 16 weeks.
“That’s what I want to see from Larry, the consistency, that’s the next step,” said Green. “He had a nice run at the end
of last year. Now, the next goal for him is to do that over 16 games. That’s twice what he did. It’s not easy.”
Not easy, but an achievable goal according to his blockers:
z Wiegmann – “We have to have the offensive line healthy, L.J. has to stay healthy and he takes a pounding back
there. You just don’t know what’s going to happen. Hopefully it comes down to a point where we are blowing
teams out and he doesn’t have to play. The best thing is, I don’t think it’s something that he’s really shooting for.
7/7/2006
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I’ve heard him talk about the Super Bowl, not 2,000 yards. But it’s do-able for him.”
z Waters – “First, you have a head coach who wants to run the ball. Defensive minded coaches know that the more
you run the ball, the more you eat up the clock and the less time the defense is on the field. The offensive
coordinator is the former offensive line coach and he’s going to want to run the ball and you have a young back,
who hasn’t been beat up over a long period of time. It’s very possible.”
z Shields – “He’s a young back, so I think under the right conditions he can do it. But I’m interested in having just
enough yards to win games. If that’s 1,000 yards, or 2,000 yards, whatever it takes to get in the playoffs that’s
what matters.”
All conditions appear good for Johnson to achieve 2,000 yards. But it’s not a goal he’s running towards. He’s also not
running away from it.
“Two-thousand yards is very reachable, but everything has to click,” Johnson said. “It has to be the right time for the
running back and it has to be the right team for the team.”
Next: If Larry Johnson runs for 2,000 yards, it will be because he has one of the best offensive lines in
football blocking for him. Just how good are the Chiefs blockers. We’ll take a look starting on Monday.
Related:GRETZ: Larry Johnson #1 - Running to 2,000 YardsGRETZ: Larry Johnson #2 - History of 2,000 Yards
The opinions offered in this column do not necessarily reflect those of the Kansas City Chiefs.
A former beat reporter who covered the Pittsburgh Steelers during their glory years, Gretz covered the Chiefs for the
Kansas City Star for nine years before heading up KCFX-FM's sports department. He is a member of the Pro Football Hall
of Fame's Board of Selectors. His column appears three times a week during the season.
7/7/2006
USATODAY.com - Johnson readies to go the distance in 2006
Page 1 of 5
Johnson readies to go the distance in 2006
By Jim Corbett, USA TODAY
Better watch your back, Eric Dickerson. Chiefs running back Larry Johnson is poised to make a run at
your 2,105-yard single-season rushing record.
Larry Johnson left numerous oppoenents in his wake after a breakout 2005 season.
By Dino Vournas, AP
"After what he did in nine starts last season, imagine what Larry could have done if he started all 16 games?" Chiefs analyst and
Hall of Fame quarterback Len Dawson says. "You never know. But he was running with a vengeance. I didn't realize how fast Larry
is. Nobody caught him from behind. The future looks great for him."
Dickerson's record, set in 1984, suddenly looks vulnerable. While he played in all 16 games in 2005, Johnson started just nine and
racked up 1,750 rushing yards and 20 touchdowns. In his nine starts, Johnson gained 1,351 yards — over a full season as a starter,
that projects to 2,402 yards. Johnson ripped off nine consecutive 100-yard rushing games after Priest Holmes suffered a careerthreatening spine injury following a helmet-to-helmet hit in a game Oct. 30 against San Diego.
"They told me I could have had 2,400 yards over a full season, and that's never been done before," Johnson says. "Obviously, it'd
be so hard to touch Eric Dickerson's record. But doing that would definitely open a lot of eyes.
"I was just starting to hit my stride. I wasn't banged up. I was really just getting going."
Johnson ran like a raging wildfire, burning up the NFL last season. If there were a vote for a second-half MVP, Johnson would have
run away with the award.
"I'm excited to see what I can do as far as getting a full 16 games," Johnson says. "I don't know what I can do. Our offensive line is
http://usatoday.printthis.clickability.com/pt/cpt?action=cpt&title=USATODAY.com+-+Johnson+readies+t... 3/9/2006
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back, and guys are ready to rip it up and play under a new coach and new system."
Johnson is contemplative, almost mellow for a guy who ran so angry in his bid to make up for waiting his turn behind Holmes, a
three-time Pro Bowler.
The 26-year-old showed he belongs with the league's other Pro Bowl running backs: Edgerrin James, LaDainian Tomlinson, Shaun
Alexander, Tiki Barber and Warrick Dunn. Only Alexander and Barber gained more yards than Johnson last season, and only
Alexander scored more rushing touchdowns.
Johnson's 5.21 yards-per-carry average tied Barber for the NFL lead among running backs with at least 150 carries. But Johnson is
far from satisfied.
"As soon as I get a full season under my belt, then I can say I really arrived," Johnson says.
Chiefs president Carl Peterson has watched Marcus Allen and Holmes during his seven-season tenure in Kansas City. But he's
rarely seen Johnson's combination of pile-driving power and breakaway burst, comparing Johnson's punishing style to former Saints
and Chargers running back Chuck Muncie.
Johnson ran like a man possessed because there were so many misperceptions to run from.
"Larry's running with an attitude, with an anger," Peterson says. "Whatever we do, I don't want to stop that anger. I'm going to have
to tell him he's going back to the bench."
Just kidding on that last part, L.J.
It's been well-documented how former Chiefs coach Dick Vermeil set this bonfire when Holmes was sidelined the last eight games
of the 2004 season with a sprained knee.
Vermeil made his "time to take the diapers off" comment regarding Johnson's assertion that he deserved more playing time even
before Holmes' injury.
Vermeil might as well have lit a book of matches under Johnson's feet.
Larry Johnson Sr., Johnson's father and Penn State's defensive line coach, says it was part of a big misunderstanding.
"Coach Vermeil was trying to say something to motivate Larry, and it just came out wrong," the elder Johnson says. "Larry took it
personally. He was ready. For some reason, Coach Vermeil was trying to motivate him by saying Larry had been crying about not
getting more time.
"He wasn't crying. He just wanted a chance. But he's grown from that. And certainly he's a better person today for having all that
happen. He took all the jokes and barbs that came with that comment. He's not talked about it since. It hurt him. But Larry's since
proven that comment was nonsense."
None of the five other Chiefs voted to the Pro Bowl — quarterback Trent Green, tight end Tony Gonzalez, guards Will Shields and
Brian Waters and tackle Willie Roaf— drew a bigger, more heartfelt ovation than Johnson.
"Without any question, Larry was the most popular, well-received player by his teammates when it was announced he made the Pro
Bowl," Peterson says. "Not only were the offensive linemen happy for him, but the defensive guys were also because they've seen
him for the last few years. He's done a great job imitating the opponent's back —LaDainian Tomlinson, for instance — the last twoand-a-half years."
