October 10, 2007
The Bear Bryant I Knew: An Interview with John Underwood (Part 2) Posted by Allen Barra at 04:30 PM EST This is the conclusion of the interview that begins here. Probably the most famous coach–quarterback relationship in history was the one between Bear Bryant and Joe Namath.On the surface, they seemed to be total opposites—Bryant growing up dirt poor in an Arkansas town so small it wasn’t on the map, while Namath, the son of immigrant parents, grew up in a Pennsylvania steel mill town. Bryant was the full-time authoritarian, while Namath was supremely rebellious. Yet, they clicked, or at least they learned to. Why do you think they worked together so well?
The easy answer would be that Bryant, in his own words, considered Namath “the best athlete I ever saw,” and why wouldn’t a smart coach make every effort to get along with such a player? Bryant said he would have been a “damn fool” not to make such an accommodation. But it was a lot more complicated than that, and to understand the strength of the relationship (and the depth of it), you need to read Bryant’s account of one of the greatest “gut checks” he ever had—the time he suspended Namath from the Alabama team for the last two games of the 1963 season, both on national television. Even his coaches tried to talk him out of it. (Namath’s offense, having to do with team off-campus-conduct rules, was relatively minor by today’s standards.) But Bryant understood Namath’s background and his need for benevolent discipline. After a face-to-face confrontation, Joe supported the punishment, and the next year he was allowed back and quarterbacked Alabama to another national championship. Bryant then got him legal help in negotiating what at the time was the biggest pro contract in NFL history, a $400,000 deal with the New York Jets (Bryant’s salary, he liked to point out, was $12,000 that year). I think it revealing to note that they grew closer after Namath left school. He returned to the Alabama campus whenever he could, which usually meant getting on the blackboard with Bryant to discuss football tactics. They played golf together (Bryant, ever competitive, said he found ways to beat Namath with strokes), and when offered the Dolphins job, Bear purposely sought Namath’s advice. Namath even helped him recruit players. Bryant told of Joe talking one hotshot candidate out of a school that, among other things, offered him a new car. Namath told him playing for Bryant was more valuable.
Bear Bryant had a power to intimidate strong men—George Blanda, for instance, as you pointed out, and just about every sportswriter he encountered. Did you ever feel that he was trying to intimidate you? What was your initial reaction? And did your opinion of him change in the course of doing the book? The short answer, again, is no, he never intimidated me, but I qualify that by saying I don’t think he ever tried. For reasons I never examined (probably because our relationship was always so gratifying), he granted me a kind of familial respect,like one might a beloved if erratic younger sibling. I certainly saw the difference, though, and once even dared criticize it. I was in Tuscaloosa for a game and after a Wednesday practice walked with him into the press room to confront about a dozen journalists, dutifully huddled around an empty chair. Bryant, smoking a cigarette, sat down, and without looking at or acknowledging anyone, smoked it down to the butt, the ashes coagulating, intact. Total silence. Finally, Bear spoke: “Good practice today.” The writers scribbled, audibly, on their notepads. “Defensive backs need better coaching.” More scribbling. “Big game Saturday.” Scribble, scribble. And so it went. All told, I doubt more than five questions were asked from the floor. Finally Bryant said, “Anything else, men?” Nope. He thanked them and got up, and as we walked out together I said, “You call that a press conference?” He grinned. “That’s the way we do things in Alabama.” For sure, that kind of awe could be called intimidation. But I saw the other side, too—how candid he was with those he knew well enough to trust, writers like Benny Marshall and Fred Russell and Mickey Herskowitz and Alf Van Hoose. For me it came to a head with the partnership we forged in telling his story. He never refused an answer, never dodged an issue, never let a subject go unexamined. To use his words, that’s the way he did things in Alabama. At least when I knew him.
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