Now the 6-1, 230-pounder has been anointed the starting running back by new coach Herman Edwards, no matter if Holmes is
medically cleared to return for a 10th season.
"Larry is totally different from Priest," Peterson says. "He's bigger, stronger and faster. We thought he was a talent when we drafted
him three years ago. I'm glad we got him because of Priest's unfortunate injury problems. When he hasn't been able to play a full
season the last couple of years, Larry's proved to everybody what he's capable of.
Page 3 of 5
"What he did this past season was phenomenal."
Larry Johnson Sr.'s roots in the game run deep. He played offensive and defensive tackle at E.J. Hayes High in Williamston,
N.C., under coach Herman Boone, the fiery motivator and subject of the film Remember the Titans.
The elder Johnson instilled his appreciation for greatness in his son when Larry started playing Pop Warner football at age 7.
He suggested Larry watch an NFL Films video, a homage to running backs such as Jim Brown, Marion Motley and Gale Sayers
titled 50 Greatest Running Backs.
Young Larry was fascinated and became an eager, respectful student of NFL history, watching those tapes repeatedly in his father's
coaching office.
"It was old-school stuff that I was brought up on by Coach Boone, the appreciation for the game and its history," the elder Johnson
says. "I tried to show Larry, 'Hey, this is the path you need to follow if you want to be great.'
"He was 7 when I showed him that video. I was fascinated by those guys. Then Larry really got into studying and asking about the
history of those guys. He has a great appreciation for the old guys, what they went through; and they helped him get where he is
today. He's more excited about meeting the old guys at a banquet."
The kid taught by way of Boone, his father, Joe Paterno, Vermeil and now Edwards is a composite of some of those great backs.
"Larry's a cross between Jim Brown and Eric Dickerson in the sense of how he runs with power and speed," his father says. "He's
fast like Jim Brown. He takes a shot and he walks back to the huddle real slow just like Jim Brown did. It's the same mind-set that
he never wants a team to feel like they got the best of him.
"He watched a lot of Gale Sayers, a lot of Emmitt Smith. Larry changes direction, but he does it with power. Jim and Eric are more
downhill runners that way like Larry. Larry's a combination of both those guys."
High praise, indeed. But it's not just a father boasting about his son.
"Larry thinks he runs like Marion Motley," Dawson says. "He's studied him on film, and he's the same size as Marion Motley. But to
me, Larry's more like a Jim Brown.
"He learned to be more patient as a runner last season, waiting to set up his blockers. That has something to do with what he
learned from watching Priest Holmes.
"Thing is, the people who believe most in Larry are his offensive linemen. They loved blocking for him during those nine consecutive
100-yard games."
"He can be as good as he wants," says Shields, an 11-time Pro Bowler. "If he decides to become one of the best backs in the
league, he can do that. It just depends on Larry's mentality."
The coaching change from the wide-open Vermeil to the more run-oriented, conservative Edwards should play to Johnson's
strength.
Edwards is one of the game's best motivators, and he's already prodding Johnson to take his game to another level.
"The thing about Larry is he's got the bull's-eye on him," Edwards says. "He did it for half a year. That's what I told him. 'You won't
sneak up on anybody anymore. Everyone will know who No. 27 is and know what kind of player you are. Now we've got to play 16
of them and more than that. You have to learn how to be a starter now — the whole year. That's tough. It's a different responsibility.'
"That's what Priest Holmes had to do. That's what the great runners do. They understand, 'I'm the starter now.' What's going to
happen when you make only 50 yards? How is he going to react? I think he's going to react in a positive way ... he's going to have
to deal with all those things being a starter. It's a good thing he went through a half a year. But a whole season is different."
Johnson is prepared to train harder this offseason.
Page 4 of 5
"I wanted a coach who could match my attitude and spirit, and Coach Edwards has that," Johnson says. "(He) just told me: 'Get
ready for a full load. Get ready to be The Man and a leader and step up and take control on and off the field.'
"I'll do a little bit more work than I'm used to doing this offseason. I'll cut out most of the going out just before training camp. I used to
go out and party all night and hang out. I have to assume more responsibility now because my role is not only as a starter but as a
leader, too."
"I think Herm will be a great coach for Larry," the elder Johnson says. "He's the kind of coach who says: 'OK, great job. Now go run
through four more walls.'
"Larry is the kind of guy who will run through walls. He takes pride in somebody appreciating what he did. He's self-motivated. But
pat him on the back, and he takes it to another level."
The only question with Johnson is: Can he be as productive and stay healthy carrying a full-season workload? His offseason
training regimen will factor into the answer. So will luck. But running style plays into the equation as well.
"The thing that concerns people here is the way Larry runs through people; how long can he last?" Dawson says. "He runs angry.
When he was going into a pile, he moved the pile back a couple of yards."
Johnson is all about proving people wrong. He did it at Penn State, convincing Paterno he deserved the starter's role as a senior.
This past season, he earned a rotational role with Holmes by answering lingering questions about his pass protection and receiving
skills with a sensational training camp and preseason.
"L.J. has developed very well," Green says. "When you're an All-American, a first-round pick and then, all of a sudden, you're
playing behind one of the best backs in the NFL and he's setting all kinds of league records — it was really hard for Larry. There's
been a growth process.
"But two years ago when Priest got hurt, Larry stepped in and played well. He got a taste of it, so when he came to camp last year,
his approach was so much different than in the previous two years. He had a great attitude, and the coaches rotated he and Priest.
"Then, unfortunately, Priest got hurt. Larry just took that opportunity and ran with it. He's really grown as a player, understanding the
blocking schemes and the patience you have to have with your linemen. It's exciting to see his growth."
No one can predict what Johnson will do over a full season with defenses stacked to stop him. But his sights are on Miami, site of
Super Bowl XLI, not Dickerson's record.
"Everybody's talking about it, saying I should get 2,000 yards next season," Johnson says. "But I really want to get a Super Bowl
ring for Trent Green and Tony Gonzalez, Tony Richardson, Will Shields. Those guys who haven't touched a ring yet, I want to get
one for them."
Spoken like a true leader.
Find this article at:
http://www.usatoday.com/sports/football/nfl/chiefs/2006-03-08-johnson-sw-feature_x.htm
Check the box to include the list of links referenced in the article.
Page 1 of 2
Where's the Chief? C'mon, you still can't miss Gonzalez
June 24, 2006
By Rick Dean
Special to CBS SportsLine.com
The question had been posed by a knowledgeable football guy who sensed its flawed premise in less time than
it took him to say it.
"Does it seem to you," he had asked, "that with all the good new guys coming in, that Tony Gonzalez has become
the overlooked tight end?"
The suggestion is not completely without merit.
During most of his nine NFL seasons, and especially in the years after the
retirement of Denver rival Shannon Sharpe, Gonzalez was the hands-down
choice as the league's best tight end. The 6-foot-5 former Cal basketball player
enters his 10th season with 648 career receptions, third-most in league history
among tight ends. Only Sharpe (815) and Hall of Famer Ozzie Newsome (662)
have more.
No other tight end in history, though, has eight consecutive seasons with 50 or
more receptions, or seven straight at 60-plus. And no tight end ever caught as
many passes in a single season as Gonzalez did in 2004, when the Kansas
City Chiefs star hauled in 102 balls for 1,258 yards -- the league's secondhighest single-season yardage total at the position.
Do defenses still pay a lot of
attention to Tony Gonzalez? What
do you think? (Getty Images)
But no one stays on top forever.
It was only a couple of years ago that the Giants' Jeremy Shockey was
supposed to usurp Gonzo's position as the league's best tight end. But Shockey hasn't stayed healthy enough to
pass a player who has started 111 consecutive games and caught passes in 84. Baltimore's Todd Heap also was
deemed an heir apparent.
Then last year, rising young San Diego star Antonio Gates, another converted hoops star, put together a second
strong season to back up his 81-catch, 13-touchdown breakout year in 2004. His 89 receptions for 1,101 yards and
10 touchdowns easily beat Gonzalez's 78-905 year, one in which he caught only two touchdown passes, tying the
career lows of his first two seasons.
So, has Gonzalez been overtaken in his desire to be acknowledged as the league's best tight end? Perhaps.
But overlooked? Forgotten?
Are you kidding?
NFL defensive coordinators who double-team his every step in red-zone situations certainly aren't overlooking him.
And certainly not the league's public relations and international development machines that feature the Spanishspeaking Gonzalez as their point man for increasing Latin American interest in football.
ESPN certainly didn't forget Gonzalez when it invited him on a fishing excursion in Guatemala as part of the
network's reborn New American Sportsman series. NBC remembered him, too, when it cast Gonzalez with actress
Alison Sweeney (Days of Our Lives), model Cindy Margolis, singer Patti LaBelle, Miss USA 2005, Tom Arnold and
Big Kenny (of Big and Rich) for its short-lived Celebrity Cooking Showdown.
(OK, so that lowly rated show was eminently forgettable. So too, apparently, was Gonzalez's Caprese salad, vodka
penne with salmon and affogado Italian sundae. He was the first celebrity voted out of the kitchen, a rare rejection
he explained by suggesting that, "It might have been self-sabotage.")
No, when he turned 30 late last February, Tony Gonzalez took stock of his life and found himself pleased by what
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7/18/2006
Page 2 of 2
he saw.
"Life is good," said the personable tight end, still an A-list celebrity at Playboy Mansion parties.
The priorities in his life have changed some, to be sure. His dreams of playing NBA basketball have long since
faded. His young son, Nikko, just turned five and has started T-ball, and Gonzalez suddenly has a new interest in
baseball.
And while he still lives a jet-set lifestyle -- in Kansas City for a minicamp one weekend, in Barcelona sharing a table
with Woody Harrelson and Owen Wilson at the Laureus Sports Awards the next -- Gonzalez also knows he must
make the best of whatever time he has left in football.
"It's about finding balance in your life," he said. "It's still all about the work. Even if I'm overseas in a hotel
someplace, I'll always get my workout in first. I know where my bread is buttered. I'm a football player first. But the
other things are the experiences in life you want to enjoy."
Ignoring the above food reference, let's note instead that Gonzalez is keenly aware that his stock slipped in the
fantasy football world last year.
Catching only two touchdown balls frustrated him more than it did any
fantasy team owner.
Which tight end will have the best
season in '06?
Todd Heap BAL
Antonio Gates SD
Jason Witten DAL
There are explanations for the drop-off.
Foremost is the aforementioned extra attention Gonzalez gets in the
red zone. Quarterback Trent Green's favorite, biggest end zone target
no longer runs goal-line drags with only one escort.
Gonzalez also took on new, less glamorous duties last year.
Tony Gonzalez KC
Alge Crumpler ATL
Jeremy Shockey NYG
When veteran left tackle Willie Roaf missed much or all of six games
with hamstring problems, Green's once-solid blind-side protection
became an injury waiting to happen. Hoping to help young
replacement tackle Jordan Black, Kansas City frequently shifted
Gonzalez to a strong-side blocking position. And though he took great
pride in his dramatically improved ability as a blocker, Gonzalez says
he can help his team more when his touchdown numbers are closer to
those of Antonio Gates than Bill Gates.
In 2006, with longtime offensive line coach Mike Solari promoted to the offensive coordinator position under new
coach Herm Edwards, Gonzalez hopes for another run at his once undisputed title as the league's best tight end.
"As soon as he got the job, I flew back here to meet with (Solari) and coach (Jon) Embree, my new position coach,"
Gonzalez said. "He asked me straight-up what routes I thought worked best for me, and he said he'd get them
called. We'll see what happens, but I have no doubt that he'll get me the ball."
Rick Dean covers the Chiefs for the Topeka Capital-Journal.
Copyright © 1995 - 2006 SportsLine.com, Inc. All rights reserved. SportsLine is a registered service mark of SportsLine.com, Inc.
CBS "eye device" is a registered trademark of CBS Broadcasting, Inc.
http://www.sportsline.com/print/nfl/story/9525005
7/18/2006
Kansas City Chiefs - RAND: Defense remains in the right hands
RAND: DEFENSE REMAINS IN
THE RIGHT HANDS
Page 1 of 2
edit | staff
JAN 17, 2006, 3:58:03 AM BY JONATHAN RAND - FAQ
Chiefs defensive coordinator Gunther Cunningham decided he could help his unit
more by staying on the sideline last season than by taking the conventional playcalling spot upstairs in a booth. He’s never spent a lot of time trying to be
conventional.
That’s why Cunningham’s return to the Chiefs as defensive coordinator in 2006
shouldn’t come as a shock, though it’s unconventional by NFL standards.
New head coaches usually clean house because they want their own assistants,
especially coordinators. You wouldn’t expect a new coach who’s known as being
defensive-minded to keep a strong-willed defensive coordinator. Especially not if that
coordinator had been the team’s head coach for two years.
So Herman Edwards’ retention of Cunningham, in that respect, comes as a surprise.
It’s less of a surprise once you consider that there’s probably nobody better suited
for the job.
Cunningham has a long track record as one of the NFL’s top defensive coaches,
though he’s had his work cut out lately trying to recreate the defensive magic of the
Derrick Thomas era. He also has a knack for persevering through some complicated
career moves. When you see how explosive Cunningham can be on the sidelines, it
seems amazing that he’s able to avoid burning his career bridges.
When he was fired as Chiefs head coach after the 2000 season, you would think the
last job in the world for Cunningham would be as the defensive coordinator for the
head coach who replaced him. Yet, Cunningham returned to the Chiefs in 2004 and
next season will be spending his ninth season coaching in Kansas City since 1995.
He also experienced a setback as a Raiders assistant before he joined the Chiefs.
Cunningham was the defensive coordinator in Oakland in 1992 and ‘93, then was
demoted by owner Al Davis to defensive line coach. A year later, he came to the
Chiefs and took over a defense that was among the league’s elite through 1997.
Now, Cunningham will see if his defense can prove as resilient as its coach. The
Chiefs were asking too much of him in 2004 when they hoped his scheme and fiery
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1/17/2006
Kansas City Chiefs - RAND: Defense remains in the right hands
Page 2 of 2
personality could turn around a weak defense that, in fact, needed more talent.
The Chiefs ranked 31st in total defense that year and realized they needed more
help. Cunningham got five new regulars in 2005 and his defense improved,
especially against the run. But it finished only 25th in total defense and the pass
rush was poor.
Given Cunningham’s track record, the Chiefs’ chances for a defensive breakthrough
are enhanced by his return. You’d have to worry about the defensive direction of a
franchise that was bringing in its fourth coordinator in eight years. Though we
shouldn’t make too much of only two games, the Chiefs’ defense was dominant in
season-ending home victories against the Chargers and Bengals.
Linebacker Derrick Johnson had an impressive rookie season and should develop into
a Pro Bowl player. More production is needed from two of last year’s newcomers,
linebacker Kendrell Bell and defensive end Carlos Hall. And the Chiefs will have to
come up with a defensive tackle who can collapse the pocket.
There’s no guarantee Cunningham can bring the Chiefs’ defense back to the top. Just
as there was no guarantee that Vermeil would make the Chiefs his third Super Bowl
team.
But Cunningham has proved that he knows what he’s doing. And you have to think
that given a little more time and a little more talent, he will build a playoff-caliber
defense that can survive and thrive under adversity just as much as its coach has.
The opinions offered in this column do not necessarily reflect those of the Kansas
City Chiefs.
A former sportswriter and columnist in Kansas City and Miami, Rand has covered the
NFL for three decades and seen 23 Super Bowl games. His column appears twice
weekly in-season.
Copyright © 2006 Kansas City Chiefs.
http://www.kcchiefs.com/news/2006/01/17/rand_defense_remains_in_the_right_hands/
1/17/2006
Chiefs have scheme covered
Page 1 of 2
Posted on Fri, Jan. 27, 2006
Cover 2 defense part of the team’s plan
Write this down — on an early winter morning at Arrowhead Stadium, Gunther Cunningham surfaced. And spoke. He popped his head into
Herm Edwards’ office, dropped off some papers and glanced at a diagram.
For two minutes, Cunningham was no longer a ghost. He was feisty. He had heard the speculation that there was no way he’d still be
around as Kansas City’s defensive coordinator once Edwards was hired. He had read at least twice that he wasn’t a Cover 2 guy.
“You didn’t think I coached that?” Cunningham said to a reporter. “My God, I’m older than your dad.”
NFL historians say the Cover 2, the trendiest scheme in the NFL, was born in Pittsburgh with the Steel Curtain in the 1970s and revived by
Edwards, Tony Dungy and Monte Kiffin in Tampa Bay in 1996.
Cunningham wants you to know that he was running the defense extensively in 1995. Remember Neil Smith, Dan Saleaumua and Derrick
Thomas? They were the foundation of the Cover 2, the ever-important pass rush.
Now Edwards is in town, he’s a defensive guy, and he’s talking for 30 minutes about a scheme that drew odd looks in 1996 but is now a
part of nearly every NFL team’s package.
“We’re going to play some Cover 2,” Edwards said. “That’s a fact.
“I think it’s a mind-set. You have to believe you can be successful playing this coverage, and you have to also be able to count on the guys
that are involved in it.”
The premise of the scheme is simple — prevent big plays by keeping the quarterback from going vertical. In Cover 2, or Tampa 2, the
safeties are split in deep zone coverage, each responsible for half the field. The cornerbacks defend the flats, the linebackers cover the
middle. A fast middle linebacker drops down the middle of the field to defend against the pass.
Tampa Bay’s early success was more scheme than personnel, more attitude than might. With a group of undersized but speedy
linebackers, the Buccaneers went from No. 27 in total defense to No. 11 in one year.
That first season, Dungy and Edwards felt like the first guys who wore bellbottoms to the disco. There were blank stares, confused looks,
and least four guys out of position.
“They were just trying to figure it out,” Edwards said. “They thought, ‘What is this guy running down the middle of the field for?’
“The more we did it, the more they kind of liked it. But early, I mean, it was tough. We kept playing it, and the players started believing.”
Three playoff teams ran the Cover 2 extensively in 2005 — Dungy’s Indianapolis Colts, Chicago and Tampa Bay. All three had one thing in
common — an attacking, hustling, ball-hawking mentality. It’s a mind-set, said Tampa Bay rookie linebacker Barrett Ruud, echoing
Edwards’ sentiment. Aggression wins football games.
Ruud, who was knocked for his lack of speed coming out of Nebraska, was saddled with one of the toughest jobs on defense. As a middle
linebacker, he covers receivers from the middle of the field to the goal line in addition to playing the run.
“It seems like a simple defense,” Ruud said. “We don’t run a lot of defenses, but we really have to be on top of defenses we do run. Since
Tony Dungy on, the whole key of the Cover 2 is getting guys to the ball, an effort defense.
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“We don’t have freakish, special athletes, just guys who really work hard and enjoy what they’re doing.”
Edwards said the Cover 2 won’t be the Chiefs’ base defense. It wasn’t Tampa’s base in those early days, either, though the Bucs ran it
more than half of the time.
Edwards, hired on Jan. 9, is still breaking down film and evaluating talent. His first impression is that the Chiefs’ defensive strength lies in
its linebackers.
“They’re very, very athletic as a whole,” Edwards said. “I’m not saying we don’t have any good players on the defensive line or the
secondary, because we do. But if you look at the whole of the group, the strength is the linebackers, and that’s not all bad. Because to
play in this league, if you want to play with the base personnel, you have to have linebackers that are athletic that can play in space.”
To be successful with the Cover 2, the Chiefs probably will have to shop for help on the defensive line in the offseason. Second-year end
Jared Allen was far and away the team’s best pass rusher with 11 sacks. After that, the numbers dropped off dramatically.
The other seven defenders, who are called the underneath players in Tampa 2, must rally to the ball and have great eyes, Edwards said.
Cunningham’s ears, by the way, are working fine. He wants to remind you that the Chiefs ran plenty of Cover 2 on third-down passing
situations in 2005. Just before he slid out the door, he mentioned a Patrick Surtain interception against San Diego.
“That was Cover 2,” he said.
Write it down. In Kansas City, it’s about to become chic.
What is Cover 2?
For a visual explanation of the Chiefs’ zone defense, see graphic on D-5
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He’s D-lighted
Page 1 of 2
Posted on Wed, May. 10, 2006
DRAFT PLEASES CUNNINGHAM
He’s D-lighted
Chiefs put pieces in place on defense
The second part of the story began with a call from Herm Edwards in early January. He’d just signed a contract to coach
the Chiefs. Defensive coordinator Gunther Cunningham was on the other line.
“Are you ready?” Edwards asked.
“You betcha,” Cunningham said.
The first part is still evolving. Cunningham sat down for a 30-minute conversation on Tuesday about the defense, and on
at least three occasions, he was on the verge of getting misty.
He’s not like this. Normally, Cunningham is making 310-pound tackles cry. But the 2006 draft is in the books, a promise
was kept and Cunningham is in late-season pep talk mode.
“What we’re trying to do,” he said, “is build this thing for the long run, build the kind of defense that this city needs, that
Carl and Herm are proud of. You can tell I’m getting emotional. Because that was my thing in 2005.”
Cunningham’s “thing” started in January 2005. He placed a call to Chiefs president/general manager Carl Peterson and
wanted to talk personnel — actually, lack of personnel. Cunningham was hired back to resurrect the Chiefs’ defense, but
his once-proud unit finished 31st in the NFL.
He did some research, and it confirmed what he suspected — the defense was stuck in a major talent drought. Five of
his starters in 2004 were second-day draft picks. Two of them weren’t drafted at all.
Peterson promised an upgrade, and, two years later, the Chiefs have added six first-day draft picks on defense.
Cunningham will get his first look at some of the additions when rookie camp opens Friday morning.
He smiles occasionally and appears at peace … at least for a few weeks. When the Chiefs selected Penn State defensive
end Tamba Hali and Purdue safety Bernard Pollard in last month’s draft, it was just the second time in 10 years that the
top two picks went to defense.
Others have been committed to that for a while. AFC West champion Denver has picked a defensive player first in five of
its last eight drafts. San Diego has loaded up in recent years by drafting Shawne Merriman, Luis Castillo and Quentin
Jammer. Drafting for defense is trendy throughout the NFL. Fourteen of the first 20 picks of the 2006 draft were
defensive players.
“This draft killed me,” Cunningham said. “This year, defense came off the board at 100 mph, and I panicked. I went, ‘My
God, we can’t get our guys.’ And fortunately for us, Tamba was there at 20.
“And really, the safety we drafted in the second round, he has some issues, but they’re all my kind of issues. He plays
the game angry. I love the kid. He’s a hard-and-heavy hitter. One of the things that you’ve got to have on defense is
you’ve got to have a pacesetter, the guy that’s going to put the hit on tape like John Lynch. Bernard Pollard has that
ability.”
Peterson, who asked Cunningham to make a wish list before free-agency began in 2005, added Pro Bowl linebacker
Kendrell Bell, traded a second-round pick for Pro Bowl cornerback Patrick Surtain, then drafted Derrick Johnson with the
No. 15 overall selection in the 2005 draft.
It was a huge swing of the pendulum for a franchise that hit a serious low at the end of the 2003 season. The Chiefs
gave up 38 points at home in a playoff loss to the Colts. More than half of the starters from that defense are no longer
with the franchise.
“I needed to make some changes,” Peterson said. “That probably crystallized the point that ‘Hey, we’ve got to start doing
some things with our defense.’ ”
He’s D-lighted
Page 2 of 2
Along came Cunningham, but he’d have to wait a year for a personnel fix and another season to help pick his own
defensive staff. Cunningham raves about working with Edwards and is simpatico with his new staff.
He had tears in his eyes recently when he watched one of his new coaches, David Gibbs, work with veteran safety Greg
Wesley. Cunningham said Gibbs had Wesley doing things he hadn’t seen since 2000.
Edwards is a defensive guy to the core, and he’s had a longtime connection with Cunningham. The “Are you ready?”
comment undoubtedly referred to Cunningham’s desire to resurrect a defense that had been knocked around for the
better part of the Dick Vermeil era.
“I think the pieces are being put in place for real football, not for stopgap,” Cunningham said. “People can say, ‘Well, you
could’ve done this or could’ve done that.’ But when you try to outscheme people, you’re going to bat .500.
“No, what you’ve got to do is line up 11 guys who can play defense. Because if you bat .500 in the NFL, you’re going to
get fired.”
SI.com - Writers - The great escape (cont.) - Saturday February 25, 2006 7:16PM
Page 1 of 3
Powered by
The great escape
Hali travels amazing road to achieve football stardom
Posted: Saturday February 25, 2006 7:16PM; Updated: Saturday February 25, 2006 7:16PM
INDIANAPOLIS -- By day three of the NFL Scouting
Combine, after listening to the wave after wave of
prospects who take the podium in the media work
room at the Indiana Convention Center, their stories
start to sound the same and the details of their
backgrounds begin to blend together in the mind.
And then a Tamba Hali comes along, and reminds you
that some players have traveled a truly unique road to
get here, and have a story that sounds like nobody
else's.
Hali, the Penn State defensive end who is expected to
be a top-15 pick in April's NFL Draft, kept reporters
spellbound Saturday with the tale of his childhood in
Liberia, where he and his family were caught up in the
bloody civil war that ravaged that nation on Africa's
West Coast, a country roughly the size of Tennessee.
Before becoming a star at Penn State,
Tamba Hali had to survive years of civil war
and eventual escape from his native Liberia.
"It's hard to explain to somebody what it's like on the
David Bergman/SI
other side when you haven't really gone through it,"
said Hali, who grew up in the capital city of Monrovia,
before going into hiding and eventually immigrating to
the U.S. in 1994, at the age of 10. "It's hard to explain
to people what it's like to be actually be in that situation, and feeling like maybe today I could die or see
other people get killed."
Hali said he had many days when he saw a life taken before his eyes, by the rebels who regularly
terrorized the city.
"Sometimes it would be a lot [of people killed]," he said. "Sometimes it would be just one. Some times
you'd see a stack of bodies sitting on the side of the road while you were walking. A lot of kids [in Liberia]
weren't educated. A lot of them would be running around killing people for no reason."
Hali's saga renders your standard combine fare almost meaningless by comparison. Somehow, discussion
of his 40 time and performance in the bench press just doesn't seem quite so significant when Hali is
explaining his ongoing fight to get his mother and sister out of Liberia and to the U.S.
And members of the media weren't the only ones blown away this week by Hali's story. In each of his
interviews with NFL teams, he painstakingly retold his tale, gaining a host of new admirers each time.
"I was just overwhelmed, not only with his story, but the way he told it," Giants general manager Ernie
Accorsi said, after meeting with Hali on Friday night. "He's such a thoughtful, intellectual, moving person.
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SI.com - Writers - The great escape (cont.) - Saturday February 25, 2006 7:16PM
Page 2 of 3
You could hear a pin drop in our interview room when he was done telling his story."
Hali has applied for U.S. citizenship and is waiting to take the necessary exam. He hasn't seen his mother,
Rachel Keita, since leaving Liberia in 1994, and said she still lives in a hut, in a Monrovia that is calmer
than it was in the years that the civil war raged, but far from safe. A couple years ago, Hali's mother was
shot in the leg while walking in the city.
"She was walking with three or four other friends in Monrovia, and she got shot in the knee," Hali said.
"What I hear is that the three other people got killed. By God's grace, she's still alive."
Hali's escape from Liberia was one of intrigue and danger. He, along with three other siblings, crossed the
Cavalla River -- the country's eastern border -- and fled to the safety of the Ivory Coast. From there, he
was eventually reunited with his biological father, who left Liberia in 1985 and is now a teacher at both
Fairleigh Dickinson University and Teaneck High in Teaneck, N.J.
"The first time we got attacked [by rebels], the plane came down,'' said Hali, remembering the start of his
country's civil war. "We were sitting there. I remember my mother was cooking. Gunfire just started
erupting all over the place. That started happening all the time. So we went into hiding.
"My step-dad got a car and we went to a village far away from the city. We'd spend six months there and
then come back, and things would ease a little bit. Then they would start again. After a couple of times of
that, [my parents] thought we should flee the country. So certain people would hide us. We'd have places
to stay in little huts. You find ways to manage. You find ways to eat, cook, all of that."
Upon arriving in the U.S., Hali found more than a way to manage. He discovered football in high school,
and eventually earned a scholarship from Penn State. Today he's a 6-foot-3, 275-pound pass-rushing force
who is the consensus second-highest ranked defense end in the draft, trailing only North Carolina State's
Mario Willams, who is projected as a top-five pick.
Football became Hali's escape.
"I found myself enjoying myself when I was playing the game," he said. "Just being out there, having fun
with my teammates, and being able to go out there and hit other people without getting fined for it. But I
didn't even know about college scholarships. I was just playing to play. When I first got offered [a
scholarship] by Boston College, I went to my coach and said, 'What am I supposed to say to the guy?'"
After the experiences of his childhood, and his family's ongoing struggle to reunite, there's no way Hali
could ever view football as anything but the game it is. There will be no war-like metaphors ever coming
from Hali in regards to football. No talk of a do-or-die game. He has seen war. He has lived war. And
football is far from war.
"It's been tough, first, going through life with your mother [in that situation], and then going through the
second half of your 22 years without her," Hali said. "You deal with it and work through it. That's how life
is. Full of adversity."
Adversity, of course, can mean different things to different people. Every player at this year's NFL Scouting
Combine has a story. But nobody else has Tamba Hali's story. His road here was longer than most, and far
more life-changing. And he remembers it in vivid detail.
Once you hear it, you do too.
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SportingNews.com - Your expert source for 'By the grace of God, I am alive'
Page 1 of 5
You can find this article at:
http://www.sportingnews.com/yourturn/viewtopic.php?t=82586
'By the grace of God, I am alive'
April 13, 2006
Paul Attner
They are identified as government sympathizers. The rebel soldiers line them up along the road, near a ditch.
They point their guns and shoot them and drive away and leave them, piled dead.
Some of the killers are young, no more than 9 or 10.
Some of the onlookers are young, too. Tamba Hali is 8. He probably should cry. But he can't. He already has
seen too much killing, and all he is now is scared.
The soldiers are always saying to him, "Join us." He is eager to be one of them. He is hungry, and they have
food. And guns. What youngster wouldn't want a gun?
But his older brother tells him no. "You will have to kill me first," his brother says. It takes guts to say no
because every day friends and relatives are killed, even while just walking to the market for food.
Ten-year-olds with AK-47 machine guns don't hold discussions; they just pull the triggers.
It is 1991, two years into the civil war in Liberia. There is no electricity, no infrastructure, no sanity.
Gbarnga, a small town in north central Liberia where Tamba and his family live, is headquarters for Charles
Taylor -- the most powerful of the warlords trying to overthrow the government. There are no schools, no
police force, no laws.
Henry Hali, Tamba's father, is in the United States. Troubled by increasing government corruption and
growing political unrest, he fled Liberia in 1985, leaving four of his children with Rachel Keita. She is the
mother of two of them: Tamba, almost 3 at the time, and his sister, Kumba, who had just been born. Henry is
a teacher with a master's degree from Fairleigh Dickinson University; he tells his children he will bring them
to the United States. It is the only way they will have a better life.
But in 1991, six years after Henry's departure, life in Liberia is even worse. To protect her family, Rachel
decides they must escape Gbarnga and go into the countryside. They are not alone; before the fighting ends
in August 2003, more than 1 million Liberians will be displaced from their homes and another 300,000 will
be dead. The family leaves in a truck, passing through a series of checkpoints manned by soldiers. As they
drive away from one, gunfire erupts. Tamba stands up. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" he yells.
The bullets dance around him. His brother grabs him. "What are you doing?" he screams. "They will kill
you."
When you are 8, why would anyone shoot you?
Today, Tamba Hali is 22 and an All-America defensive end from Penn State, a first-day draft talent who
5/3/2006
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could not read or write a word of English 11 years ago when he first arrived in the United States. His is an
almost unfathomable journey cluttered with obstacles so immense it is remarkable he is alive, much less an
athletic standout who is on schedule to graduate this spring after four years. And he is weeks from having the
financial means to realize another improbable goal: bringing his mother to the United States to end a
separation that has lasted since 1994.
When she was last with him, before he came to the U.S. to live with his father in Teaneck, N.J., he was a
skinny 11-year-old with glasses who never had seen football or shopping malls or computers and hadn't been
to school in years. He has grown into a 6-2, 270-pound hunk with upper arms the size of a normal person's
thighs and with interests reflective of his generation. He talks with a New Jersey accent, writes rap
songs, produces minidocumentaries for one of his college classes. And he is about to become a millionaire.
He looks now at Liberia and can only imagine what life once was like there, before the war destroyed his
homeland.
Hali's father has been fortunate. Henry was educated at a school run by Christian missionaries and worked
part time for Peace Corps volunteers, doing chores for $1 a week. The missionaries helped cover his tuition
to Cuttington College outside Gbarnga. He graduated with degrees in math and chemistry, then received his
masters before returning to Cuttington to teach. In a country where even now the average income is $110 a
year and life expectancy averages 42 years, his salary provided a quality life.
But that changes after he moves to the States. Rachel and he aren't married, and now, besides Tamba and
Kumba, Rachel must care for two boys from Henry's previous relationships -- Saah, 3, and the oldest, also
called Tamba, 13. There are two Tambas because of a custom in the Kissi culture. The second son born to a
woman is always named Tamba, the first Saah. When this family is together, they call the eldest Big Tamba
and his half-brother Little Tamba. In Liberia, they live in a house that has electricity only part of the day. It
has no indoor plumbing; they bathe in nearby rivers or with water brought in buckets. And, because of the
heat, they cook outside.
Then, on Christmas Day 1989, the civil war begins.
Previously, Liberia and its 3 million people avoided the unrest that disrupted so many African countries.
Founded by American and Caribbean slaves, Liberia's official language is English and many of its national
symbols are modeled after American ones. But when William Tubman, its longtime president, died in 1971,
a different Liberia evolved, with increasing corruption and discontent that finally led to terrible upheaval.
"You would look at someone wrong and they would shoot you," Big Tamba says. "It was unimaginable, the
horror. You would see bodies everywhere, all the time." Big Tamba has learned from Henry how to operate
a short-wave radio; he can provide some protection to the family by serving as a radio operator for the
Taylor forces. Still, they are not sheltered from hardship. In the countryside, they eat fruits, cassava roots and
game they hunt. In 1992, after neighboring countries become involved as peacekeepers, the family feels
safer in Gbarnga. Then the planes start coming.
The first time, the planes are gliding over Gbarnga before they restart their engines. They open fire,
ostensibly targeting rebels but shooting at anyone who moves. Rachel is cooking dinner outside; her children
scramble. Little Tamba, who has been singing gospel songs, grabs the food, heads into the house and hides
it.
Other days, they can hear the growing roar of the approaching jets. People dive into ditches, bushes,
anything to escape the bombs and machine gun fire that rip apart bodies. For years after they are in the
States, the children duck and hide every time they hear a jet overhead.
For Rachel, this new terror is too much. In early 1993, she decides they must escape to the Ivory Coast, a
half-day's journey by car to the east.
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Page 3 of 5
Because Liberia's phone system and banking network are disrupted, Henry has little contact with his family
during this period and must rely on Liberians traveling home to carry the money he sends as frequently as
possible. While getting his green card in 1988 and his U.S. citizenship in 1992, he initiates attempts to bring
his children to Teaneck, where he teaches chemistry and physical science at the local high school and
general chemistry and lab two nights a week at Fairleigh Dickinson. But he is stalled by a government in
ruins.
When Rachel and the children near the Ivory Coast border, no one is being allowed to cross. But Big Tamba
convinces a colonel in the Taylor forces to drive Rachel and Kumba out of Liberia. Both Tambas and Saah
stay behind. For weeks, Big Tamba plans how he will talk his way past rebel guards who protect the bridge.
"I had to go through with it," he says. "I was running out of time. I was afraid. I knew we could die." He
practices acting perfectly calm; any sign of fear and they all could be shot.
He negotiates with the guards. If they let him take the children to their family in the Ivory Coast, he will
return with food for them.
They go over the bridge. "I was really frightened," says Little Tamba. But the guards don't stop them. They
are free.
Henry, married to another woman, flies to the Ivory Coast to visit his children for just the second time since
1985. He also hopes to persuade the U.S. Embassy there to issue the visas needed for them to come to
America. He is turned down. Desperate, he arranges for the family to stay in a monastery in neighboring
Ghana and hopes to have better luck with that U.S. Embassy. He does; after blood tests, visas finally are
granted. In December 1993, U.S. Immigration approves the relocation of the four children. On September
15, 1994, they board a plane and fly to Newark. Fifteen months later, the family is tragically reminded of the
horrific danger they escaped. Rachel's son, Joshua, 5, who is Little Tamba's half-brother, is found dead at the
bottom of a well in Ghana. The family is convinced someone tossed him in.
"My father lived up to his word," says Little Tamba. "Most fathers from our country, once they get to the
United States, don't try very hard to bring over their children. But he promised he would not forget us, and
he didn't."
Still, Little Tamba wonders about his new home. He likes television, and he wears out his dad's computer
playing Doom. But he misses his mother. His father is strict. The milk and orange juice are not sweet
enough, the pizza tastes awful, and the pace is too frantic. School makes it worse. He is enrolled in the fifth
grade. On his first day, he fights with a student who calls him "Kunta Kinte." Although he speaks English, he
hears words every day that have no meaning to him. Until he learns to read and write, he has no chance of
succeeding.
Henry buys "Hooked On Phonics," a popular at-home method of teaching how to write and speak. The kids
begin with basic sounds: met, hat, cat, max. They learn simple songs. They receive more drilling during
English as a second language (ESL) classes in school. Tamba is quiet, shy; if he doesn't speak, no one can
laugh at him. It takes him two years to catch up with his peers.
One day in 1998, Dennis Heck receives a phone call from Ed Klimek. Heck is the football coach at Teaneck
High School; Klimek, one of his assistants, is a middle school teacher. He tells Heck about this student,
Tamba Hali, who is 6-0 and 160 with big hands and feet. "You have to see this kid," says Klimek.
They want Hali to play football next year, in the ninth grade. Tamba thinks football is stupid. "I saw a game
on TV and thought it looked too easy," he says. "I looked at the running back and wondered, Why can't he
just run around everybody? Why is that so hard? And what was the point anyway? Everyone rushes to one
spot and piles on." He played soccer in Liberia but fancies himself a future NBA star. Still, football lets him
hit people legally, which seems fun. As a lineman on the freshman team, he doesn't realize he has to
5/3/2006
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memorize plays. He can't understand why teammates are upset when he asks out loud what to do on every
snap.
"He was OK as a freshman, but as a sophomore there was something about him," says Heck. "The way he
worked, the way he practiced hard, his effort -- it was better than anyone we had on the team." Hali starts
and begins attracting attention as a defensive lineman. Boston College offers him a scholarship. Until then,
he has no idea he can attend college free as a football player. He asks Heck, "Should I tell them yes?"
By his senior season, he is a high school All-American pursued by more than 60 major colleges. He chooses
Penn State over Syracuse; he and his dad are impressed with the former's high graduation rate. He knows
Henry expects him to graduate in four years; education is first, playing football is a bonus. Besides, Tamba
likes Penn State coach Joe Paterno. The day Paterno visits Hali's high school, a classmate doesn't finish
braiding Tamba's long hair. So he meets the coach sporting a Mohawk, with only part of his remaining hair
in braids. Paterno never says a word.
Tamba's early days at State College are frustrating. He reluctantly moves from end to tackle, where he plays
as a true freshman and starts as a sophomore. But early on, he considers transferring. He also switches
majors twice. As a junior, he makes second-team
All-Big Ten. As a senior, he has 11 sacks, including four against Wisconsin, and helps Penn State reassert
itself as a football power. "He practices 100 percent, and he plays that way," Paterno says.
"He has a lot of talent. He is a 260-pounder who has quickness and strength. He has everything you are
looking for in a defensive end."
Hali is relentless, too talented for most college offensive tackles. His name appears in the first round of some
early mock drafts. But the last few months have been stressful. He's usually high-energy, even-keeled, levelheaded, sometimes too loud. Now, he's tired a lot. Time is an issue. Most top draft prospects quit school in
the spring to train for the NFL Scouting Combine and private workouts. But he is taking a final 15 credits,
living in a dorm room.
He knows what it means to his dad for him to get his degree on time. They laugh that he has spent almost all
of the past four years at Penn State going to class and changing interests and accumulating 21 extra credits
he can't apply toward his major, broadcast journalism. He also is working with Scott Paterno, Joe's son and a
lawyer, to bring his mother to the United States. Liberian officials want to know whether Hali has the
resources to care for her; his NFL earning potential has eased their concerns. Rachel could be here before the
draft, but more likely, she will arrive this summer. At some point, Hali also will take a test to become a U.S.
citizen.
There is urgency behind these immigration efforts. In 2003, Rachel and three friends are walking in
Monrovia, Liberia's capital. They are caught in a gunfight; she is shot in the knee. The family is told some of
the friends died.
Recently, Rachel didn't feel well and was hospitalized. Even though there now is an uneasy calm -- in
November, Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf was elected president -- Liberia still has U.N. peacekeepers, overwhelming
poverty, unemployment and disease. Tamba wants his mother to be safe.
For years, because of communications problems within Liberia, mother and son talked only about once every
six months. But now Rachel has a cell phone, and they have frequent conversations. "She has no clue about
football," Hali says. "And she just doesn't understand what is taking so long to get her here. I tell her, 'Mama
Rachel, be patient. It will happen.' "
Still, it is a joyous time for Henry and his children. Besides Little Tamba's accomplishments, Kumba, 20,
who graduated from high school last year, will attend college in the fall, and Saah, 23, will graduate in May
from Caldwell (N.J.) College, where he played soccer. And Big Tamba, 33, is an assistant manager at a local
Walgreen's. They have felt the American Dream.
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Inside the football building at Penn State, a long hallway leads to the practice locker room. On each side of
the hallway are pictures of 86 Penn State All-Americans. Soon, Tamba Hali's picture will be added to those
of John Cappelletti, Jack Ham, Lydell Mitchell, Matt Millen, LaVar Arrington.
"Pretty amazing," he says, looking at those pictures. "I never thought anything like this would happen. When
I came up here, I didn't know about All-Americans or the Combine or anything like that. Now all this."
Rachel is a minister in Liberia. Her son refers frequently to God in his conversations. He knows he should be
dead, another victim of civil war. "By the grace of God, I am alive," he says. He remembers what it was like
in Liberia. "Sometime, you knew you were going to die. If you did something wrong, death was at hand
because people were all around the place, shooting guns, killing people. Battles would erupt within the town
and planes would come and people on the ground would just start killing each other. It was just how it was.
Chaos all over the place."
He understands he sees life differently than his peers. "He has a maturity level that I think is a result of what
he has been through," says Heck. "What happens with him in the NFL will be gravy. How far he has come,
to be here, it blows you away."
For sure, Hali pushes himself a little harder, realizing he has opportunities he needs to appreciate. "It is," he
says, "a gift. I just want to make sure I don't blow it."
Copyright © 2006
All rights reserved.
5/3/2006
Printers, Croyle battle for shot
Page 1 of 3
Monday, May 15, 2006
home : sports : sports
5/14/2006
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Associated Press
KANSAS CITY — One’s been injury-prone. The other has
hardly had so much as a hangnail. One has great escapability,
on the order of a Donovan McNabb.
One is a rifle-armed dropback passer with great football
pedigree.
And one, if things work out the way Herman Edwards hopes,
is Kansas City’s quarterback of the future.
That’s what Casey Printers and Brodie Croyle are hoping, too,
as they hurriedly compete head-to-head during a rookie
minicamp that’s certain to be their best chance to create a
favorable impression.
Missouri Western
Northwest
Benedictine
Chiefs
Royals
St. Joe Blacksnakes
Outdoors
The seemingly indestructible Trent Green, 35, hasn’t missed a
start in five years while quarterbacking the NFL’s most
productive offense. His backup, Damon Huard, is a veteran
but not the sort of quarterback franchises are built around.
That leaves the door wide open for a young, developing talent
to position himself as the Chiefs’ next starter.
Two days into minicamp, Edwards says he likes what he sees.
“Both of them have shown they’ve got live arms and can make
plays, especially when the play breaks down,” Edwards said
Saturday.
The contrast between the two could not be more vivid.
Printers, who spent most of his college career at TCU, had a
breakout season in 2004 with the British Columbia Lions of the
CFL when he threw for 5,088 yards and 35 touchdowns and
also ran for 469 yards and nine scores. He looks like he’s at
his best when he’s on the run — a skill that seems to draw
admiration in the NFL.
Croyle’s passing arm is more powerful. Taken in the third
round of last month’s NFL draft, he’s the son of a defensive
end for Bear Bryant’s Alabama teams in the early 1970s, and
Croyle holds many of the Crimson Tide’s passing records.
He’s stepping into a system that’s similar to the one he knew
in college.
But durability is a worry. He missed almost the entire 2004
season with torn knee ligaments and has battled other injuries.
http://www.stjoenews-press.com/main.asp?SectionID=143&SubSectionID=274&ArticleID=79395&TM=... 5/15/2006
Page 2 of 3
So the fight is on. They know their snaps will drop next week
when the veterans join the rookies for a full minicamp and then
later in training camp in July and August.
“We just have to make our impression now,” Croyle said.
Oddly, one of the first instructions they were given was not to
regard each other as competitors.
“They basically said help each other out,” Croyle said. “Trent’s
going to be the man. He’s going to start until he gets tired of
starting. So we have a little time to learn. From everything I
heard, (Green) is a great guy to learn behind. He’s very
outgoing. He’s probably going to get tired of hearing all my
questions, but I’m going to ask them.”
Printers’ advantage is the experience he gained in Canada.
“We know we’re going to make mistakes,” Printers said. “The
bottom line is that we come out, learn from our mistakes and
keep growing.”
Croyle’s not counting on his strong arm to win a job.
“At this level, everybody can throw,” he said.
“Everybody is hopefully smart and can learn stuff. If not,
they’re not going to be around. I think it’s more intangibles you
can bring to a team — leadership. That stems straight from
being poised and having toughness. If you’ve got those two,
you can talk anybody into following you.”
Printers signed as a free agent with the Chiefs on Jan. 13 after
three years in the CFL, intent on following his idol Warren
Moon, who followed a stint in Canada with a standout NFL
career.
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2006 KANSAS CITY CHIEFS SEASONAL HIGHLIGHT CLIPS

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